My Dream Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - The Birth And Raising Of A Dreamer

  Chapter Two - Moving Up And Getting On

  Chapter Three - Finding love and facing loss

  Chapter Four - Possibilities beckon and wings are spread

  Chapter Five - A new challenge and a new decision

  Chapter Six - New love and old love and a friend in trouble

  Chapter Seven - Coming Home

  Chapter Eight - Home again, new start, new love

  Chapter Nine - Married Life, Married Strife

  Chapter Ten - Almost an end and a ne beginning

  Chapter Eleven - New Life and New Hope

  Chapter Twelve - The downward spiral

  Chapter Thirteen - Rock Bottom

  Chapter Fourteen - Through the valley of death

  Chapter Fifteen - The road from despair

  Chapter Sixteen - Delivering the Dream

  Chapter Seventeen

  References

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Life in itself doesn’t always treat us fairly; it can often involve less funfair, and more warfare. But this warfare is not waged against witches and wizards, or against opposing countries. It’s not warfare against unfavorable weather or climatic conditions, or even against economic depression.

  So, what is this warfare about? What is this war we need to wage?

  This warfare is an attack that attempts to derail us and ensure that we do not accomplish our reason for living. It’s a battle that aims at hindering the discovery, pursuit, and fulfillment of our God-given purpose.

  Enjoyment of life can only come with the attainment of our purpose and assignment, and the realisation of the dreams that cry out for fulfillment. This is your purpose.

  The enemy is aware of the magnitude and the challenge of the great and mighty things that lie in wait for us when we are in the place of purpose, and because this needs to be thwarted at all costs, he wages war against us.

  My Dream is the story of the war waged by a young lady, Esther, that focusses on how her courageous struggle and fight eventually led her to the discovery and fulfillment of her own purpose.

  George Bernard Shaw said:

  ‘This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.’

  Isaiah 26:3

  “You, Lord give perfect peace to those who keep their purpose firm and put their trust in you.”

  When this warfare is won, the rewards are a discovery of one’s purpose and the beginning of self-fulfillment.

  Now, I invite you to journey through Esther’s story, a story that ended with her finding her God-given purpose. At the end of this journey, I sincerely hope and believe that not only will you be inspired and motivated to confront and fight your own war, but also that you will be able to lay hold on God’s plan and purpose for your life.

  Chapter One

  The Birth and Raising of A Dreamer

  It was far from the joyous arrival into the world that was being witnessed elsewhere up and down the labour ward, on a warm first day of May in 1992. As fathers proudly passed newly delivered bundles to grandparents and exhausted mothers basked in the admiration and adoration of their husbands and relatives, one child slipped into the world almost unnoticed.

  Her mother, Ruth, had been abandoned by Esther’s father before her birth. Besides the overwhelming love of a mother for her newborn child, another emotion clawed at Ruth; fear of the future, the dread of being alone, of bearing the responsibility for this helpless little scrap of humanity by herself. No balloons with “it’s a girl’ emblazoned on them danced above the bed and not one teddy with a pink note of congratulations around its neck nestled in the corner of her baby girl’s crib. Esther Washington had only her mother, and her mother only had Esther Washington.

  The way that these things invariably go, Esther and her mother survived and the little girl thrived under the tutelage of a devoted and loving mother and the occasional acts of kindness from strangers that were like diamonds stumbled upon in a field of dirt. The father of baby Esther was back in Africa, an ocean and a world apart from the tiny child that he had given life to.

  Sometimes Esther’s mother would look down into the perfect and exquisitely beautiful face of her sleeping child and wonder how his heart would not be torn in two, being apart from the miracle they had created between them. Men, it seems, are different. Something to do with the fact that they do not actually carry the perfect creatures they create, possibly?

  The young Esther blossomed and grew like a precious flower. She once heard one of the churchwomen talking to her mother, saying:

  “Esther is a precious girl, she is beautiful, inside and out.”

  At the time, Esther thought that was a funny thing to say. How could the lady know what her insides looked like? Later she would learn that a glimpse of what someone has on the inside is not so much a glimpse at their internal organs as the shade of their heart. Some black hearts hide behind very attractive exteriors. But the child Esther was a beautiful child, her face shining with the kind of goodness and kindness that could only come from within.

  Her life was hard, although she was not aware of that. Her life was her life. After a brief reconciliation just before the millennium between her mother and father, a brother, Levi, joined her but the reality of life with a lot of bills and not a lot of money frightened her father off and he left, this time for good.

  Levi was sweet and together Esther and her mother tended to him. He was their little miracle and this time, as he settled into the world, there was a sister to peer in wonder into his crib, barely able to contain her excitement and dying to be given the chance to hold his tiny body wrapped in its blue hospital blanket. His skin was light and his hair a mixture of African tight curl and a softer curl. He was beautiful. His bright brown eyes stared up at his sister as she held out her little finger and he wrapped a tiny hand around it. Their bond, made in that moment, would be tested, but never broken.

