positive scribbles

COFFEE WITH JESUS – With the lowly and contrite

Isaiah 57:15

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.

DEAR FADA 02

Dear Fada

Are you back from your trip? You know I wasn’t also around, so, seems I’ve lost track of who’s in and who’s out. I remember the last time you were going on one of your private trips which so deprive home of you, I almost cried. Not just that I knew how extensive the short private visit would take, you know, but, I just kept wondering why you’d allow your children to suffer so much just because you have to move.

The taxi I took dropped me off at a good distance; and he collected the full fare. Can you imagine? And I had to cross the central town on foot. The traffic was horrible. I had to guard my feet from slipping, and my bag from your rebellious sons. I thought that was all, but getting another taxi was what we call “hélélé”. I was rushing to honour my appoint with our biggest Father. Oh, Fada, thanks to you, I erred. That distance would have cost me at the most 150FCFA. Do you know what the cabdrivers requested? 250FCFA or nothing else. That may perhaps not mean much to you, considering my sister spends exorbitant sums of money out there. Anyways, I had to give them Fada. I had no choice. Big Father was already present. He’s always present when you are absent.

But, their peers along the other road could not get a franc from me. Do you know that …,? I mean, I know that you know that that is what they do. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder. Don’t you pay them Fada? Or is the problem the fact that the pay is not enough? I feel so ashamed and vexed seeing how debased they become when they start asking for a ‘bottle of beer’. I even wonder whether they’re supposed to take alcohol while on duty. And who would even dare question them? Is their boss not sitting behind waiting for his share at the end of the day? So you understand Fada, I feel so ashamed. They’re disgracing us; they’re disgracing your name Fada; our name.

So, let me recount to you what happened huh! I have decided none of them would ever get a dime from me. Never, never ever, and I pray the Big Father helps me.

I was with one of your brother’s children. She had come visiting, and forgot to bring along her vaccination certificate. Her arrival was peaceful; her return was shameful.

Mr. Soldier was doing random checks. He took her passport, and asked for her health certificate. She said she didn’t have it on her. He said nothing. He strolled out of the bus. We waited for some time and we didn’t see him coming back towards us. I asked your brother’s daughter to stay in the bus and I went down. “Bonsoir”, I greeted. Fada, I can’t even remember whether he answered or not. He said something I didn’t understand, or rather, didn’t want to understand. Calmly, he called the already impatient Mr. Driver of the public transport bus to help me understand and stop wasting their time.

“Si tu as même un petit jus, donne leur on part. Il fait déjà bien tard”.

I told Mr. Driver I did not have “shishing”. Mr. Driver didn’t budge. Mr. Soldier didn’t budge. Trust me Fada; your daughter didn’t also budge. Then Mr. Soldier asked the driver to take my bags down because I refused to ‘act mature’.

Timely enough, one true son of the soil showed up. He was a commander, or so, he presented himself. He asked Mr. Soldier if “my” passport was good and the latter answered “yes”. Mr. Commander then asked what the problem was, and Mr. Soldier replied that he was trying to tell me that I need to walk with my complete ID documents “I’m just trying to do my job, and that is what I’ve been explaining to her ever since’, he explained. Mr. Commander prompted that if at least the passport was valid, they should let me go, and before Mr. Soldier obeyed, he scrutinized the passport, pointed his torch at my face, and then at the passport, and finally handed it back to me.

Fada, during all this so called ‘scrutiny’ and ‘just-doing-my-job’ time, Mr. Soldier hadn’t noticed it wasn’t my passport. Fada, do you know that I and your brother’s daughter look no inch alike? Our complexions are also different. I speak like a typical child of yours, but you can imagine that your brother’s daughter would speak like children that are typical of her own father.

I just imagined how mean he could have been, had Mr. Commander not given his timely ‘command’. I also tried to imagine how many hoodlums and ‘terrorists’ such Mr. Soldiers have allowed to enter the house because they failed to do their work properly and amply, paying attention to the least detail, and not only at the ‘bottle of beer’ they can make out of it. I know that you know what these Mr. Soldiers do out there, Fada. Would you let them go on? And by the way Fada, did he have the backing to demand the vaccination certificate where he was? I thought specific authorities were mandated to check that. Anyways, at home, everyone does what he/she wills. Right, Fada?

