Don’t Scrap me out😞

“Hello,
How are you?
Hum…j’emapelle August…Auuuugust,
Twenty-twenty.
Hum…I don’t know,
Hum…Maybe I know
that that you’re not
so excited to see me.

You are sullen-faced
Your heart is not merry within you
And your pocket is not so full
I don’t know
Sorry, I know.
I know,
My elder ‘buothers’ haven’t been the best.
And my ‘pawent’
Is now the worst in history
Arguably.
But see,
I have 31 children
They are the best you can think of
I know because I bore them
And they promise to be good,
Good good children.
Yes, because the Grandmaster of all
Said to tell you,“I know the plans I have for you,
Plans to prosper you,
And not to harm you,
Plans to give you Hope and a Future”*
So please, don’t scrap me
Don’t count me out
Don’t scrap meeeee!!!”



Hello dearly beloved,🤗
Welcome to August.

Thanks for stopping by today.
Hope this blog post meets you well.

Would like to encourage you to stay strong and stay hopeful, no matter what you’re going through today.
God is for us, remember to smile.
Blessings!

Your friend,
Aanu

#Thrive!
#Blossom!

A Chance to Live Again

Dawn was struggling to break forth.

Tunji turned on the bed, chest downwards, face nuzzled against the pillow. In an attempt to further lull himself to sleep, he pulled the blanket over. The orthopaedic bed was indeed a blessing, but the blessing wasn’t shining forth this particular morning.

In place of finding solace in the comfort of the bed; the cool weather, all he could hear was the drum beat of the angry raindrops against the roof sheets. The rain was quite heavy. Not too much of a surprise. Having been awake for quite a while, he had witnessed the delivery of the message.

The king(rain) had sent its messenger ahead-the windstorm. And the latter had faithfully heeded to the words of the Yoruba Proverb: Ẹní rán ni n’ísẹ́ làń bẹ̀rù, a kìń bẹ̀rù ẹni tí àá jẹ fún (The sender is to feared and obeyed, you do not fear him to whom the message shall be delivered).

He liked to play with words in his mind.

Later on, he would recount to Funmi how the winds had whistled so loudly and forcefully. It had hit the louvers so hard, he feared they would drop out of the window sills. It was right about time he flowed with the trends. The windstorm was enough reason to upgrade to aluminium windows and save him the stress of worrying, anytime heavy rains come calling.

One of their neighbours had narrated the clash between himself and his landlord over the leaking roof of his rented apartment. This was Ilorin, where men had no shame and still had the effrontery to put up a defensive front saying he didn’t have money for the repair at the moment. “Your house rent is almost due, pay up the next one, and then I can think of repairing the leaking roof.” The young man had related to him saying. Terribly bad manners. No apologies, nothing.

Leisurely, a step at a time, these thoughts transitioned him to the land of the subconscious.

It was 9am.

Dawn finally arrived.

The bronzed alarm clock went off with its tiny but loud sound piercing the cold air. Slowly, she came out of her subconscious, rubbed her right hand over the bedspread for any signs of him. He was up. The early-to-rise-man. She yawned, still having her eyes closed, and uttered the first words that cross her lips every morning-Good Morning, Holy Spirit.

Her feet kissed the cold tiled floors, and she winced in response. Her muscles stiffened in place. The alarm clock still had it melody punching the air, so she gathered enough strength to stand upright, walking off to the round figure by the dressing mirror and had it turned off.

‘It was expected to have gone off by 6am’, she thought, ‘but Darl must have adjusted it to 9am. So much understanding for these days of frailty.’

Sauntering out of the bedroom, she took note that the size of her left foot was gradually returning back to normal. Great improvement, compared to previous experiences.

Her instincts wouldn’t deceive her, and soon enough she found him out in the compound, attending to a pawpaw tree which had its stems bent by the windstorm. Strains could be seen all over the bending point.

She leaned on the wall, and watched in silence as he chopped down the tree. Sensing something out of place, he stopped, his eyes wandered lazily around and saw her. The point of distraction, smiling at him. Smiles which didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You up?” he smiled back, stopping for an heartbeat to observe her, and then turning around to continue with the work.

“I figured you will be here. The air smells so nice.”

