Outside the sky was gloomy. Heavy clouds were ready to drop down rainfall. I heard a roll of thunder, a storm was coming, it came with heavy rainfall.
In the midst of this was beautiful set of well dressed choristers ministering on the podium. The singing was louder, and then suddenly I couldn't really hear them anymore, because of the heavy downpour. Ushers rushed to close the doors and louvres.
And while the ministration was still going on, a young lady dressed in same uniform as the ushers whispered to my ears.
"Good evening ma, please your name is on the list of women who will speak today."
But I didn't respond, I only nodded.
After series of prayer points and Singing, A few women of God whom I had association with in the past spoke before my turn.
"Ladies, please a round of applause for an award winning speaker, a woman of God, and a motivational speaker, Mrs Ekom David."
My heart trembled, my legs shook. The thunderous hand clap from the crowd weakened me. I was Ashamed; Ashamed to talk, ashamed to walk down that aisle. The spirit of motivational speaking left me, the spirit of boldness left me. My mind wasn't at peace.
I stood up gently and walked out of the auditorium, not minding if there was heavy downpour. I walked into the rain, I was soaked but it didn't matter.
"Excuse me madam" a lady's voice screamed behind me. But I didn't turn. I drove off that evening, in my wet body.
The next morning, I woke up in pains. I felt my panties wet.
I knew something was wrong, I dipped my hands into my panties and saw blood.
It was menses, I cleaned up and prepared the kids for school.
As I alighted from the car to drop them in their classes, a woman dressed in a corporate attire approached me.
"You are so weak, why did you allow a common maid to take away your husband?" she asked boldly.
But I didn't reply. I dodged her and took the kids to their classes.
As I drove home, my phone rang. It was Salma the choir mistress of hills ministries. I picked the call reluctantly.
"Hello?"
"Good morning maama."
"Morning Salma."
"Maama, the church hasn't been the same since you left. we've lost lots of members. we really miss you. the youths miss you. the church...."
"Well, God has reasons for everything." I cut in.
"Pastor just informed us that Ifeoma has put to birth to a baby boy." she said in a lighter tone. My heart fell, as I took a deep breath.
"Thanks be to God." I said.
That day, I wept all through.
I had series of dreams; I saw myself breast feeding Ifeoma's baby. Then I woke up and saw deeper blood stains on the bed. I changed the bedsheets and kept crying even more.
I didn't know what to tell God anymore. But I was positive that he was going to do something.
Hi! I am a robot. I just upvoted you! I found similar content that readers might be interested in:
https://mapolytrends.wordpress.com/2017/04/28/diary-of-a-pastors-wife-episode-9-12/
@artaxerxes you were flagged by a worthless gang of trolls, so, I gave you an upvote to counteract it! Enjoy!!
Congratulations @artaxerxes! You received a personal award!
Click here to view your Board
Congratulations @artaxerxes! You received a personal award!
You can view your badges on your Steem Board and compare to others on the Steem Ranking
Vote for @Steemitboard as a witness to get one more award and increased upvotes!