Just like you; and my siblings of “Air-Peut-être”. Can you imagine the name they’ve been given Fada? Even the meanest of your brothers, who is sometimes not able to put food on his table, is confident enough when he calls them that. And what can I say Fada. The last time I tried to defend, “Air-Peut-être” covered my face with shame. I decided never to talk again; perhaps just to pray, and hope things get better.

The number of bosses they’ve had is way more than the number of aircrafts they have. And I think too their ancient hostesses may soon be competing with you for longevity of service. No doubt they’re unable to keep standard. Fada, imagine my embarrassment when I had to dust off breadcrumbs from the seat I was allotted. And when they decided to serve me fruit juice and something else, breadcrumbs on the folded table didn’t look like yesterday’s. It looked as ancient as the hostesses. I don’t eat pork. You know it’s possible I am allergic to it, or many others could be. They had only pork. No tuna, no veggies, just pork. And whosoever didn’t eat pork could have as well gone to he… And those seats Fada. I almost thought I’ll incur the wrath of one of the fiery ancients trolling the aisle when I failed to put up my seat as her ancient colleague intoned overhead. Miss. Ancient didn’t budge. She very well knew that seat couldn’t be raised up.

Hahahaha Fada, it’s like all the rats in the former house we occupied visited the airplane. They had entered into a love union with the chair arms and backs. The remains of the remains were awfully shameful. As shameful as the dirty wagon those trains use to travel up north.

Before the sad fate hit Eseka, it was much better, though much more unsafe with the unreliable ‘Shinshong’ wagons. The seats then smelled good. They sometimes smelled fresh. We’d have the luxury of a hot meal or a cold drink, a clean seat or a semi-cozy bed. There were many wagons then, and it seemed fine. I feel sad for those who perished last year with the ‘Shinshong trains’. I thank God that it has kind of saved us from a likely fate with the mobile death trucks. But, I feel great pity for us who have stayed behind to endure the measureless semi-measures psychedelically upped by commissions that amount to nothing.

Ohhh Fada, who would take us out of this sham? I thought you would when you ascended. Yes, ascended. It’s more like the throne of our forefathers. I understand why you’re still there. But like our forefathers, they have become fore. You too will. I will become; and I too will have fore appended to me, someday; one day.

Take care Fada!

Your daughter,

Sally.

 

COFFEE WITH JESUS – BE CONCERNED FOR THEM!

1 Timothy 2:1-6

First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Saviour, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, …

Philippians 2:4

Do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.

FOR THE 30

I pray for the thirty, for the thirty who are thirsty

For the thirty who are thirsty of the justice of their land

Of their land which is smashed and dashed about as nought

Which is dashed about as nought as though they really don’t matter

As though they really don’t matter because they never really did

They never really did because their fathers wrought it so

Their fathers wrought it so because their brains had so been milked

Their brains had so been milked because they looked more at their breasts

They looked more at their breasts because their tummies needed fat

Their tummies needed fat although their children were growing hungry

Their children were growing hungry for the fatness of their soil

(c) jtbarts

Hungry for their fatness and thirsty for their flow

 

Hungry for their freedom and thirsty for their glow

Hungry for their children and the need to see them grow

Thirsty like the thirty who are aiming for their brow!

 

 

3 PRACTICAL WAYS TO BURN OUT BURNOUT

© Buddhanetz

Toledo has a really cool job. He earns super well and has plans to get some real big estate for himself and his. Even promising, his boss is spotting for a promotion. That’d be a big catch. Others who’ve been there haven’t had such high hopes until their 15th year of service. He’s just made 2, and counting! Toledo is willing, determined, motivated, encouraged and courageous and at the same time tired, overwhelmed, overtaxed, and stressed!

Burnout is simply defined as “physical or mental collapse caused by overwork or stress”.

Everywhere, professionals will give you the best practice on how to burn that out. They work for some, and don’t for others. It would be useless advising one who got a full-time job to answer present on Monday to Saturday evening for a ‘long’ weekend vacation right? Insulting even!

That can’t always work; yet, we got to always work. Needless to say we need to burn out burnout before it even sets in and burns life out of us. So what could work for us, while we work?

Here’s what I propose: Eat, play, and sleep.

Simple!

