Carmela’s Story

Carmela sat in the empty church which was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  She was on her way home from the salon where she worked when she decided to stop in and pray for her brother, Guido who died five years ago from a heart attack.  She hoped and prayed that he was no longer in Purgatory because of all the prayers she and the rest of the family had made on his behalf and that he was in Heaven now.  Still, it didn’t hurt to still say prayers for him.

“Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May he rest in peace.”

After she finished praying, she said this prayer for her deceased parents whom  she knew were in Heaven.  “O God, Who hast commanded us to honor our father and mother, look in the tenderness of Thy mercy upon the souls of my father and mother and forgive them their sins, and grant unto me the joy of seeing them again in the glorious light of everlasting life. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

She hoped that one day soon, Guido would join them. She remained kneeling for a while longer and then she made the sign of the Cross.   She rose to her feet went to the front and lit three candles, said a prayer and then left.  Outside it was a bit nippy and drizzling slightly.  She stopped at the supermarket to pick up a few items and then went to the modest apartment she shared with her teenage daughter, Maria.

The place was quiet when she opened the door and went inside.  Maria was still out with her friends.  She said that they were going to hang out at the mall for a while and she should be home by seven. The clock on the wall in the living-room struck five.  She went straight into the kitchen and set the grocery bags on the counter before she removed her jacket and hung it in the hall closet.  She washed her hands and got busy making her famous Manicotti Italian Casserole.

While the Casserole was in the oven baking, she went and took a quick shower.  By the time she was done, the Casserole was ready.  She removed it from the oven and shared it out.  She waited until the oven cooled a bit before she put the plate with Maria’s food inside the oven to keep it hot.  She sat down at the kitchen table and ate hers.  She hadn’t made it since Giuseppe died.  It was his favorite dish.  He always used to boast, “I got lucky when I married you.  You make the best Manicotti Italian Casserole on the planet.  Even better than Mama’s.”

Carmela smiled.  He was such a good husband and father.  It was hard to believe that ten years had passed since he died.  She visited his grave every week and put fresh flowers on it.  And she prayed for him every night.  She couldn’t imagine marrying again.  Giuseppe was her first and only love.  She wanted to remain his wife for the rest of her life.

After she finished eating, she got up from the table, washed the plate and the dirty things in the sink.  She fixed herself a cup of a cup of coffee and took it into the living-room.  She turned on the television and watched the local news.  When it was over, she turned off the television and went to the kitchen to wash the cup and saucer.  It was Friday so she went to get the dirty laundry.  She went to Maria’s room first and as she was about to pick up the laundry bin to take it to the washer, her eyes fell on a booklet lying on top of the bed.  On the front there was a picture of a man stooping down in front of a grave with a woman dressed in white standing behind him.  Over his head were the words, Are the Dead Really Dead?

Heart pounding, she dropped the laundry basket on the floor and picked up the booklet.  She sat down on the bed and began to read it.  She was half way through when she heard the key turn in the lock.  Maria was home.  Closing the booklet, she hurried into the living-room.  Holding the booklet up for her to see, she asked, “Where did you get this?”

Maria looked at the booklet.  “I got it from Anna who got it from her cousin, Lucy.”

“Is Lucy the one who is a Seventh-day Adventist?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I want you to take this and give it back to Anna.  I don’t want this kind of literature in my home.”

“But, Mama, I read it and it makes so much sense to me.  I never believed that you can talk to and pray to the dead.”

“All my life I have been a Catholic and I believe what the church teaches.  The dead are in Heaven or Purgatory or Hell.  They are not sleeping in their graves as this claims.” She shoved it at Maria, shaking her head.

