Category Archives: From the heart

Lightening Strikes…

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“What keeps the earth in place? Do you do a pre-trip inspection each day as soon as you open your eyes from sleep? Nay, it’s that which we take for granted, that which we treat with utmost contempt that truly matters the most.” R.E Dzhis

Yet again, I’ve been named on a law suit, in a different country, to be before a judge who will most likely remember me even though she knows nothing about me just yet. To the few who know me, they can acknowledge that this is true of me. I don’t go looking for conflicts, but please don’t look at getting into conflicts with me. I’d rather appeal when I can, which is rarely because I don’t control time, but by courtesy of my childhood, if you choose to pick a fight with me, there is usually one result; it’s kill or be killed, no survivors are allowed. I say this because even though it’s 0251 hundred hours, there’s someone who’s gasping at what they just read.

Let me attempt to make it less frightening. Growing up on the streets of one of the, arguably, roughest cities in West Africa, and attending a reputable public high school (until my class turned it into a school that people still whisper about today.) We were bad, and I mean bad and ugly. So bad that our peers and below, in sister schools who had never even been to Warri, heard about us and cringed at the stories they heard. Most were actually worse than what they heard. But I digress. I usually walked to and from school, and that entailed walking through the back of people’s houses, cutting across overgrown lots, keeping a reasonable space from outdoor restrooms with a shit of zinc acting as the door, and being very present in case you came across a couple doing adult things or navigating through a melee.

Throwing down

So, if I ran afoul of someone on my way to school, there was no avoiding that person on my way back. I believe that I’ve shared the tale of a mother who was thumping her son for his lack of interest in going to school, and used me (I was 12 years) as her reference point of acquiring knowledge so he could be a better version of his dad, although, if memory serves me well, I wouldn’t wager a cent on the probable fact that neither of them knew him. Summarily, I encountered him and his friends as they ‘waylaid’ me. Waylaid would most likely be a semblance of the synonym, ‘ambushed’. There was the choice of getting a beat down or a throw down (I’d have to take off my uniform because my mother banned us from fighting at home, so having a plausible reason for bloodstained clothing was not an option). It was kill or be killed, meaning that after the slugfest, you either acquired a new friend or you would create a feud that would involve anyone related to you. Most assuredly, the latter wasn’t a good option.

So, you can take the boy off the street, but you can’t take the street off the boy! I’m still working on myself, no scratch that, God’s still working on me. Despite the fact that I’m on the peak of celebrating half a century, I was once that preteen/teenager who was ready to brawl before the word, ‘brawl’ was completely verbalized. Now, the brawling is done in courts or related facilities, and I am teaching myself and my kids about “letting go, and letting God”. He’s the One who says, “Vengeance is mine.” and so I know enough to ask Him to stay my hand because He’s undefeated and His judgement is swift with consequences that you can’t run away from. The good news is that I can resonate with Jonah, God always has the option of mercy, I don’t, naturally, but I’m a work in progress. His call to me is to reconcile men to Him, not judge them, or criticize them, or fix them, or tag them ‘persona non grata. I can’t be a Christian without walking alongside Him, in surrender and obedience.

It’s like deja vu, but in a different location. Similar players, but the same reason; being nice to someone who has no idea of their purpose in life. They actually have no inkling as to what death looks like. Then, you can understand the folly in the heart of a man/woman, death is staring them right in the face, but they’re so caught up in their premeditated role as well as the deafening chant of the crowd that’s pushing them on. They fail to realize that much wisdom is learned in the house of mourning, and that the path they’re on has just one destination, destruction. I was once capable of patiently waiting to avenge myself, but that me no longer exists, there’s much more fulfillment in changing the world by being kind to just one person at the minimum, whether it’s through listening to them vent, or writing this for someone to read, or even giving the last $3 in my wallet to the young lady with two scrawny kids in tow, yet another victim as evidenced by her badly bruised face, and wounds that are trying to heal.

Yes, I feel the scorching heat from the lightening strike, my seared skin, the torrent of nemories, the sad realization that I’ve been here before, but I also see the kindness of God because I’m still standing. I can’t lose because of Proverbs 12¹⁹. I am a winner in the long run, and every good gift comes from above, and He gives with no shadow of turning. Does it hurt? Absolutely! Can I redirect the lightening strike because it ought not to strike the same place multiple times? No, but I know The One who controls everything, and so I can choose to forgive, and let go. I have known quite a few people who died from their mistakes because they did not learn from them. However, what do you say to a 3-year old child who was born with a medical condition? You and I just have to pick ourselves up and keep pressing on, the morning is almost here. I want to thank Linda, Shawn, Didi, Hilda, and the few who have chosen to obey. The borrowed axe head will float, the scattered bread will be found, and soon, someday we will tell the story of how we overcame through blessing others as we have been blessed.

Adieu!

עד שניפגש שוב, מי ייתן ונוכחותו תהיה אמיתית עבורך!

The rocky path…

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“Bless me, Father, for I have erred. My last post was 15 months ago.” How quickly time flies, and the irony in that phrase, is how valuable a resource it is in life, and how minimal an influence we have on it. This brings me to yet again question some of the cliché statements, we so quickly utter without actually giving it some thought. “When you eat with the devil, ensure that you do so with a long spoon.” Why on earth would you even want to dine with the devil? “The devil you know is better than the angel you don’t know.” Yet again, how and where on earth, would you categorize good and evil as not just being equals, but we push the limits even further by inferring that there’s some goodness in evil.