Eating good is good for the body, and consequently for the mind. At the end of the meal, satisfaction should be your friend, not constipationJ. Some slices of fresh fruits in the morning would do you so much good; keep you light and as fresh as the fruits themselves. Home-processed foods and fruits are best (from experience, one needn’t any expert to let this out). They taste better, fresher, and greener (J4F, but seriously though). A sustainable meal for lunch will do the trick, after a healthy start for the day. Best, when away from the office desk, a change of environment, sitting position, duty, etc., makes the body and brain relax, for what it’d cost. Vary the scenes, out of the office, with friends, with colleagues, all by yourself, a touch of relaxation during food time. Not so much a serious 1 hour of rushing to chew and digest; nor one of chewing and glancing through the computer, or phone, or a newspaper, or else. Just focus on the food, and let it know you’re investing precious time into it, that it got to work well for you. Back at home for the evening, not a heavy plate though. Some other slices of fresh fruits would sit well. These pave the way for the last for the day. A light meal, whether with meat, fish, broth, veggies, etc., the key is to keep it light. Vary your taste, vary your meals. Eat Green!

Some have said: “in the morning eat like a king, in the afternoon, like a Prince, and in the evening like a baby”. Maybe that’s the very best practice, but how many of us got ample time to set up a banquet in the morning before hopping out of the door for work. How many would, after setting it, have time to sit and munch? Well, maybe best practice, but experience has shown that copy and paste often doesn’t work in the 21st century. So, for those who can, please do. For us who can’t, we make it happen well for us otherwise. And sometimes, the babies from the part of the globe where I’m from can eat the share of more than 2 kings put together. Lol 🙂

And did I forget the king? Water. It’s not eating here, please. I’d fear whoever does (J4F)! Drink! Take as much as you should. A glass in the morning, afternoon, evening, night; one always by your side, close to your desk, etc. Drink à go-go! Anyone ever heard about too much water being really injurious to the body and mind? Thanks for sharing if you do. 

“Learning without playing makes Jack a dull boy”, we often say.

“Working without playing makes you a robot” I’d say. So, play. Playing simply means you engage yourself in some recreational activity, why not in a way characteristic of children. Just relax, and enjoy the simple things of life, void of seriousness, void of harshness. Playing would vary. For some, a movie; for others music. Yet others, a game, whatsoever game, others any hobby (cooking for meJ); game out, visit out, stroll out; in short, clean out the stress. It’s all about doing something that is entirely not work-related, or stress-related in either way or the other. Even ‘at work’, you can play.

It mustn’t always be files here and there, or assignments here and there, or reports here and there, or deadlines here and there. It could be a brief, and very brief stop over by a colleague’s desk, for a friendly ‘hi, how’s your day going? ‘You smiled today?’ and a quick smile to round-off those few seconds of ‘play’. It could be a 5 – 10 minute chat within or without the work environment/context, with someone within or without, about life out of work, about experiences that make you more human, and less robotic on work, work and work. (In office environment, ‘play’ could follow after ‘eat’ as the food slides down the system; best for discipline sake). A two-minute abandonment of the office desk to contemplate the traffic outside, the beautiful flowers, etc., or just a trip up and down the staircases could be part of someone’s ‘play’. Find what works best for you, what takes your mind out of the ‘work, work, work’ robotic schedule we find ourselves in, and even fail to move out of even when we’re formally or officially out of it.

And the last of it: Sleep. The average sleep duration has been established by experts as ranging from 7 – 9 hours from ages 18 – 65+. Today, we say sleep isn’t that important because there are much more things to do during the time we would have spent sleeping. Consequence, we owe our bodies. And, when it’s already an issue to pay what one may owe another, how easy would it be to pay what one owes oneself? Conclusion: we need to sleep well. Good sleep, good rest. During sleep, you

  • See
  • Life
  • Experiences
  • Experiencing
  • Power

Our thoughts and activities during the day are consolidated in our beings and minds when we sleep, and we tend to be sharper and smarter when we wake up to face the new day. Experts have proven this; and I have experienced this. I used to have ‘sleep arrears’, and would usually joke over it, until I realized I was doing myself more harm than good.

So now you know, perhaps not expert advice, but experience advice.  🙂 It’s simple and practical. And, by the way, we all are some sort of workaholics, right? Never mind! Just work well, eat well, play well and sleep well!

