Free The Beloved Daughter by Alana Terry Page A

fear of my husband.” I tried to picture my cellmate afraid of anything, but the image would not come to me.
    “My vision of Jesus filled me with hope,” the Old Woman continued. “It was then that the Lord revealed to me that I would die a prisoner here in the detainment center, so I stopped fearing the torture of men and began to proclaim the gospel of Christ. The guards and prisoners probably all thought I was crazy. I sat alone in my cell, hollering loudly so that everyone within hearing range would have a chance to receive salvation. To my surprise, I did not die within a few days or weeks as I expected. The Lord sustained me through the beatings I endured, so I continued to preach. Eventually the National Security agents put me down here in solitary confinement where my voice would not carry so far.”
    The Old Woman lay down on the ground. The lights were already off for the night. Refusing to let her sleep before answering my final question, I clasped her bony hand. “But why do the guards treat you the way they do? There isn’t a prisoner in the entire camp as well off as you!”
    The Old Woman didn’t roll over. “Little daughter,” she sighed, “I am very tired, and I must be getting some rest now.”
    “But can’t you just explain …” I pleaded, but the Old Woman’s mouth drooped open. She was already asleep.

 
     
     
    Visitor
     
    “And all who touched him were healed.” Matthew 14:36
     

     
    “Honored Grandmother,” a male voice whispered. I quickly awoke, startled to see the shadowy form of a guard hovering over the Old Woman. Few of the guards came down our corridor at night, and none ever entered our cell before. His flashlight was covered almost entirely with a rag, and his whisper was strained as he shook the Old Woman. “Honored Grandmother.”
    The Old Woman’s joints groaned as she sat up. After turning to face the guard, she stretched out her arms and smiled at him broadly. “Comrade, welcome to the home of Myong Kyung-Soon and my little daughter Song Chung-Cha. We are honored by your visit.”
    The guard shifted uneasily at the Old Woman’s greeting. “Please, Honored Grandmother,” he whispered, looking down the hallway, “it is my daughter.” The guard paused and rubbed his pants leg. “She is very ill.”
    “And you have come to ask me to pray for her healing,” the Old Woman finished.
    “If you please, Honored Grandmother,” begged the guard. “I’ve heard about the night so many years ago, about what happened to you. I wouldn’t dare to ask you for help except that I have no one else. My wife is dead. My daughter is all I have left.”
    The Old Woman stared at the man, who continued rubbing his arm up and down his leg as he endured her silent scrutiny.
    After a moment staring at our guest, the Old Woman lifted her head toward the ceiling. She sat in silent meditation while the guard cast furtive glances down the hallway.
    Finally, the Old Woman opened her eyes and looked directly at our visitor. “You may go now,” she announced. “But remember that it is Jesus Christ, and not Myong Kyung-Soon, who has healed your daughter.”
    The guard stood up and bowed awkwardly. “I am indebted to you for your kindness, Honored Grandmother.” He rushed out of our cell and locked the door behind him.
    “May the Almighty protect you both,” the Old Woman whispered, but by then the guard was running down the hallway. In a moment, he was out of sight.
    I watched the Old Woman and tried to guess what it was that made the guards not only fear her but also solicit her prayers for the miraculous.
    As the Old Woman lay herself back down on the cement floor, her body creaked in revolt. “Little daughter,” she called out softly in the darkness, “are you awake?”
    “Yes, Honored Grandmother,” I answered, inching myself to her side, ready to ask her my questions.
    “Dear child,” she rasped, squeezing my hand weakly in hers. The Old Woman coughed. “I am very