It was Saturday night.

In the Kwafo household, everyone was in bed. While the kids were fast asleep, slumbering peacefully, in the room of their parents, a less sweeter aura lingered in the atmosphere.

Maame Ama lay curled slightly on her side, the covers pulled gently over her waist, but her body trembled with quiet sobs. Bright, trying to get some sleep without much success, turned toward her, sensing the ache that words hadn’t yet carried. He reached out and touched her shoulder lightly.

“Maame Ama… my love,” he called gently. “Are you crying?”

She didn’t answer, but the soft sound of a stifled sniff gave her away. He shifted closer, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her gently into his chest. She allowed it, pressing her face into his shirt, releasing a breath that had been caught between her ribs.

She had been a mess since returning home after midnight that fateful night. She and the ladies had barely managed to hold it together after they left, and that didn’t change while she dropped Dzigbordi and Rose at their various homes before heading to hers.

A deeply concerned Bright was waiting for her once she arrived, and upon seeing her stricken expression, was even more concerned. She sat him down, and gave him the whole story.

To say he was disgusted was an understatement.

“What kind of human being would do this? Doesn’t he have a conscience? Is he Satan’s clone or something? How?”

If anyone had heard him speak at that moment, they would have assumed he was Nana Akua’s father, the way he spoke with restrained fury. He had heard of many abuse stories, but few had actions as atrocious as this.

Of course, now that they knew what had happened, the next thing to do was help.

Although Nana Akua had agreed to go for counselling and therapy, she was very hesitant to report the matter to the police. Maame Ama wanted to insist on it, but after a while, decided not to. As much as this Dzimah guy needed to face justice for such an evil act, Nana Akua did not need to be pressured. What mattered now was that she was in safe hands.

The next morning, she would be joining them in Greener Pastures. Of course, Maame Ama and the leadership knew this would cause more buzz and discontent among the people, but that was going to be handled accordingly. While she wasn’t going to reveal Nana Akua’s plight, a sermon would be preached to remind them of one major thing.

Leaving the 99 to go after the 1 was a big deal for God.

For now, though, she couldn’t help but remember the painful breakdown of Nana Akua, and it brought her to tears. She absolutely loved her children, and any imagination of losing them would be quickly followed with the fiercest of rebukes. So knowing that Nana Akua had lost her child in such a savage manner haunted her badly.

“It’s… Nana Akua,” she finally spoke up, her voice cracking. “I can’t stop thinking about what she said. About what he did.”

Bright said nothing for a moment. He just held her for a moment, before murmuring, “That man is one despicable bastard.”

“She was carrying a child,” Maame Ama whispered, tears welling up once more. “She was happy. And he… he drugged her. Took it away. And told her it was her punishment for ‘disrespecting’ him. Bright, how can someone be that cruel to the woman he’s married to?”

Her voice trembled, and she wept softly into his chest.

Bright sighed as he held her while she let out her sorrows. Once she was done sobbing, he spoke up.

“That man is a monster. There’s no excuse for what he did. It’s wickedness in its rawest form. But listen to me, Maame Ama, what matters now is that she’s out of that monster’s grip. She’s found safety. She found you.”

Maame Ama looked up at him and nodded. “She… she still doesn’t want to press charges. She just wants to be free of him. She told me all she needs is time to heal.”

“Then that’s what we give her,” Bright replied firmly. “She’s been through enough. And thanks to you, she has a safe place to start again. We can pick that up at the right time.”

He kissed her shoulder — not out of routine, but reverence.

“You didn’t just hear her story, Ama. You embraced her. You showed her that God still sees her. That’s love in action. That’s what we’re called to do. And I’m so proud of you.”

Maame Ama closed her eyes, the comfort of her husband’s arms anchoring her as she released another set of tears. But these were driven by a different emotion.

Not sorrow, but gratitude. Relief.

After being so strong and holding a broken young lady, it felt so relieving to be held. By the most amazing man she knew.