 

 

“POLITICS” DEFINED

A little boy goes to his dad and asks “what is politics?”. As reply, his dad says, “well son, let me explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so call me capitalism. Your mum is the administrator of money, so call her the government. We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll consider you the people. We will consider the nanny the working class, and your baby brother, we’ll call him the future. Think about this, my son, and see if it makes sense.

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what his dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying. He gets up to check on him, and finds out that he has seriously soiled his diapers. He goes to his parents’ room and finds only his mum, sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her up, he goes to the nanny’s room, finds the door locked, and when he peeks through the keyhole, he sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes to bed.

The next morning, the little boy says  to his father, “Dad, I think I now understand the concept of politics”. “Good son,” his father replies “tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about”. Then the little boy says: “While capitalism is busy screwing the working class, the government is sound asleep; the people are being ignored; and the future is in deep shit”.

(Mbiatem )

DEAR FADA 01

Dear Fada,

The other day, I watched PM Trudeau and Presi. Trump granting a press conference over Cable News Network. How I wished I could be seeing you standing and talking in place of Trudeau. Do you know he started in French, and then switched to English, and then back to French and then to English right until the end of his speech. It was so beautiful, seeing the ease with which he flowed with both lingos. I just so wished I’d be seeing you standing someday speaking to the entire world in languages you say are ours. Yours and mine!

Fada, never mind! I’m also so conscious that that could be a long long long deep deep deep dream; but, not impossible though; because if Martin’s dream could come true, how much more mine? I’d keep dreaming. One day, who knows? Just maybe, one day, someday soon enough!

You know, I’m past 20, and since I breathed my first on this earth, on this side of the globe, you’ve been there. Perhaps I’ve been watching TV or listening to radio for the past 15 or so years, and I sincerely can’t remember  ever hearing, I mean, NEVER ever hearing you so adorn your speeches with OUR family lingos. But then, I also remember you saying they are ours, right? So, I’m just wondering how come you never have, if you’re so proud of it, as you’ve asked me to believe? How?

Well, dreams do come true, or rather, they almost do. Someday, I thought mine was about coming true. That was same month 3years ago. I was in the town of Legendary hospitality. You were there too. On that day, I was so happy, just so happy; and as I told my friends in Yaounde and my family back in Mamfe, I too would want to tell youths, like Ngoh would tell us in “The Place To Be”, that “I was there”.

Yes! I was there. I braved the scorching heat; and with the shiny green chasubles the organizing committee gave us I was busy telling my juniors to keep moving. I failed to even buy sunscreen with the… was it 2000Fcfa ‘encouragement fee’! Lol J But nevertheless, I was there! I still want to tell my brothers and sisters to KEEP MOVING! Forward ever!

It was during the celebration of the 50th anniversary of our “union”. Well you said it was 50. With the little Arithmetic I did in G.B.P.S Yaounde, 1961 – 2014 would make 53, not 50. But still, maybe the arithmetic I learnt wasn’t the right one after all. Maybe that’s why the teachers are saying they rather not teach while they watch others “unteach” their progeny.

Sorry Fada, I seem to go ‘off-head’ some days. And you see, it makes me forget that the norm for our house is that things move backward. I always seem to forget we’re getting very good at that. It’s the trend! Like in the North West and South West regions for the past weeks! Well, I’m sure people lived in the dark ages when it was really dark; so, why wouldn’t they live thus now that it’s not. Lol! You really are something else, Fada!

Anyways, on that day, my ears picked some familiar sounds. But then, before I could sit them in, they had gone as swiftly as they had come. Let’s say the other times I have heard such are when you say “I do so swear”. You know, I sometimes wonder what you really so swear to. Is it to what we think you are swearing to, or to what you have in mind that you’re swearing to? How I’d like to know whether you really do believe in what you have so often sworn to. And then, how come the same persons make you swear to the same things you swore to the last time you did swear. Oh, sorry, that was just swearing. It wasn’t really ‘meaning’. Right? Perhaps wrong. I stand to learn better, and be corrected if need really be. I think you should also swear to that. How about that? Huh Fada?

