Read an Excerpt
Opening Ground
“The Lord will provide.”
(Genesis 22:14, NIV)
I was born into a house still waiting for that to be true.
Food was rationed. Space was shared. The house knew how to be careful because it had to be.
Yamma was awake before dawn. As a girl in braids, she ran barefoot through sun-warmed courtyards, her laughter quick and sharp. Morning found her beside her mother, hands wrapped around the wooden handle, grinding wheat against stone.
School was never part of her world. Girls were meant to go—but not Yamma. Not in my family.
Each morning came with chores. Water carried, dough kneaded, floors swept before the sun climbed too high.
By fourteen, the lightness in her steps had thinned. Her laughter came less often, then not at all. Her shoulders settled into a discipline that did not loosen. She was married soon after.
The match was arranged behind closed doors, discussed in private rooms, her name spoken more often than her voice, and decided without her being heard. By the time she crossed the threshold of her husband's home, everything had already been settled.
Continue the journey in Resilient Roots.
