The Baby's Name Is Angel: From the Battle to the Crown

By Liberty Dawn

This is the record of a fighter andthe one being fought for. The war is a spiritual, mental, and physical assault that will push you to the brink of victory or defeat. Nevertheless, the struggleis certain for every woman who attempts to go from the battle to the crown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716620393

Book preview

THE BABY’S NAME IS

ANGEL

From the Battle to the Crown

Memoir

Liberty Dawn

Copyright ©2020 by Liberty Dawn

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photo copying, recording, or other electronic methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher:

Liberty Dawn

Liberty Dawn United - [e-mail]

LibertyDawnUnited.com

Title: The Baby’s Name is Angel

Subtitle: From the Battle to the Crown

Edition: Revised Edition

Cover by: Henrik Hansen, Mustafa Omar, and Pixabay

Ebook ISBN: 9781716620393

Imprint: Lulu.com

Foreword

FOREWORD

It was the third watch of the night, which some call the witching hour, but it was clearly the time God chose to bless me. I was a little restless in our hotel room, but my mother was fast asleep. Quietly, I slipped out of the bed next to hers and grabbed the remote for the telly. This is when I saw her—the beautiful woman who graced the screen. She’s the one who captivated me, appearing on camera without saying a word. I was riveted. Who was this woman, dressed for battle, with an infant strapped to her chest while men surrounded her bearing arms? Who is this woman who exudes such strength and confidence within an apparently volatile situation, while an elder stands at her side? A slight smile subtly betrayed this mystery woman’s secret...that the warrior indeed had a heart. That is what drew me in—a woman soldier with a heart. She appeared to have not neglected one responsibility over the other; she was balancing the demands of motherhood along with the demands of war. But the most dear to her heart, as evidenced on the screen, was also the most vulnerable—the infant, baby girl in aqua blue. If this child could’ve spoken, I wonder what she would’ve said, feeling the rise and fall of the breath that protected her.

I drew in closer, sitting just beneath the screen, and slightly turned up the volume. I had to hear everything. I needed to hear every word spoken so that I could gain a better understanding of this woman’s life and fight. This is the mission that was calling out to me after midnight. Only afterwards would I consider sleep, but not until. This is what I learned: my kindred sister lives in Mother Africa—a land I’ve only experienced from the North side. There, she fights for freedom from the tyranny of the Boka Haram—a bloodthirsty militia who has taken it upon themselves to kill everyone who refuses to bow to Allah, even women and children. In truth, the Boka Haram are slaves of unrighteousness—sneaking up to and slaughtering entire villages in the middle of the night while all are sleeping. In essence, they take life while this woman has chosen to give it. Her story was worth staying up for. In fact, its significance reached far beyond our hotel room in Rome that night because the cry for freedom, for life, has always been a universal one. We, in the