Write to Right

Episode 61
The Weight of Mercy
©️ Rosemary Oghenerobo

Three months.

That’s all it had taken for my entire life to realign.

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my perfectly tailored suit, I took a deep breath. The man staring back at me looked… calm, whole, humbled, grateful and completely in awe of what was about to happen.

In three months, God had rewritten my story with a kind of mercy I didn’t think I deserved. My family and Hauwa’s family, once separated by tension and misunderstandings, had found common ground. Her strength and grace had softened even the most rigid of hearts and Bezalel our son had become the glue, the miracle child who bound us all together.

I remember my Aunt sobbing the first time she held him in her arms, her voice trembling with the weight of emotion. “You’ve become Ruth to me, Hauwa,” she said between sniffles. “My life was like Naomi’s… bitter, empty but God sent you to me, a balm, a comfort. A reminder that He sees.”

That moment stayed with me. I had shared with her my insight of the book of Ruth and she had agreed our stories were alike in a lot of ways. Today, I stood ready, ready to be Hauwa’s Boaz. Her covering. Her peace. Her partner. Her home. Everything I have, everything I am, I would give to her and to Bezalel until my last breath.

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I stood at the altar facing the church, the priest in front of me. We had chosen a small intimate wedding. She walked in, radiant and glowing, not just from beauty, but from grace. Hauwa looked fuller, softer. Her curves are more pronounced, her eyes brighter. The telltale signs of motherhood clung to her like an expensive perfume.

She was everything I had ever dreamed of at this moment. Breathtaking. Her arm linked with her father’s, she smiled when our eyes met, and I couldn’t stop my grin even if I tried. That smile? It undid me every single time.

Her father leaned close and whispered, “Take care of her, my son.”

I nodded, emotion gripping my throat. “With everything in me, sir. I promise.”

I reached for her hand. She placed hers in mine, and it fit like it had always belonged there. Together, we turned to face the officiating priest. The world faded. It was just the three of us now-me, Hauwa, and the God who had carried us through fire and storm to this very moment.

As the priest began to speak, my eyes didn’t leave hers. I knew who I was before her, and I knew who I was becoming because of her. I was no longer just Tunde. I was husband. I was a father.

I was finally… home.

NB: At this point, I want to hear your thoughts. What have you learned from this story? One more episode...the grand finale