Each time our uncles visit and we visit them, be it at our home or in theirs, I’d thought you’d let them; and their neighbours, as well as ours, who peep through those small beautiful cracks in our wall. You know, when they peep through and see the bookshelf, it is so orderly they know we’re gurus. Hahahaha, poor them! If a fairy could just whisper in their ears we’ve never really glanced through a handful of those, well, you know what I mean. Anyhow Fada, I always wonder why you never let our uncles, or the peeping neighbours and even the “Amebohs” know what you so sing in my ear that I should imbue in me. Why don’t you tell them, or rather, SHOW them it is imbued in you. Once in school, I was told that experience is the best teacher. Show us, and we’ll follow you. Ohhhhhh; Fada, wait! Are you of the school of those who say “Do what I say and not what I do”, noooooo! That’s not good. Fortunately, a wise teacher told me once whenever people say such; really, they are what they do and not what they say. Was he right Fada?

Would you rather I do what you do and say what you say, and be at peace with you? Or do what you say and don’t do what you do and be at peace with you? Or what else? Please Fada, come straight sometimes. Please! It helps me understand you; what you like, what you don’t,  what you want, what you don’t want, what you want me to say, and what you wouldn’t like to hear me say, even if I have to.

Reminds me of some of my friends. I think they really didn’t know what you wanted them to say. Or better still, they didn’t say as you said. I think that was their crime. You know. They said what they said because you told them they had the right to say it. But then, they failed to understand that they were not supposed to do what you say, but rather, they had to do what you do. Ahhhh, they aren’t your true children right? Adopted, perhaps? Imposed, perhaps? Whatever!

Ooooppps, we’re past St. Sylvester, St. Valentine, and soon St. Spring will be bouncing in. I just hope it wouldn’t be the spring my cousins in the dessert cassock led some few years back. Ahhh no, no, no, no. That Spring was a spring to reckon with. Noooo, though it ushered in some fresh air, water, mixed with … Perhaps we really need spring! What do you think Fada?

Well, we’ll soon be in May too. It’s somehow our national month; you know; though the way it came to be is a matter for another day. Let’s see how we plan that feast in the house.

Ohhh Fada, Little strokes fell great oaks!

Perhaps the binding cords are far more resistant than the heat of May; don’t you think? I can see a will. A will to be. Do you have that will to be Fada?

A surfer once said, and I paraphrase “If you see snakes, kill them; don’t create a commission on snakes”.

Dearest Fada, if you are proud of your lingos, show it; don’t create a commission on them. You’re our Fada. We are yearning to learn from you. Do, so that we can do.

Remember Fada, little strokes fell great oaks!

Ohhhh, goodness me, ouch, I forgot. Well, but then, not a big deal, is it? Since at home we’re good at the backward move, it’s not so bad after all, right Fada? Happy birthday in arrears!

Your daughter,

Sally.

Nigerian teen who lived in a plastic bowl dies on Christmas day.

(C) naij.com

(C) naij.com

Rahma Haruna, 19, who spent her entire life is a plastic bowl has died. The teen passed away last Sunday, December 25, 2016, Christmas evening, following a brief illness.

“Born in Lahadin Makole village in Kano, when Rahma was six months, her arms and legs stopped developing”, LIB reports.

“From six months when she learnt how to sit that was when it began. She didn’t learn how to crawl.” her mother Fadi said.

“She started with a fever and that was it. Then stomach pains. Then her body parts like hands and legs. She cannot use any if the ache strikes.”

Rahma’s tale came to the spotlight earlier this year after freelance photojournalist Sani Maikatanga shared pics of the physically challenged teen. In the pic, she was carried in a bowl by her 10-year old brother, Fahad. Reports say Fahad would usually take Rahma into Kano each day to beg for alms.

(c) Maikatanga

(c) Maikatanga

Her story pulled sympathy from many persons on Kano, who supported in cash and kind. One of them, Ibrahim Jirgi, a journalist  offered the family a wheelchair for Rahma.

Despite her physical challenge,  Rahma was optimistic and viewed life positively. Her greatest dream was to open up a supermarket of her own, according to reports. Unfortunately, that dream was cut short following her demise on  Christmas day.rahma-haruna

May her soul rest in PEACE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHRIST IN OUR HEARTS

As Christmas draws nigh, one should look out for Christmas in Christmas. It’s celebrating:

Christ who came
Healing our diseases
Restoring our hearts
Infusing into us love, joy, peace in the Holy Ghost
Sitting in for us at all times
Taking upon Himself the sins of mankind
He wants us all to:
Muster our tongues
Act in true Christianity and
Serve the Lord and our neighbours wholeheartedly.