“A-ha”, he exclaimed happily, standing upright, turning to face her. “Your favourite season of the year”. Raising up his hands, and moving back and forth in a girlish manner, he mimicked her “The air is so damp, everywhere smells fresh…”

She joined in “I couldn’t imagine a better season of the year”. They both said in unison, laughing heartily
“Ouch!” Whimpering, she bent at the knees

What is it? He questioned, moved closer, his eyes letting on a pained expression.

Leaning closer to the wall, “My joints, it hurts”.

A pause.

Then forcing a smile, “I guess I laughed too much”
But he wouldn’t be easily dissuaded, “Do I bring a chair for you? Would that reduce the pain?”

“I’ll be fine. Maybe just walk around a little bit. I don’t want to start using a walking stick o, I’m not that old”.

Okay then, let’s walk together.

Hands locked, he helped her straighten up, as they walked with even paces round the perimeter of the house.

Age was telling on them, every moment had to be treasured. In his mind, it seemed like some few short months ago they were saying the almighty vows before family and friends. A look from one angle gave way to that line of thought streaming through; but from another, it really has been some 42 long years. What more could he ask for? Recalling the words of a wise woman, “Life is in seasons, Emergence is in phases”, if he had to walk through these pains with her every day, so be it. Nothing else could be more important. But she was uneasily quiet.

“Hmm…You’re doing it again.” Breaking the ice cold silence between them.

“What?”

“Look at me” he said, tipping her chin to himself.

“You are borrowing some few crisp thousand naira notes from tomorrow”

“Aha,” she laughed “I will surely do that, if the interest rate is not more than 5%.”

“No, the borrowing policy isn’t favourable. Borrowers are servant to the lenders”

“Really? The borrower didn’t invest well in that case. If it’s business, it should be booming with right strategies. Anyways, was it not Shakespeare that said ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be…’” complete it, she said looking up at him.

“Hmm… can I really remember? Chai, something about both of them losing at the end? Hun…wait…” Gazing up to the skies, racking his brain. “Okay, I think the quote talks about they wouldn’t be able to see eye to eye again. Right?”

“Na wa o.” Using the language of the younger folks. “You really cannot remember? Is that old age telling on you? You really must be old, like Methuselah-kind-of-old.” Mocking him.

“I don’t know what to do about you. I honestly don’t. I should be awarded a Nobel prize in longsuffering, for enduring you all these years. I give up. You tell me, what says Shakespeare, madam genius?”

“Try again”

“No, no, no, not at all. I say I give up. Remind me, if you will. You have always been the bright one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, not as bright as you,” playfully stroking his beards.

“So the quote says, ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be; for loan oft loses both itself and friend’”

“Oh, now I remember. Boy… I’ve never been a fan of Shakespeare, you dragged me into reading his boring books. Now, I can hardly remember anything.”

“They at least made you a better thinker. Wouldn’t you agree?” she said smiling.

“Okay.” In a mock salute. “Yes ma, you are right.” Adding underneath his breath, “I know better than to argue.”
“You said what?”

“No ma, nothing. I was speaking to myself” he said showing up his white dental forks.

“You are not serious.”

“I know, came to that realisation wayyyy back.”

They had walked back to the front of the house, stepped unto the porch and assisted her in sitting. Comfortable silence danced between them. Bearing witness to the many years of understanding-without-words. Simultaneously, the air carried a weight of seriousness. Hanging and making slow movements in the air between them.

Keeping still for a moment, he allowed the breeze sweep past their faces, the birds fluttering their wings in the skies above, catching their attention.

She couldn’t bring herself to enjoy this moment, not this time though. She shifted uncomfortably in her cane chair, a pressing issue buzzing round the side lines of her mind.

This was one of the moments, ever since he saw her eyes, when he was in the process of cutting down the tree, he knew something was up. As strong as ever, compressing disturbing issues, until they forced their way through, swimming back to the river surface of her heart.