“They use scriptures to back up what they are saying.  Why is it such a bad thing to believe that the dead are in their graves?  Would Heaven be a happy place for them when they see their loved ones suffering?  Take Amy’s mother for example.  Would she be happy in Heaven if she can see Amy’s brother, Michael getting bullied at school because he has a learning disability?  What about Grandpa and Grandma?  How would they feel if they saw Uncle Guido struggling with alcohol addiction or how painful it was for us when Daddy died?  I thought Heaven was supposed to be a happy place but how could anyone be happy there when they can see so much suffering here on earth or their loves one burning up in Hell?  No, Mama, I can’t believe that God who is love would have people burning in Hell forever or stuck in limbo in Purgatory, hoping that the prayers of their loved ones will get them into Heaven and afraid that they might end up in Hell.  I believe what this Study guide says about death.  It is more in line with God’s loving and compassionate character.  I am going to ask Anna for more these study guides so that I can learn more of what’s in the Bible.”

Carmela stared at her.  “So, you’re going to turn your back on your Catholic faith?”

“Mama, I was never a devout Catholic like you and the rest of our family, except Uncle Guido.  I never felt an emotional connection to the traditions and teachings.  I went to Anna’s church last week Saturday and I felt so connected to the people and was so moved by the sermon that I was sorry when it was over.  I felt this hunger to know more.”

“You went to a Seventh-day Adventist Church?” Carmela demanded, incensed.  “How dare you go there without my permission?”

“Would you have let me go if I asked you?”

“No! And for good reason.  Maria, they teach all sorts of negative things about our church such as the Papacy is the Anti-Christ and that the church is the whore of Babylon mentioned in the book of Revelation.  They claim to be God’s remnant church because they keep the Ten commandments which were nailed to the cross and because of some woman named Ellen G. White whom they say is a prophetess.”

“Mama, I really want to go to Anna’s church this Saturday.  The youth are doing the worship service and afterwards there’s a lunch and–”

Carmela’s mouth tightened.  “Forget it.  You’re not going.”

“But, Mama–”

“You heard me.  Now finish taking up your dirty laundry and put it in the washer.  When you’re finished have your dinner.  It’s in the oven.”  She turned and walked out of the room, livid.  “Ragazza sciocca. Tornando indietro alla sua fede. Beh, non ce l’ho. Non finché vivi qui.”

Maria didn’t go to church on the Sabbath but she watched the service on line the next day while her mother was at Sunday Mass.  She did that every Sunday and when she turned 18, she decided that she wanted to be baptized and be a member of Anna’s church.  When she broke the news to her mother, she yelled, “Se ci riesci, voglio buttarti fuori da questa casa” before she stormed out of the apartment.

After she left, Maria went to her room and knelt beside her bed and prayed.

Carmela took the bus to the cemetery and she hurried towards Guiseppe’s grave, tears of anger streaming down her face.  When she got there, she knelt down.  “Oh, Guiseppe, your daughter will be the death of me.  Do you know what she is planning to do?  She’s going to get baptized into the Seventh-day Adventist church, of all the churches.  I warned her that if she goes through with it, I will throw her out on the streets.  I don’t know what else to do.  Guiseppe, what do I do?  How could I let her turn her back on our faith?  No one in our family is a Protestant.  Per favore, caro mio, dimmi cosa devo fare.”

She waited for a reply, her hands clasped tightly in front of her and her eyes squeezed shut.  There was silence and then she heard a male voice ask, “Why do you seek the dead on behalf of the living?”

Her eyes flew up and she looked wildly about her but she was alone.  No one else was there.  Trembling, she asked, “Whose voice did I just hear? Was it the Lord’s or an angel’s?”

“It is I, Jesus.  Maria has chosen a good thing which will not be taken away from her.”

“What should I do, Lord?”

“Do not cast her out.”

Carmela made the sign of the cross and stood up.  She went away, her heart racing and the words of the Lord running through her mind.  When she got home, she called Maria.  “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said.  “If you’re serious about getting baptized and joining Anna’s church, I’m not going to stop you or kick you out but I won’t be there.”  And she walked past her and went to her room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Maria raised her eyes heavenward and gave thanks.  A couple weeks later she was baptized and Anna’s parents invited her to their home to celebrate.  Maria became a member of the church and involved in the Youth Ministry.  She even taught Sabbath School sometimes.  She became a literature evangelist and handed out tracts.  She became a vegetarian much to her mother’s chagrin but there was no opposition.  Maria cooked her own meals.