It’s being a while, and I apologize however, I still write, but I just started posting directly on Facebook. I decided to come back here because I had auto-renewed the fee, but more importantly, as I watched the darkness of the night gradually give way to the dawn and light of a new day, I could see my kids in slumber because we decided to go camping yesterday. One about to leave the nest, and the other about to be thrust into the maelstrom that usually qualifies life. Each representing a dynasty, each unique and yet different, but the love that so tightly binds them together being tested severely and all I can do is watch, unable to do anything but trust the One who made me, and has kept me thus far even when I really contemplated the insouciance of the struggles, the fights, and the unrelenting pummeling.

I mean it does fill like I can write a few movie scripts from just the events of the last 6 months. “Stay on course, mate” I mutter to myself even as I catalogue events and categorize them, futile in keeping pace with time. I did realize, for maybe the first time, that I cannot move from the front door of where we call home, to the back door in 11 seconds. Screw dystonia, and every malady that plagues man. Well, that’s going to be the subjects of some other posts that I hopefully get to write before I no longer can. Is it fair to call vulnerability a strength? It is impossible for one to have all the answers because we would just re-create the ice age or the era of the caveman. That’s how limited we are, so what’s better than entrusting all of our cares and worries to The One who created all things.

Rocky road

For some reason, as I watched my kids sleep (the next generation, my descendants) and mused over recent events, I was thrust back to memories about 40 years old. I was raised Roman Catholic, and so the first sentence was paying homage to that. We would wake up by 5am, usually with the help of the rod of correction. Nothing, I can assure you, drives sleep away faster than the painful lash of the whip. How different today is, kids sleep in on weekends, corporate punishment and discipline are on the verge of becoming extinct with the tweaking that society compels you to do, as a parent. Oh, yes, back then, sleeping in wasn’t even imagined, least of all having a vestige of what it is today. Thank you, 7Up, the difference is clear.

Even on weekends, we woke up by 5 am and then we would herd out to the sitting room, of course after making your own bed, and we would say or pray or recite the rosary. No offense meant to my brethren under the authority of Pope Leo XIV. Weekends usually meant there was time to say the Joyful, Sorrowful & Glorious mysteries, that’s 15 beads comprising of 3 recitals of 5 beads. Then, my dad would read or have one of us read a page from ‘Just a Moment Please!’ by J. Maurus and then we would ‘discuss’ it and round up family devotion with a prayer from one of the many prayer books. Then it was off to the races, each of us going to the section of the house where your chore demanded your presence. The external chores were dreadful, but I remember this story.

A man watched a farmer harvest his potatoes and just throw them into the cart with the donkey hitched and patiently waiting, in what seemed like a very disorganized manner. It bothered this man so much because he knew sorting it would be better because it could be sold faster, that he politely asked the farmer why he was not sorting them first. The farmer took a break, looked at the man and responded, “Oh, I always take the roughest road to the market and by the time I arrive at the market, it would be sorted.” The man thought about it and asked for more clarification. “Oh, I take the roughest path, because with every bump, the potatoes would move and ultimately by the end of the trip, the largest ones would have made their way to the bottom and the smaller ones would remain on top.”

The fascinating thing about the explanation was that farmers back then were usually not very educated but today schools charge an arm and a leg to ‘teach’ what the farmer was already applying; the law of gravity, Newton’s laws of motion etc. And till today, I’ve never forgotten the ‘moral’ of the story (usually real life events) and the moral for the day. You see, life is that rough road and we are the potatoes. Every obstacle we face; separating men from boys, the strong from the weak, the leaders from the followers. However ,the true takeaway is that the big ones get to the bottom because they can bear the weight of the smaller ones without being crushed. Till this day, the objective of society is emphasis on getting a ‘better’ bargain and so most people choose to sorting, putting the smaller ones at the bottom so that you get a ‘better’ bargain.

Cart of potatoes

At first glance, the cart looks great with large potatoes but at the bottom are crushed potatoes, and that by any standard is a bad purchase. We can not live life without figuring and accepting our identity and purpose. Some of us are made strong, not so that we flaunt it or bully others weaker than us, but rather to help elevate them. We’re blessed with wealth, not to have men kowtow and gravel before you, but so that with those blessings and riches, you pull others up and empower those who are in need. It’s a difficult concept and thus John Ruskin captures it aptly, “A man wrapped up in himself, makes a small package.” Each day, we get to choose how we impact the lives we encounter as we bounce around on life’s rough road. We must choose what is more important to us, getting a better bargain through deceit or getting a better bargain by selling the smaller potatoes first.

Oh, not again, why are his posts so grave and serious? Well, my friend, I talk about life and my experiences, I’m not a circus owner, so do forgive me because my objective is to help at least one person who reads this. I want you to know that I see you, and I may not understand what you are going through at the moment, but I can say to you, “Keep your chin up, and never give up because life is not fair.” The market is closer than you think, and all the soreness, all the pain, all the anguish, is about to end as long as you don’t give up. You have got value, and if you have been told contrary all your life, take this one statement from one who has been through stuff that you can not even imagine, “You are valuable!”