With arms folded on his laps, he turned to her. The sun had started to rise; streaks of sunlight hit her face. Her aging flesh appearing golden, all the more, a beauty to behold. Gorgeous still, inside and outside. He took his eyes off her; this was not a time to ravish her beauty. Setting it on her again, he said quietly, “Take your time, I am not in a hurry”

Her deep sighs punched the air, some words are difficult to voice out. “I don’t know what exactly is wrong with me.” A pause. “Some days, I wake up full of life, more than excited to see the sunrise. Other days, I am just plain tired, moving becomes so tiring, and I almost lose hope.” She placed her hands on her chin, and she shifted again, “I saw you cutting down that particular pawpaw tree. We both know the tree really served. I don’t know… I don’t really know. Does it somehow mean that with old age comes a breaking point when we will be chopped off?”

Whoosh. There it was, she had finally managed to let it out.

Those scary words.

He had tried to read her mind earlier, wondering what exactly it was that made those wavy lines appear around the corners of her eyes this morning. She was the talkative of the duo, and those few words spoken showed that she was really serious. He turned his cane chair, so they were directly opposite each other. Moved the chair closer, so that their knees touched, and held her hands in his.

“Dearest, a wise woman one said, ‘life is in seasons, emergence is in phases’. The chick doesn’t remain in the shell, because it is warm in there. In due season, it leaves the shell to start a new life. With pain, and struggles, it leaves. But then to a better life.”

“Oluwafunmilayo, you are the second best thing that has ever happened to me. Of course, you know the first.” Pausing as she slowly nods her head. “And if I am to come back to this world, I will choose you over and over again. If it’s the frequent pains, I am by your side, if it’s the pain of the heart, I am here, right here.” As he spoke, a lump had begun to form in her throat, and she swallowed hard.

“Let us walk through this phase together, we always win. The storm raged this morning, but the sky is clear now. Our sky will be clear, and sunshine will beam through. I can see it already on your face. But then, let’s get back to our position of authority; our knees have gone too smooth.
“Yeah,” She affirmed, batting her eyelids.
“Just don’t leave me. Promise me you will stay with me. Please…” his heart started to give way, allowing his emotions come out to the open, and he started to shiver.

A tear streamed down her cheek, and she struggled to make up words. Words that would just not come. Tears flowed then. Tears that said unspeakable words.



Life has an aftershave.
Smooth and scented. Winding up the activities of the razor in its cocoon.
Drawing up the powers on the inside.
Covering up the skittishness of the blade, stilling the storm, leaving its own flavour.
Your Faith, Willpower is the aftershave.
Covers up the ugly moments in its shell
Allows you to breath,
And breath, you must.
Fresh air
Gentle, fresh air.
Now, Breath.
And Live.

A Poem-The Aging Tragedy

Here goes the -poem for the week- for you to muse on(winks). What do you think it means? Uhn?

Read through dear, the interpretation lies below. And you definitely would want me to know your interpretation of this.

Enjoy!

“Dear Ajike,

The Lions are crying
Rummaging the leftover on the dunghill

The drums can’t talk.
The flute can’t speak.

The bereft chick choking
Tornadoes of hardship swirling

That ravaging fire stomps in
Graps by the neck and spits into the eyes
Alas! The fire raids from abroad

The time reads twenty_twenty
The day old dies slowly; yet,
The ancient plays hanky_panky

The cry of the Lions, heed.
The soul of the chick, seek.
Time is lost. Ajike, a rescuer, we need

Interpretation

When I was writing this, I pictured my country-Nigeria. This poem really points back home. If you’re acquainted with the ‘giant of Africa’, you might understand our background a little bit. Either way, I hope this reaches out to you in a unique and particular way.

Contribute your little quota! It matters a whole lot.

-The day old signifies the masses in Nigeria, of which a larger majority can’t afford 3 square meals in a day

-The ancient symbolises Nigeria, the old country; and ‘almost’ everyone at the helm of affairs, from the grassroots to the uppermost cadre.
We will be 60 this year, but it looks like we aren’t even an independent nation

-And then Corona comes calling from around the world, Wuhan. It’s the fire, things are worse, the Lions-even those that thought they were above the poverty line are left with little or nothing to survive on. To say it plainly-things are harrddd. You can relate with this? Can’t you? It’s an economic downturn almost every where we turn. Perhaps, except for Zoom (funny!)

Lastly, Ajike (A Yoruba name-one of the tribes in Western Nigeria) is the reader, you and I who should rise up and rescue our nation and make her great again.

Doesn’t matter from what Continent you’re reading this.
The bottom line is ‘contribute your little quota! It matters a whole lot.