Carmela saw how happy her daughter was and she stopped lamenting about her leaving the Catholic church.  She continued to attend Sunday Mass.  One Sunday after Mass, she was talking to Father Ricci and she mentioned something about Eve.  One of her regular customers at the salon had lent her the movie, Genesis: The Creation and the Flood which she watched on Saturday.

Father Esposito’s expression changed and he said, “Mrs. Romano, the story of Adam and Eve was not to be taken literally.  It was merely a story in the Bible and should not be taken as fact.”

She stared at him, stunned but didn’t get into any further discussion with him.  “Thank you, Father,” she said.  “Good-day.”  She turned and hurried away, her mind reeling from shock.  She went home and opened her Bible to Chapter Three of the Gospel of Luke where the the Genealogy of Jesus was.  There was Adam’s name and he was called the son of God.  How then, could Father Esposito claim that Adam was not a real person?  And Jesus Himself alluded to both Adam and Eve when He said, “But from the beginning of the creation God made them male and female.”

She closed the Bible and sank heavily down on the sofa.  Why would Father Esposito claim that the story of creation was just a story?  What else in the Bible should not be taken as fact?  She went into the den and logged on to the computer.  She did several searches until she came across a site called, Steps to Life and a book called, Is the Virgin Mary Dead or Alive by Danny Vierra.  At first, she didn’t want to read it but she felt strongly impressed to.

She read the first chapter and her heart lurched when she read the part about the priest who taught his religion class telling him the same thing Father Esposito told her about the story of Adam and Eve.  Heart racing, she continued reading.  She read a few chapters that evening and every evening until she was finished reading the entire book.  Afterwards, she did the online Bible Studies by Marshall Grosboll

By the time she was done with the Bible Studies, she knew that she had a choice to make.  She could remain in the church that she had been born and raised in or she could leave.  As she prayed earnestly about it,  the words, “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” came to her.  She had discovered God’s truth and she had to embrace it.

She told Maria everything and her daughter was thrilled.  Together they went to Anna’s church and one Saturday, Maria watched with tears in her eyes as her mother gave her life to Christ.  The following month, on Carmela’s 45th birthday, she was baptized.

Carmela thanked Jesus for talking to her that day in the cemetery and her customer for lending her the movie about Genesis.  Those two events changed her life.  And she was proud of Maria for choosing that “good thing”.

The way to God’s truth is always there.  Some find it sooner and some later.  The important thing is to find it.  And when you do, it will set you free.

Sources:  Our Catholic Prayers; Town and Country; Catholic News Herald;

Finishing What They Started

Monique had just taken off her dressing-gown and was about to get dressed when the door opened and Shane walked in, bold as brass.

“Who gave you permission to just walk into my room?” she demanded, hands on hips.  In the past, she would have covered up to hide her curves but that was before she had come to accept and be proud of her appearance.  She even became an advocate against body shaming.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” he informed her as he walked right up to her.  His expression was dead serious.  The air crackled with the tension between them.  The way he looked at her made her heart pound heavily against her chest and her breath quicken.

Her chin raised just a fraction higher and her eyes were wary as they met his.  “What do you mean?” she asked.

He was standing very close now.  Their bodies were almost touching.  “Don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten what happened the last time we saw each other?”

No, she hadn’t forgotten.  She had thought of nothing else since it happened.  They were at a mutual friend’s barbecue and after having something to eat, she decided to go for a walk on the beach.  She was standing at the water’s edge, facing the ocean, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face and the breeze on her skin when he joined her.

It was the first time they had ever been alone together and it made her very nervous.  She was bare-feet and carrying her sandals in her hands.  The floral print sundress reached just above her ankles and it flattered her.  Her hair was pulled back in a French knot with a few strands framing her face.

Shane was dressed in a yellow tee shirt and khaki shorts.  He looked absolutely gorgeous.  She tried not to stare at him but she couldn’t help it.  The expression on his face as he looked at her made her mouth dry.  “I hope you don’t mind me being here,” he said.

She glanced away.  “Why should I?” she replied.  “You have as much right to be here as I do.”