I’m in no way saying that my road is rougher than yours, that would be ignorance, all that I am saying is that you are in charge of your life. You’re the only one whose decisions really count because you’re going to face the consequences of your decisions. So stop, take a breath, look around, smell the fragrance of the flowers, listen to the twittering of the birds, and remind yourself that the future will always be better than today, as long as you don’t bring the mistakes of the past into today. Today’s all we have, let us make it count for something great because there’s someone out there that could use a smile, a kind word or a hand extended in assistance. Remember that you have a smile, a means of communication and a limb, prosthetic or not.

Adieu!

עד שניפגש שוב, תרימו את הראש ותחייכו אל הסערה!

Broken; in the darkness…

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I was Barnabas, with a skip in my steps on the sun dappled streets and words of encouragement on my tongue. A twirl around the school poles, daring and mischievous, inclined to evoke purpose as I grew up. My dreams were huge, unafraid and impenetrable…a pair of twinkling eyes, with not a thought given to the sorrow that introduces itself inevitably. Did I ever think time would be that unshakable companion even when I saw all I dreamed and built gradually collapse into piles of debris. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.

I dreamed of buildng a world where wisdom and joy intermingled with no care or burden. It was my masterpiece, every line carefully drawn, every brick precisely positioned. It was more than just a building, it was my abode even as I basked in the abundance of His blessings. Age was my driving force, as I triumphed over little challenges, each trophy so elegantly woven into the tapestry of my life. Money was a resource to bring some joy into the lives of those that I encountered. Eyes with no hint of life, hopelessness and despondency so tightly clutched around their bodies. Why did they grasp so tightly to it even as I offered solace? Questions unanswered, grief abounding, hope lost.

Light beckons

Oh but the tide rises and it falls, even more unpredictable than I would ever imagine. Now I clutch tightly to memories of a life once dreamed, careful not to err nor accuse My Creator falsely. Why me? Why not me since life is known for her unfairness?, even as I once walked to the lyrics of Wisdom’s songs….now it’s all but silence. There’s no point in looking back because nothing stands, a life bereft of all the fineries life can offer. I need not be instructed, I know that it’s futile looking back because physically it’s almost impossible, thanks to Fahr. Where was that body, sculpted and tenuous, striving to become just as pleasant as my soul? It’s almost like it never existed but for the intermittent flashbacks and memories that seem to be gradually taking longer to show up.

It was all at my feet, everything I dreamed and strove for, assertive in my demands without the stench of arrogance. Did I prepare myself for this? No, I was Barnabas, encouraging and propping up lives as i journeyed. A crack, then a crevice and all the glamor went plunging down unchecked and assisted by gravity. Can Humpty Dumpty ever be put together again? It took but a fraction for it all to come crashing down and now I’m tasked with picking up the pieces, trying to make something from the rubble. In the effort lies the victory however I don’t see the victory yet, even though I know it’s there, will time be gracious to me?

My body’s broken and darkness calls out to me with the offer of silence because I just want to be left alone as I see the deceitfulness and desperate wickedness of the hearts of men. Once they clamored like kin, now it’s just the silence and with nought but empty pockets, the clink of coins is gone, exaggerated by the silence of the dark. Even my kin are nowhere, just a repetition of their absence because independence was my strength but now the strength wanes each day. My throat hurts, my voice is hoarse from calling for help because in the darkness, there’s nothing but my own arms. Mockery tumbles around like a court jester, gloating on what’s temporary however this darkness will not be my home.

Gone are the voices of those I held dear, now the cacophony of crickets is the symphony that ricochets all around me. Did I love enough? Can I love for just a bit? The cares of this world are loud in their drumming and even with my eyes shut, I can still hear the noise. Broken and bruised, the darkness seems to be the best place….just to rest a bit before I continue stumbling forward; the sand in my face, the winds buffet agonizingly. “When will it end?” reverberates in my head, the answer I must hold onto or else my life would be for nought. You can take it all away, my faith is all I’ve got and prepare to pry it from my gnarled dead hands just before the fires consume this body to birth another. Can I balance the horrors of this side to the perfection on the other side? Is that an option too? Do my actions betray my thoughts? Still I know that as long as there’s breath in my lungs, my purpose isn’t over.

Besmirched and forsaken, yet will I strain for that glimmer that marks the end of this darkness. With knowledge clinched tightly around my waist, I know it’s for a season however the times are beyond my capabilities though I know who does. Just as I draw a fresh breath, I’m pulled under the surface as the experts revel in their superfluous unending diagnosis. My strength is best served for the journey before me rather than foolishly engaging in discussions that are frought with ignorance and selfishness. Walk in your shoes, let me walk in mine and even when all around me, the darkness tries in deceit to offer some rest to my broken body, I know that my current path would make it easier for those behind me. And when the bell tolls and my tale is told, may it bring hope, strength and inspiration to another. My name still remains Barnabas, and for now, I will yet encourage myself in Him who presides over the affairs of men.

Tarry on, I whisper, for there’s little trust in the arm of flesh. Tarry on, I whisper, the chariots of men cannot take my burden. Tarry on, I whisper, my race isn’t over and so from the shadows, I must emerge and press on because the shadows tell me that light is just at its fringes.

עד שניפגש שוב, יהי חסדו לפרנסתך!

