Written by Débora Rodrigo, volunteer with Iron Rose Sister Ministries in Arequipa, Perú
All the women around her were mothers. Being a mother is what gave a woman of her time and her culture her reason for being, her value in the family and in society. But Hannah had no children. Hannah was empty. She was alone. She felt useless. A waste of society. Good for nothing. Her husband could not understand that feeling of helplessness that devastated her heart. He asked her, why do you need a child? Am I not enough for you? But of course, he had his own children; another woman had given them to him. She was unable to do it. She felt watched, singled out. When she walked through the streets, she felt how other women looked at her with pity. She knew what they were thinking. There was Hannah, the one who couldn't give her husband children. The one who would never feel the baby kicks in the womb, the one who would never breastfeed her children. Some women made fun of her. We do have children. Not like you. Something must be wrong with her. Or at least that's what she felt.
The anguish grew with the passing of time. The chances of the miracle occurring diminished considerably as the months progressed. The years continued to pass without stopping. Hope was diminishing. Impotence grew, and along with, it desolation. Little by little Hannah’s heart filled with anguish. Loneliness. Bitterness. No one could understand how she drowned the deep weight of sadness. It was impossible to explain. There was no way for others to understand this terrible bottomless tunnel that Hannah walked through every day. Alone.
Like every year, Hannah, along with her husband, who was also accompanied by his other wife and the children she had given him, traveled to the Shiloh sanctuary to worship God. It was a family custom, an appointment they didn't miss. But this year Hannah was traveling completely devastated with hardly any energy, without even the courage to feed her own body. Upon arrival, she could do nothing but retire to the sanctuary and pray to God from the silence of her solitude. She needed to free herself from that deep sadness. Soundless words came out of her mouth and mixed with the tears that flowed from her eyes without rest. There, in the midst of her loneliness, Hannah poured out her heart before God. She emptied it completely. She begged Him to take such a heavy load. There, Hannah finally felt understood. As her prayer flowed, a vibrant energy strengthened her body and soul. Finally, little by little, Hannah allowed the sadness to leave her mind and her being, emptied of the anguish that had taken possession of her for so long. Hannah let God give her encouragement and even joy in the midst of her terrible suffering. Anyone who saw her like this, completely abandoned in the arms of God, would have considered her crazy, or even drunk, as the priest himself thought she was. But she was just a devastated woman surrendering to a God who loved her and understood her suffering. The only one who could comfort a heart as broken as hers.
After praying for a while, Hannah wiped away her tears, got up and went back to her family. But this time with renewed strength, without the heavy burden of the abyss of sadness. Her appetite returned and she felt motivated enough to keep going. God had comforted her heart. At last, the heavy burden of sadness had become more bearable, and even light. Although her desire for a child was still just as strong as before, that suffering was much more bearable. She knew she wasn't alone. She knew she was loved and understood.
Only a few years passed before Hannah returned to that same place and stepped on that same ground that had seen her cry inconsolably and find the comfort she needed. This time however, the tears were of joy. The words, inaudible one day, were now clear and firm, the phrases that before implored help, now gave exclamations of gratitude and joy. Gratitude for that son that Hannah now embraced. Joy for a heart that found in God the hope it had lost. That son that she had felt growing within herself belonged to God and she gave him to God. God had replaced her anguish with inordinate joy. Now she felt complete, overflowing with joy.
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