“What are you afraid of?”

His question caught her by complete surprise.  It took several minutes for her to recover enough to declare, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I think you are, Monique.”

“All right, you seem to know me better than I know myself.  What do you think I’m afraid of?”

He moved closer.  “I think you’re afraid to be alone with me.”

She swallowed hard.  “Why should being alone with you make me afraid?” she wondered breathlessly.  She wanted to step back but she couldn’t seem to move.

He didn’t answer.  Instead, he leaned over and kissed her.  His hands went around her waist and held her tightly against him when she responded.  The feel of his lips on hers was her undoing and she clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into the sleeves.

The sudden ringing of his cell phone was like being doused with a bucket of cold water.  At first he ignored it and let it ring but when it rang again a couple of minutes later, muttering under his breath, he released her to answer it.  She turned and ran up the sandy slope as fast as she could.  When he returned to the house, she wasn’t there.  She had left.  That was a couple of weeks ago.  She hadn’t seen him again until now.

“I see that your memory has returned,” he murmured.  “We were interrupted by that  call.”

She turned away.  “Maybe it was a good thing we were.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do.  And there isn’t anything to interrupt us now.  I don’t have my cell on me and we’re the only ones here.  Everyone’s gone into the city.  We can finish now what we started that day on the beach.”

She felt her resolve weakening and when he pulled her roughly against him, his eyes dark with desire, she didn’t resist.  When his mouth hungrily sought hers, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and feverishly kissed him back.

An hour and half later, they showered and got dressed.  He took her into the city for a romantic, candlelight dinner with a spectacular view of the sea.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Finish.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Horatio Clarke/Stone #writephoto

Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

Cora walked along the path, the new bonnet in her hand.  While the family was entertaining the vicar and his family, she opted to venture out here.  Her face was turned up to the sky, her flushed cheeks becoming.  She wanted to loosened her raven dark so that it tumbled down her back but that won’t do for a young lady.  Sometimes she envied her little sister, Della who could wear her thick auburn hair down.

She hitched up her skirt and ran the rest of the way, leaning against the stone when she reached the top.  What a glorious day, she thought spreading her arms wide like a bird.  Up here she felt free–free from convention.  She disliked sitting in the parlor, drinking tea and listening to boring conversations.  Most of the time, her body was there but her mind was here.

Besides, she was tired of being asked the same insidious questions.  “Are there no young men who have won your affections?” or “What about Henry Taylor?  He’s a very amiable young man with a very handsome fortune.  You wouldn’t want of anything, my Dear.”

No, none of the men in Yorkshire had so much as stirred any interest much less won her affections and as amiable as he may be, Henry Taylor didn’t tickle her fancy at all.  Why couldn’t they be satisfied that her elder sister, Edith had formed an attachment to the very handsome and very agreeable Mr. Fairfax?  It was only a matter of time before an engagement would be announced.  She liked Bernard very well.  He would be an excellent brother to her and Della.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice him until he was almost upon her.  It was a man riding very gallantly on a beautiful white steed.  He looked stark against the animal because he was dressed completely in black.  Even his hair was black and the black cloak billowing behind him, reminded her of Count Dracula.

He dug his spurs into the horse’s sides and he came to a halt.  In one fluid and quick movement, he dismounted the animal and stood, over six feet tall, a few feet away from her.  He was very handsome.  His hair, thick and unruly, was blacker than hers.  Light brown eyes framed by enviably long dark lashes met her hazel gaze.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted her.  “I hope I’m not intruding.”

She shook her head.  “No, Sir, you’re not.”

“I like to ride up here,” he said.  “It’s very quiet and pleasant.  Do you come here often?”

“No, not often.”

“From whence did you come?”

“Fairhead’s Gate.”

“Fairhead’s Gate?” His black brows arched.  “Are you by any chance acquainted with Miss Edith Phillips?”

“She’s my older sister.”

“Then you must be Cora,” he said.  “Oh, permit me to introduce myself.  I’m Horatio Clarke.”

She stared blankly at him.  When he’d said, Horatio, she half expected him to add the name, “Hornblower.”

