Chapter Cheryl C.

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=125 BGCOLOR="#BFBF00" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="05b467d1dwoxjb.png"> <bR> <div> <B><IMG SRC="275207d0.jpg" border=0 width="800" height="125" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <bR> <bR> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=189 style="border-right: 1px solid #CCCCCC;" BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="WovenWord Press"><B>home</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id89.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="new from the press/Mother Blessings/Jour"><B>new from the press</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="catalog"><B>catalog</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="how to order this book"><B>how to order</B></A><B> </B><A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="how to order this book"><B>books</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id32.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="who we are"><B>who we are</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id33.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="links"><B>links</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id34.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="contact"><B>contact </B></A></div> <div> <B>    </B></div> <bR> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=355 width="100%" BGCOLOR="#FFFF99" TEXT="#080000"> <div>               </div> <div>                      </div> <div>      <FONT SIZE="6" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Verdana" ><I><B>c h a p t e r   s a m p l e</B></I></FONT></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>  Barley Cakes   </B></div> <div> <I><B>        Parables for the Twenty-first Century</B></I></div> <div> <B>                                by Cheryl Cavalconte</B></div> <div> <I><B> </B></I></div> <bR> <div> <B> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="626" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="VOID" RULES="NONE" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 1483 WIDTH="622"><div> <B>The Birth of the</B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#CC3300" FACE="Arial" ><B> </B></FONT><B>New Villager</B></div> <bR> <div> <B>A few of the women who had already borne children gathered with the midwife around the young laboring mother. This was her first child. Some of the villagers had already gathered outside in anticipation of the joyous event. Eventually, they would all draw together as one presence, as one voice, the men and women from their work and the children from their play. </B></div> <div> <B>Inside, the young mother lay with her belly full, tight, and low. Her face strained sweetly as she lifted her head as if to look at her belly, as if the curving of her body could urge the baby forth. The midwife took a cloth in her wrinkled hand and wiped the moisture from the mother's cheek. The water was cool and refreshing. A light breeze blew through the window and the young mother remembered stories that she had been told about the ancestors and how their spirits gathered around to witness the birth of a baby. She welcomed the breeze and thought of her parents and her grandparents.</B></div> <div> <B>"Breathe lightly." the old woman said as the mother lay back upon her pillow. "Breathe lightly. You cannot push the flow of the river."</B></div> <div> <B>The young mother thought of the water falling over the rocks where the river feed Long Pond. She thought of the river overflowing and saturating the fields in spring. She felt her own body flood the blankets. She thought of the midwife's words. "You cannot push the flow of the river."</B></div> <div> <B>One of the women quietly brought clean blankets and another covered the young mother in a dry shawl.</B></div> <div> <B>Again, the young mother's body curled as if to embrace her child even before its birth. The midwife held her shoulders forward and whispered, "The flow of the river, the flow of the river." For such a small withered woman, the midwife's body was strong and gentle; her hands were firm and tender. The young mother's body was hot and tired; her face softly tense.</B></div> <div> <B>The young mother rested a moment while the women scurried quietly about, doing this, doing that, preparing everything.</B></div> <div> <B>Again, the young mother rolled forward hugging her breasts close to her belly. She sat there, bearing down and she whimpered, almost like a child.</B></div> <div> <B>The midwife nodded to the others and they brought the cloths they had prepared close to where the young mother lay. "The river," the midwife said again, "the flow of the river."</B></div> <div> <B>The young mother rested for only a moment before her body again curled itself forward toward her round, full belly. Her face was smooth and young. Her forehead was wet and furled. Her heart was strong and full. One of the women put her arms around the young mother's shoulders to support her bearing down. The midwife sat still and quiet, watching and waiting. The young mother took a deep breath and again let her body press close against her belly. Her whimper became a moan and the midwife spoke tenderly, "I am here to receive your baby. Give the child to us."</B></div> <div> <B>The young mother's groan became a loud cry, a wail of joy and hope and release. She clasped her knees and breathed a long downward breath. Her womb opened and the gift was given. The midwife lifted the small, slippery, bloody baby up upon the mother's belly and then attended to the afterbirth.</B></div> <div> <B>Having heard the loud cry, most of the villagers gathered outside as they had done for generations. After the midwife had tended to the young mother and the women had washed the baby, the midwife gave the naked child to one of the grandparents. The young mother's parent took the baby outside the hut and lifted the child above the villagers for all to see and announce as was the custom. "Today a gift has been given to the village: new life, the last of the ancestors and the first of the new generation. This child is the promise of eternal life, the hope of those to come. Let us rejoice and be glad that life is carried on."</B></div> <div> <B>There was much celebration in the village that day as the little baby lay nursing at the young mother's breast.</B></div> <bR> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></B></div> <bR> <div> <B>_______________________________________________________________</B></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id154.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Author Cheryl Cavalconte"><B>about the author</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id144.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Chapter Cheryl C."><B>sample book chapter</B></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="catalog"><B>catalog</B></A></div> <div> <B>                  </B></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>                                         </B><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#CCFF99" FACE="Arial" ><B> </B></FONT><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#CC3300" FACE="Arial" ><A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="how to order this book"><B>How to Order this Book </B></A></FONT></div> <bR> <div> <B>Barley Cakes</B></div> <div> <I><B>Parables for the Twenty-first Century</B></I></div> <div> <B>Cheryl Cavalconte  </B></div> <div> <B>96 pgs.  $10.00 paperback  ISBN: 0965813754</B></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>