Village Girls
What a bright young Kurdish girl she was—either 11 or 12, no one knew for sure. With only one woman literate in her village, we held literacy classes for girls. She walked the kilometer to our house so she could attend. In the summer she came to Bible School. She loved the Bible stories, she loved the crafts, she loved to memorize her verses, but she especially loved the treat of cookies and, I loved her brightness.
When she stopped coming I asked her friend, who gave me an evasive answer. I visited at her home. No one would give information. When spring came and baby lambs were skipping in the fields, she came to my house. She had a very tiny baby in her arms. “I’ve missed you”, I said as I kissed her on both cheeks and offered her cookies and tea. I asked if this were a new sibling. She said “oh no, mam, this is my baby boy”. I must have expressed shock as she continued “My parents had promised me in marriage when I was born-- to a neighbor and when my time came, the marriage was consummated.” “Isn’t my baby boy beautiful? This is my husband’s first son.” I assured her that he was wonderful. “I came to tell you that I cannot come to class anymore as I do not need to read or write since I am married.”
Village girls like her need someone to tell them that God loves them.
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