He looked amused.  “I see that Bernard has neglected to tell you about his roguish cousin.”

Her eyes widened.  “You’re Bernard’s cousin?” she exclaimed.  “But you look nothing like him.  He’s fair haired and ruddy and you’re–”

“Dark and rakish looking it.  I sometimes believe I have a little gypsy blood in me.”  His lips parted to reveal even white teeth.  He was quiet charming and disarming too.

Well, what ever he had pumping in his veins, he was unlike any man she had ever met.  He got her pulse racing and her heart pounding with excitement.  He was older than the men she knew too.  She guessed that he was five and thirty–fifteen years her senior.  Surely a man such as he could not still be unattached.  Whoever she was, she was very fortunate and she envied her.

She realized she was staring and she looked away, her face turning crimson.  “Perhaps, I should leave now,” she said.

“What?  You want to take leave of me so soon?” he inquired.

“It looks like it shall rain,” she said.

He gazed up at the sky.  “Yes, it does,” he agreed.  “Very well, Miss Phillips, I shall take you home.”

She looked at him in dismay.  “No, please, I don’t mind walking–”

“I insist,” he said.  “It would be rather remiss of me to let a lady get caught in the rain when I could have easily borne her to her abode.”

“Very well,” she said, realizing that it was pointless to protest any further and thought it rather kind of him to offer her a ride home.  She put on her bonnet and her heart lurched when he put his hands on her waist and hoisted her up onto the horse.  He climbed up and off they went.  This time his cloak didn’t stream behind him.  She clung to him for dear life, her eyes squeezed shut.  She had never ridden on a horse before.  It was terrifying.

She was relieved when they reached her family’s residence.  He got down and then helped her off.  Her legs felt wobbly.  He didn’t remove his hands from her waist until he was satisfied that she had regained her balance.  “Now, Miss Phillips, I shall bid you farewell but not before I ask your permission to call upon you tomorrow evening.”

It was hard to think sensibly when he was standing so close to her.  “Call upon me?” she repeated.  “But what about your young lady?”

His brows arched quizzically.  “My young lady?”

“Do you not have a young lady, Sir?”

He shook his head.  “No, Miss Phillips, I do not have a young lady.  Like you, I am unattached.”

She smiled for the first time since they met.  “Then, you may call upon me tomorrow evening, Mr. Clarke.”

He smiled and bowed.  “Tomorrow evening, then.  Good afternoon.”

She curtsied.  “Good afternoon.”

He swung up onto the horse and galloped off.

She watched him until he disappeared from view and then she walked slowly up the path to her house, just as the first drops of rain began to fall.  Oh, dear, she thought.  Mr. Clarke shall get soaked.

This is a response to the Thursday Photo Prompt – Stone at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Unexpected News

“What is all the commotion?” Isabel asked as she removed her bonnet.  She could hear excited voices in the drawing-room.  She didn’t dare go in.  “Is Elsie in trouble again?”  Elsie was her youngest sister.  She was a bit of a wild one, always managing to get herself in trouble and sending their mother in a tizzy.

Amelia shook her head.  “No, it’s not Elsie this time.  It’s Mr. Hornby.”

“Mr. Hornby is here?”  Isabel felt her heart lurch.  She ran her hands over her hair and smoothed the skirt of her dress.  “Has he been here long?”  If she had known that he was coming over this afternoon, she wouldn’t have gone for a walk.

“Not long.”

“Why is Mr. Hornby the cause of such commotion?”

“It seems that Mr. Hornby has decided that he wants to move to Canada.  He had considered the possibility for a very long time.  He sails next month.”

Isabel felt the color drain from her face.  “He’s leaving for Canada?  Next month?”

Amelia looked at her in alarm.  “What’s the matter, Izzy?” she asked.  “You have turned white as a sheet.  Are you not feeling well?”

“I–I need some fresh air,” she mumbled.

“But you just returned from your walk.”

“I need some fresh air.”

“Perhaps you should go and lie down.”