Her steady, loving husband, ever ready to comfort and affirm. A man whose shoes this Dzimah neanderthal was not even fit to brush.

“I just want her to believe again,” she whispered. “In people. In goodness. In God.”

“And she will,” Bright whispered back. “Because of you. Trust me, she will.”

***

“You see, people of God, when Jesus told the story of the shepherd who had a hundred sheep, there was a major point He sought to drive home to us. When one of them went missing, he didn’t just shrug his shoulders and say, ‘Oh well, at least I’ve got ninety-nine more.’ No. He left the ninety-nine to search for the one. Because that one mattered. There’s no such thing as an ‘irrelevant’ one in God’s eyes; He loves us all. It’s a big deal to God to leave the 99 and chase the one lost sheep. Tell your neighbour ‘it’s a big deal for God’!”

“It’s a big deal for God!”

Sunday morning had finally arrived, and as always, Greener Pastures was filled with the faithful flock, ready to hear another word from God.

This morning, however, not too many were excited.

On the second row in front of the pulpit, seated just beyond the pastors, was Nana Akua. Dressed humbly in a simple skirt and blouse, her posture was cautious, her figure a little more frail than before, but her eyes were lifted as she listened to the sermon for the day.

There were side glances and hushed whispers when she had entered. It was evident her little ‘appearance and disappearance’ act had not impressed a lot of people, and while some tried to keep the displeasure off their faces, others weren’t so charitable. Auntie Sonia’s face in particular was frozen in a cocktail of tight-lipped judgment.

But that didn’t faze Maame Ama at all.

This sermon was meant to pierce through the judgment and resistance lingering in the atmosphere. And as she leaned on the Spirit of God, she could sense the tight hold of stubbornness slowly but surely lose its grip.

“That is how much God loves us. That is how relentless He is. Some people think they’ve gone too far and they’ve done too much for God to ever consider forgiving them. But I came to remind you that no distance is too far, no mistake too great for our God to redeem.”

There were murmurs of assent across the room — some nodding, some lifting a hand in praise.

“Jesus said in John 6:37 that anyone who comes to Him, He will by no means cast out. What does that tell us? That once we come to ourselves and run back to Him, there is no way He’ll look at us and say, ‘Nah, you’ve done too much evil, I can’t take you back’. Never. Not the Jesus that died on the cross and rose again for our salvation. He will welcome us back. Every time.

“So people of God, if our Saviour says He will never cast out the one who returns to Him in humility, can we say we’ll do the opposite?”

A quiet murmur arose from the congregation.

“My people, I can’t hear you ooo. Wossop?”

A louder No was shouted this time.

“Thank you! We were all lost at some point in our lives. When we turned to Christ to save us, He opened up His arms and let us in. Our past might have been filthy in His sight, but He still took us in. Remember that even while we were still in our sin, Christ died for us. If He did that for us, then tell me, what makes us believe we can withhold that grace and mercy from others?”

Silence reigned throughout the auditorium.

The message was hitting home. A lot of them might not have liked it, but they knew it was the truth.

“People of God, let’s not go the way of the older brother of the prodigal son. His anger might have been justified, but it sought to override the gracious, loving heart of the father. Once a brother or sister has come to the end of themselves and sees there’s nothing good in this world, and they return home to seek the Lover of our souls, let us not–“

“NANA AKUA!”

A loud and harshly unfriendly voice suddenly boomed from the back, cutting Maame Ama short.

Heads whipped around in shock, many startled and stunned by this crass interference.

At the entrance of the church stood a man. Broad-shouldered and bearded, with a tiny moustache visible.

His face was soaked in sweat, and an almost otherworldly rage was clear in his eyes.

Very few people in the auditorium at that moment knew who he was. But for the likes of Maame Ama and the rest of leadership, the moment Nana Akua’s name was called and they saw him, they knew who it was.

The despicable vermin named Foli Dzimah.

Oh my goodness, what is this scoundrel doing there? Let’s hope this ends well!