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In the waiting room…..(2)

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Thanks Nina for being my muse and more importantly for just listening. I’ve discovered that forgiveness and forgetting are often usually expressed in the same sentence however there is as much difference between them as is light from darkness. I must sincerely apologize for the protracted silence because life happens and whether it’s infected congestion in my lungs or the tennis elbow, we each must tackle one issue after another in order of gravity as is unique to our life stories.

Get Prepared.

So what’s new besides the few I mentioned? My body is taking a whipping and there’s so little that I can do about it because pity parties are sometimes spontaneous however you will not lack attendees. There are no guarantees of a life that checks every good box, we must learn to roll with the storms of life and even as I’m confronted with the rapidly debilitating effects of dementia on my dad, I’m thankful that we made things right before it hit. Yet another reminder that time cannot be controlled in its passage and now is our time to cater for those that nurtured us, in their best interpretation, and made us who we are today. Yes, the map to Valhalla might be all worn out and unusable however we all have our end coming even as we prepare to handover to the next generation, whether we like it or not. It’s that time and how prepared we are really doesn’t matter, the show must go on.

Regardless of how tightly we reinforced the fences surrounding our nest, it must be empty as life evolves. I am reminded by Phoenix that ‘soon’ is just shy of 2 packs of a baker’s dozen and 1month and in clear terms, the results of my task as a father will be on full display for all of creation to see. In truth, I’d say that the reins have almost completely being eased from my hands and no matter how much I desire this pasture to be greener, she’s finding (found most likely) her pasture and all I can do now is guide and give counsel when called upon. The countdown is on and Cap’n requires everything I’ve got and more than I think I have. Parenting is not procreation; both are abilities however like forgiveness, the former is a call to arms and not dependent on our natural tendencies. “If any lacks wisdom, let him ask freely….” and the beauty of that promise is that the wisdom given comes without criticism or judgement. There comes a time in every life when some ropes must be cast off and new ones prepared in order to sail the path laid before us…..if we must attain any vestiges of fulfillment.

In war times, fathers bury their kids while in times of peace, the roles are reversed but what would you do when the season of battle seems unending? Results are gotten when you’ve found ways of improving yourself in the waiting room because nothing and nobody lasts for all eternity. It’s in the waiting room, we must choose to make our scars shine as beacons of a brighter future or get submerged in the despondency that comes with not knowing your identity first. Clichè or not, I am prepared for the unexpected; whether it be in the quiet room of the 309th or in the virtual room of long grown relationships. Now is when we look back to see a path beaten down by the soles of our feet but adorned with flowers or just a path beaten down but stark, no beautiful memories to show. Inadvertently, the sands of time will completely eclipse the latter however it’s better late than never.

Stay sharp.

“Give me 6years to cut down a tree, and I’ll spend 4yrs sharpening my axe.” – A. Lincoln. Remember that in the effort lies victory and so no matter how long we spend in the waiting room, we must prepare ourselves for what lies ahead and forge for that time, a sinuous relationship with He who controls all! Now with braces snapped on, I will persist in making hay while yet the sun shines and despite the withering heat, I must make my life count for something because the other option is no option at all. Bit by bit, sweat streaming down my brow, I’ll swing my axe knowing that every swing is a change at the very least. And if I can but touch just one life, then therein, I’ll find recourse.

Deep down, the hurt remains however I refuse to be a prisoner of my conscience and hastily forgive and ask for forgiveness. And because I’ve been given what I didn’t earn or deserve, I’ll still extend as much as I can because in giving lies continuity and reward. Not the reward that is seen and posted on social media, a masterful work of deception but rather the reward that cannot be comprehended by what we can only see with our human eyes. Each day, I remind myself that this is not just a human journey but rather a human experience by spiritual beings. Therein lies the unique purpose for every life, the attempt to grasp the why and the strength needed to rise again when I’m knocked down. We’ve only got shot at this, I choose to give it my best shot and some.

עד שניפגש שוב, זכרו שיש בחיים יותר ממה שנראה לעין!

Adios!

Wave upon wave…

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Adrift

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy!” – J.M ‘Nightbirde’

It’s not about the decision but rather the elusiveness of happiness. Battered over and over, each wave harder than the latter, yet the stone quietly disappears still glistening, every encounter ripping a piece of my soul. Would you let me see beneath your beautiful, each shuddering breath anticipating the usual no? You don’t know me, you don’t see me but you clamor like the earth and its fullness is yours? How much longer can I bear this weight? How broken am I? Perfection, an oasis in the shimmering distance, unattainable yet teasing.

My clenched teeth hidden behind a smile is the only visible sign of the agony that besets me with every breath. Love surely doesn’t live here anymore however beneath my tent, I still hear the raucous laughter of the naive, the barely concealed glee of ill gotten weight, pockets weighted down that they burden you unknowingly. Here today, gone tomorrow; saddled with the burden of keeping count, I’m almost terrified to look at pictures just to acknowledge the spaces that once were occupied. How much longer can I go on? My question is rhetorical because the silence just magnifies my inability to comprehend.

Dreams disabled? It takes nought to do and still the dreams shatter but not the ability to. It’s eerily quiet at the moment and despite how hard I try, this is a moment that just won’t disappear. Where do broken smiles go? Where are they buried? Forget the fading applause, the night is certain in its duties. Disregard the glitter, they are but crumbling dust in my hands. The whispered terror, the blood shed, the victory won; it’s a maze I’m in but with each passing second, my limbs can barely function. This can’t be my home because I’ve walked the streets of grandeur once, hope is all I’ve got now and like the sand in the hourglass, it trickles away.

