CHRISTMAS GIFT

 

‘Like the string* is stuck’, Solomon said.

‘Yes, I can observe a sudden abnormal hike in SPP*’, I replied. ‘But I’ll call rig floor to confirm’, I added.

True to our speculation, there was a pack-off* as the driller confirmed it. Strange it was to me for we were still on the surface hole section, just at the beginning of the operation. I was curious so I asked Solomon and he explained to me that it must be that the unconsolidated formation collapsed around the string and choked it. Shortly, jarring* started, and went on for the rest of the day, but no, the string wouldn’t budge.

First day passed, no string, second day no string. The only information was the client reps on board were still communicating with town to know the next step. At last, they decided on employing wireline methods to recover the tool. This would involve loading some explosive into the well and letting it off. A toolbox meeting* was held prior to the operation and I was there as a representative of my department. Some safety procedures were required before the operation could start. There was to be radio silence (meaning every equipment or gadget transmitting radio waves e.g. mobile phones, internet satellites would be switched off) till the end of the operation, no movement around the area of operation—barrier tapes would be placed across the concerned areas and were not to be crossed by any non-essential person. The boats around were to move about five miles away from the rig and blabla and blabla.

All hands on deck, the operation started and ended. However, it was not successful, the gun did not activate. I knew it was going to be a tough time for the wireline guys for two of them were my friends, so I uttered some prayers to God to help them.

As a result of the failure of the equipment, they had to repeat the operation. At that time, it was already my sleeping time. The next day was Christmas. It was a beautiful Christmas morning as it birthed the release of the whole drillstring*. I was going to the galley in the morning when I met the geologist and another man on my way, they were discussing and I overheard them that the whole drillstring came to the surface. Whao! Normally, the drillstring was expected to come to the surface in fractions with the remaining been sealed off with the hole. I was glad I prayed. ‘God you’re so good and you answer prayers’, I whispered. The recovery of the string was a Christmas gift to us on the rig, this was going to be a special rig Christmas, everyone was excited.

In the evening, during fellowship, four people shared the same testimony—the recovery of the string—how they were grateful to God for answering their prayers over the matter. You see, we can trust God for anything and tell Him everything. Nothing is too small or too big to tell God about. No problem is too technical or tough for God to solve; nothing is too difficult for Him.

 (An account of a series of events when I was on Seawolf Oritsetimehin last year December. Written today, 01/02/12)

 

*string/drilstring: the assembly of pipes and accessories used on oil rigs for drilling

*SPP: an acronym for Stand Pipe Pressure, one of the most parameters measured on oil rigs

*pack-off: a situation in which the formation in the subsurface collapse around the drillstring such that it gets stuck in the hole

*jarring: a method of freeing a stuck string from the hole to the surface, it is made possible by a component of the drillstring called ‘jar’

*toolbox meeting: a brief meeting held before every operation on oil rigs

WE WISH YOU A MANY CHRISTMAS

Last year Christmas, I was at my sister’s in Owerri. She told me how her daughter, Dammy who was three then, sang on stage during her school's Christmas party. She was given the mic to lead and she sang:

‘We wish you a MANY Christmas
We wish you a MANY Christmas
We wish you a MANY Christmas
And a Happy New Year.’

I laughed. So we went out. And in the car I was teasing the girl singing her version of the Christmas song and added my own version:

‘We wish you a DAMMY Christmas
We wish you a DAMMY Christmas
We wish you a DAMMY Christmas
And a Happy New Year.’

I saw a smile tug at a corner of her mouth as I sang. She waited patiently for me to land and then she shot back:

‘We wish you a AUNTY Christmas
We wish you a AUNTY Christmas
We wish you a AUNTY Christmas
And a Happy New Year.’

We all burst out laughing. Her mum quipped, ‘You think she is not wise?’ Oh my darling little Dammy.

So,
I wish you all a (fill in your name) Christmas
And I wish you a very Merry Christmas
Remember Jesus Christ is the reason for this celebration
He loves you and He longs for a relationship with you.
Do accept Him into Your life if you are yet to
And live for Him if you've already let Him in

I KNOW THIS MUCH ABOUT CHICKENS

I just saw a hen now. She has a grown-up chick which is already a cockerel following her around. I was amused. These animals behave like humans at times. I know this much about chickens because we always have them for rearing till date. When a hen has only one surviving chick, she usually doesn't wean it early as she would do if they were many. Is that a way of pampering the chick because it is the only one?

We once had a neighbour, Baba Titi, who had chickens also. There were two of his hens which behaved like sisters and friends. They were always seen together. One was very productive, the other was not dilligent enough to keep her chicks (they had their chicks about the same time but she lost hers), so she was chickless. Now, the chickless hen would always take care of her friend's chicks as though they were hers. She would call to them when she saw food, she would share in covering them under her wings and would even rebuke them when they were wrong. Wasn't that funny?

And then we had some unserious hens. Either they sucked up their eggs or stepped on them and broke them so that they had few eggs left to hatch. There was a particular hen, she had only one egg left to finish her incubation with! There were some that would start with many chicks, but due to nonchalance would lose them to hawks or even step on them and get them killed. My dad referred to them as unmotherly mothers (in my language, "Wọn ò mọ ọmọ ọ́ tọ́jú"). Hens like this ended up in the pot before their time because there was no use keeping them. Usually, hens last longer than cocks because they make chicks, but for these exceptional cases, the story is different.

I remember some village chickens we had also. My dad brought them from our hometown. We kept them in their coop for days so they could get used to it and roost there every night. For where? These animals preferred to jump on trees in the compound to roost. They were sort of wild flying over fences. They were indeed village chickens. The funny part was that they taught some of our home chickens their weird ways.

But I love them especially the cocks which are always handsome. I delight in watching them and I love to feed them. At work one day, a colleague stretched and I asked him if he knew chickens stretch too. He laughed and said no. O yes, they stretch and they sneeze too, though my sister who is an agriculture specialist told me their sneezing could point to an illness. I know this much about chickens. Tell me if you know more. :)

DOUBLE FOR MY TROUBLE

It was compulsory for every student in my department to pay a fee called departmental levy every semester. Failure to do so would cost you important lectures and or exams (and you know what that means).

Before school resumed for a particular semester, I ensured I stood on my dad's neck to collect my departmental levy after which I left for campus. I was one of the first few (if not the first) to pay because classes had not resumed at the time I returned to school. Usually, when we paid at the bank, we were given a pink copy which served as the evidence of your payment at the department. Your receipt would be given you in exchange for this pink sheet. But somehow, I misplaced my pink sheet. I searched everywhere in my room, it was nowhere to be found. As a result, I could not go for the receipt on time.

I continued to hope to find the pink sheet as soon as possible. Before I knew it,  they were coming to chase out of lecture rooms those who had not paid. I tried in vain to explain to our level adviser that I paid already, but I had no evidence to prove. I was chased out as well. I cried. I cried because I had paid, just that I couldn't find the pink sheet. I decided to go meet with the head of department. I explained to him but burst to tears towards the end of my story. He lost his patience and sent me out of his office.

Later that day,  he (the HOD) announced that we had been pardoned till a certain time after which we would not be tolerated again. I was relieved and returned to class for lectures. But how would I find money to pay this fee a second time? Telling my father was out of it, what explanation would I give him?

Now, a big sister who finished three years ahead of me from my department had earlier sent some money into my account so I could collect her transcript for her. I saw the money as a way out hoping that I would be able to pay back before it would be time to get her transcript.  I re-paid the levy.

The Friday that followed the day I made the payment, the sister called. She was in town and had decided to collect the transcript herself. What would I do? Where would I get the money from? The departmental levy was half her money, thus I still had the other half in my account. I told her okay as if everything was fine that I'd see her the following week with the money. My head was calculating. I asked everyone I thought could be of help  to lend me some money, no way.  That Friday,  we had a vigil at the fellowship. While in the heat of worship/prayer, I would remember that I had some money to pay and my heart would skip, then I'd try to re-focus on the Lord.

The following two days, Saturday and Sunday,  I was busy running around for decorating materials as I was the Graphics Coordinator in my fellowship.  Monday was going to be October 1st (Nigeria's Independence) and we had virtually no decorating material then in the fellowship. All the while I was sourcing for decorating materials, I never forgot about the money, but I tried to stay my heart on the Lord. I had no idea who was going to lend me the money.