“No.  I need to go outside.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No–I would rather be alone.”  She quickly made her exit, leaving Amelia standing there, looking perplexed.

Outside in the garden, Isabel burst into tears.  She couldn’t believe that Mr. Hornby was leaving England and—her.  How could he leave without knowing that she loved him dreadfully?

She had known him since she was child and he had always been so kind to her.  He never made her feel like a nuisance and when she was a teenager, he never treated her like a child.  They had very stimulating conversations and she looked forward to his visits.  He seemed to enjoy it when she played the piano and would sit beside her with the newspaper open in his lap, pausing from his perusal of it to compliment her playing. She loved to play for him and didn’t feel a bit nervous at all. Sometimes, they would take turns reading poetry.  She could have sat for hours just listening to him recite the sonnets and the works of her favorite poets.  He had such a marvelous voice.

She didn’t know exactly when her feelings for him had changed but one day when she went into the library and found him there looking through one of the History volumes, she realized then that she was in love with him.  It didn’t matter that he was twice her age. To her he was the most wonderful and handsome man she had ever known.  She cherished the time they spent together and the fact that she hadn’t heard of any romantic attachment on his part with anyone, she hoped that this might be in her favor.  However, that could all change now.

Why was he going to Canada?  Why so far away?  Will she ever see him again?

“Isabel?” She hadn’t heard him approach her and was startled when he materialized beside her.  “You are crying.”  He gave her his handkerchief.

She took it and wiped her eyes and her nose.  “Mr. Hornby,” she said.  “Amelia told me that you were here.”

He frowned.  “Why didn’t you come and see me then?” he asked.  “When I arrived I was very disappointed to learn that you weren’t home.   Why didn’t you join us in the drawing-room?  I wanted you to be there to hear my news.”

She felt the tears coming again and she turned away so that he couldn’t see her face.  “I heard the news,” she said.  “Amelia told me that you are going to Canada.”

“I suspect that Amelia wasn’t in the room when I asked your father permission to marry his middle daughter and to take her to Canada with me if she would agree to it.”

She swung around to face him, her eyes huge with shock.  “You asked my father to marry me?” she could scarcely believe this.

“Yes.  I must admit that at the age of two and forty, I never imagined that I would be asking a girl half my age to marry me.  Isabel, I am old enough to be your father but my feelings for you far from paternal.”

“Oh Mr. Hornby, I had hoped that you would come to regard me as I have regarded you for the past three years.”

“Then, you will marry me?”

“Yes!”

“And you have no objection to moving to Canada and being so far from your family?”

“I admit that I shall be sorry to leave them and the house in which I have spent the happiest years of my life but my future happiness is with you.”

Mr. Hornby smiled and brushed his knuckles against her cheek, his eyes filled with the love that had long dwelt in his heart.  “I shall resolve to make you as happy as you have made me, Isabel.”

“I cannot imagine being happier than I am at this moment, Mr. Hornby.”

“Please call me Nigel.”

“Nigel.”  His name came out as a laugh and a sob as she was overwhelmed by the sheer happiness of this moment.

The Declaration

Friends since they were children,

Eliza never once imagined that

their relationship would blossom

into a romantic one.  Franklin

was so handsome and he had

his pick of very beautiful and

accomplished young women.

 

Eliza had always dreaded the

day when he would marry.

Her feelings for him had

changed when she turned

sixteen.  It was hard being

around him and pretending

that he was like a brother to

her.  It was even harder seeing

him with other girls.

 

When she and Franklin went

for their walks, always accompanied by

a relative, she would ask him

questions about a particular girl

to gage his feelings but he always

changed the subject.  She thought

perhaps he had developed an

attachment to the girl but

didn’t want to say anything until

he was sure that his affection

was reciprocated.

 

Then the moment she always dreaded

came.  They were sitting in their favorite

spot under her aunt’s supervision.  It was

a beautiful, sunny day.  Eliza breathed in the air,

smiling as the sun hit her face.  She held a rose in

her hand which Franklin had picked for her.

That was very sweet of him, she thought.

He was always doing thoughtful things.

How she adored him.  Sighing, she turned

to her friend who was watching her.