Shalom!

Follow my blog, so you’ll be the first! to get notified. And like! Comment too!

Unveiled- Episode 2

Her small body tensed in his hand, bracing up for whatever was to come. Slowly, she turned as he led the way; following sheepishly to the cultivated portion of land in their compound.

‘Keep following me’ he says and turns to take a quick glance at her. ‘Mummy used to say small snakes can be lying around here, so watch the floor, you hear?’ As she quietly gives him a ‘yes’. He continued, ‘I am bold and strong like Harry Potter, though I am not a wizard’ He utters a low laugh. ‘You are my Hermione here. I will train you.’ But she was too frightened and too anxious to continue replying his small talk.

Pulling away the maize leaves from their faces, they continued walking in-between the ridges. They finally got to a spot close to the fence, where a small Pawpaw plant slightly taller than Funke stood.

‘Close your eyes’, he says and she does so without hesitating. He bent down to pull off some dried grasses from a spot, revealing a small blue container punctured all over with holes in it.

‘Now, you can…’ he was saying as he straightened up, but Funke had her eyes opened already, mouth wide agape at what she saw. ‘A baaaatttttttttt….oh my!’ she exclaimed. And there he was laughing at his achievement, happy at the pleasant surprise he had given her. Apart from the broken wing, the bird was very much in good health, and not so ugly.

He started out explaining how he had discovered the bat, but stopped short, as their mother’s voice rang from the first storey. ‘Tunji! Funke!’

Hurriedly yet gently, Tunji placed the bat back on the hay covered floor, fixing every other covering, as he told her to hurry along towards the direction of the house. As was customary, whenever their mother called and couldn’t get a response, she always found her way downstairs, and Tunji couldn’t afford to be caught. Their mother had hardly descended the stairs when they both reached the doorway.

‘Now, tell me, where have you been? Why are you panting like this? You’ve been to the maize plants, abi?

‘uhnnnnn… we were…. We were… here. Yes, here, outside.’ Tunji says stammering, heart palpitating underneath his vest.

‘Outside here in front of the house or at the maize plants?’

Looking from Tunji to Funke who both had their heads bowed, unable to speak up, she shook her head and immediately ordered them upstairs, following behind.

‘I will not have you taking your sister to that place; I told you it is dangerous. Next time, if you insist on being adventurous, I will spank you first, and then tell your father to deal with you.’

At the mention of his father, he turned to face her and fell on his knees, ‘Mummy, please….’ and started crying. The voices immediately doubled as Funke joined in the lachrymose chant.

Now, she stood, arms akimbo, watching the dual-love of her life.

Reminiscing the mood swings of the gestation period.

The pains of childbirth.

Their very first cry in the hospital rooms.

The joy that had overwhelmed her on those two occasions.

And how tenderly they had clung to her for survival, sucking from her very body for more than six months each.

Days of biting her nipples so much so that she stifled a cry, to sleepless nights and then heightened moments when they had a flu. In spite of all the numerous joys and pains, one experience stood out solitarily in her short years of motherhood -Medical complications at her second child’s birth.

Memories of that experience often broke the bank of her lachrymal gland, sending rivulets of tears down her brown skinned face. An experience that shook her to the core, and would have sent the wheels of her faith spinning down the road, if not for God’s grace and the people she was blessed to have around her.

She would have to meditate on that later, allowing her mind to let loose those memories from the lockers of her mind. Hardly had she dismissed this thought when a verse she had read in the morning resurfaced on the streams of her heart: When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown…’ Wow, she thought. It was rare for her to be reminded of bible verses when she thinks about the past. Why was this then coming so strong to her? Of course it told of years past, but was this an inkling of some sort of what was to happen in a not-so-far tomorrow?

‘Ann, I’m thinking you will be ordained a seer… No, no, a prophetess soon’, said Bisi

‘Prophetess? You better tell her the truth. She worries too much’ Rose had added

‘Wait, girls. I’m just telling you what I feel.’ She stopped. ‘Never mind.’ Waving her hand, unwilling to continue the conversation.

‘Baby, look here, it’s not about what you feel or don’t feel. It is what you make yourself imagine. Truth be told, you dream too much. And they are not-so-pleasant dreams’ Anifa said, adding her comment to the verbal pool.