On Monday, we had a nice program at our fellowship's site to mark the Independence Day. The next day I switched off my phone and did not go to school (gratefully, lectures were over at the time).  I did this because I would not want a situation in which she would call my line and I would not pick her call. Later on in the day,  I decided to go to the bank, collect the remaining half and keep it. I still had hope that I'd be able to raise the money from people.

At the bank, I filled the withdrawal slip and gave it to the teller. He paid me and and gave me my copy of the slip. My balance was barely over 3000 naira. This must be dreaming! I should have 150 naira as balance, where did he get 3000 naira from? I left him and went over to the customer care corner.  I gave them my account number and requested for a statement of my balance.  It was the same as what the cashier wrote in the duplicate.  Okay, now it must be me that was dreaming. I concluded I would go back home and return the following day. If then I was paid 2500 naira, which was how much I needed, I'd know it was not a dream.

The next day I was paid and I had some changes left in my account. Could it be that an uncle paid into my account or my mum did, or was it an angel? And why did this happen just at the nick of time? In short, I switched on my phone, called to inform the sister I was coming to give her the money. She waited for me at the department. Maybe she was relieved,  maybe she had been wondering if I had spent her money. I handed her money to her and we were both happy.

Well, no-one that I know paid into my account and i was never called from the bank that someone mistakenly deposited into my accoint. I bless the Lord who spared me from shame and disgrace. He covered up for me and made a way where there was no way. Before I had this experience,  I only heard a similar story from Pastor Adeboye in one of his messages and I wondered how incredible it was (though I believed).

The conclusion of this testimony is that at the end of that semester after exams,  when there were not many students on campus,  I found the naughty naughty pink sheet hiding somewhere in a notebook. O my! I took it to the bank and boldly demanded for a refund, since I paid two times. They asked me to state my petition in a letter which I did. After a little ado, the money was refunded.  God gave me double for my troubles--I got the money paid back miraculously and eventually found the misplaced duplicate.   

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GEY 102

I studied Geology from a rocky department in Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ago iwoye in Nigeria. My department was renown for being tough, but I always told myself I was tougher. There was a pre-requisite course I offered in the second semester of my first year in the program. The day we wrote its exam, the head of department then came into the exam hall to address us. He made a remark that it would take a genius to finish all the questions within the stipulated time.  I checked through the questions and they didn't seem difficult to me. I mused to myself about how our lecturers delighted in intimidating students unnecessarily.

I answered almost every question and submitted happily, still wondering why the HOD made the questions appear tougher than they really were. Outside the hall, I observed students gathered in mini groups and many were lamenting. Why the laments when the questions were so simple? I did not know there was a big fire on the mountain. It was later I learnt from other coursemates that there were different instructions for different sections. Instructions like: if options A and B are correct choose C and some other funny and tricky instructions. O my God! I answered all the questions with just one instruction (the first one). I didn't know the questions were in sections, I didn't know there were other instructions apart from the first one. I only observed that I discovered a lot of the questions had more than one correct answer, for these questions I picked one correct answer for each. I knew immediately that except there was a miracle I already failed the course and the implication of failing the course was an extra year as it was pre-requisite to offering main courses in the second level. So I asked God to have mercy and wax a miracle for me. I had so much faith I was sure the Lord would do it. That morning I rushed out of my room without my quiet time.

When the result came out, a larger percentage of the class failed. I got 17%. Seeing my score, tears blurred my eyes, so I hurriedly left the campus to go back home. While on my way home (my house was not far from the campus so I trekked home), a big brother on a commercial motorcycle called out to me. It was his voice that made me know it was him, my tear-stained eyes could not see properly. Many things were running through my mind. How would I break the news to my father, what would it be like to have an extra year, why didn't God wax a miracle for me when He knew it was not intentional...?

Immediately I approached my room's door, I released the tears. I opened the door, jumped on the bed and wept profusely. But I refused to say any foolish thing to the Lord. Through the tears I was thanking Him for knowing exactly how I felt and because He alone understood why He did not cover up for my mistake. My dad heard at home. He talked and talked and talked. He later cooled down and started encouraging me. He even asked if I'd leave my school and go study as a pilot (there was one advert then on admission offers available for those interested in becoming pilots). I said no, that I would go through all I had to go through, that I wouldn't because I failed change schools. Many coursemates switched departments. I stayed put. This thing shook the whole school because almost everyone failed. The Vice Chancellor intervened, but our HOD would not budge.

But I thank the Lord for the grace to praise Him through that difficult time. There was a day like that at a fellowship mid-week meeting, I became overwhelmed and was weepy. I had to hurry out of the fellowship centre to escape to my house which was just a stone's throw from the centre. I got in the room, laid down on the floor and cried, thanking God through the tears.

I was not going for classes as regularly as GEY 102 was a pre-requisite to offering departmental courses in the second level. I was only going to the campus for general courses. One fateful day, I went to school. I was at the department that day to check some people and left. While I was on my way out of the school's premises, I met a friend who was of another department and he told me he saw my name on 'the' list at my department.

'Oh yes,' I replied. 'My name is on the list showing those who will not offer the 200 level deparmental courses.'

He shook his head stating that my name was on the board among those who would offer the 200 level departmental courses. This must be a joke! I thanked him and hurried off to confirm. As sure as the sun rises every morning, my name was there with some other coursemates' who also failed the course. I was speechless.

 Till today, I do not know how the Lord did it. Some said they used our grades to decide who amongst us that failed the course would be pardoned and allowed to offer 200 level courses. Some said other things. All I know was that the Lord changed my story and made the impossible possible. I sat again for that course and made a 'B'.

IT'S MY BABY'S BIRTHDAY!

There is something special about friends. They are there to listen when you are worried, to lend their shoulders for you to cry on, to laugh with you and to spank you when you're silly or wrong. And you could be sure they have your back  anytime and also praying for you. I want to celebrate one of the beautiful sisters from other mothers that the Lord has in His favour surrounded my life with. She is Olayemi Ayankunle a.k.a my baby.
I met her in 2009 when I was a corper. Just like me, she came to Rivers State to serve only that she was with a different batch (2009/2010 Batch B). I was the chief usher in NCCF then and she succeeded me (hence the nickname 'my baby').  As a predecessor, you have to take your would-be successor through the nitty gritty of everything the group entails, and I appreciate this about her-humility. Even though she passes well as my big sister, she heeded to everything I showed her and bore every rebuke.
She was and still is My Friend (one of the few the Lord has given me). I remember those days when we would pray together for our ushering unit and our individual lives, those days when we would groan together upstairs the Great Hall (NCCF Rivers State's Chapel). Sis, it was really a pleasure working with you. I recall with glee how we used to sweep the Great Hall together amidst joyful singing and chatting; stylishly arranging chairs; mopping the altar and cleaning the pulpit. We were so jealous over those chairs there, weren't we? And the backdrop decorations? What about the days it was only you and I at ushering unit meetings--those days when we were begging people to join the unit (for we were very few then)? I am glad today that the words we spoke ahead for the unit (our baby) came to fruition. Now chief ushers do not have to beg Jesus' Corpers to join the band, they join willingly.
Thank you for being my  big sister from another mama, my friend and my 'baby'. Thank you for always being there to listen. Thanks for the 'spanks' as well ;) . I am glad the Lord brought you my way.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING SISTER! The Lord will satisfy all your desires so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. He will make you glad and give you comfort on every side. You are an ANSWER and I LOVE YOU!

HE HEARS ME WHEN I CALL

I heard a sound from the phone I am charging and checked on it only to discover the charger had lost contact with the charging point. So, I bent down to adjust it but all to no avail. It kept on losing the contact once it got it and I kept on ranting and telling the charger I did not have time for nonsense. But then, I stopped complaining and asked the Lord to help me get a good fix and immediately it became connected and did no longer disconnect. I was dazed.

I had a similar experience a few days ago. I was looking for my Bible in the room. I checked everywhere but could not find it. I left the room and re-entered again, but couldn't locate it still. So, I prayed that the Lord should show me where it was and just on that note, my head turned to the left and I saw it sitting majestically somewhere I had definitely looked through before.

Really, the Lord cares about every tit-bit of our lives and He does answer prayers. If only we would always tell Him everything in prayer, what a peace our heart would know. I just learnt again that He hears me when I call.