That is what Christ does for us, it is equally what He wants us to do for ourselves and our neighbours, just like GOD did for us when He sent us a little parcel CHRISTMAS. 

LOVE ALONE!

She lay across looking at me,
She felt so warm, so full of glee.
And I, my heart could not contend,
That LOVE that love alone can tend.

An inch apart, yet close at heart
Her thugs like hugs that start to bud
That super pull, her gentle pat
That strike the strings of nature’s cord

Ouuuccchhhhhh, puuuuussssshhhhh, she’s such price gem,
This love’s long pearl, lovelier than ’em.
My LOVE, my joy, so full a gleeful friend
This LOVE that love alone would tend.

(c) dreamstime

Image: dreamstime

SELECTIVE OPPS.

Lesson 0:

An opportunity well grasped and utilised is worth more than 10 opportunities poorly utilised.

~ SallySuccess~

Watch, think, act!

Watch, think, act!

Lessons from this pic:

1. Not all opportunities are to be taken. Some are traps.

2. A person can become so determined to destroy another person that they become blind and end up destroying themselves.

3. You fight best in your natural element and environment. Here the bird has advatange in its natural element.

4. Know your limits, we all have them.

5. Sometimes the best response to provocation is not to fight.

6. Sometimes to accomplish something you need team work, you will not always win alone.

7. Stick to what you do best and don’t pursue what will kill you.

/C/ Bebe Bijou @ facebook

Life is full of zillions of opportunities. We can’t grab everything at once each time they crop up. We oughtn’t rush into all; cuz not all are meant for us for all times. Best is to pull back to have a better view.

OLD BEN’S STORY

A Minister passing through his church in the middle of the day,

Decided to pause by the altar to see who comes to pray.

Just then the back door opened and a man came down the aisle,

The minister frowned as he saw the man hadn’t shaved in a while.

His shirt was torn and shabby, and his coat was worn and frayed,

The man knelt down and bowed his head, then rose and walked away.

 

(c) gallery.com

(c) gallery.com

In the days that followed at precisely noon, the preacher saw this chap,

Each time he knelt just for a moment, a lunch pail in his lap.

Well, the minister’s suspicions grew, with robbery a main fear,

He decided to stop and ask the man, ‘What are you doing here?’

The old man said he was a factory worker, and lunch was half an hour

Lunchtime was his prayer time, for finding strength and power.

I stay only a moment because the factory’s far away;

As I kneel here talking to the Lord, this is kinda what I say:

 

‘I JUST CAME BY TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.

SO, JESUS, THIS IS BEN, JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

 

The minister feeling foolish told Ben that it was fine.

He told the man that he was welcome to pray there anytime.

‘It’s time to go, and thanks,’ Ben said as he hurried to the door.

Then the minister knelt there at the altar, which he’d never done before.

His cold heart melted, warmed with love, as he met with Jesus there.

As the tears flowed down his cheeks, he repeated old Ben’s prayer:

 

‘I JUST CAME BY TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

I DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.

SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME, JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

 

Past noon one day, the minister noticed that old Ben hadn’t come.

As more days passed and still no Ben, he began to worry some.

At the factory, he asked about him, learning he was ill.

The hospital staff was worried, but he’d given them a thrill.

 

The week that Ben was with them, brought changes in the ward.

His smiles and joy contagious; changed people were his reward.

The head nurse couldn’t understand why Ben could be so glad,

When no flowers, calls or cards came, not a visitor he had.

 

The minister stayed by his bed, he voiced the nurse’s concern:

No friends had come to show they cared. He had nowhere to turn.

Looking surprised, old Ben spoke up and with a winsome smile;

‘The nurse is wrong, she couldn’t know; He’s been here all the while.’

Everyday at noon He comes here, a dear friend of mine, you see,

He sits right down and takes my hand, leans over and says to me:

 

‘I JUST CAME BY TO TELL YOU, BEN, HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP, AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN.

I THINK ABOUT YOU ALWAYS AND I LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY,

AND SO BEN, THIS IS JESUS, JUST CHECKING IN TODAY.’

 

© Anon

Someone sent it to someone, who sent it to someone, who sent it to someone, who sent it to me, who’s sending it you. Shalom!