And that was it, troubles upon troubles before and after graduation. This reminder sent arrows of anxiety darting towards the door of her heart, more powerfully, forcefully. That was a conversation she had with her friends in a rented apartment back then in her 4th year of undergraduate studies. Her friends had presumed she was worrying too much, but she knew she wasn’t.

‘Mummy’ Funke called, bringing her back to the present.

‘Hmm…’ she answered half-heartedly. The best way was to live in the present, she thought. Two lovely kids and a good husband, yeah, well, good husband- was all by itself a truckload of blessings, even if they had their flaws. Why borrow from tomorrow’s troubles? And yes, she would cuddle her children, while they were still here with her. Hold them a little while longer before they flew out of her hands. Their growth rate was alarming. The years kept flying.

‘Alright’, she finally says, bending to their height. ‘Come here, both of you and stop crying’ as she pulled Tunji first, gave him a warm hug. Then Funke, wrapping her more closely as the young girl balanced her arms on her shoulders. Lifting her up, she continued, ‘You are my jewels, and I want the best for you. Snakes could be hiding there and you wouldn’t want to be bitten by a snake, yes?

‘Yes mummy’, they chorused.

‘Good. Tunji go bring out the toys and build castles with your sister. Dinner will soon be ready’ Placing Funke back on her feet.

‘Yes!’ He shouted with fists in the air, and skittered to the room to collect the toys, beckoning on his sister, ‘Let’s go girl.’

Wow!’ Spewing out the word, she headed off to the kitchen. ‘And wait’, she called after them, ‘You haven’t told me what you were doing downstairs…’ Too bad, they were out of earshot.

‘Chai, who says looking after children shouldn’t be a full-time job?’

…………………………………………………………..

Hello dear friends,

I am so excited you are checking out this episode.

How have you been since we last e-interacted?

Thanks for the comments and inputs. Thanks for taking time out to read my work. It means a lot to write, and have people read. There’s definitely no writer without a reader (winks)

Yes. So I hope you are really being productive this season.

As usual, I will love to hear from you. Last Sunday was Mother’s day celebration, and you will agree mothers are priceless, they are rare gems, priceless treasures we have so abundant around us like the gold of El-Dorado.

Would you like to say something about the role your mother, or (womenfolk generally) has played in your life? Pleeease, I would love to hear from you.

Feel free to drop your comments here on WordPress or my social media handles

Instagram: @belovedaanu

Facebook: Adeoti Aanuoluwapo

Episode 3 comes up next week Tuesday. Till then, I commit you into the mighty hand that upholds the universe.

In His light and love,

aanu

Unveiled-Episode 1

‘Funke!’ He screams out loud from the backyard in his nothing-short-of-girlish voice, puberty a few years away from him.

‘Yes!’ She responds.

Dressed in a short grey dress, her very best of house-wears. Play-clothes as their mother likes to call them, she shuffles her tiny legs to the corridor, stands on her tiptoes against the brown railings, looks down and in quick successions, glances left and right, left and right for an hint of her brother’s presence.

‘Tunji!!!’ she cries out. Her voice gave out an uneven mixture of a hummingbird’s cry and a weakened cat, devoid of so much power but having the ability to pierce the tiny blanket of the quiet evening

‘Adefunke’, her mother calls out from the room, already on her feet with the intentional of going to prepare dinner.

‘Do you always have to scream like that, waking up granny and grandpa Oyejola from sleep. Mama will lash your bum….’ But Funke wouldn’t wait to hear her mother complete the statement. She just allowed it trail off. Of course, the words never failed to follow one another in a sequential order. Lash. Your. Bum. Bum. To. Mor. Row. Yes, she knew. Same chastening almost every evening they got to play while their dad was away. Her young mind is busy thinking ‘Of course, Mama Adepeju will not beat her, only her mother does, all in the name of fighting for the elderly neighbour’s evening nap’. In her mind, as she climbs down the stairs to go search for her brother, energy from earlier a little contained, she’s wondering why they have to sleep in the evening. After all, night was just about 3 hours away…

‘Tunji o! Ibo lo wa’ lowering her voice, she calls out in their local dialect translated, ‘where are you?’ attempting to catch her brother’s attention and go find him wherever he was. No response. The cold air stays still; the infinite sky lays motionless above.

