A Girl Called Samson

by Amy Harmon

“You must continue with your memorization. I have known no greater comfort in my life than to be able to call upon God’s words when I am at a loss for my own,”

“The only king I worship is the King of Kings, Lord of Lords, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” Reverend Conant was frowning, and his jaw was tight.

My grandmother told me once that men may run the world, but women rule men.

“My faith is not in a church. My faith is in God. I have not lost my faith,” I argued softly, shaking my head. I had not lost my faith, but I was in grave danger of losing all hope.

“Is there a reason you’re holding my hand, soldier?” he whispered, strain making the words crack. I was too overjoyed to be embarrassed. “Yes, sir. I was afraid you would die while I slept. And I couldn’t stay awake anymore. So I held your hand to keep you here.”

“When this is over, I’ll go home to Lenox, Massachusetts. Where will you go?” “I’m not sure. I don’t think that far ahead,” I said. I did not let myself think that far ahead. “No. I don’t believe that. You are always thinking.” “Yes, sir. But not about the future. I find the present taxing enough.”

“I have treated you with incredible familiarity.” “Familiarity is not indecency.” “And you are being purposefully obtuse.”

“In no place on earth can a man or woman who is born into certain circumstances ever hope to truly escape them. Our lots are cast from the moment we inhabit our mothers’ wombs, from the moment we draw breath. But perhaps that can change here, in this land.”

is one thing to be treasured and it is another to be a treasure. One is valued, one is possessed, and people aren’t possessions.