  Life for the family was not easy, but hard work and faith can work miracles, and it did.

  Ruth worked at several menial jobs just to make sure her children had access to the basic things of life. As Esther grew older, the consciousness of what her mother was going through just to raise them became clearer. The knowledge and the gratitude for her mother’s devotion and hard work matured the child beyond her years.

  By the age of nine, she was helping her mother carry out domestic chores, cooking and other aspects of her official duties as an order picker, which she brought home. Esther had a multi-faceted life; she was a daughter, a helping hand, an assistant child raiser and a school pupil. Esther was an elderly young girl.

  Childhood days are supposed to be carefree - that would be the ideal. However, while Esther’s life was a lot better than that of other children, such as those who suffered abuse or neglect perhaps, it had its responsibilities. It came with a weight that should never rest on the shoulders of a young girl.

  Through all the trials and tribulations of her young life, one thing was constant, like an umbrella protecting her from the worst of the weather, Esther had her faith. Ruth raised her children the only way that she knew how, and with the only constant that she knew would never change; the love of God. Every Sunday, the family would be in church, luxuriating in the love of those who, like them, loved the Lord. Esther became a gifted and passionate Sunday school teacher.

  She threw herself into the life of the bigger family she had grown up with in the church and became a language interpreter, as well as a very active member of the ladies fellowship.
Esther’s desire to know God for herself led her to attend Bible study meetings, and prayer meetings too. The light of her faith guided her through the days of her life and during difficult times, it shone brighter.

  Her friends loved Esther but they recognized in her an old soul. Childhood without responsibility was a luxury that Esther could not afford. While they were going to buy makeup, she was going to pay utility bills. While they were trying to wheedle more money out of their parents for things that are essential to teenage girls, Esther was trying to keep her own demands, even for the basics, to a minimum to save taxing her mother’s limited resources.

  If childhood is measured by the fact that it is a time without worry, without responsibility, then Esther did not have a childhood. But she did have love.

  Sometimes it seemed to Esther that she was living her life on the edge of other peoples existences, that she was watching them enjoy things that she could not. It reminded her a bit of the fairytale that her mother used to read to her when she was a little girl, Cinderella, where the poor girl was left to everyday drudgery while her sisters enjoyed parties and balls and being wined and dined. They enjoyed the good life, the excitement and the thrills of life while poor Cinders sat in the fireplace cleaning and keeping the house for them.

  It was not that Esther resented the work that she did, alongside her mother, to keep the home together. She did not. She was proud of her role in bringing Levi up to be a clever and inquisitive youngster who always had a smile on his face and a football under his arm. Making ends meet was a challenge to Esther and she would often leave the table still hungry so that her little brother could eat the remainder of her meal.

  When her mother came in, worn out from her last job of the day, it gave Esther pleasure that the house was clean and tidy and the washing and ironing done so that all her mother had to do was sit down in a chair as Esther served her a meal on a tray. Often, Esther would have to wake her mother to eat the food, Ruth was so exhausted that she would fall asleep as soon as she sat down. Sometimes Esther would gaze at her mother’s sleeping face in the same way that her mother had once looked down at the baby Esther’s face, and think how beautiful her mother looked without the worry and the frown that almost seemed to pass as a permanent feature on her waking face.

  They were a good team, Ruth and Esther, and just when it seemed that they were running on empty, Sunday would come around and Esther would feel the warmth of love and community refuel her for the week ahead. Given how close they all were in their church family, during the week they barely saw each other. Life was hard for most and it was all they could do to keep their head above water and food on the table.

  School was an escape of sorts and Esther did enjoy being a child from the sound of the school bell in the morning to the time that she resumed her duties at home in the afternoon. Taking Levi by the hand, they would walk back through grimy streets that smelled of poverty and degradation. Once as they were coming home, a street fight broke out.

  Esther saw the flash of blades and grabbing Levi tighter by the hand, ran for their lives. Levi was craning his neck to see what was going on. “Cool!” He shouted and Esther felt a wave of fear for her brother wash over her. She knew how damaging gangs could be. Friends had lost brothers to knife crime. The thought of Levi being sucked in was horrific. For the first time, Esther realized the enormity of what life on their rung of the ladder would be. Whatever she and her mother did at home and in church, however much they loved and protected Levi, he was always going to be vulnerable to the influence of others around him.

  She had seen the young lads between childhood and manhood, their uncertainty making them prime victims for those who would prey on the vulnerable, and hence easy to influence individuals. She was determined to keep Levi out of the mess that sprawled their neighbourhood.

