Sunday, January 19, 2014

unmeasured strength

There is an image in my mind.  It is of a tall slender woman, a mother.  A shy gentle smile and proud bearing.  Stronger than I can imagine.  A mother of many children.  A baby sitting on her lap.  Hiccuping, exhausted, tears covering her small face.  Her body pressed so close, her head next to her mother's heart.  Her mother, holding tightly, taking a gentle hand and wiping away her tears.  And then a man's voice says, "It is not her baby, she [the baby] belongs to the Canadian, Mr. xxxx".  Her mother with eyes downcast clinging to her child. 


But she made a decision.  After she relinquished her children to the care of an agency recruiter and after she was told they would be getting an education and then returned to her, after this she followed them.  She sat by her son's side when he was injured and needed surgery. 

she never left his side

She now lives in the orphanage with her children that is guarded by men who are police.  She watches over her children.  While battles rage around her and the fate of her children are decided by others, she cares for her children.  

this is a woman whose strength cannot be measured 

She feeds her children everyday.  She changes their clothes.  She plays with them.  She holds them when they cry and when they sleep.  She does everything in her power that she can do to care for them.  She is their mother.

and she is not powerless

There are dark forces at work, ones that cannot be seen.  Light is flickering in the darkness.  Hope is fragile and ever beyond her fingertips.  Yet, her love, her love shines, blinding in the dead of night. 

love, the root of the greatest sacrifice


Prompted by reading the story on this blog:  Post onePost twoPost three.
And here is a very well written analytical response to this same story.     

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