Phillis Wheatley: A Slave No More
This is an electronic version of our Glimpses for Kids children's worship bulletin inserts.
These are designed to present Christian biographies for Children's church, educational or worship ministries. Captured and Chained!
Screams and shouts echoed through my village as white-skinned men chained
and forced us into the boats.
"Mama!" I cried as I was dragged away.
 This
picture of Phillis Wheatley appeared on her first book of poetry.
She reached across the distance, tears pouring down her beautiful face
as she sobbed, "Baby!"
Then I saw her no more. I crouched in fear with the other captives, wondering
what was to become of me.
I was seven years old.
Sold in a Slave Market
Two months later we reached land. Still in chains, I staggered to the
shore, grateful for solid ground. I soon found myself an object of ridicule
in the 1761 slave market.
"Look at that scrawny Negro!"
"You couldn't pay me to take that one!"
I felt humiliated, emptied of all I had been. Once I was a beloved daughter
and sister, but what was I now? These people treated me like worthless
garbage.
Finally the man yelled, "Sold!"
I wasn't sure what that meant, but the heavy chains were removed from
me and I was given a ragged carpet to cover myself. A smiling man and
his wife led me to a horse-drawn carriage.
A New Life
We traveled a few miles to an enormous dwelling with glass windows. My
eyes took in colorful carpets and curtains and dark furniture gleaming
in the mid-morning light. A faint ticking sound came from a box in the
corner. When it chimed loudly, I jumped.
The man chuckled. "That's just a clock," he said. He looked at his wife.
"I think you made a good choice, Susannah. No one else wanted this poor
little girl. She is sure to become a good companion for you." The woman
held out her hands. I saw a light in her eyes, and I felt warmed for the
first time in weeks.
"Don't be afraid, child. We will take good care of you. You will live
with us, and no one will hurt you again." She rose. "Now we need to get
you cleaned up."
I thought of my parents. They had taught me that I mattered, that I was
a gift. Maybe these people would treat me as if I was worth something.
Perhaps my new life with the Wheatley family in Boston, Massachusetts,
would be bearable.
My Very Own Book
"Phillis! I didn't realize you were there."
I lowered my gaze. As I cleaned the Wheatley's home, I often became distracted
watching their daughter Mary at her studies.
"You've done this before," she said. "Come here."
Hesitantly I moved closer, smelling her lavender cologne.
"This is a book," she told me. "You learn about things in them."
I nodded.
"This one is the Bible. My parents have read it to me since I was real
little." Her blue eyes glowed. "Would you like me to read it to you?"
"Yes, Miss!" I could barely contain myself.
She patted the chair next to hers.
"Sit down," she invited.
Each day, Mary read to me and taught me the alphabet. I learned quickly.
I was afraid, however, when the head servant caught us.
"Phillis Wheatley!" Her eyes blazed. "Come here at once!"
She took me to Mistress Wheatley.
 "Ma'am,
I caught Phillis sitting with Miss Mary, reading. Slaves ain't supposed
to read."
Mrs. Wheatley smiled. "That's okay, Susan. Phillis has a gift for language,
and I want her to develop it." Within a year, I had mastered English.
I was reading about God and His Son, Jesus Christ, and my heart was drawn
to the Savior. One day the Wheatleys took me to hear the dynamic preacher
George Whitefield, and I gave my heart completely to Jesus. The Wheatleys
had made me a part of their family, and now I was part of God's family!
What accusations did Phillis face when she began
to write? Find out in part 2 of this Phillis Wheatley Glimpses for Kids
Sunday school bulletin insert.
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