  At school, Esther would join in with the banter about makeup, music and the things that occupy girls. Hairstyles and pop stars were something she could talk about although her own hair did not lend itself to many different styles. She knew that her face was beautiful since her friends reassured her of that all the time. Her eyes were dark with long lashes and a sort of definition that would only usually be achieved by expert application of eyeliner. Her cheeks showed high cheekbones and her lips were full and lush. Her friends agreed that she did not even need makeup. Just as well really, as Esther could not afford it.

  As Esther grew, her body developed and her figure, that she often kept under wraps in a school uniform one size too big, was as breathtaking as her lovely face. Whereas her friends advertised their wares in tight, figure-hugging clothes and skirts that were so short their underwear was on show, Esther preferred not to be oggled. She knew that she looked out of place beside her friends and they teased her constantly, gently and not so gently trying to get her to join them in their fashion statement, to roll the waistband of her school skirt over so that her skirt would fall just below her bottom. With quite some good humour, Esther would always refuse and her friends found a reason to lover her anyway.

  They knew that she was a shining star amongst them, that if she did dress as they did, no one would give them a second glance. Esther was that rare person who was breathtakingly lovely but did not know it.

  When she was twelve, she heard two male classmates talking about her and the mathematics test that she had missed. They thought Esther had been playing truant and did not care about her studies.

  The problem was Esther had started her menstrual periods. It was a source of great embarrassment to Esther that other people would come to realize the monthly significance of her missing lessons, but the pain and discomfort forced her to stay at home. Esther still remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. She had hated each month-end when the dreaded monster would come lurking again. At twelve years old, Esther’s mother told her, “You are a woman now and you should not play with boys. Do not let any boy see this; they will laugh at you….”

  Esther was confused. Most, if not all, of her all of her friends were girls and she always played with her brother. The science teacher at school had told them only that one of the changes that happen to girls as they mature is to bleed from the vagina. He gave no other information about menstruation. Most of the science teachers in school were men and none of them got into issues of reproductive health in their teaching, even though it was part of the syllabus.

  The girls were referred to their textbooks to learn about their bodies and reproductive system. While they struggled to understand what was happening to their bodies, they also had to deal with the reality of managing their periods. Esther had a very heavy flow and more often than not she was in pain. The first two days were always the worst because of the severe cramps. Her menstrual periods lasted for five days, a period that felt like the longest days of her life.

  Esther hated going to school during this time. Each month Esther would ask her mother for sanitary towels. She was not very comfortable during this period and hated having to sit and wait for everybody to leave the classroom before she could go out and clean up. While the teacher and the other students were busy with the lesson, Esther would be worrying about how she was going to get to the toilets without people noticing her bloodstained dress. What made matters worse was the fact that she had to walk a long distance home with ‘pads’ wedged uncomfortably between her legs. She often wished there could be a different time set aside for menstruating girls to go to the toilet so that they could have some privacy.

  Apart from boys who were always interested in the girls’ toilets, there were also other girls whose main aim was to tease and ridicule others in the toilet. Esther dreaded going to the toilets during break time, especially when she was menstruating. Esther could not concentrate on the lessons during this time of the month, which meant that she paid more attention to her bleeding at the expense of her schoolwork, often worried about when the discomfort would end. Looking back, these memories made her laugh, she knew now it was all part of the painful process of
becoming a woman.

  But the male of the species is not that easily fooled by attempts to camouflage appearance. Teenage boys with testosterone coursing through their veins are hard-wired to identify the finest of female forms and Esther did not go unnoticed despite her attempts to camouflage her developing body.

  Meanwhile, Esther enjoyed football and any other game that involved team play. She had boys as neighbours and she played games with them, delighting in the times she won and learning from the times she did not. Esther was a team player, driven by targets. Despite her soft and gentle nature, she would be aggressive when she wanted to achieve results, and when she was part of a team.

  But now the boys that she played against in sporting events were noticing her as a woman, rather than a wiry determined little fighter. Men and boys attempted to get her to give in to them, but with the help of God, she never did.

  There were times of pressing financial needs, for Esther and her family, when men were willing to give much more than was needed financially, if only Esther would give herself to them in bed. Esther always declined bluntly. She was determined to stay a virgin until she was married, and with her steely determination, she achieved this.

  Pushing the boys away, however, came with its share of miseries. Coupled with the effects of a partly dysfunctional family, there were lots of times in her teenage years that Esther felt awful. She hardly knew how she could go on living.

  Why was she ever born if she was not loved?

  She felt that she was always alone, so alone. It was hard to explain what that meant. Esther had a mother and a brother. They loved her, she knew that, but why had her father never shown her any love?

  I love him but he hates me! She would cry to herself.

  Esther would admonish herself - it sounded crazy! She had everything, a room of her own, good clothes, good food, and yet she felt so lonely. Without her father’s love she felt dead inside!