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Tell Of His Power

My Only Weapon Was Love

What had I gotten my family into? Guerrillas had taken control of our region, and our farm was now under their surveillance.

By Marcela Cifuentes as told to Jennifer Sarria

“This is crazy! Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” my brothers asked when they realized I was determined to move deep into the mountains of Colombia with my children.

“I’m not crazy,” I replied.

“Okay. We will see; but we are sure you’ll regret this decision and soon return,” they said, turning their backs to me.

As I watched my three children playing in the yard of our mountain home, that conversation haunted me. I remembered the news headlines I used to see back in the city: “The guerrillas killed 11 soldiers in the midst of a truce,” and so on. Vivid images of dead policemen, collapsed houses, and kidnapped mothers and sons crying for help played like old photos through my mind. The conflict was a result of revolutionary forces that the Colombian government had not been able to control since the 1960s. In the

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About the author

Jennifer Sarria grew up in Colombia and now works as an assistant graphic designer for It Is Written in Chattanooga, TN.