There are two things keeping me occupied as I sit here, other than writing to you, and those two things are, sewing and reading my Bible. Both have been teaching me patience, and perseverance.
The loneliness at times is overwhelming. But then I put my ear on the floor boards in an attempt to hear the voices of my children or my grandmother, anything that can calm the void that dwells in the pit of my stomach. I can sometimes hear the squeal of their laughter, the pitter-patter of their feet and the smell of the food lofting from the stove. What melts my heart the most, is hearing my daughter Ellen read to Benjamin. That should be my job, I am their mother after all. In every attempt to protect them, I have had to leave them. I know that this has probably strengthened the bond between then, to rely on one another more than most siblings probably do. Yet, I can't help but feel that maybe I am letting them down as their mother.
Is doing everything in my power to save them from a lifetime of this not motherly? Could I have made better choices? What other ways could I have freed them without having to make them feel so utterly abandoned by me?
I pray that as my readers you know that I love my children with all of my heart. My grandmother sought to free us, my father and mother sought to free us, and now it is my turn. But I am determined. I will stop at nothing for their rights to live and breathe and to be free to do as they please with the bodies that God has blessed them with. If that makes me a bad mother, then so be it.
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I, as the psalmist says, "will wait on the Lord," and continue to sew and read, until His words are knitted within the very framework of my being.
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