Nkechi held tightly onto her son, feeling his softness against her skin. The baby cooed softly, in blissful ignorance of the storm in his mother's heart.
She had waited long for this moment. Seven years of whispered prayers, silently shed tears, and all the insults she had to put up with, in the hands of her husband and his family, the village women mocking her and calling her an empty calabash. She had knelt before every deity, sacrificed to unseen spirits, even journeyed to the river's edge to seek the blessings of the priestess. Yet nothing!
Then she encountered an old priest from the new church in the market square, then something happened.
And now, here he is. Chimezie. "God has done it."
Yet fear gnawed at her soul. Will he stay? Or be taken away, as they have taken the others? She traced a trembling finger over his tiny hand, afraid to love him too much, afraid to hope.
A gentle breeze stirred the curtains, and in that very moment, she felt she heard God's voice, soft yet sure, say:
"Believe that whatsoever the Lord doeth, shall be permanent."
Tears rolled down Nkechi's cheeks as she pulled her son nearer. This time, she chose to believe.