Show Don't Tell: Genesis 2:18-25

Instead of saying "God created woman as a helper," let them feel Adam's aloneness first. Watch him name the animals—each one parading past, each one paired. The elephants lumber by in twos. The eagles soar overhead, mates for life. And Adam names them all, but with each name, something tightens in his chest. Lion. Lioness. Deer. Doe. And him? Alone. Then God acts. A deep sleep falls—the first anesthesia, the first surgery. Feel the strange absence as something is removed, not lost but relocated. And when Adam's eyes flutter open, she is there. Not made from dust like him, but from him. Bone of his bone. Flesh of his flesh. Watch his face when he sees her—the first poem ever spoken is a love poem: "This one, finally, is like me." Two bodies standing in evening light, and the narrator whispers what they cannot yet know: they felt no shame. Not yet.