#FeelingDeeplyLovedByMyDaddy

WAITING FOR GOD

STORY, STORY

Two Sundays ago I stepped out of where I stay to stand by the road to wait for my youth pastor who had promised to pick me for church.

‘Should I still wait for you, sir?’ I called after waiting for a couple of minutes. He replied in the affirmative stating he was just coming out of his house. So I waited.

But strangely, I was worried at a point. I could not explain why. I was thinking he might have forgotten and could have passed me by and gone. To worsen everything, a grey car zoomed past and the driver was looking my way. I thought it was my pastor but the car did not stop. I kept on waiting. While standing and waiting, few people came out by the gate and I had to explain to them I was waiting for someone who was supposed to pick me for church.

When after few minutes that the grey car passed by and my pastor did not show up, I began to worry again. What about if that car was Pastor Andrew’s own and he has gotten to church already?
Then he would have to call me that he forgot I was waiting. Ah, Pastor Andrew, if I get late to church it’s not my fault o.

I was tempted to start trekking down to the junction and stop a cab. But I restrained myself and held on. I figured that my pastor could not forget. After all, he promised he would stop to pick me and he still asked me to wait when I called him earlier.

With mixed feelings I waited, though I could not fix why I was having those frets. I was checking my phone for the time at regular intervals. Then after what seemed like eternity (around 7.15am) a white car pulled up in front of me. I hesitated but when I saw my pastor and another choir member I entered.

‘Did the car look strange to you?’ My pastor asked.
‘I was expecting the grey one’, then I sensed he did not understand what I answered so I quickly added, ‘Oh, is the car white? See me o, I’d always thought it was grey.’
‘Don’t tell me you don’t know the colour of my car all this while?’ He was obviously surprised.
‘Maybe a grey one is on the way’, I replied.

Now, this is my message. This experience I had was like an allegory to me. You see, the way I was worrying is exactly the way I fret when I am waiting for God for the fulfillment of any of His promises. I don’t know if it also happens to you, but it happens to me. But it is foolish to think God has forgotten when He has promised us He will show up, after He has asked us to wait. If you would rate my doubts about whether Pastor Andrew would come as silly, then it shows how silly we are when we doubt God’s commitment to His promises for us.

Look, what you need is patience and trust. Why? It is because you tend to think time is running out while waiting and you are explaining to everybody why it seems as if you are still on the same spot. It is also possible for you to think God has passed you by as it was when I saw the grey car. You could also create a shortcut or an alternative for yourself. Assuming I was not patient enough and I left my waiting post I would have used my energy to trek, gone through the rigour of entering cabs and trekked again from the main road to my church. Sure I would get to church, but I would have paid unnecessarily. However because I eventually waited, I received the ‘promise’, enjoyed the AC in the car, did not pay any driver and didn’t have to trek!

I am sure you have gotten the message I’ve been trying to paint. The long and short of everything is:

Wait patiently for God

Even when it seems He is delaying

He will come right on time.

Remember Abraham, after

Waiting patiently, obtained the promise.

 

I wrote this article with bubbles of love in my heart for you. SHALOM.


*This article was first posted on November 1, 2010 as a note on my facebook page.

I need to share this testimony:

About two of my colleagues kept coughing last week and I kept telling myself that thousands may cough by my side and ten thousands by my right, I would not cough. Alas, I found my throat dry and coughing too one day like that last week. Where was cough coming from? No oh.

But it persisted. So I decided to take a cup of minty tea. Some of my colleagues who saw me when I went for the tea asked if I was fine. I told them my throat was misbehaving. But I added that it was not possible for me to be coughing that the cough was just joking. And so right there I said to the cough, 'Cough, you can't continue to disturb me, get off.'

I have not coughed since then. Oh that I make use of my authority as a 'god' that I am more and more. My words carry power. I reign here on earth as a king and a priest unto my God.

O'LEVELS

I was blessed to make my O'Level WASSCE (West Africa Senior Secondary School Certificate Examination) once. My lowest grade was C6 and that was in Chemistry.

But I was afraid for my Physics result because I did not do well in the theoretical part at all. This was because I did not prepare well for it. I did not enjoy my Physics in my last two years in secondary school as our teacher did not teach us well. As a result, I lost interest in the subject and I could not read as I should for my exams. On the day we wrote Physics Theory, at the end of the paper, my classmates were all jubilating, telling themselves how simple the questions were. I was quiet as I knew how I perforned. On getting home, when asked how the paper went, I told them it was fine.

I was calculating, hoping and praying I would escape with a C6. And then, my dad refused to give me money to buy a GCE (General Certificate Examination) form--because I reasoned that if I failed Physics in SSCE, I would pass it in GCE and thus could combine my result.

Rewind to SSS2 (Senior Secondary School 2), I failed Physics and Chemistry in the first term exams.  My dad was angry and declared I would have to change to commercial class. I was sad. I failed these subjects because I did not like my teachers. Our chemistry teacher then, everytime we had his class would take enough time to abuse us and tell us we did not know anything, plus his teaching method was boring so that I never looked forward to his classes unlike it was with my Chemistry teacher in SS1. I had problem understanding everything he taught us and though I read for his tests and exams, yet I failed because I did not understand the topics and I did not like him.

My dad was damn serious about my changing to commercial class. Nobody could convince him against it. Thank God for our Guidance-Counsellor. It was he God used for me so that my dad reluctantly dropped the case. It was very tough, to the extent that dad said mum would have to sign if she supported my remaining in  sciences. The next day in class, my classmates knew something was wrong with me because the AY (a pet form of 'Ayobami') they saw was not the AY they knew. I was downcast and they were the ones who advised me to go see the counsellor. Some of my friends even advised me to pray about it, but I was so devastated I didn't know how to form my words wondering if you could pray about such things, I could only groan in my heart.

You can understand why it was important for me to get at least C6 in Physics else my dad would be justified for insisting I changed to commercial class.

Fast forward to the time our results came out. I went to my school to check what I had after which I would go back to pick the statement of result. The woman at the result check point observed that I was nervous, she looked at me and told me not to worry that I passed well. I did not believe her. My mind was on my Physics. As she was calling my grades, I found myself craning my neck towards her table to see what I had in Physics. Then I heard, "Physics-B3". What! How come? My heart burst with joy and praise. This could only be God's mercy. I was expecting a C6, I got a B3.

Now, a funny thing happened. I made sure I prepared properly for my NECO (National Examination Council) O'Level Physics exam (NECO is on a national level and my set was the second set that would write NECO in my country. It was newly founded then). I expected at least a B in my NECO Physics, I think I had C6. I expected at least a B because I was sure of my performance, but for whatever reason, I had C6. Same thing for other subjects, I expected a lot of A's and B's, I got a lot of C's. Anyway, I never collected my NECO's statement of result not to talk of the certificate till date (although I didn't fail or even have a passmark in any subject, but my WASSCE result was much more better) because I really do have no need of it.

IF NOT FOR GOD...

We were going for a training outside Nigeria three years ago. The plane we boarded from Port Harcourt to Lagos on reaching Lagos could not descend. The weather was bad and turbulent so that instead of the vessel to descend, it had to go higher and higher because the visibility was bad. I never had that experience in my life because the wind was beating the aircraft mercilessly and we could hear the noise. It was just as if the plane was galloping in the air. My heart skipped a few beats, but at the same time I was declaring the Word and also knew we would be fine. We floated up there for twelve extra minutes (beyond the supposed landing time) and eventually landed safely. I didn't know people were scared until we alighted and I overheard fellow passengers telling loved ones on phone our ordeal before we landed.

However something happened back in Port Harcourt before take-off. I sat close to the middle of the plane by the window and from this side, I could see the plane's left wing very well. I saw a figure on the wing. It was an imp. I cannot describe how it looked exactly, but I knew it was a demon. I don't usually see things like this, so I was sure it was not a delusion. Immediately I chuckled and  told him I was in the plane so he couldn't operate there, adding that I already sent the blood of Jesus ahead of me to make the journey smooth.

This made me know that the issue we had in Lagos was meant to be a crash, but the Lord delivered and indeed His blood saved and protected not only me, but everyone else in the vessel.
Another time when travelling for another training, at the international airport in Lagos, I was with some colleagues. We were done checking in but went over to a 'Bureau de Change' to change money. I had my passport and some other documents in my hand. From there we proceded to the immigration side from where we would head to our boarding gate. Then I checked my hand, I couldn't find my passport anymore. I looked inside the paper bag I carried, it was nowhere to be found. I was dumbfounded. What would I tell my boss? One of my colleagues went back with me to the places we passed through carefully looking around the floor. No passport. In my heart, I was just asking for God's mercy because I realised I handled the passport a little carelessly.