Just before this flame is extinguished, I grab the next candle, all but wax….hope remains surely. In the twinkle of an eye, the breath ceases and with the silence, I can hear it no more. Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest? Begone vile ones for he too deserves some peace. Your rum laced breath, overpowering as you prerorate, nothing is yours, you seem to forget. Naked you came in and naked you’ll depart, how do you so easily forget this? There’s no mountain high enough to shelter you, no valley low enough to hide the echo that resonates with your foolish gestures.

The years go by, and I find joy in the seed of my loins. Nothing can be done that hasn’t been done, yet still I refuse to cease my search for light in this overwhelming darkness. It’s not my garment of choice, each gust of wind blowing away a piece of my tattered cloak and still I must choose. When will the end come as I continue on my journey? What companion awaits me ahead is a question I cannot answer however I must ask. And if the ire is unleashed, what do I fear cos there’s nothing left.

70% hypothesized, but the tears so fast-flowing gives room to doubt. In my lament, I know there’s a message for any who cares to listen. You cannot cry me a river, the drought has been long and severe, cruelty is its driving force. The cold gnaws to the inside and all warmth is almost gone, and still I’m here; hope for the future, my only respite. In Your Arms, I find refuge and although comprehension might not be there, I’ll take what I’m given and yet hope. My strength has since depleted, the hollow echo bearing witness however it’s not by strength.

Cast adrift like flotsam, the waves are even more brutal, a purpose to be fulfilled regardless of how empty I fill. My journal has more endings and I hope, still I hope that there are also beginnings. Not the beginning of a journey, this one I’m yet to complete but rather the beginning of a restoration. I’ll yet hold on even as my sinews come apart and my ligaments give out, it’s nothing new but this I know “A man who has not prepared his children for his own death has failed as a father.”

Rest in peace, GED, OEBI, CD, RCB, PKW, NOC, CJO, JNM, KL, PZ, WS and may your memories be blessings to us.

From Venus…

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Admittedly, resentment and bitterness only hurt oneself, so I may be a little bit unsteady but I’m still holding on because I don’t think He’s done with me yet. I’m not capitulating as I watch but it seems like something is unraveling and I just might have the power to slow it down because inevitability cannot be stopped. It’s mother’s day and the least I can do is share the memories we made together that I’ll forever cherish till we meet again. There’s some irony in God’s playbook because He made man from dust and woman from man’s bone. Now metallurgy not required, we undeniably rely on fact that bone is stronger than dust but there again in full display is our inability to grasp divinity.

It’s been close to 2years since you got called home however your legacy still lives on. Everything I am today, I owe to you in some way. I recall rolling my eyes when you inexplicably went into the tale of my childbirth to my friends but that’s the beginning of just how amazing you were because you made a choice, you had me. I tell people that I wasn’t your favorite but despite that, you poured your entire being into raising all 7 of us, 3 of us felt your ire directly however, that’s why I could contribute in those after me and that’s how I am the father I’ve become, ill-health or not. So thank you, because raising 6 sons is not a feat for the faint hearted especially when you factor in the cities we lived and grew up in.

We have always been dog-lovers but as a young kid, you bought me a night shirt that I still remember and it had the picture of a cat with the words, ‘I’m just PURR-FECT!’. That in itself marked the choices I made and still make because nobody’s perfect but I strove to be as close to it as I could because you showed me how. You taught me to acknowledge that I was in charge of my life’s story; you taught me to believe in myself. Nothing couldn’t be surmounted as long as I believed in myself and today, I pass that message to the next generation. You had your own flaws but when it came to us, you laid it all out and even though you banned fighting at home, I still got into it outside because the streets crush the feeble and I will never describe or be described as feeble.

You bought me my first tie, even though it was to placate me and little did I know that wearing ties would be a signature. My childhood pictures are replete with images of me in bow ties and I look at them today and appreciate the big picture you saw of me even then. Dining was a formal affair especially dinner because you had already committed to teaching even before motherhood and so dinner was always a family affair. With you, there was no defined roles determined by gender and I’m thankful for that. Notwithstanding the fact that we grew up with house helps, you always said, “I will never raise up another’s child to the detriment of mine” and so there was no distinction between what I or the house help could do. It was confusing back then but now I understand.

You took me to purchase my first pair of grown-up shoes (driving was still years away), standing by the side while I made my selection knowing there was a budget to abide by. And when peer pressure came, you never buckled because you taught me that it was more important to be different and true rather than being part of the crowd. You taught me that contentment and self-esteem was a choice, because the road less traveled was usually the better route to take. You taught me to treat ladies with respect even before I had a sister, a trait that’s fast disappearing in today’s world. Chivalry is still as important and more needed today where the battle of self-identity has been flipped on its head; what’s right is right regardless of time.

You took the time (how?, just another pointer to who you were) to teach me driving at 15, intricately weaving in the need to be responsible at the same time. Reading your crime magazines ensured that I could deal with fear and also understand that the heart of man is desperately wicked. Striving for excellence, I knew you were in the auditorium when I got my first award/scholarship as a freshman in high school, because even though I didn’t see you, I could hear your car keys jingle each time you applauded – that was your thing; wearing your car keys on your pinkie. Your ability to effectively utilize the network (and undervalued profession) of teachers ensured that I sought the straight and narrow even when the exuberance of youthfulness came calling with whispered lies and well conceived folly. You were strict and harsh when the occasion called for it and just the memory of the last ‘whupping’ was enough to keep the foolishness away for a season.

