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But Momma You Cannot Die

by Alexandria Pearl

"But Momma, you can not die," Alexandria, my eight year old daughter worriedly grabbed my hand. Her little palm is surrounded by long and delicate fingers; her touch is cool and almost stuns my hot and sweaty hand. "Momma, you said to pray to your Jesus and he would make it all right, "Alexandria frowned. "Well I've prayed and prayed and apparently he is not listening," her dark red lips started to pout as scared purplish hazel eyes questioned me. "What isn't your Jesus listening to me, to you?"

I shook my head. I wanted to say so many things to my daughter but days of little food and stale bottled water have left me parched. I could feel tears trying to formulate but because I was so dehydrated all I felt was a stinging sensation.

"I know why your Jesus is not listening to us." Alexandria stared at me; her eyes were now a dark plum color. "Is it because we are here…in Libya and Grandma said that only Allah will listen to our prayers, not Jesus."

"Jesus does listen to our prayers…maybe it's not the right time for him to help us." "I…" I was at a loss for words I began to stroke my daughter's long dark reddish brown hair.

"It is the right time, Momma," Alexandria jerked her head away from my hand. Her eyes now held the look of suffering that I'd seen from the Bedouins who lived in the desolate Sahara. "I heard Grandma say how sick you are and that you will die soon," suddenly her eyes surged with tears. She tried to wipe them away but the tears rebelled and flooded down her cheeks. "I don't want you to die; you can not leave us." A deep sob escaped her lips, "if you leave us here alone in Libya then we will never get to know who your Jesus really was?" Alexandria laid her head next to mine. "Please Momma, don't die," she began to weep.

I fought back nausea; I opened my mouth to speak but it was too dry. I wiped my tongue over my dry rough lips and forced myself to talk. "I don't want to die, I really don't," my chest tightened, my throat ached. For a moment I felt as if my eyes were beginning to swell with tears, but in an instant they began to burn as if they had been scorched by the sand. I rubbed my eyes trying to alleviate some of the pain.

"If your God loves us please tell him not to let you die." Alexandria buried her head into my chest. "We will never make it without you," her little body heaved with sorrow.

"Dear Lord, what have I done?" I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach and shoved a sword in my heart. I knew I was very ill and that I would die soon without proper medical attention. But in my sorrows and selfishness I had given up hope and the desire to live. "Dear Lord, please help me," I prayed softly, "please give me hope and the will to live." I closed my eyes and held my daughter. "I promise Lord that I will not be defeated; that I will live as long as you allow. I want to live to teach my children about you and to guard them from the persecution and terror that surrounds them."

I lifted Alexandria's soft and delicate face, "I promise that I will pray to Jesus everyday and never give up."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I replied. "I also promise that I will live until Jesus says differently."

"Oh Momma, I love you, I knew you would live," Alexandria wrapped her slender arms around me. "I knew Jesus would listen to you."

I was surprised by a wet and cool sensation that started to fill my eyes. I lightly touched my eyelashes and felt moisture. "Thank you Lord for my life and the lives of my children," I kissed my daughter's soft head again. "I want to live Lord, I don't want to die." My chest relaxed and my heart lifted as a multitude of imprisoned tears finally found release and several velvety strands of wet tears flowed unreservedly down my cheeks.

~ The above is an excerpt from Forbidden Prayers by Alexandria Pearl, available at http://www.booklocker.com/books/2106.htm.