After dilly-dallying around for a few minutes without success, we saw a custom officer asking people around who owned a passport. We rushed to meet him and behold it was my passport. We thanked him and hurriedly returned to meet our colleagues who were waiting for us. I was grateful the passport was not found by any of those riff-raffs that always move to and fro airport lobbies to steal or dupe. I was grateful I didn't have to call my boss and explain nonsense to him. If not for God....

HE NEVER SPARES THE ROD TO SPOIL THE CHILD

I used to be a 'no-nonsense' little girl. I would never take insults from my older ones, and my younger siblings, enough beating for them if they misbehaved. There was this day I was angry with my oldest sister so that I repeated to her what she said to me in a contemptous way (repeating words in a 'yan-yan-yan-yan' format). She was so hurt and reported me to dad who beat the hell out of me. I cried and cried and cried till my sister who reported me started to pity me and pacify me. Well, I deserved the caning.

Now, if our earthly fathers discipline us when we go wrong, how much more our heavenly Father.
I have been on a course and my instructor has a way of picking any of us trainees to present on a topic he chooses the previous day for us to prepare for. Last week Tuesday, I did not read and so asked the Lord to keep my instructor from calling me. I knew I must not try that again next time as I might not escape. My instructor called another person to present the topic. I was so glad and grateful. The next day was a tiring day for me, so I went straight to bed after classes. I woke up in the middle of the night to read, but the topic was somewhat abstract, so I did not read well and asked the Lord to bail me out again.

Hmm, the following afternoon after lunch (we usually have the presentations after lunch), I was over-confident my name would be skipped. Lo, I was the chosen for that day! Ah, what would I say? I dragged my feet to the front of the class thinking to myself, 'Father, You didn't answer this prayer?' Kai! I could only explain 25% of what was expected of me. I was so ashamed of myself and this event coloured my mood for the evening. I was not happy at all. That was a sound spanking from the Lord. I know I must never go to class unprepared again, or else I will be called.
But it was all my fault, for though I was tired the preceding day, but I could have used the one hour window my instructor usually gives us to work on the presentation topic for the next day. Instead, I was facebooking. This my God, He never spares the rod to spoil the child at all. He well knows how to pamper, but He never indulges. He is my Father and my Daddy and I am glad He treats me not as a bastard. Lord, help that I don't wait to be spanked before I learn again.

Hebrews12:7
If you aren’t disciplined like the other children, you aren’t part of the family.

SMILING BABIES

Today in the train, I noticed a little girl, barely 2 years of age some seats away from me. She had been looking at me before I caught her gaze, and when she saw that I looked up, she waved at me and smiled. I waved back and smiled too. Then she waved her second hand and I waved my second hand too, smiling all the way.
I couldn't stop thinking about her for the rest of the ride. She reminded me of another little boy last week Sunday, a toddler. He would look at you and smile sweetly. Thinking about these bundles of love and joy kept me smiling. It was so so sweet.
Children are gifts from God, beautiful and to be cherished. God bless them.

TOWER OF BABEL.COM

We went for one rural rugged (village outreach) when I was serving. It was held in Ebukuma, a village under Andonin Local Government in Rivers State. As usual, we went around the village for our Victory March. The village children joined us in glee and raised some songs in their language. At a point they sang:

"Awaji owo gbe eh
Awaji owo gbe
Awaji owo gbe eh
Awaji owo gbe"

I was not sure I heard rightly, so I asked one of them to repeat the song for me. Behold, I heard correctly. I couldn't laugh. In their language, the song means:

"Lord You are worthy eh
Lord you are worthy
Lord You are worthy eh
Lord you are worthy"

Now, if you sing that song in public in Lagos, Nigeria, you might get the best beating of your life that day from an angry mob. This is because in Yoruba (which is my language), the song means:

"We have stolen money eh
We have stolen money
We have stolen money eh
We have stolen money"

  Isn't it funny how 'A' in one language might mean 'B' in another? No wonder there was a lot of fight at the Tower of Babel.

WE MISS YOU MOM!

It makes it five years today when we watched your life ebb out of you right in our eyes. Really, death has sting but glory to Jesus who conquered death for us and that has always been our confidence that your death was a transition to glory. We really miss you mom and God has been faithful.

I remember one morning when I came home on my monthly visit from school. You followed me to the park that day. We had to cross the road to the other side on alighting from the taxi and I had a heavy bag. As a 'biz' girl, I was still thinking of how to carry my bag across when you swooped up the bag and it landed on your head. You did that for me, mum.

I remember also the day you came to see me in school during PDS (pre-degree days) with my school fees and you came not without some goodies--fried fish and stuffs. You were in that beautiful robe of yours and I was so glad to see you....

The night of your transition when AnBlai (Anti Bolaji) and I were planning your burial in the sitting room, we would look at each other amidst tears and say, 'So this is how it feels like to lose one's mum', and then another round of weeping. It was so sorrowful. We couldn't believe it that day when it happened, when everyone left home with your body and AnBusola took us (Shade and I) upstairs. We were crying and praying and I uttered some nonsense to God before I could caution myself.

The next morning when church folks came to visit and sang "Gbori re soke alaare tori ayo n bo lowuro (Oh, weary pilgrim, lift your head: For joy cometh in the morning)", I drew my veil to cover my face and backed everyone. I couldn't sing, I was crying.... But I remembered the song I wrote and sang unto the Lord when my sister sent to me in a text message the result of the test (while I was still battling with fine-tuning my project and submitting in school) that the Lord would still be my God even if the worst thing happened, even if He didn't deliver from the lion's den. And really the Lord is still my God, not only mine but our God.

And we can say indeed that joy comes in the morning. To say we miss you is an understatement. We are glad to God for ever comforting us on this matter, for filling the vacuum. It has not been easy, because you died so young--at 54--but God has been there. And we are not throwing a pity party either, but how can we ever forget you? It is not easy imagining you will be absent from all our weddings and your grandchildren will only see your photos. Blessed is your memory in our hearts.

WE BLESS THE LORD OUR GOD, OUR EVER PRESENT COMFORTER.

* 'biz' is a Nigerian funny version for 'big'

TALES BY THE DAYTIME

Hi hi,

TALES BY THE DAYTIME

I have bow legs which I love. But it took me many years to accept them o, hmm. I didn't know my legs were slightly bowed until one afternoon in my final year in secondary school when we had to wait outside our apartment (upon returning home from school) for some hours because we couldn't find the key to enter inside. We used to have a long bench at the front of our house then, so Shade, my sister, and I sat on it. I stretched out my legs and then discovered my knees were not touching themselves. I was afraid. 'What is wrong with my legs?' I asked rhetorically.

So I asked my sister to stretch out her leg and let me see if her knees met, they did. So why were mine not meeting? My sister replied if I didn't know I had bow legs. Bow legs? I never knew. And this knowledge bothered me for years. I would check my legs over and over again and rant over why they were not straight like some peoples' legs. Anytime we took any photos, my main point of scrutiny was my legs. But later I accepted them and appreciated them and still do.

Now my teeth. I have big upper teeth and they are slightly pointed too. Now their being pointed and big was my fault. I started folding in my lower lip over my lower teeth while holding the lip in place with my upper teeth in Primary 4. I thought it was a style, I don't know where I got that idea from o--children with their different funny ideas. I just discovered that my teeth were getting bigger and bigger and I couldn't understand why. It wasn't until Primary 6 when my friend, Lara, told me what was making my upper set of teeth increase in size and pointed was the habit I described above.

When she told me, I blushed a little, but I appreciated her and stopped that naughty 'style'. Believe me, that brought the end to the extravagant growth of my upper teeth. Looking back, I knew God used her to caution me in time before my teeth entered the Guiness Book of Record.

But these big teeth also shook me a little so that anytime I was laughing in public and I remembered that my teeth were big and pointed, I would curtail the laughter. Many times when I smiled in those days, they were toothless smiles because I was very conscious of my 'big' teeth until one afternoon during choir rehearseals on campus.