‘Where could he be? She murmurs under her breath, wondering why the whole area is so quiet, save for some distant chatter of voices. She turns to go circle the entire house, searching for him.

‘Dash!’ Tunji shouted, jumping out of his hiding place, his body jerking forward.

Startled, she screams. Hands on her ears, face scared to death, her voice ringing high in the still air. Suddenly, she lowers it, immediately remembering her mother’s chastening a minute ago.

‘Hush’, he says. And when the sound had stopped in her throat, he continued, ‘I scared you again,’ he laughs mischievously.

‘Leave me jor. I tell you I don’t like it’. She replies, eyes squeezed arms akimbo, ready to put up a fight. But she changed her mind on a second thought, dropped her hands to her sides and got inquisitive.

‘You were hiding here?’ she added, as she looked behind him to the corner of the building, curved because of the way the house was constructed.

‘Of course, I was. Knew you would come when I called. So I laid in wait for you’ He started to laugh again. In response, her face fixed up a frown round about its pretty edges, her eyes began to roll and her lips pursed in a position to cry. His laugh grew louder, incited by her new expression and he was bending over, unable to contain it.

Seeing he wasn’t ready to stop, she made to turn her back to him and head back upstairs. Immediately, he stood upright, and in the most affectionate manner, gently held her hands, preventing her from making a full turn against him. Still trying to recover from the outbursts of laughter and mockery, he placed his other hand over his mouth and for a split second, feigned seriousness before getting full control of himself.

‘You are always scared. Come on, I was only joking with you’

‘Don’t joke with me like that again’, her singsong voice sang back to him

‘Oya, tell me sorry’ she added.

‘Sorry’

‘Say sorry again’

‘A-ha, again?’ He looked straight to her eyes. Seeing both the pain, resilience and a little of anger in her eyes, he knew the only alternative to unravelling together the mystery this evening held was to do as she requested.

‘Okay, sorry’. He said again, pulled her close in a warm embrace and rubbed his left hand over her back. Her hair smelt of their mama’s Cantu shea butter cream for naturals, and he held her a few more seconds savouring the smell.

At that moment, they were the only human beings existing in the world to her. How she loved being in her brother’s arms, only her mother’s arms could compete with those arms, not even her father’s.

Feeling stable again, she pulled away from him, his hands rested on her shoulder and he held her gaze again.

‘Okay, I am sorry. You know I wouldn’t want to hurt you’. He said. He wanted to continue speaking, but thought of the best way to present it.

‘You need to grow up quick, so you will stop crying over silly things like that, okay?’

Still sober, she only nodded. And she saw him look up to the cultivated portion of land in their compound, his face getting serious, as he raised one of his hands, pointing behind her.

‘Look! There’s something I want to show you, he says in a hushed tone. ‘Don’t tell anybody, not even mummy okay?’

Her small body got tensed up in hand, bracing up for whatever was to come.

(To Be Continued…)

Hello dear friends,

How are you doing this period? I sincerely hope you are staying safe with movement restrictions, regular hand washing, sanitizers and face masks. Most importantly, ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, never rely on what you think you know… and He will show you the right way’ –Proverbs 3: 5-6 (Goodnews translation)

After so much time in-between, I’m so glad to be bringing to you this fictional story on my blog. It’s a transforming story I’ll be bringing to you every first three weeks in a month. You wouldn’t like to miss any of the episodes. I will also be uploading other varying articles and graphics. So be sure to stay tuned by hitting the follow button and like button, if indeed you liked this and want more.

But most importantly, today’s episode celebrates the amazing impact of my immediate elder brother, one I would cherish for life: ‘Adeoti, Olalekan, for showing me so much love. It’s a happy birthday to him, today, the 5th of May, 2020. And I wish him great years ahead, prospering in the will of our Father God. I love you so so much. Muah!

Just in case, you scrolled down, without reading the ‘in-between’ (smiles), I’ll give you the wrap up of everything

  • Today’s episode is dedicated to my immediate elder brother who is celebrating his birthday today the 5th of May

  • Subsequent episodes will be uploaded every first 3 weeks of each month

  • Other varying articles and graphics will also be uploaded, stay tuned.