You nudged me to understand that salvation was important and essential, making my personal walk with God a decision I made entirely on my own. Acknowledging that there’s more to life than meets the eyes was the foundation of my Christianity and yet I’m still learning and paying it forward till date. Discarding ego, I learned crafts (it was your standard) that positioned me well enough to understand that being your own boss was better than being the best employee. I learned culinary skills from your glossy magazines and catering books as well as being in the kitchen with you. You taught me that adventure was good because curiosity could be a villain. You taught me that freedom was not the absence of rules but rather the opportunity to be disciplined and control myself at all times. You taught me that vulnerability wasn’t a weakness however, building relationships that bettered me would always keep me growing.

Thank you for being the best mother that I needed and happy mother’s day! Till we meet again in Zion, continue in your rest and I hope I made you proud.

Adieu!

Clichés, truths and others…..

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At this rate, it’s an uphill task trying to keep moving forward cos everytime, I look around, there’s fewer and fewer to build bridges with. It’s easier to destroy bridges (and there’s always a crowd in that profession). It takes selflessness and humility to maintain bridges because that’s exactly what life is about; relationships and building bridges. Nobody gives a hoot about your preconceived notion of who you think you are. You want to regale yourself for kicking people when they are already down. That, you erroneously think, is your purpose but just hold on and hear the noise of the silence.

Build a life

I oft ask myself what’s worse than a person who has traded compassion and kindness for flattery. It’s still an ongoing exercise for me! At the mere mention of money, suddenly it evokes a litany of your expenses without even knowing where the conversation is headed. A genuine ‘i hear you and we’ll get through it together’ isn’t a mortal sin. Not every event calls for money especially when you don’t have it to give. However, sincere words are also an undeniable expression of concern and there’s something genuine in silence even with just your presence. What relationship can you initiate when there’s truly nothing you agree on. How then can two walk together except in agreement, how difficult is it to put aside our haughtiness and realize that we’re part of over 8 interconnected billion people. Noting matters more than what impact you have on the lives you encountered.

I lost my dearest friend on Saturday, and the surge of ‘it is well’ is threatening to distort the objective – to celebrate her because just like each of us, she was not perfect and yet she showed that love not only covers a multitude of sins but it also is nigh impossible to love from your comfort zone. What is well about a parent burying her children after investing so much in them? What is well about being misconstrued and treated with disdain? What is well about people prioritizing their meager resources over the very obvious needs of others? What is well about kin railroading kin? What is well about not being civil enough to acknowledge someone trying to get in touch with you?

It’s not well that you could have helped someone floundering but you choose instead to wait till their transition to become the Chief mourner? What’s life all about but to help as many people get closer to their destination, because that’s why you’ve been blessed with what you have. It is not well that 2 young kids have to grapple with the concept of death and a future that’s become unsure and frightening. We dare not question the sovereignty of our creator but please remember that even children are no more frightened by a painted mask. If God wanted you to be an ostrich, you’d have no say in the matter then why are you burying your head in the sands at the faintest glimpse of the needy? Guess what! Even with your head in the sands, you also have needs so how are your needs more important than the unspoken needs of the bloke 4 blocks away?

For 27yrs, I had the privilege of sharing my life with a beautiful soul and I don’t know how to deal with that so I just trust God. We must turn to each other and not on each other, that would be a good start. Now she’s in a better place however, did I do all I could just to make her journey just a bit easier? I hope I did because she wore her heart on her sleeve. It’s love that gives room for you to be broken more times than you imagined, the same love will build you up and make you better & stronger. None of us has the time schedule for life so make each day count because it’s just outright absurd that we spend more time on making a living when we could rather build a life.

Friend or Foe….(pt 1)

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Innocence

Phew! This year thus far has been good to me and I write that because I can, I will and I believe it regardless of today’s circumstances. I have also decided to have my own podcast because in addition to the novelty, it seems that with the frenetic pace of the world we live in, the probability of having a message received is better if the mode of communication is directly/indirectly verbal but audio, rather than written. Undeniably, I am of the vintage category and there is nothing more satisfying than putting words directly on a parchment with a feather dipped into a bottle of ink. Now juxtapose the technology of today and you would get a clearer meaning. And lest I get carried away by the avalanche of words just bubbling beneath the tips of my fingers, the podcast is RedzSpeak on Anchor and I initially toyed with the idea of just translating older posts however I realized that every post is for a reason and a particular season (with a specific audience) so I decided to just stick with what is new so be my guest.

As is wont with my upbringing, I really should have begun with “forgive me, it has been almost 2 months since my last post..” nonetheless I ask that you forgive me. It does take discipline to stick to a routine however even at that life happens but no excuses are allowed in this environment. Why? I learned at an early age that an excuse is just a guarded lie. So much has transpired and there is so much more ahead however I am inexplicably convinced that this is THE YEAR! I believe it and I hope you do or else this adage might apply to you; ‘we don’t know who discovered water but we are certain it was not a fish.’ In continuance of that line of thought, realize I said discovered not created because there is just One Creator. The pain of my mom’s passing is still there but with each passing day, the gnawing pain reduces just a tad and the hurt is not as fresh; but definitely no hydrogen peroxide just yet.