A sister told me, 'You, you'll be smiling with your teeth closed, open your teeth and smile well'. I heeded to her advice and I started to dare toothy smiles :) . And then I would check my teeth in the mirror and tell myself, 'But, oh my upper teeth are a bit big and pointed, they are not bad. They are still beautiful.' I would check my smiles in the mirror too and would nod at how beautiful they were. So I stopped restraining my smiles and literally became a smiler.

One day in choir when we were sending forth some brethren, a brother commented on my smiles. He said they were beautiful and there is this joy they bring to whoever saw them and so I should keep smiling because my smiles were blessing people. In my heart, I was like wow, God bless this sister that encouraged me to accept myself o.

Why did I have to tell these tales? It's because I know there are many people especially ladies (I'm a woman so I know what I'm talking about) who are struggling with accepting one part of their bodies or the other which is not 'perfect' enough. I hope my stories encourage you to accept yourself and to know that you are beautiful in spite of those seeming flaws.

Hugs with lots of love from me,
Precious AY

DINNER DEBATE

Sometimes last week over dinner, I found myself in the middle of a debate with some colleagues: 'Who cheat more in marriages--men or women?' Ladies in the group maintained it's men while guys disagreed. Well, I made a point clear to them. I said, 'Guys cheat more or less, ladies cheat less or more, my own case is different'. They asked me what makes it different and I told them.

'My man cannot cheat on me because he loves and fears God. Cheating on me will make him hurt God and he won't do that, he doesn't want to see the one he loves and adores unhappy.'

One guy shook his head and corrected, 'He will not cheat on you because he loves you.' That was a tough challenge, but Wisdom bailed me out.

I said, 'Not because he 'loves' me, because if he 'loves' me he can still cheat on me. Is it not you men that usually give the excuse that you could have extra marital affairs and still 'love' your wife, that your heart is not in your flings as it is with women? So if it is based on 'love', he can cheat. But because God lives in him and he fears and loves Him, he will not cheat on me'. Well, that ended the argument. These were people from different backgrounds and cultures. We were only two Christians in the group.

What gave me the confidence to say that even though I am not married yet? The fact that I know that some things cannot happen to me because I belong to God. Infidelity either on my side or on my husband's side can never be a question in my home (not by power or by might but by His Spirit). Don't tell me I can't be too sure. I am cocksure about this because of Jeremiah 29:11. And Proverbs 3:25 too. Why should I anticipate evil happening to me in marriage when I have Psalms 91:7 and 121:3,7 and other beautiful promises always in the Bible? I am confident that the Lord helps me in everything including how to be the best wife to my husband and He does the same to my husband too. He will never let our feet slip. God is going to show off to the world through my marriage what His love is. This my soul knows very well and is persuaded about.

DAYS OF HAWKING

One day, my friend, Inikpi (a.k.a. my mama) and I were going to church in Port Harcourt when we saw a boy hawking. She told me how she said to a child who was hawking one day that, 'You will be great' and the child was very happy. Then I exclaimed, 'I did hawk before too, I just remember now!' She was like, 'Really?! Who would ever think of that? And see where you are today.'

My parents were teachers. We all know teachers in Nigeria were not well paid at all before the advent of the minimum wage (nicknamed 'Gbemu Aremu' by westerners) in 1999. During a period of time before Gbemu Aremu, things were so tough at home. My mum who was entrepreneurial had a shop where she sold different things--detergent, sugar, salt, vegetable oil, elubo isu (yam flour), ikoko irin (cast aluminium pots from Saki), laundry soaps and provisions generally. At this time, it was difficult for us to eat at home if we didn't hawk because the area where our shop was located was not good for business. This era lasted between 1995 and 1999.

It was usually my older sister and I going on the hawking trips together, though occasionally my younger sister and/or my cousin who was living with us then would join us. I never liked it. But I never complained because I knew mum didn't like it too. I found myself always praying and hoping none of my classmates would see me. (I attended a posh and reputable public secondary school). There was a day I saw a boy that looked like a classmate. Oh, you needed to see how I ran into hiding. I told my sister that was a boy from my school. Fortunately there was a closed shop around. We hid behind a table in front of it and we didn't leave until we were sure the coast was clear. There was a friend who used to see me though, he was in my class, but he never told anybody in school and never made me feel bad about it. We had to pass by his house almost every trip.

We used to hawk every Saturday and during holidays. At times we would have great sales and at times low. Those times when we had low sales, we would return to our shop unhappy and mum would try to encourage us. We would peddle provisions in whole sales to retailers, surf (detergent), sugar and salt in the morning. In the evening, my sister would go around with kerosene (we were selling kerosene too). The evening I vended kerosene, I returned with less money than what I sold. I couldn't explained how it happened, so my mum did not allow me to hawk kerosene after that day. During school long vacations, we used to market stationaries because that's a season for parents to get them for their wards in preparation for the next session.

Thank God for keeping us through those days from every kind of predators. You can imagine two girls walking alone  and at times on lonely paths. We had our routes and we tried to avoid the main road as much as we could. I recall my mum always warning us not to enter anybody's room/house to sell. We kept to this but there were times we had to slightly breach her warning. We had a customer who usually bought a lot of things from us. One day we entered her house passage, we didn't see her. Then our eyes wandered into an open room, lo, we saw a big idol (a statue). We  took to our heels and never sold to the woman again.

In 1999, mum told us the long vacation of that year was going to be the last time we would hawk. We were so glad. No more fear of seeing my schoolmates.

THE WATER RAN AWAY

When I was a corper, I was involved in NCCF (Nigeria Christian Corpers Fellowship).

(In Nigeria, it is compulsory for every graduate less than thirty years of age to serve the nation for a year under NYSC-National Youth Service Corps. The word 'corper' is an informal modification of 'Corps' to describe a serving corps member. Young graduates from different regions are cross-posted to other regions and they work in any corporation or company they are posted to. NCCF is a body of Christian youth corps members and the mission of this fellowship is to reach the nook and cranny of the nation with the gospel of Christ through Rural Rugged Evangelism. This is in fact the fulfilment of a prophecy that the Nigerian Government will one day pay youths to preach the Gospel. Rural Rugged Evangelism which is shortened to 'Rugged' is gospel outreaches to rural areas. We have this slogan that 'if it is not rural, it is not rugged'.)

I served in Rivers State. In my own NCCF chapter we were always going for one Rugged or the other almost every weekend. This is because there are a lot of NCCF zones in the state. Thus, apart from the three Ruggeds organized by the state chapter of the fellowship for the three different batches of corpers-A, B and C  (tagged Baptismal Rugged meant to 'immerse' new NCCF members a.k.a Jesus Corpers into the Rugged culture), every zone also organizes its own Rugged. These outreaches are indeed rugged because most of the time you do 'rub and shine' throughout the program and then do a proper cleanup when you return home on Sunday. It was a beautiful time serving the Lord.

There was a particular Rugged I won't ever forget. It was my last. If I remember very well it fell on the weekend that followed our passing out as corpers. This outreach was organized by Ogu-Bolo zone of the fellowship. I cannot remember the name of the village we went to, but it was an island bordered by the sea. We crossed to the village by boat, about five minutes boat ride.

On reaching the village, we started organizing ourselves into different groups as usual. We divided ourselves into different praying groups while others were organizing the place, setting up our equipment and other things. But something shocking happened. Water from the surrounding sea was closing in on us. Remember I mentioned that the village was an island. It was a very small village, and from the school where we camped, you could see the sea. The ground that was all dry sand when we got there started oozing water mysteriously. So, some brothers started packing dry sand to stop the water. For where?! Even the spots they were packing the dry sand from got caught up with the 'flood' in no time.

We couldn't understand. We were perplexed. We were praying, but like people who had not eaten for ten days. The prayer had no fire at all, we were strangely weak. Then, suddenly, someone from my prayer group, Dipo, got angry in his spirit and stopped the prayer session. He spurred us to take our stand and fight this battle that was defying our God. So, we were fired up in our spirits and we started this hot prayer. The same thing happened in other prayer groups. And before we knew it, right before our eyes, the water ran away, it went back the way it came. The sand became dry again. Our great God who owns the sea and the dry ground! Who is mammy water before the God of all gods?

All the while that we had been trying to sand-fill the flooded ground, the villagers had stood by watching us. None of them came to sit on the chairs we had arranged for them. Maybe they wanted to see if our God would deliver us. But you see, once the water receded, they started to come from different corners of the village and took their seat. The programme for that Friday night started later than scheduled, but we had it anyway and there were souls who were won for the Lord.

