Hi! How was your weekend? I hope great.
Rescued from a near-accident
Mine, great. I thank God for saving us from an accident on Friday night. We had a puncture on the highway at night, but didn’t get into a bad situation.
Celebrate Amazing Pastor
I’m glad one of my favorite pastors graduated this past weekend with a master’s degree in divinity, congrats Pastor Peter!!!!!
And third, I continue to be awed when girls say hi to me in church and want to spend a bit of time with me. It’s truly inspiring for me.
It always amazes me how girls who I don’t know will just walk up to me for a hug. So I hug them right back, for as long as they want, and I reciprocate their vigor. Some are light and quick, some are side hugs, some just want me to put my hand over their shoulder and walk around with them. I do that. The girl things. Then they get happy and leave. I love them. I don’t know all of them. I get to know them as time goes by. I see the look in their eyes and I want to do better. Be better. Invite them more into my life. Into our parties. Into God’s arms. What do they see in me? I’d better be faithful to God; and give them – freely I have received, freely give.
AND ON TO THE DAD ISSUE…
This has gotten a bit of response…and I’m grateful. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I look forward to hearing more from you. I’ll try and start it from the beginning, again, no editing, just as is. See, I’m reading a book, the Love Signature, by Pastor Edward Buri, that says that God does not like us because we have hid our imperfections from Him. Instead, He endears the raw script, and His knowledge of us liberates us in His love.(Arba Publications, The love Sigature www.arbapublications.com ) I’m glad to be so loved by Him, He’s a great father. And to be forgiven by Him. It can only leave one speechless.
So what happened? I lost my dad when I was 15, just beginning the self-identity search process. I was still growing up and blooming as a girl, and I was a bit behind my age mates. As is the case with some girls. And so whenever stories would be told in any topic, as nature would direct, I’d focus on what I thought was best. You know, keep quiet and listen to what was being said, and when it was my turn, tell in the best way possible what I had experienced. Had learnt to make things look good (comes with being a good grammar student, if I dare say so J Thanks English teachers!) I guess my journalism growth started there. You can tell a story in so many ways, so you choose the version that suits you best, right? Right!
Now, my mum happened to be in some committee in my high school (and since she does not like going public about such things – she’s the humble variety, a trait that should pass on …I won’t say which or where etc). So anyway, she’d come to school often, so it looked like I was a “special” kid to have her come around, and for big meetings.
So when she came for me on my birthday to take me “out”, I did not let anyone know that the “outing” was to go visit my dying dad in hospital. I share the details of this in my book, Becoming an Amazing Girl. It was a horrible day, a hard time. I went back to school and had to keep up the good, strong front. Told no one. Kept quiet. I didn’t want to be seen as less than anyone else. Incomplete or out of place or just odd. Off. I wanted to (still) fit in, be “normal” be okay. And so I swallowed all those hard (potatoes) feelings that would come.
I’d cry in bed alone, or in the shower – and blame the red eyes on soap or something. Or just being itchy. I was sad, alone, disappointed. And this was just the beginning. I couldn’t help the images that kept flashing in my mind as I was in class. Teachers would be teaching and I’d be lost in thought. I lost my concentration, I lost my interest. Something more important was bugging my mind, tugging at my heart. What would happen? Would he be okay? Would he get well? What if…. No… That’s not an option to think about. Ouch! End of day, class is over, back to bed…cry, and blame the red eyes on a headache or something.
Enough sharing for now. It’s not fun reliving those times. It hurt, it was sad. Let’s talk. Tell me what’s going on in your life too. Let me know if this helps, guides or leads somewhere. I feel that I ought to share this, and I will do it, to the best of my ability, as well as I’m able to do it. And after yesterday’s sermon, I’ll do what I can with what I have. This is what I can do now, and that’s as much strength as I have today to share what’s going on now.
God’s not a missing dad….He’s an ever-present loving father. I just thought to say that. It makes sense. Usually after a long time, but it eventually does.