Mysterious Island of Beautiful Women1979

Sister Teresa:
[in her journal notes] The plane has crashed. I don't know how many days ago. I have been unconscious. I cannot move or speak. My legs and my jaw are broken. Lizabeth is alive, and I thank God for that. But I think it was two weeks ago, which makes today May 27th, 1954. Sixteen babies have survived, but I think two will die before long. Lizabeth is my hands and my legs. Our Lord must have some purpose for her. How else could she have survived what has happened to her? At five years of age, to see the death & destruction of war. And now, to have this. I cannot talk to her, nor can she read. She's caring for those infants as though it was as natural as breathing. / July 19th, 1954. My jaw has healed, but I am still unable to speak. I think, perhaps, the accident had paralyzed my vocal cords. Lizabeth seems to thrive and grow stronger. She has named all the babies from nursery rhymes and children's stories. / September 3rd, 1954. The third baby died last night. That was the last of the boys to survive. Like the others who died, she discarded the body somewhere. Death seems of no consequence to her. I pray for their souls, and hers. / April 6th, 1959. I don't know how much longer our dear Lord will make me endure the pain. I pray Lizabeth will do His will. I pray for her again & again. I wonder if what I've done with these children is right. I've given them the respect for our Lord as I know it. It has been Lizabeth's responsibility for teaching the children. I never see them anymore. I fear that the sight of me will frighten them. Lizabeth fears soldiers. She has nightmares about them. No matter what I try to indicate, any thought of men or guns sends her cowering into the corner. I have given the burdens of motherhood to Lizabeth, a ten-year-old child. I have no other choice. I only pray that what Lizabeth is doing is right.