I won't ever forget this Rugged, never.

DELIVERANCE FROM CHILDHOOD PERILS

When I was three, my older sister and I with other kids used to follow my aunt to her lesson-place (sort of kindergarten, but not in a formally organised school). There was a narrow stream we used to cross on our way then. One fateful day during the rainy season, we were going for lessons as usual, but the stream was fuller than normal and was gushing. Every othe...r child crossed but me, I was scared of the rapid waters. So, I stayed put crying and would not cross. My aunt was angry. She could not see why I could not cross when other children (even those younger than me) crossed and refused to help me. At last I tried to cross and my foot slipped. My foot slid, but I managed to balance and cross properly. I was stiff scared. I knew, even as little as I was that 'Olorun lo yo mi' (God saved me). When I grew up and I learnt about the ministry of angels, I understood angels came to my rescue that day. I still remember everything clearly, I can see the rapid flow of the water as it was on the day and the way my foot slipped, I was supposed to be flushed off by the angry torrents, but the Lord delivered me.

Another day at age five, my mum was supposed to go out, but she kept dragging her feet and decided she would not go any more. My dad too had a plan to go somewhere, somehow he changed his mind too. Then without warning, I slumped in the passage. I was rushed to the hospital in our landlord's car. I was in coma for five days. I did not remember all these stories, I was told. But I remember one thing, I recall that when I awoke from my five-day-slumber and I sat up on the bed singing a Yoruba thanksgiving song:

Se ni ma dupe; se ni ma yin O (Me I will give thanks; me I will praise you)
Ainiye lore Jesu; seni ma dupe o Baba (Jesus' blessings are uncountable; me I will give thanks Father)
Sibi ile mi o gbolide; oku eko o won lobe (My spoon does not go on holiday, plenty of fish in my soup)
Iya eleko o wa sinwo (I am not owing any debt)
Ore Jesu se laye mi o; se ni ma dupe o Baba (For Jesus' goodness in my life, me I will give thanks Father)

My mum was there sitting down watching me with joyful relief. I remember some people rushed in (certainly the doctor and nurses), among whom was an elderly white woman--it was Sacred Heart Hospital in Abeokuta. I still wonder till today how I knew I was to give thanks immediately I woke up from that coma.

There was also this day I was riding a gate with a friend at their house. We went on visit to their house (our parents were friends with theirs). We were riding to and fro with the gate and enjoying the ride when my finger was caught in the gate's hinge. I did not remember how my hand was caught, but I can recall how we were performing our merry ride. I was rushed to the hospital.

I was told also of another day when I suddenly developed some swell-up on my body and the nanny who was taking care of me had to send for my mum in her school and I was rushed to the clinic.

The Lord has preserved me from the womb till now. I know He will keep me to the end and fulfil His plans for me.

A LITTLE GIRL'S SENSE OF WIT

 On July 2nd in Newfoundland, I was at my friend's to do my laundry. When she was taking me back to my hotel in her car, we were chatting and I was busy with my phone. So, I didn't know a chicken crossed the roa...d until her little daughter asked,
'Why did the chicken cross the road?'
Her mum said, 'The chicken? Maybe it wanted to cross to the other side.'
She was not satisfied with the answer.
I looked up and asked, 'A chicken? Did a chicken cross the road?'
They confirmed it did. So, we both asked her why the chicken crossed and she said,
'It crossed the road because it wanted to die.' We burst out laughing. What a sense of wit for a little girl!
And this little girl's name is Sofia. She goes to my church with her mum and dad.

DELIVERANCE FROM CHILDHOOD PERILS

When I was three, my older sister and I with other kids used to follow my aunt to her lesson-place (sort of kindergarten, but not in a formally organised school). There was a narrow stream we used to cross on our way then. One fateful day during the rainy season, we were going for lessons as usual, but the stream was fuller than normal and was gushing. Every other child crossed but me, I was scared of the rapid waters. So, I stayed put crying and would not cross. My aunt was angry. She could not see why I could not cross when other children (even those younger than me) crossed and refused to help me. At last I tried to cross and my foot slipped. My foot slid, but I managed to balance and cross properly. I was stiff scared. I knew, even as little as I was that 'Olorun lo yo mi' (God saved me). When I grew up and I learnt about the ministry of angels, I understood angels came to my rescue that day. I still remember everything clearly, I can see the rapid flow of the water as it was on the day and the way my foot slipped, I was supposed to be flushed off by the angry torrents, but the Lord delivered me.

Another day at age five, my mum was supposed to go out, but she kept dragging her feet and decided she would not go any more. My dad too had a plan to go somewhere, somehow he changed his mind too. Then without warning, I slumped in the passage. I was rushed to the hospital in our landlord's car. I was in coma for five days. I did not remember all these stories, I was told. But I remember one thing, I recall that when I awoke from my five-day-slumber and I sat up on the bed singing a Yoruba thanksgiving song:

Se ni ma dupe; se ni ma yin O (Me I will give thanks; me I will praise you)
Ainiye lore Jesu; seni ma dupe o Baba (Jesus' blessings are uncountable; me I will give thanks Father)
Sibi ile mi o gbolide; oku eko o won lobe (My spoon does not go on holiday, plenty of fish in my soup)
Iya eleko o wa sinwo (I am not owing any debt)
Ore Jesu se laye mi o; se ni ma dupe o Baba (For Jesus' goodness in my life, me I will give thanks Father)

My mum was there sitting down watching me with joyful relief. I remember some people rushed in (certainly the doctor and nurses), among whom was an elderly white woman--it was Sacred Heart Hospital in Abeokuta. I still wonder till today how I knew I was to give thanks immediately I woke up from that coma.

There was also this day I was riding a gate with a friend at their house. We went on visit to their house (our parents were friends with theirs). We were riding to and fro with the gate and enjoying the ride when my finger was caught in the gate's hinge. I did not remember how my hand was caught, but I can recall how we were performing our merry ride. I was rushed to the hospital.

I was told also of another day when I suddenly developed some swell-up on my body and the nanny who was taking care of me had to send for my mum in her school and I was rushed to the clinic.

The Lord has preserved me from the womb till now. I know He will keep me to the end and fulfil His plans for me.

Mi o ni ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀ mọ́

Would I have known that I would get late to work when I was leaving home this morning? And it was all my fault. I got to the train station in good time, my train was slightly delayed due to some bugs in the line. At last it came, but because there were so many people and I would most likely stand throughout the journey, I decided to wait for the next train which on a good day should come in five minutes. (I don't do this usually, I go with the first train no matter what.)

Hmm, the next train was first delayed, and then cancelled. Apologies blew over the PA system, but gosh, I was late already. I had to wait for the third train which was also delayed and came after almost twenty minutes of waiting. I hopped in and stood for the main part of the ride because it was jampacked (as a lot of commuters like me who would have gone with the cancelled train were there).
I arrived at the office thirty seven minutes late. I will never wait for the next train again on a working day, no matter how crowded it is. Mi o ni ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀ mọ́.

*Mi o ni ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀ mọ́ : An expression in my mother tongue (Yoruba) meaning 'I will not do that again'.

FOUNDERS' DAY THINGS

Abeokuta Grammar School, my great Alma mater, you turn 105 today. I am so proud of you and of the beautiful children you have sired (among which I am one).

Today reminds me of the school's founders' day in 1998. I was in SS1 (fourth secondary school year), Shade, my younger sister was in JS1 (first secondary school year ). It was the 90th anniversary. It was a celebration galore and students and teachers alike were to go to all the royal palaces in Egbaland on foot to pay tribute to the kings. There were band players playing and all of us were happy, dancing and jubilating. My sister and I spent our taxi-fare on water and meden-meden (junks).

Milo sponsored this foot parade and we all had a cup of cold milo each at the palace of Oshile of Oke-Ona amidst rapturous chants of the old Milo advert song- 'Milo! Pa, Pa, Pa!'. Right there at Oke-Ona palace, some people started turning back and returning to their houses, but Shade and I were determined to visit the five palaces. So we moved on with others. I almost missed her at a point because she wanted to follow one of the vehicles that bore some students, thank God for a friend that hinted me. It would not have been funny as there were so many people. Eventually we decided to turn back when we almost reached Ibara palace. We were not alone, some friends were with us. Remember we had spent our taxi fare home, by this time we were tired, but we knew we had no other option than to walk home (and home was still very far).