I am glad to share that I almost lost my bff to cancer but it just was not time and so I am thankful that there is something worth being thankful for. It is amazing that trials and tribulations are specifically inevitable but the end product is good. They strengthen our faith, give us a better perspective and just maybe re-route us to the right path. I love the book of Job because even with 42 chapters, it would seem like common sense to literally interpret his period of affliction went for at least 10 years however delving into the life of Job and the time he lived in, it is almost certain that it was less than a year, more like a few months. Pin drop? Peter corroborates this by saying “After you have suffered a LITTLE while…….God of all undeserved kindness will Himself finish your training…”– 1 Peter 5:10 and so even for me, 11 years is a little while, ending as we speak.

Drop the act…

So what am I all gushy about, Job had a few individuals who were unashamed to call him friend – they travelled just to be with him – they literally put their own lives on hold for Job. They might not have said the right things but guess what they showed up for him and that is what friends do; they show up when everyone else has abandoned you to your ‘fate’, they empathized with him in what I call the ministry of silence in suffering and they spent time with him. So the standard of friendship is so simple that it was literally put in the most read book in the world – The Holy Bible. Just three characteristics, folks but hey ol’ McDonald, in order to know how many friends you have, just go to Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. What a farce we have turned the world into? How have we so comfortably taken the meaning of life and made it all about trivialities? Where did we exchange our humanity for callousness and indifference? How did we translate friendship into something that only shows up when you die?

I was speaking with a friend today and she said the very same words that I still hear in the quiet moments, just in my mom’s voice, “everyone is not like you.” and I do not doubt that but gosh, I do get weary of everyone saying it, thankfully I can count my friends using just my fingers. And so I would kindly ask that you begin a re-evaluation of those you call friends because you use fewer letters to spell the word foe which encompasses majority of people that say, ‘he’s my friend!’ and most times you have never even heard those words directly from them. Now I am not saying become a hermit instead my postulation is be a friend or just remain a fish swimming with no intention of even wanting to know its identity least of all its purpose. When my name is called up yonder, my remains will be cremated because I probably will react with divine fury at the people who would give eulogies having within them the phrase, ‘my friend’. Weep now for me or forever hold your tears, be civil at least to answer my call because I can assure you that I am not calling to ask you for monetary aid. Be human enough to listen to me just for a little before you drown me in your cascade of excuses. Excuses do not exist here!

Acknowledge that you are my foe so I can get you front row seats as He prepares my banquet because in reality, you are wasting the alphabets, there are just 26 of them for as long as I can remember, it is not the periodic table! Acknowledge that you are my foe not for fear of repercussion from me but just for you to have a life that has a smidgen of meaning. I am just as dispensable as you and so do yourself some good and stand for something instead of swaying with the breeze like one who is inebriated on cheap liquor. I am thankful for those who can call me friend without the blood draining from your face in the face of such a gargantuan untruth but most importantly I am thankful for my family and for those who I call friend even though I probably could be in that section of their contacts that has ‘?’ as its tag. There is so much joy when brothers and sisters gather in unity however I must be true to myself and truly appreciate the people I come across each day because therein lies a choice, ‘can I be a friend to this person?’.

Remember this ‘true friends are never apart, maybe in distance but never in heart.’

עד שניפגש שוב, מי יתן וספינתו של אלוהים תזרח עליך לטובה!

Adios!

The other side…

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What?

“Never look down on any individual except you want to look at their shoes!”

How and when did being truthful become an anathema? Oh, the ways of men! Well I opine that most times, we prepare for the fight but lay down and stay down when the fight is on. What is life that we are so ensconced in ourselves that when another person asks a simple request of you, it easily hurdles over the common decency of ordinary courtesy. Growing up, courtesy was not taught, it was implemented but alas now courtesy is a favor that is bequeathed from your throne to an underling. 2021 is already shaping up to being a year that as it unfolds, allows us a better glimpse of what are really priorities and what should not even be mistaken as a priority. The last month was a period of facing harsh realities and overcoming demons because a life with no purpose is a life firmly embedded in misery. Yes, social media has become an art gallery filled with so many fraudulent copies of truth, and so there is an unending line to get into that gallery because in there, we can enjoy the dearth of anonymity and its accompanying lack of expectations.

The grass always seems better on the other side however what of those that have been on both sides and can attest that where you are is a platform for you to learn or teach. Remarkably, we have attuned our hearing to ignore what is being loudly spoken of, and rather choose to attempt to redefine insanity. True, we are each a work in progress whether narcissism and ego choose to allow you to acknowledge that. Like the shifting sands of the desert, the experiences we ought to learn from are immediately forgotten and buried because that is what we choose because it calls for no effort on our part. Today is a gift (and ironically it is also the beginning of a new month), now the question is what do we plan to do or are we set up to fail because we have hastily cast off the responsibility and discipline that comes with making a plan, sticking with it and also having the flexibility to adapt to changing circumstances. I lost a peer recently and the world is still moving on, does that mean that I am bereft of emotion or just dealing with the grief in my own way? It is the latter and even as the lessons he imparted in the 4 decades he lived are mine to implement or discard where necessary, life goes on.