  • Kindly Follow, Like, Comment and share if this episode softened your heart.

I love you,

S.T.A.Y. S.T.R.O.N.G.

S.T.A.Y. S.A.F.E.

Yours dearly,

Belovedaanu

Instagram: beloved_aanu

The Mighty Oak…

It stands firmly, deeply rooted.

The roots spread it’s tentacles. The small, but forceful rootlets find their way through the invisible roads of the soil, traverse the unseen pathways of the dark earth. A perfect footing is obtained for its feet.

It then comes out plain to the visible eyes. We see it dressed in its awesome regalia, majestic in splendour, a crowned prince amongst the trees of the forest, the blessed of the LORD.

It is an Epitome of strength and endurance. Throughout the ages, from age to age, season to season, every- who comes to it breathe relief. A place of shelter from the heat of life.

…An Epitome of Strength and Endurance!

The years of layers upon layers of the growth rings testifies to its endurance and perseverance in the storms and heat of life.

Father….

Your father is a mighty Oak, my father is a mighty Oak. My brother calls them…the Unsung Heroes

Fathers… The Unsung Heroes

Mama sat and watched our infant heads, but they provided a shelter under which mama sat. The melodies of mama’s song re-echoes their voices in our ears and hearts.

Oh Father!

A man, invaluable!

Oh Father!

A man immeasurable!

An Oak of Righteousness,

The planting of the Lord!

Father, you are privileged to share the same name with Elohim

My friend Samuel shares his thoughts on being able to connect, get a hold of our relationship with Elohim, when we see you play the role as F. A. T. H. E. R.

He says it’s easy to relate with when we see Elohim the way we see, talk with and play with you. There’s a deeper connection, and it fosters our relationship with Him.

This is soo true…

Father, we see some of your struggles. Those perfectly cloistered under your garment, we cannot uncover. But can only pray you wax stronger and stronger, year after year like the Oak tree.

We are your acorns, with potentials to grow into mighty Oaks

We celebrate you today, and every other day.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY! 😍

Photo credit of Oak tree: Wikipedia

Image of Happy Father’s Day: anonymous

Your greatest motivator…

My eyes open up to a beautiful Saturday this morning, in my part of the world.

The darkness of the night, it’s gloomy nature, or it’s restful ambience, as the case may be, is gone.

The sky is clear- A mixture of white and blue. My basic 2 school teacher says the sky has a blue colour. Well, not always, I think. My cones, photoreceptors in my eyes pick up more of white than blue in this morning’s sky.

I can see no lumps of dark swirling clouds as in days gone by. No chunks of an overcast upon the earth 🌍 , all gone into hiding. Everywhere is just clear and bright!

Soon enough, the sun ☀ will take its rightful place. It will beam, smile broadly, grin widely, and dissipate heat over every single inhabitant.

☺ Okay, so enough about the sun. Let’s talk about you! 👉

What does this Saturday morning bring to you?

…A moment for you to think…

…Keep thinking…

Gotten an answer?

Let’s evaluate:

Does it bring back invisibly, in the deep corners of your mind, yesterday’s struggles?

Yesterday’s struggles with

Bank overdrafts?

Scaring financial statements?

Delayed salary payment?

Unchecked boxes on your prayer list?

Worries of a forthcoming examination?

Lack of a gainful source of livelihood?

The wayward child who wouldn’t just listen?

Heartbreak from that last dating engagement?

An attraction to someone you shouldn’t be attracted to?

Inability to reason together with your spouse?

Or…

Does it bring a new wave of peace,

an aura of rest,

draws a sketch of hope in its blue-white canvas,

brings a new resolve to keep knitting the fibres of your dreams together, for the fabric is almost ready?

I don’t know what the package labelled To-Day brings to you on the 8th of June, 2019, or any other day, but I can tell you:

Your Greatest Motivator is You!

No motivation lasts as long as the one you create by yourself, for yourself

Give it one more trial,

pray once again,

draw up a time management plan one more time,

say no to unnecessary *’aso-ebi’ contribution one more time,

submit that application letter one more time,

put that business idea into writing one more time,

speak to that child once again,

Love that spouse once again,

Forget that ex- and person you are attracted to once again,

pick up that 🎸 and pluck the strings one more time,

and don’t ever forget to smile one more time, be creative, read and think!