At a junction (Ijaye Junction), some friends going to Elega (our route) changed direction. My sister and I supposed to join these people because that was the shortest route  home, but we foolishly opined it would take longer so we walked down with the rest of the party to Idi-Aba (our school area). We even went back to the school compound because we were very thirsty and needed to drink water.

From school, we resumed our journey home. We dragged our feet along, tired to the bones. It was then we realised we made a sheepish decision when we did not follow Ijaye earlier, but it was too late. Normally, it should have taken us about an hour and thirty minutes to get home from there. Now, from Ijaye to Idi-Aba was thirty minutes and from Idi-Aba to Shaje, where we lived, was almost two hours. It was a real tiring-go-round. We were hungry, we were thirsty, we were koboless, we were trekking.

At last we reached home around 5 or 6 pm. No one questioned our lateness at home because they all knew it was a special founders' day edition. God bless Nice Vita--a chocolate drink in those days. That was what we prepared for ourselves, thick and cold to drink before eating. Then we vowed we would never be so silly next time. But we could not fulfil our 'vows' for the next time founders' day was to be with such jamboree was 2008 (by that time sef I don graduate from university).

A LITTLE GIRL'S SENSE OF WIT

On July 2nd in Newfoundland, I was at my friend's to do my laundry. When she was taking me back to my hotel in her car, we were chatting and I was busy with my phone. So, I didn't know a chicken crossed the road until her little daughter asked,
'Why did the chicken cross the road?'
Her mum said, 'The chicken? Maybe it wanted to cross to the other side.'
She was not satisfied with the answer.
I looked up and asked, 'A chicken? Did a chicken cross the road?'
They confirmed it did. So, we both asked her why the chicken crossed and she said,
'It crossed the road because it wanted to die.' We burst out laughing. What a sense of wit for a little girl!
And this little girl's name is Sofia. She goes to my church with her mum and dad.

© July 2013, Ayobami Temitope Kehinde

THIS TIME LAST YEAR

About this hour last year in Port Harcourt on Trans Amadi Road opposite First Bank, I entered a one-chance taxi and was robbed of a notable sum of money. It was like a dream. I was going to church and the monies were my tithes and a seed. Well, I had to cross over to the bank and make another withdrawal because I said to myself, 'Will I because of this not pay my tithes and this seed?'
It was a painful experience for me and what made it hurt more was the fact that it was the second time in the year I would have such experience. Earlier in the year on April 1st I was duped in another man's land of some money. I was an over-trusting Johnny-Just-Come and that was well taken advantage of (full story here: http://preciousay.blogspot.ca/2012/11/i-think-i-was-duped-this-is-account-of.html)
I got to church that evening, we had our Sunday School Prep meeting before the program of the day, after the prep class, one of my pastors observed that I was not my usual self and that something must be wrong. So, I opened up. A big sister was there too and a friend. I told them my anger was just the fact that a similar thing happened earlier in the year, 'Am I the only one?' They tried to encourage me, but I knew I should take it up in prayer....
I didn't tell this story to my people at home, they will all be reading it for the first time now except for my elder sister. Well, it's a story today, it doesn't hurt anymore and it has added to my story. One thing is through the tears and laughs, through the joys and sorrows, through the delays and speed, through the sighs and smiles, through the mistakes and corrections if we will let Him, He is writing a beautiful story with our lives. All we have to do is to give Him the pieces and He will turn them to a masterpiece. He has not finished with me yet, I know that.

GRAB HOLD

Back in my campus days, when senior friends came around either on invitation to minister or on visits to my fellowship, there was a thread of counsels they were always giving us. And that was, 'Seek the Lord as much as you can now, drink as much as you can from His Presence, hold Him and do not let Him go, build a strong foundation with Him now, so that when you get out there (i.e. after you leave school) you can still stand.' Sometimes they would add, 'Out there, it is not very easy to stand for God, you will meet many temptations, it might not be as easy as it is for you now to pray and seek God then, so grab hold of Him now and don't let go' and a lot more similar pieces of advice. Even during my service year in NCCF (Nigeria Christian Corpers Fellowship), I kept hearing such admonitions.

Did I grab hold of God? Yes I did, but much more He did grab hold of me. I can say that I sought God and He was found by me.

I tearfully and joyfully remember those days in my fellowship. I was in the choir (The Anointed Minstrels). I learnt what discipline in ministry is from that blessed band. God bless my coords: Sis Peju Coker (nee Ojerinde), Bro Henry Hector, Bro Dayo Adeniyi, Sis Sade Kehinde (nee Aina), Sis Gloria Nmanu (nee Ajani) and Sis Mofoluwake Babajide (nee Okekunle).  Rehearsals were always times to look forward to. There was a custom I met when I joined in 2002, the coordinator could call on anybody to share the word (exhort). The first day I was called on, I recalled I somewhat fumbled through my words, but you know what? Everyone paid rapt attention to me, it seemed not to bother them how I was performing. This greatly encouraged me. What about workers' retreats, camps and meetings that involved other fellowships under Ogun State Baptist Student Fellowship?

I won't forget how I used to sneak to Ibadan for a discipleship meeting organised by Brother Segun Ariyo of Potter's House. I used 'sneak' because my parents, especially my dad, did not know I was going on such trips. (In fact, my father did not know I was so involved in my fellowship, he might have guessed, but he never knew). I informed my mum about my going for the retreat once, and she started panicking, telling me to be careful and not to be moving around. I knew I would never tell her again. Those meetings at Ibadan I can never forget, they were great times in God's presence, seasons of refreshing, moulding and making. God poured into me, I knew and many of the prophetic releases then I can see in my life now. It will never go off my memories those blessed hymns that usually characterised those meetings.
As a corper, I was posted to a school in Port Harcourt. I went to service with a mind that I wanted to teach and touch students' lives. Fortunately, I was given CRS (Christian Religious Studies) and Agricultural Science to teach, mind you, I studied geology in school. But I knew it was not a coincidence. I made the best use of that opportunity to touch my children. I was in NCCF also. NCCF days were blessed days-- Rural Ruggeds (village outreaches),  National Conference, State Conference, GENCO, family house, family house song, family meetings, excos meetings, decorating the hall and arranging chairs for meetings and services (I was chief usher), editorial unit meetings and presentations, Bible Studies, prayer meetings....

Looking back now, I am sincerely grateful to the Lord because I went for those programmes in school against all odds. Many odds were against me then chief among which was poor finances, fear of my dad knowing I was at such meetings. Do not get me wrong, it wasn't that I was going for all these programs at the expense of my studies (most times, these meetings fell on periods when work was not serious in school and they were even weekend programmes). I am also glad that I was part of NCCF. Now, I cannot remember the last time I went for a retreat or camping programme. I can count the number of times I've been in church for Sunday Service this year, not because I have backslidden, but because of what I do. Have there been temptations? A lot! What about my walk with the Lord? By His grace, I still abide in Him, but I must confess that many times I struggle with my prayer altar, Bible study and personal worship lifestyle. However, He has always been there to refresh me when I am weak. For me, I will not say that it is difficult to walk with God outside campus and outside NYSC. My testimony is that the Lord has kept me. I work in an industry that is dominated by men, but you know, that has never been a big deal to me, because the Lord goes with me everywhere I go to.

I will not scare you about the outside world. It is very easy if You let the Lord. But I will counsel you like we were counselled in those days that you need a strong foundation with God now that you are young (Ecclessiastes 12:1). Of course I am still young too and still seeking Him for I can never have enough of Him. I remember asking God then to help me that my testimony will not be that it is not easy to stand when I get out there and He has been helping me big time. This is the season to seek the Lord, whether you are in still on campus, serving as a corper, waiting to go for NYSC or even if you are still in secondary school. Even if you have passed allthese stages like me, SEEK THE LORD, I BESEECH YOU WITH ALL MY HEART.  It is not as if you will stop loving and serving the Lord, but it pays to serve Him all the days of your life, so why postpone working with Him till the future? I Cor 3:9.

