At last she stopped struggling and lay panting beside the woman for a while, her muscles loosening, until the watchfulness fell from her and she was asleep. The woman caught the tiny wrist in her hand and held tight, though the child struggled in silence with tears running down her small pale face. Then she saw the woman’s lapful of food and reached out hungrily. From the pocket of the woman’s sleeping neighbor the child pulled a granola bar and ate it swiftly.
Cloud unpeeled from moon through the high windows, and in the new light she saw a child rifling among the clothes of others.
She became aware of a darkness creeping through, too large to be a rat, too small for an adult. Late in the night, she opened her eyes to a dim sea of sleeping bodies.
Human decency could still overcome hunger, then. Another sandwich, another water, another halfhearted fruit, and she sat with the whole accumulation between her legs and no one tried to take it. She relieved herself where she sat, but the human reek was such that no one noticed. People stirred in the morning and went out into the yard and returned when night fell, but she remained frozen. There were few children in the warehouse and only one baby, who lay rigid in his swaddle and didn’t cry.Ī sandwich in plastic appeared between the woman’s legs, a bottle of water, an anemic nectarine. At night, still others turned to their neighbors and fucked as quietly as they could, in desperate affirmation of living. All around her through the day people spoke quietly and wept and some of the refugees with medical backgrounds tended to the wounded, and others passed through sleep and into death. She searched the faces for the two beloved ones, but something told her softly that she wouldn’t find them. The survivors poured in and poured in and packed their bodies so tightly to sleep on the bare floors that their breath alone warmed the air. The gray vinyl of a bus seat, scored like aged skin, and the strange flat brown landscape passing dreamily by the window.įinally, a warehouse with a concrete floor that was still shining wet with bleach, metal walls that breathed behind her back with the storm that had fallen down on them in extra punishment, a bruised boil of purple sky in the high windows. A mass of faceless people huddled around a fire. A woman in filthy panties limping down a road with a bone knuckling out of her arm. She currently has her own blog and online course, along with a mother daughter mentorship program called the ‘Ohana Experience, all centered on helping young women be unstoppable in life and faith.Images accumulated.
A girl stepped into the waves professional#
Her greatest joy is being a wife and mother, and Bethany continues to touch and inspire lives globally as a professional surfer, author and motivational speaker. Bethany has been able to touch a large number of people with her faith message, charitable efforts, and overall spirit. At 17 years old, she realized her dream of surfing professionally and she is still an active surf competitor to this day. Bethany’s foundation of faith has been her backbone her source of truth, hope, and strength.
However, one month after the attack, Bethany returned to surfing and within two years had won her first national surfing title. At the age of 13 as a rising surf star, Bethany lost her left arm to a 14-foot tiger shark, which seemed to end her dream career. Her story of determination, faith, and hope has resounded in encouragement worldwide. Known most notably as one of the biggest comeback stories of our era, Bethany Hamilton has become synonymous with inspiration.
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