That day will forever be etched in my memory. One second it was hot like fire, and the next the skies broke loose, making way for heavy rain to burst out of clouds that could no longer carry it. Like a mighty army, the rain approached the earth. Determined. Incapable of being stopped.
It fell with purpose. Wiping out suffocating heat. Cooling bodies filled with sweat. Resuscitating discolored blades of grass that drooped sideways, almost dead from days of lack. Bringing winds of refreshing to our sheep.
That day, after we’d put the sheep back in their shelter, we ran straight for the back door of the house. With clothes dripping wet, we sat in front of the kitchen window watching hard drops of rain hit brown soil, wilted grass, and those thirsty plants littered around the sheep shelter.
That same day, my mother looked into my eyes and said, “Nina, see how the rain falls?”
“Yes, mother,” I answered, half-wondering where she was going with this.
“Nina, your heart should be like rain,” she muttered. “One hundred percent in. One direction. One goal.”
Tonight I will be who I am. The woman with the dark red lipstick, face-beat makeup, and perfume that whispers, “Take me, please.”
The woman in my oval mirror looks back at me as she adjusts her beautiful cream-colored pearls worn four layers down her neck into the curve where her breasts divide. With her ears adorned with large hoop earrings that barely caress the tips of her shoulders, she looks back at me as though mocking me publicly with a question I cannot answer.
The wall is thin. I can hear my children breathing heavily in the room next to me. Some nights, the youngest of the three somehow senses when mummy walks past his room. Some nights, he wakes up too. Hopefully, not tonight.
Hannah needed a child. Her heart bled for a child. Nothing else could comfort her. Nothing else could make her laugh. Give her a thousand gifts, she wanted none. Her husband tried, but he wasted time. Wasted gifts. Wasted words. All rejected.
“Hannah!” Elkanah called to her one day. “Look at me, please. Am I not better to you than ten sons?” he whispered into her ear.
There was no response. Echoes of unanswered questions remained.
She must have turned away from him, flinching with guilt. Red-faced. Sullen. Angry — not at him, but at herself. She did not know why she had these feelings.
Every day, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her rival Peninah, who not only had sons but daughters. She saw her laughter. She craved her joy. She was jealous of her fullness. And when she thought about herself, what did she have? Only gifts from her husband. No children.
So she prayed, and she prayed…and she prayed some more. Continue reading
“She girds herself with strength; and strengthens her arms.” – Proverbs 31:17
The sticky mud and dirt rose as high as Lola’s knees, yet her eyes were set like a flint on the prize. There was no stopping her now. She was tougher than the dirt. Stronger than the slippery terrain. Stronger than her flesh desired.
And every rugged step she took in the forward motion brought to mind the naysayers — those who said she wouldn’t live to see this victory. Those who simply would not believe.
They said she would never walk again, but here she was running with the wind. They said she would be paralyzed, but here she was using those two feet. The road had not been easy (who was she trying to kid?), and it did take so many years to get here, too long in fact… but she did it anyway. She had beaten the odds of survival. Only a few more obstacles left now to get to the finish line. One. Two. Three. Four. Splash! Continue reading