 

 

Once Upon a Time: BREAST RIPPERS

Once upon a time there existed breast rippers. They were simply forks used to rip breasts away. Cruel and gruesome! Unimaginable, yet verisimilar! History records its use in the late 1590s in Bavaria, Central Europe; and in other parts of Germany and France until the 19th century.

breast ripperIn use, the forks were attached to a breast at a time; then ripped off. It pulled off chunks of flesh from the fleshy breast, which either left the subject definitely mutilated or dead; both ways passing through inexpressible pain.

A variant of the breast rippers was the Spider: even more horrendous. The Spider would be affixed to a wall, and the subject’s breast snug into it, then the subject pulled out, leaving chunks of breast particles ripped by the Spider on the wall. Horrible! Appalling!

What could warrant such cruelty from human beings toward other human beings? What could these women have done to deserve such?

Abortion, self-abortion, adultery, self-miscarriage, were mainly what drew out the breast rippers or the Spider; either as punishment or for interrogation. Later set in blasphemy and witchcraft.

Right until the 19th century in some parts of Germany and France, this was being used. A simple deduction: the people didn’t encourage any of the following – abortion, self-abortion, adultery, self-miscarriage and all the others. To them, such warranted and deserved the heartrending punishment, albeit appalling, disgraceful and degrading.

The question is: What’s being said today?

It’s shocking to see how values once upheld have quickly sunk to a state lower than man could ever imagine. It’s unbelievable that persons who once detested an act, and who were ready to perpetrate horrendous practices on fellow human beings can so easily sit back and let the same murky rivers flow into their homes and lands.

Yes, the laws are there to regulate, and do their utmost best to, reason why we hear “pro-life” and “pro-choice” everywhere one can today; and “pro-trash” (my opinion). Reason why adultery or extra-marital affairs do not warrant much eyeing. After all, isn’t it supposed to be one’s private life and/or personal choice?

Indeed it is, and ever will be. It always has been, except that as the breast ripper ripped in the past, it is ripping now; or reaping, if you will. Not necessarily the breasts (I would never support that, for no reason on earth), but the hearts; the humans in us.

WHEN I LOOK AT THINGS…

When I look at things, I observe that they have to change. They have to change for the better, cuz it’s already so bad out there and so bad in here.

How can it change? How can they understand it has to change?

In trying to pass this across, I realize my drift is SOOOOOOO much toward God. It is so embedded in the man Christ Jesus; the one referred to as the “man who went about doing good”.

I want to tell my friends things have to change, but I’m afraid it’ll push them away.

I want to tell the world things have to change but I’m afraid they’d take it wrong, because we don’t share the same views.

The more I try to bring in legalism; the farther I drift from hitting the nail on point.

The more I try to fit the square peg in the square hole, for things to fit, the more I find myself in what people call “religion”. The more I find myself in what’s been termed by the acclaimed ‘liberal minds’ “Christianity”.

The more I find myself in what I call LIFE.

Then, I come to one realization: there can be no change without this life. There can be no change without this Christianity. There can be no change, no change at all.

Nailing it, there can be no change without the one who was nailed on the cross: Jesus. It’s that simple!

Refusing this is being like the cynical hermit, burying its head in the dust when its feathers are on fire.

In what’s been [tried to be] said about His being here on earth, and His stay, and His instructions; and His teachings, and His life and His all, no one has presented him as a bad man. Some say he wasn’t bad but was not perfect. But to them, I’d still do what He asked, for their good; I’d have to pray for them to be forgiven. He Himself did. One of the last things He showed us how to do was to pray for those who do not know what they are doing.

Bishop Chris quotesIn the midst of the turbulence, His instructions apply. For the degraded morals, for the debased man, for the debauchery, for the manslaughter, for the selfishness, for the hatred, for the deceit, for the exploitation, for the phobias, for the every, for the all; His instructions apply. Sound instructions, giving out sound meant to mold one soundly.

For oneself, for the neighbour, for the friend, for the foe, for the parent, for the sibling, for the stranger and the passerby, for the baby, for the spouse, for the unknown, for the seen; for the wealthy, for the wretched, for the miserly, for the proud; for the high, for the low, for the fat and for the slim; His instructions apply to make it go a-peace.

Where would the peace run to, if we so ardently seek it? Where would the love hide if we so willingly manifest it? Where would the talents be buried, if we so encouragingly share it? Where would the world be falling, if we so collectively care for it?

A servant of His once said the world is so gone bunkers because Christians speak so much but do so little of what they speak. If only they could!