 

There was curious expression on his face

and she grew concerned.  “Is something the

matter?” she asked.

 

“Over the years I have developed feelings

for someone close to me and I haven’t had

the courage to tell her.  I am not sure of how

she feels about me.  What do you think I should

do?”

 

Eliza blinked, trying hard not to show the pain

that had gripped her heart.  She quickly turned

her head away from him so that he could not

see the tears in her eyes.  She blinked them back.

The last thing she wanted was to break down in

front of him.  He must never know how she felt

about him.  Never.  “I-I think you should tell her,”

she said quietly.  “You won’t know her feelings

unless you declare yours.”

 

There was a moment’s silence and then she

felt Franklin reach for her hand and his

fingers closed round hers.  His hand felt so

warm and strong.  She wanted to pull her hand

away, get up and run from there.  She wanted to

go to her room and lock herself in and cry until

she couldn’t cry anymore.

 

“Eliza, you and I have been friends since child-

hood.  The happiest moments of my life have

been with you.  I can’t imagine being with

anyone else.  Eliza, I love you.”

 

Her head spun round, her eyes wide with

shock.  “What?” she exclaimed.

 

“You’re crying,” he said, brushing the tears

from her cheeks.

 

“You love me?” She couldn’t believe it.

 

“Yes.  I have loved you for a long time

now but dared not declare my feelings

because I didn’t want to run the risk of

ruining our friendship.  You never showed

particular favour to any of the young men

so I hoped that perhaps you might be

more inclined to develop a romantic interest

in a man whom you consider to be your friend.”

 

Eliza beamed through her tears, her heart

bursting with joy.  “Oh Franklin,” she cried.  “I

love you.  I loved you since I was sixteen.  I wanted

so much to tell you but was afraid that you won’t

be pleased.”

 

His eyes were tender as they searched her face.  “Oh

my dear Eliza,” he murmured.  ” We would have

spared each other undue anguish if we had

declared our love before.  Well, the matter has been

resolved.  We love each other and it means now that

I can ask you to marry me without fear of rejection.”

He got down on his knee, his eyes held hers and both

of his hands held hers.  “Eliza, will you do me the honor

of becoming my wife?”

 

Eliza nodded, the tears falling.  “Yes,” she sobbed.

“Oh, Franklin.”

 

He smiled and stood up.  He pulled her to her feet.

“Now, I will go and ask your father for his permission.”

 

“I don’t suspect that you will meet with any resistance,”

Eliza told him.  “My father is rather fond of you.”

 

They walked back to Eliza’s house where Franklin was

warmly received.  Her aunt followed them, dabbing

at her eyes and smiling broadly.

 

Sources:  Angelpig.net; Victorian Era

Driven for Change

All I did was ask for rights. I didn’t attack anyone. I didn’t harass anyone. I didn’t oppose the system or the country or the authority. All I said is, ‘Why can’t I drive?’

I was born and grew up in a country where it was nothing out of the ordinary for women to drive.  My mother drove.  My aunt drove her own car.  And now I live in a country where women drive cars, buses and vans.  Imagine not being about to drive to work, drop your kids off to school or run errands.  This was the reality for women in Saudi Arabia and it was the ban on women driving which drove Manal al-Sharif to help to help start a women’s right to drive campaign in 2011.

Manal was filmed driving a car as part of the campaign.  In May 2011, she was detained and released but was arrested again the following day.  Her arrest helped rather than defeated her cause.  It showed that no matter what the cost, she was determined to stand up for what she believed.

Watch Manal share her story and try to imagine what it would be like to receive death threats because you dared to get behind the wheel of a car and have the video of this posted on Facebook.

In the video Manal declared what the purpose of the campaign was. “This is a volunteer campaign to help the girls of this country [learn to drive]. At least for times of emergency, God forbid. What if whoever is driving them gets a heart attack?” These were valid points.  The other day one of my co-workers had to go leave work for a doctor’s appointment.  Imagine if she were living in Saudi Arabia.  She would have to call her husband to go and pick her up from work, take her to the doctor’s office.  The husband would either have to wait until the appointment was over or if this wasn’t an option, he would have to go back to work and then back to the doctor’s office.  What an inconvenience!

