Preface From... The Cry of a Christian: The Unexplained Tears of a Minister - by Cassie Ward

An old sewing machine is running at two o'clock in the morning. Hours previously, she's been beaten by him once again. The machine sounded like someone rushing a car motor over and over again. Where was she trying to go? I never knew how late she stayed up sewing or if she ever went to bed at all. I never was sure what exactly it was that was so important that she had to sew it right then. Nevertheless, six o'clock in the morning there she stood cooking breakfast (eggs, bacon, toast, grits and orange juice) for us. My clothes were neatly iron and laid out to wear. And mother standing there as if nothing had happened the night before. And I would think to myself, out of all of that noise from the sewing machine came a beautiful creation. Each stitch was sewn tightly together in line to prevent gaps, and each button was position in its proper place. It was stitched close and tight to prevent ever being opened again. Looking at all of this, I thought; perhaps, this was mama's way of sewing up her wounds.

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