In the course of beginning a new career, I have truly been swamped by the glaring inequality of life. Like a rollercoaster; up today and down tomorrow with absolutely no clue as to when we must get off that ride but then my ability to choose is something that nothing and nobody can take away from me. Who are you? What are you? Why are you you? These are questions of intense gravity because within the answers lies our purpose. No matter how much we long to be on the side, there is a time for that and regardless of how manipulative and deceitful we choose to be, what has brought you thus far is certainly not going to be able to take you to the next place and unfortunately for many, it will be a reversal in so many ways. Till the right time, even when we cunningly make our way to the other side, rest assured that like fish out of water, you are most likely unable to survive because to every season, there is a time just as there is a beginning and an end to every season regardless of how long you have been there. Identify your weaknesses and focus on transforming them to strengths instead of flaunting them as laurels because even as you bask in the false and rapid applause of those who are gifted in flattery, the truth is we must be willing to learn from every circumstance or else you face the agony of life; emotionless in her teaching.

Each morning, I am reminded that the troubles of every new day are never that God has changed His standards midway but rather it is about me choosing to make the day count by seeking out and focusing on the blessings that come with each new day. And so with the obvious blessing that is illustrated in the fact that I am not concerned about the quality of air that I breath (even while I slept), there is so much that we can do not just in being thankful but by actually living it out. The slogan is ‘keep on paying it forward’ and that is without having a sense of entitlement to a better response because it is truly not just about me but rather it is about what I do with what I have with respect to the lives I am blessed to encounter. That summarily is how I live each day until my name is called and my role is finally over, but till then I owe my Creator and the lives I come across an obligation to be better than I was the day before – the last encounter. This is a journey, with no idea if it is a sprint or a marathon however the rules still apply – you can do something with what you have and as long as you apply yourself to doing the best you can, be reminded that the rest is up to God. Once again, I remind myself not to grow weary in well doing because there is seed time and harvest time, I cannot afford to let the challenges of the completely mysterious ways that others respond to me become my primary focus.

I am who I am because God made a masterpiece in me and whilst the full brilliance is still unexposed, I must journey on with the knowledge that I am a masterpiece not due to the actions or inactions of others but because that is what I am and will always be. I choose not to give up and I encourage you to do same because there will always be a day of reckoning and I definitely want to be on the Roll that is up yonder.

עד שאלוהים יפסיק לתת לנו נשימה, מראה הפנים שלו יזרחו עליכם לטובה!

Adieu!

Happy Birthday Mom….

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In my few years of existing here, I’ve heard life characterized by many adjectives but nothing quite prepares you for the fact that it ceases especially when it goes all ninja like. Sneaking in and taking that which you least expected would be taken; then a whole lot begins to actually make sense even though all your life, they were familiar. The true value of anything is really known only when it is lost and so when the absence hurts the most is when events associated with that loss come up. Life actually never ceases but there must always be a transition, and then we really have no sway over that phase of life and maybe that is what sucks the most.

Happy birthday mommy!

Today would have been my mom’s 74th birthday however I choose to mark this day on this side of life being thankful for all she did to make me the man I am. Yes the regrets still come up but there’s nothing I can do about them but to apply them towards making today as significant as it would have been. As a father, I see her in her grandkids and that gives me some solace because therein is a reminder that she truly imparted values that would last generations. Ironically today is quite special because I was also introduced to the world on the same day, and I never could understand why she always told the story of my birth – I was born premature but today I’m thankful because I can tell the beginning of my story having heard it so many times.

Grief is like a sponge, cleansing even though it’s painful so today I choose to celebrate her in a different way. I realize that there are so many dimensions to our lives but we get to choose and prioritize. She was the embodiment of her name; victorious and full of vitality. And for us growing up, she held nothing back to ensure we had that leg up that many unfortunately never had. In retrospect, after her transition, I realized she had so much secreted away for reasons best known to her. In the light of some of these revelations, do I hurt? Yes I do but it was her choice and that I will always respect.

Just like Samson, I opine to say that she achieved more in her passing than she did whilst she lived. I just got off the phone, yet another reminder of what she lived for. My dearest aunt tearfully calling to remind me that today would have been her birthday and I think I get it. There are relationships that despite the divide in life, transcend the norm and as I try to do her honor, I must acknowledge that she was the best of us. Just like the matador in the arena, we were only spectators but how glad I am that she put up such a fascinating display as a lady, a wife and most importantly as my mother. She was almost everything and her standards were the best even with her imperfections.

In honor of her, I commit to being the best version of myself regardless of present circumstances and deep down I hope she is proud of me because I am eternally grateful to have been part of her life for 43 years and some. Now going forward, I listen to her grand daughter who fusses over me just like her grandmother would. In the blossoming of her life, I cherish every moment as she grows into the lady that I am and will always be proud of because I see and recognize virtues and priceless traits that bridge generations even as they are passed on. I never experienced the hard knocks my mom received so I wouldn’t have to and so I take the knocks today so that mine would never experience them too.

The least I can do is never give up in carrying her legacy on. And even when it feels like I’m getting swamped, I’m rejuvenated by the fact that she gave life her best shot and so I have no excuse but to give life my best shot. No excuses at all!

Happy birthday mommy and till we meet again in heaven, may your memories be a constant source of blessing to me and mine. I love you now and always! Your son.