Dark September

It was a September, a normal September evening like any other, the kids were back from school and parents were back from work, dinner was in process, stories were rolling with loud laughters filling the air. It was a September where life was going well with no sign of impending doom. So when the news of how the plane plunged into the lagoon hit them, they were not ready for it. It came like a hurricane with a tsunami in its wake, it raised up and brought down, it happened so fast that they had little time to catch their breath. You see, mama was barely 14 when she married papa and she started having kids right away, it is said that papa pampered her so much that his brothers kept saying he was spoiling her, all mama knew how to be was a wife and a mother and that was okay for her.
It became a noisy September, with the house full of a thousand gloomy faced relations with anty Numa and grandma begging mama to cry and let out the pain, it was certain that life just went downhill, the wailing from next door reenforced the truth, they had been beaten, all the women on that block in the cantonment; 7 to the left, 9 to the right and 17 down the lane.
It was a bloody September, that Hercules plunged into the lagoon not just with their husbands but also with their hopes and dreams; it was a hopeless September. I heard mama Jane from the 5th house went “loco”, she tore from her house to the bush, soldiers had to run after her to contain her. As mama sat there numb, gazing into space I bet she saw her future with 5 kids to care for and one on the way, it was evident that this was just the beginning of the dark years to come.
It was a dark September.

In memory of the Hercules guys, our unsung heroes.

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Once every three months

Once every three months
I feel it’s waves,
Like a flood is in it’s wake;
A tsunami
Wrecking my reasoning
Tossing caution in the wind.
Once every three months
I feel it’s heat,
Like fire and breeze
I bask in it’s Sun.
My senses renew speed,
Colours seem more coloured
As I become antigravity.
Once every three months
I come alive
Like a chandelier I cast light,
I hit the eureka at every turn
I could run a marathon on and on
Once every three months
I fall in love
And i love how the Grammy feels.

Wordsmith

My dear Wordsmith
Break this barrier of silence,
Let your utterance spring life.
Tell me our story,
The future your mind creates,
The mysteries we would unravel,
Lands that would make Columbus marvel.
Tell me about touches;
Touches that untangles answers
And awakens ambers,
Moments that unveils clarity
And dispels obscurity.
My dear Wordsmith,
Put an end to this curse your silence brings.
©LifeasChristy

Bethesda

Father,
Have you seen your child?
She stands stranded on life’s way,
Stumbling with dreams too heavy to lift
As Asclepius hides his face .

Father,
Have you seen your child?
She sits at Hygieia’s gate,
Crutched, crouched and cramping
Hoping to find her home.

Father,
Have you seen your child?
She sits and waits,
Sekhet trails this route they say.
Bethesda,
He who tumbles in lays safe.

                    ©LifeasChristy

Redemption

The beauty in channeling,
The inflow of peace.
I made a pact with him
Now i feel divine.
Cosmic energy
The Waves of divinity
An Illusion that breeds insanity.

Then they came for me
Just me, a felon,
Reckless heavenly hosts!
What an army!
Propelled by love they said.
Wings,
Swords,
Darkness and light,
I’m never alone,
I’m followed.
©lifeasChristy

(Inspired by “Piercing the darkness” by Frank Peretti)

Let’s Do 8thMile Again

Last week i swam in love, love so deep i came alive.
Oka autonomous community in Isiala Mbano Imo state was where 8th mile held.
On reaching the residence for volunteers i was in awe, prior to that i envisioned that since we were going to a village, we would probably get to sleep in a “village looking” house or community hall (like we always did on geological field trips), we didn’t.

I remember the cool Doctors i met on my way to the village; the begining of an amazing friendship.
Throughout the love-outreach, i was a Doctor, 😎

Literally,

Okay, fine i served with the Vitals team. I felt like a Doctor, i mean i got to check blood sugar, BP. The name “Dr” got dropped on me here and there by the locals so i picked it up. 😎

Love was in the air, love so thick i could cut it if i tried.

From the laughter that sprinted from a local’s mouth when Joy said; “Ba Igbo” to a woman who kept speaking Igbo to her to Nono helping a woman walk towards a Doctor.

I saw wonder mixed with contentment in the smile of some of the local’s when they got treated and issued glasses, it was as though they saw the world for the very first time.
I remember loving the patience in Dr Ogo’s eyes, readily listening and the humor in Dr Ada’s eyes ready to burst with laughter, the fire in Dr Williams eyes ready to set diseases ablaze, the compassion in Dr Emma’s eyes, spelling hope.
I remember trying to fill a form for a 78years old man and i asked if he was married, he started laughing and kept laughing telling me it was impossible for a 78yrs old man to be single.
I can still feel the joy that poured in with testimonies from young folks in the school stepping forward and making Jesus their all.
It was a total love experience for me, everything seemed to fit, every step generated the next like organs relating in unison from my roommates, three to be precise ( A talker, a gist partner and an untroubled water) to the rest of the volunteers, different characters coming together to spread love.

8th mile was like a solved puzzle, each act leading to another act of love.

Let’s do 8thMile again for that woman who dropped her brokenness and sorrows at the feet of Jesus, i tell you there are more like her.
Let’s do 8thMile again for the kids that got drugs,

Let’s do 8thMile again for the 786 persons that were treated,

Let’s do 8thMile again for the 544 people that made Jesus their all.

Let’s do 8th again,

Please,

let’s do 8thMile again.

*( The YWAP (Youth With A Purpose) 8th Mile Project is built on the foundation of practical love of Jesus Christ in Matthew 25:35-36. We make available tokens of free medical, surgical care and welfare relief materials for residents in rural areas as well as urban slums in Nigeria and Africa.

Www.ywap.org )

Letter To Self

​Lately,little things have a way of teaching me life’s lesson.

  To get to work most mornings I have to go through two means of transportation, a Keke and a bike. The Keke from my bus stop to a particular bus stop then the bike from there to the office. Not only is it really stressful it is time consuming. I often prefer the straight trip’s which was by a taxi from my bus stop straight to work. To find a taxi on that road in the morning was like finding a needle in a hay sack( no kidding).

  Today I was running late and if I couldn’t get a straight means to work I was bound to be very late. I said a little prayer ” Please I need a taxi to take me straight to work,Jesus amen”. Somehow I expected on reaching the road to find a taxi there waiting but I didn’t.Instead I saw shoals of Keke swimming by. After sometime I reasoned; ‘perhaps I should just flag down one and stick to the normal routine since the one I prayed for was no where in sight. Hence I would just manage.

Then I heard it clearly in my spirit “Wait for your prayer”. For a moment I froze because the realization those words brought hit me. Seconds later right at the end of the fleets of Keke was the taxi I needed.

  Oftentimes we pray for something and it seems not to have arrived or happened when we expected it to,so we settle for ” sorta-kindas”/ almost-like-it because we are scared to arrive, achieve or make it too late. See don’t give in, just a little patience,a little more patience and you would see right at the end of those fleets of Keke lies that taxi, that answer you have hoped for.

     Stay with your prayer.

“God’s never late,we’re just impatient”–Lecrae

                                   LifeasChristy.

GOD’S BRUSH STROKES.

You are,
A painter’s touch
The spring of existence
A sculptor’s hand
The root of creation
A poet’s word
The psalm of David.

You are,
The beauty of a broken branch;
The mockery of perfection.

You are,
The courage in Daniel;
The bravery in David,
The strength of a thousand warriors,
A ray in the rain,
The dance in Jehoshaphat.

You are the reason the sun meets the Earth in an endless horizon.

You are God’s brush strokes.
@LifeasChristy