*aso-ebi: a uniform dress worn for social occasions in Nigeria and some West African countries

BETTER

It’s not faultless,

In fact, ‘flawed’ is the word

The lack of expertise.

An inability to do things just right.

Keep muddling things up, messing up.

So, I’m worried.

More like the troubled waters,

In the measure of a raging sea,

Like a lone tree in the windy Sahara

Similar to the to and fro of a pendulum.

This instability keeps me stagnant

Worrying does me no good

Keeps me in the muddy waters of self-doubt

Leaves me to wallow in the pits of depression…

Suddenly! There’s a revelation!

‘There’s strength available for the weary pilgrim!’

Oh! How my confidence comes alive!

I shake off the robes of self-pity,

Cast off the worry beads.

Step unto the podium of greatness,

For HE loves me through it all.

I keep pressing, then

Pressing through the fire,

Pressing through the rain,

Pressing till I reach the mark,

Pressing till I obtain the price,

And it could only get BETTER as the days go by

HAPPY NEW MONTH BELOVED!

-Dedicated to a dear friend, we keep pressing. Much love

The Radiance…

I beheld… and stood there motionless.

Transfixed by it all.

The breath-taking beauty,

this countenance,

like the sun shining in all its brilliant radiance!

His eyes were like blazing fire!

His head and hair were white like wool,

as white as snow!

His feet were like bronze glowing,

in a hot fiery furnace!

The sole expression of radiance of the divine,

the perfect imprint and very image of God’s nature:

all fearsomely mind-boggling!

I stood, enthralled,

what manner of man is this?

Not comprehending the full scope of His reality, meanwhile,

but just having a peep into the image of His being,

was overwhelming.

Soon enough, the silent sinister whispers in my ears,

troubled the calm still waters of my heart.

Then, I remembered my nature:

Looked down at myself,

the costume was the first sight.

The costume- only a thin surface covering the real substance.

My thin surface,

fearfully and wonderfully made, good, okay.

But few more seconds into looking down at myself, I saw what I really was.

Rotten inside out!

Made of the worst garbage you could ever think of-

falsehood, pretense, porn:

with the brother fornication knit with it,

malice, pride, disobedience,

self-centeredness, reviling, unforgiveness…

the thoughts of these, and others uncountable, make me sick.

So, I try to clean up, only to realize I journeyed in unbroken loops,

Indeed, I journeyed in circles.

I was about throwing in the towel, just giving up.

What’s the point trying to clean up,

and after all the stress,

come back worse than before.

But He was patiently waiting and watching,

while I acted out my ‘tragedic’ drama

When He saw my helplessness,

He spoke!

Wow, I heard His voice!

‘Twas like the sound of rushing mighty waters!

Strong, powerful, with so much authority!

Nevertheless, so clear and distinct!

Come

‘Come?’ I asked myself.

Could He be talking to me?

I should come?

ComeI heard again.

And so I looked up .

The comely, yet striking appearance,

the peace accompanying His presence.

Could heaven be more than this?

Indescribable, indescribable.

Words fall short in description of Him.

Took another glance at me, and bowed my face low,

my knees wobbling as they fell.

The tears came trickling down, as I thought:

“If He could be this way, then He simply can help me.”

He held out His hands,

the look of His palms knocked me for six with trepidation.

Those nail-driven palms I’ve heard so much about.

As I kept looking at them-those unrelenting fingers, I knew it was a done deal.

Now, I bask in the glory of resurrection!

I dwell in the shadow of the spotless One!

The moment His palms touched mine,

‘Gloria in excelsis deo’ became my song.

He has never for once deserted me.

I still get stained once in a while, as I crisscross this broken world.

Never minding, each and every time, he wipes them all away,

holds my face in His strong tender hands, and speaks those same words

“You are mine

His voice soothing,

His face ravishing,

His name beautiful.

He is Jesus Christ, He is my SAVIOUR AND LORD!


Dear friend,

#Who is this Jesus to you?

A man in the books, one of the Holy Books?

A figment of some men’s imagination?

Just a prophet?

Your friend and confidant?

Let me know in the comment section


Thanks for joining me this weekend!


#Thanks to Duolos, for always editing. Much love bro