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Diary of a pastor’s wife episode 3

DIARY OF A PASTORS WIFE
EPISODE 3
Abigail stared at me right in the face, as I narrated all that has been happening to me.
 
She is my immediate younger Sister, who is a stunt feminist and very independent.
 
“Sis, Why did you tell him that you will be patient? you should have granted the divorce and become free.” Abigail clucked and sighed loudly.
 
“I am people’s mentor and role model. A lot of young women in the church look up to me. I have to live a life worth emulating. what will people say if I get divorce and still stand on the church podium to preach marriage and love?” I asked looking at her like i demanded a pity.
 
“This is what you women always say. last week in Ibadan, a lady called Modupe was brutally beaten by her husband, she died.” Her voice got a bit emotional as she continued.
“she didn’t tell anyone of what she was going throu-gh. She thought things were going to change. she thought that one day Jesus was gonna come down and rescue her, or st©p her husband from beating her. ”
 
“David has never beaten me.” I cut in.
 
“what difference does it make? it’s same story. Instead of filing for a divorce you think he is going to leave that girl and come back to you, while he is still un-der the manipulations of that witch called his mother! give me one reason why you think things will change positively?”
 
“because I have a God who is bigger than all my problems. He will sort this out. I don’t know how he is gonna do it, but he will.”
 
“For how long? Don’t forget that you are my only sister. Since mama and papa died, I haven’t recovered. plea-se walk away sis. I don’t want to lose you.”
 
For just a moment, I saw such an unfettered emotions in my sister’s eyes, she was almost at the verge of tears and then immediately gets back to herself when she heard the kids scream her name.
 
“Aunty Abigail!” The both of them jumped on her like puppies as she pegged them on their foreheads excitedly.
 
“Aunty Abigail, mommy and daddy are fighting.” Mfon said shrilly.
 
“Daddy has a new mummy. and Grandma said we are adopted children.” Teye said Innocently.
 
Perhaps it was then that I began to feel submerged in hazy nostalgia. A feeling that never left me.
 
“Aunty Abigail, what is adoption?”
 
“Adoption means to be given birth to my darling. ” Abigail replied in a shaky tone. Her countenance changed as she cu-mddled the kids gradually.
 
Moments later, David stormed the house with few of the choir boys and young pastors in church, none of them greeted my sister nor I.
 
We watched them re-move boxes and shoes from the be-droom, while David held Ifeoma’s luggage in his arms like a baby.
 
My che-st grew ti-ght with trepidation.
I remembered our vows,
 
I remembered the way he held my hands and said to me that ours will be for better for worse.
 
I remembered the way he preached, the way he talked about God, the way I stood and nodded in support of my husband.
 
I remembered the last time we made love.
 
I remembered his cold dark eyes, how he glanced at me, and k!$$£d me so [email protected]
 
For twelve years, I loved him wholeheartedly, prayed with him, and prayed for him.
 
I remembered my sweat, the evangelism, how I convinced people to join the church so we could make a large congregation.
 
These thoughts made a shiver run down my spine. I [email protected]£ sick instantly, as Abigail, the kids and I watched him break our wedding frame. He ordered the boys to burn them into ashes.
 
“David you are a bastard! man of God my foot! years back, you almost died when my sister refused to marry you. Now look, the devil has knocked your head again!” Abigail screamed.
 
But David acted like non of us existed. His eyes were [email protected] The cool breeze that k!$$£d my soft skin brou-ght me back to reality.
 
“My lawyer is going to bring [email protected] of the money in our family account to you. I am no more interested in this marriage.” David said huskily as he tried to wipe the sweat on his forehead, he said these words so lightly like it meant nothing.
 
“You will regret this! you will suffer! my God will punish you!” Abigail’s comment instigated a train of thought that instantly perturbe-d him.
 
“I am a man of God.” he retorted.
 
“You are a man of doom! Your greedy mother made you a pastor so that her husband’s ministry won’t be controlled by strangers. You should have been a Monkey!” Abigail’s voice raised, as the kids laughed in unison.
 
He stared sternly at me and the kids for another ten seconds, sighed and walked away.
 
“Mummy, where is Daddy going?”
 
“To hell! he won’t ever come back. ” Abigail replied with a frowned face.
 
“Where is hell aunty Abigail?” Teye asked.
 
But Abigail didn’t respond. She walked gently and sat right beside me. cudd-ling me like a baby.
 
“all will be well adiaha eka.” she said, almost whispering.
 
***
 
Five months [email protected], and all I did was fast and pray that God turns things around for my good.
 
Bitter res£ntment crawled inside of me, ma-king my anger boil as it seemed as if God wasn’t listening.
 
The next day was a program in church organized by International pastors wives the themed was tagged “when women pray.”
 
“You should go mummy. I will take care of Teye” my first daughter Said as if she was a grown woman alre-ady.
 
I tickled her armpit in a funny way and she laughed, a hearty girlish laugh that showed her gap tooth.
 
“Mummy do me too.” Teye said, lifting her two small hands up.
 
I stared at the two of them excitedly in amazement.
 
Outside the sky was gloomy. Heavy clouds were re-ady to drop down rainfall. I heard a roll of thun-der, a storm was coming, it [email protected]£ 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, plea-se 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 @ssociation with in the past spoke before my turn.
 
“Ladies, plea-se 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 thun-derous hand [email protected] 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 soa-ked 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 w€t b©dy.
 
***
 
The next morning, I woke up in pains. I felt my [email protected] w€t.
 
I knew something was wrong, I di-pped my hands into my [email protected] 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 [email protected], 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 [email protected]
 
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 de-ep breath.
 
“Thanks be to God.” I said.
 
That day, I wept all throu-gh.
 
I had series of dreams; I saw myself br£@st feeding Ifeoma’s baby. Then I woke up and saw dee-per blood stains on the be-d. I changed the be-dsheets 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.

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