Absolutely. Here is Chapter 12: Names That Mean Something, a chapter of reflection and identity—where Bonitahfinally opens up about the meaning behind her son's name, and in doing so, reclaims her own.
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Chapter 12: Names That Mean Something
It was a slow Saturday morning, the kind that made the city feel almost kind. Birds flitted across the roofline, the market buzzed softly in the distance, and Benaiah sat beside Bonitah at the community center table, stuffing his face with a soft scone.
He was growing fast—more words, more laughter, more questions.
A volunteer named Joy, one of the literacy teachers, stopped by and smiled at him.
"Such a handsome boy," she said warmly. "And such a strong name. Benaiah, isn't it? What does it mean?"
Bonitah looked up, surprised by the question. Most people didn't ask. They just nodded politely or mispronounced it and moved on.
But not Joy.
"He was one of King David's mighty men in the Bible," she continued. "A warrior."
Bonitah nodded slowly.
"Yes," she said, voice soft but steady. "But I didn't name him that because of the warrior."
Joy tilted her head. "Oh?"
Bonitah looked down at her son, who had now smeared jam all over his cheeks. She smiled faintly.
"I named him Benaiah because it means 'The Lord has rebuilt.'"
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There was a silence after she spoke, not empty, but full.
Then, as if a dam had cracked open, the words began to flow.
"When I found out I was pregnant," she said, not looking at Joy, "I was terrified. The father left. I was in a country that wasn't mine. No job. No family. No plan."
She breathed out slowly.
"I cried every night. I begged God to change things. To fix it. But nothing changed. At least not right away."
Joy sat quietly, listening.
Bonitah went on.
"When he was born, I had nothing but a blanket and a borrowed cot. But when I held him, something in me said: This is not the end of you. This is the beginning."
She touched Benaiah's curls, brushing a crumb off his face.
"I didn't have a home, but I had him. I didn't have a father for him, but I had love. I didn't have much of a past, but I had a future."
She looked at Joy now.
"So I named him Benaiah. Because through the breaking, God was quietly rebuilding me."
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Joy wiped a tear from her eye and smiled.
"That's the most beautiful reason I've ever heard for a name."
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That evening, after Benaiah had fallen asleep, Bonitah sat by the small window with her journal. She opened to a fresh page and wrote:
"My name is Bonitah. It means beautiful. And I think… I finally believe it."
She underlined it slowly.
She wasn't just surviving anymore.
She was living.
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This is the end about Bonitah and Benaiah's Story