I’ve come to the conclusion that it is only in doing things His way, that things are really gonna change. If I want change, if I really do want change, then I know what I have to do.

I have to shout it from the rooftops, hard as I can, loud as I can, fastest as I can, plainly as I can, always as I can. Only then can I be fully able to “can” something out of this existence. Until then, no change; no betterment; nothing!

“A nation can never be better than the state of the church within it”, Bishop Chris would say.

“The world can never be better that the state of the church [Body of Christ] within it”, I’d expand.

LIKE WAVES IN MARCH

Going through my poetry recollections, I stumbled on this, once composed for a boon friend. Words have some power in that they rarely fade, rarely go out of touch. Persons may, but words keep their splendour, the moment, the mind. Like then, like now, march into March like waves on a seashore. Stay positive, always!

k

WHO’S KIDDING WHO?

Mercy sat on her seat and watched below as things unfolded. “At the end of this all, we’d know”, she thought.
Not an easy one for Lisa. Through last week, she had been told her pregnancy may not stay till term. “What do I do”, she wondered. Usually, Mary, if in her shoes would do what the others would naturally do: visit Babalawo.
He was the sort of man you could get a response from. He usually didn’t ask much; wouldn’t even, because there wasn’t really much Mary or Lisa or the likes of them could give. But then, little plus little plus little gives much. Anyways, that’s my own thinking.
thShe did decide to go. Before then however, she tried to be open. Open to Father Moses. He was as understanding as the famous Moses was, but not slow to speech though. “You cannot do that; you shouldn’t. It is not worthy of who you are”. You sure you told her about Luke 9:62 Father?
Yes, exactly, who is she? She was a young girl who had decided to give her life to Christ some seven years back. She’s sure her parents and siblings all did. She wouldn’t know however, because she grew up seeing them; and joining them move every Sunday morning to the place of worship. It was a beautiful hall; with beautiful paintings of winged persons and objects on the walls right up to the ceilings. At age 7, Lisa knew those who did that must have really been blest. If indeed the angels were like that, then they surely have seen he who is the father of all the angels, God.
At age 15, it was the routine; no longer that which rejoiced the spirit, oh sorry, body, I mean, but that which bored the soul. A boring soul needs distraction. Michael set in. A fine young man; willing and stealing. He was the perfect figure of the fallen one. Harsh, yes, but “he looks like an angel”, Lisa would often think. Like. Just ‘like’.
Yes, he did look like one, was named after one; yet wasn’t close to any. One thing he was close to was to Lisa’s heart. He wasn’t just close to, he was in it. Or rather, hers was in his. She was sold out. At age 23, Lisa and her angel would tie the knot; yes the not. Actually, it was a “not” to everything that was for her. To studies, I can ‘not’; to duties, I would ‘not’; to life, I am ‘not’.
Slowly but surely, to the place of worship, I will ‘not’. But then she did with angel Michael at home. But, mercy was still around, dropping in in time. Once she knocked whilst with Father Moses. “What the heavens does this old father want with me again?” Well, he wanted nothing with her, only, Mercy did. And Mercy won.
That’s what Father Moses was trying to tell Lisa. But seems her heart’s been hardened like that of Pharaoh. I wonder whether he got a staff to bring about the plagues. Well, maybe he can; if he wills.
Off she went to Babalawo’s. Sooner had she returned than she knocked on Father Moses’ door. “Michael has to go on a journey for three days for my baby to live. Please help me pray, pray that he would be safe, pray for everything to work on well. Please pray Father, Father, please pray”.
Before he could separate his lips to utter a word, she was on her feet. Off to the house, she neither ate nor drank for a whole day. Brave for young Liza, heavy with child. On her knees she went, praying for Yahweh to intervene in Michael’s journey to Babalawo’s hometown for the safety of the baby in her womb. Like seriously?
Mercy said “No, I’m not letting Liza go”. Father Moses on his knees too would plead, plead for Liza, plead for Michael, plead for the baby; even plead for himself. The heaven did he get there? Who’s kidding who?
2 Kings 17:41 So while these nations feared the LORD, they also served their idols; their children likewise and their grandchildren, as their fathers did, so they do to this day.
Hosea 10:2 Their heart is faithless; Now they must bear their guilt The LORD will break down their altars And destroy their sacred pillars.