However, I am not beseeching you to take your work for Him above your search for Him. If you love Him , you can serve Him, not out of compulsion, but out of the love you have for Him (and remember that He loves us into loving Him--I John 4:19). And if you are yet to embrace what He did for you on the Cross, He is calling you again. I bring to you the most popular verse of the Bible again:
#John 3:16#
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
The Lord is standing by, if only you will grab hold of Him and not let Him go.
#Isaiah 55:6-7#
Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near:
Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

FALSE EVIDENCE APPEARING REAL

About ten years ago, one silent and black night, my kid sister and I were up in the parlour, while others were sleeping, each about her business. Suddenly, around two or three in the morning, someone climbed over the fence quietly from the other compound, landed on the water tank that belonged to our landlord's family at the front of our apartment, came towards our sitting room window and was making for the burglary. I shivered in fear where I sat and motioned for my sister to be quiet. I did not know when I broke the silence and shouted (can't remember clearly if I shouted 'Yeh' or 'Jesus'). My sister screeched, she did not scream, her screech piercing the still morning hush and in the twinkling of an eye was crouched under the sofa.

Our cries woke our parents up. We told them some people were tampering with the window. Dad checked and he saw a rat. He looked at me, shook his head, not knowing what to say.

Everybody went back to sleep. I was so ashamed of myself, because, it was a mere rat that got me imagining what was not. Then I tried to figure it out. It was the rat that jumped from the fence to the tank and then moved towards the burglary trying to find a way inside. But fear accentuated the sounds and made them like human's. Honestly, I thought it were some armed robbers who after jumping over the fence attempted to put their hands inside and threaten with a gun. I was sore afraid. My sister, on a good day, would not find squeeze herself under that chair because the space was small for her, but fear made her do it without thinking.

Another instance was sometimes last year in my house, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of jiggling metals. Who could be making this kind of noise this hour of the night? I was scared and turned off the light in the room. Later, I discovered it was Rolex, our neighbour's dog. He had a chain on his neck which jiggled each time he stepped, but of course, the sound was much more noticeable at night when everywhere was quiet.

ONCE UPON A TIME – By Gabriel Okara

And this is another deep poem by the Nigerian poet,

Gabriel Okara. Most of us are guilty of the points raised in the poem...lol
I was to act in this poem, as the child the mother was talking to, with Bidemi Stella (can't remember her surname) at Navy Secondary School in Abeokuta, I did not take the part eventually. We had to modify 'son' to 'child' in the recital.... I was in SS1 (1998/1999).


Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time, son,
they used to laugh with their hearts
and laugh with their eyes:
but now they only laugh with their teeth,
while their ice-block-cold eyes
search behind my shadow.

There was a time indeed
they used to shake hands with their hearts:
but that’s gone, son.
Now they shake hands without hearts
while their left hands search
my empty pockets.

‘Feel at home!’ ‘Come again’:
they say, and when I come
again and feel
at home, once, twice,
there will be no thrice-
for then I find doors shut on me.

So I have learned many things, son.
I have learned to wear many faces
like dresses – homeface,
officeface, streetface, hostface,
cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles
like a fixed portrait smile.

And I have learned too
to laugh with only my teeth
and shake hands without my heart.
I have also learned to say,’Goodbye’,
when I mean ‘Good-riddance’:
to say ‘Glad to meet you’,
without being glad; and to say ‘It’s been
nice talking to you’, after being bored.

LITTLE THINGS THAT REMIND US THAT GOD IS STILL WITH US

Two days ago, I needed some rubber bands to bind my hair. I lost the ones I brought in to the rig earlier and I did not know what to do with my braids, as they kept on untying even when I tried to tie them. Also, tying was not good for me as it required some pull and tug at my scalp which protested with some pain. I had been thinking of where I could get rubber bands, but I did not tell God about it, I was only discussing with myself.

So, I was in my unit (work cabin), and at last told God that I had need of rubber bands for my hair. Few seconds after, I turned my head and I saw two wide and thick bands, different from the regular ones staring at me on the sill of the white board marker in the unit. My God, I have been in this unit for weeks and I never saw them! I was so grateful. I'm sure God kept them from being seen by others because my colleague would have picked them earlier in the day when he was looking for rubber bands and I told him I wanted some for my hair too.

This simple event encouraged me, that even if I have not seen some things I have been earnestly praying and waiting for, God is working. He reminded my that He hears me each time I call by supplying the rubber bands immediately.

AFRICA By David Diop

This poem reminds me of the Literary and Debating Society of my noble secondary school, Abeokuta Grammar School, and it is a deep poem too. May my dear Africa be free indeed, oh my Africa:



Africa, my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this you, this back that is bent
This back that breaks
Under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
Springing up patiently, obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.

BE JOYFUL IN HOPE (Romans 12:12)

I just saw this clause again in a photo on a page and it triggered off an understanding in me. I think this admonition is very well needed because by human nature, we are most likely to be SORROWFUL in HOPE. I know what it is like to be sorrowful in hope. I look back and I remember how much I tortured myself when expecting some good things.

For example, after my NYSC (National Youth Service Corps) year in Nigeria, God gave me a job two months after I passed out from the corps. But I could not move out of the place where I was living as a corps member for one year and two months. I lived in NCCF Family House in Port Harcourt, but it was not convenient for me because I was no longer a corper. I wanted my own house and privacy badly but it was not coming forth. Maybe I would have gotten just any house, but I have a wonderful taste for excellent things and was choosy, so that I ignored moving into just any house. I wanted a house that was tiled all over, with high a fence in an environment where I would not be a 'local champion' and yet would not pay too much to get.

All my friends that were staying back at the family house then moved out to their own rented apartments and I was left alone. It was not easy. I was crying everyday and asking God why He was treating me that way. Now, it was not that I did not have the money to rent the house I wanted, but there was always one need or the other the Lord would lead me to contribute to, so I could not save as much as was needed. But by the time I was released to save for the house, it became difficult to secure a good one. There were vacant houses, but were not just available or not good enough (you will understand better if you live in Nigeria, Port Harcourt to be precise, and you are searching for accomodation). There was one that a friend was doing its runs for me, only for me to learn later that the caretaker of the house gave it to another. I was devastated and cried. [The house was below the standard of what I descibed to God, the compound was not fine and it is in an area where I would be a 'local champion', but I was tired and was ready to grab anything that came my way]. But later, I encouraged myself and decided to relax and enjoy myself where I was. But, you know what? By the time the Lord settled me, it was quite easy. He used a friend to connect me for the house and lo, the house was everything I asked God for, situated in a nice and quiet area, beautiful compound with good neighbours. After the Lord did this, I told myself I would not have worried myself as I did if I knew God would answer me that way. I would have rested and waited on Him quietly in the place of prayer instead of giving myself those headaches.

Yes, we pray when we are hoping for breakthroughs, for sure, but we need to learn to BE JOYFUL IN HOPE. I am still hoping for a lot of things, but I have learnt by experience to be joyful where I am on the way to where I am going, and I am still learning.

Please be encouraged and REJOICE in HOPE because the Lord your God in your midst is mighty and He will save. Zeph 3:17 Don't stop ASKING and THANKING Him for those blessings until He satisfies you with His mercies, but please REJOICE. In difficult times, it is not easy to rejoice, but we can always tell Him how we feel, we can tell Him how sad we are and He would make us happy and rekindle our joy. SHALOM

Today

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Today, after classes, I had to find a supermarket to buy a tube of toothpaste from. But I walked and walked far away from my hotel and saw no such store. I could only see restaurants and snacks shops. I sighted a Tabac shop and popped in hoping against hope I might find what I wanted. No, they only have what spoils teeth and breaks lungs, as usual. As it's one of the sure spots to get mobile recharge cards from, I ordered for a card and popped out to continue my quest.

O my, but I'm sure there is at least a shop around this city for such things, I'm sure. So I walked on, not letting go. I couldn't have let go, anyway, or I will have to go out tomorrow with a smelly mouth. I at last saw a pharmacy store from across the road, excited God had answered my prayer, I crossed and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. I glanced up and saw a note on a side of the door that the shop will not be open for some time. Disappointed, I left, to resume my search.

After a while, I saw a supermarket ahead of me. At last. I breathed some thanks to the Lord. In here, I looked from shelf to shelf for my most pressing need at the time. It appeared like it was not available, but I would not give up, else my mouth smells tomorrow. After several minutes, I approached the shelf of interest and picked the toothpaste.

Many times in life we are like this,but a lot of time we give up because what we have been painstakingly working, hoping and praying for seem not to come through. O for the fortitude to hold on in times of waiting and not to give up on our efforts.