Read this personal experience of a woman who currently lives in Saudi Arabia.  Not being able to drive is just one of the restrictions women face.  Under Saudi law, all females must have a male guardian such a father, brother, husband or son.  Girls and women are forbidden from travelling, conducting official business, or undergoing certain medical procedures without permission from their male guardians.  Depending on the guardian, women may also need permission to marry, divorce, to get an education, get a job or open a bank account.

Mandal is working to have male guardianship annulled.  And I hope that she succeeds.  Women are not children.  They are adults, capable of making their own decisions.  Women and girls should not have to get permission to be educated. Education is a privilege that everyone should have a right to enjoy.  And women should have to right to employment, earning their own money and opening a bank account where they can deposit their earnings.

There as some women, however, who defend male guardianship.  One such woman was Noura Abdulrahman, a female employee of the Saudi Ministry of Education. In a 2010 interview with the New York Times, she declared that male guardianship provided protection and love.  

In Saudi culture, women have their integrity and a special life that is separate from men. As a Saudi woman, I demand to have a guardian. My work requires me to go to different regions of Saudi Arabia, and during my business trips I always bring my husband or my brother. They ask nothing in return—they only want to be with me.

The image in the West is that we are dominated by men, but they always forget the aspect of love. People who aren’t familiar with Shariah often have the wrong idea. If you want stability and safety in your life, if you want a husband who takes care of you, you won’t find it except in Islam.

Men can love and protect women without taking away their rights to be independent, free-thinking individuals who should be treated as equals.  God created women in His image and never intended them to be treated as second class citizens with no rights.  Opponents of male guardianship cite cases in which women’s careers were ended by their guardians or they lost their children due to a lack of custody rights.  In 2009, there was the case of a father who vetoed several of his daughter’s attempts to marry outside their tribe and punished her by sending her to a mental institution.  Activist Wajeha Al-Huwaider agrees that while most Saudi men are caring, “it’s the same kind of feeling they have for handicapped people or for animals. The kindness comes from pity, from lack of respect.” She compares male guardianship to slavery.

The ownership of a woman is passed from one man to another. Ownership of the woman is passed from the father or the brother to another man, the husband. The woman is merely a piece of merchandise, which is passed over to someone else—her guardian … Ultimately, I think women are greatly feared. When I compare the Saudi man with other Arab men, I can say that the Saudi is the only man who could not compete with the woman. He could not compete, so what did he do with her? … The woman has capabilities. When women study, they compete with the men for jobs. All jobs are open to men. 90% of them are open to men. You do not feel any competition … If you do not face competition from the Saudi woman … you have the entire scene for yourself. All positions and jobs are reserved for you. Therefore, you are a spoiled and self-indulged man – Wajeha Al-Huwaider

Notes to Women would like to recognize Manal, a fearless woman who is continuing to fight for the rights of Saudi women. She remains an active critic of the Saudi government.  She started a Twitter campaign called “Faraj” to release Saudi, Filipino and Indonesian women prisoners in the Dammam women’s prison who “are locked up just because they owe a small sum of money but cannot afford to pay the debt”.  She tweeted about the lack of elections for the Shura Council, and the murder of Lama al-Ghamdi.  Her work has been recognized by Foreign Policy, Time, and the Oslo Freedom Forum.  Hers is a voice that refuses to be silenced until there is change.

Today, let us stand with Manal and the women of Saudi Arabia.  Let us take action.  Let us raise our voices and call for change.  And let us be thankful that we live in countries where we have access to education, employment, our own bank accounts and have a say in matters that concern us.

We won’t stop until the first Saudi license is issued to a woman.

When women break that taboo and they’re not afraid to drive that car by herself – that’s it. Now she has the guts to speak up for herself and take action.

Women tell me they are different since 21 May – the day I was arrested – it’s a positive change, they believe now.

Sources:  Wikipedia; TED; Brainy Quotes; Women’s Rights