A Voice on Fleming Road

MY LAST RUN

2010-08-30T02:02:00.000-07:00

He broke my spirit
He snuffed something out of me
I might never get it back
and I shall never love him the same

Embers of love smoldering
A love I had welcomed and nurtured
I watched it dying
Feeling nothing now

The pain had long given way to numbness
Then dizziness, both, had ceased
I was running again, this time
I was running my last

Love Had Not Been Enough

2010-08-30T02:00:00.000-07:00

She finally accepted that she did not love him. She cared for him very much and he was kind to her. Undoubtedly, she had married a good man. He loved her. Her life was good. Sitting back in the seat, she stared at her friend.

Ella felt her stare and sighed. She, on the other hand, had loved her husband from the first. For two years she had chosen to see the good in him. He treated her badly and she was forced to admit that he might be wrong for her. She deserved better. He didn’t deserve her, and he had said so himself many times. Sadly, it was true. She lifted her gaze and met Janice’s stare; her eyes filling with tears, she choked out the words: I love him but I have decided to leave him.

Janice reached across the small table, covered in a faded pink plastic sheet, and took both of Ella’s hands in hers. Slowly she whispered, I don’t love him, but I have decided to stay.

By this time, both women were crying. They sat together, still, for a long time; oblivious to the goings-on around them. At some point a waiter intruded upon their peace, demanding if they required anything further. Unable to speak, the friends shook their heads and he left the bill on the table. Some time later, the two friends stood, linked arms and walked out of the quaint busy diner in the heart of a city they had grown fond of. At the corner, they embraced for what might be the last time.

Ella would be moving back up north to start a new life on her own. She cried easily but had such a deep strength inside. With a supportive family & good friends the world over, she would be alright. All arrangements had already been made, and this weekend she would break the news to AJ. Ella loved a man unable to show her true love.

Janice turned and walked away. She would stay and make the most of her life with Charles. She was loved… in spite of being unfulfilled. In the end, love had not been enough.

The Earth

2010-07-11T11:23:00.000-07:00

This marks the Equator line that divides the earth into north & south, Democratic Republic of Congo 2010.

In 2004, I was in Ghana at the Meridian line which divides the earth into eastern & western hemispheres. Next, I guess I shall plan to visit the Tropics of Cancer & Capricorn - smile. Here are other photos taken on the same trip. . .

A Poem

2010-07-11T11:11:00.000-07:00

For some reason, yet unknown, a title for this piece has failed to surface. These words came to me sometime in Dec 2009 and I still haven't fully determined the poem's meaning to me. I hope you enjoy it and discover your own interpretation.

Heartbeat

Hoofbeat

Pulse of the earth

Planet

Rhythm

Dance of the world

The core

The soul

Language of life

Threads

Veins

Bodies in motion

Explosion

Vibrations

Forces in nature

Drums

Windpipes

Spirit of creation

Swinging

Swaying

Cycle of man

Awakened

Evolved

Meeting the maker

UPDATE

2010-06-13T04:40:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone,

I have missed you all, my readers, cyber friends & visitors to my blog. Today is a beautiful Sunday afternoon and this post comes to you live from the Democratic Republic of Congo...

Yes, I am still here in DRC. Since my posts: Bits N Bobs (Nov 15, 2009), A Blur (Nov 22, 2009) and Aloha (Sept 8, 2009), so much has happened. I am so thankful to God for His protection and provision. He has sustained me since my arrival in this country. In Bits N Bobs I wrote, "So, I wait for my miracle ... a small apartment close by work with somewhat regular electricity." Now guess what God did? He found me a lovely apartment at a hotel; it is a 5-minute walk from my office; affordable because it is 2-bedrooms and so I share with another lady; regular power; and internet as well. That is nothing short of a miracle. I also wrote, "there are so many pedestrians and motorcycles and bicycles on these predominantly tiny, narrow, hilly roads that I can't imagine adding my four-wheeler to that mix. Oh Lord, I pray for courage." God gave me the courage and now I drive easily and fearlessly about town. Once I scratched my car on the hotel gate, but no accidents by His grace. Finally, "French, or was it Lingala ... maybe Swahili. I was too busy ... that I missed what language he was speaking." Ah, now my French is much improved. I have patients congratulating me on my language skills because I can consult them without needing a nurse to assist with translation. I have come a long way. I can even understand basic Kiswahili now, and will continue my daily classes until I get proficient. I have no plans to tackle Lingala anytime soon (smile). I am content to be able to identify that one is speaking Lingala.

Since my photos in Aloha, my dog Sailor ran away while I was here. Sasha is doing well with her 5 puppies born on Easter day. My husband is well and we are making more effort at regular transatlantic communication. We constantly battle the networks, time difference, internet access, etc. and finally I had to surrender all to God lest I lose my sanity. The insight I gained is this: one has to make effort to stay connected. We must choose to stay connected and not take it for granted when we are in organized society.

My siblings are well, in spite of their individual struggles. I see a light at the end of the tunnel, and I so rest my concerns and cares upon the Lord who shall settle them in His time. Meanwhile, we must continue to learn godly patience. My parents are doing well in spite of bad news about kidnappings and armed robberies that seem to have escalated in our home state in southern Nigeria [info below]. I am happy that my parents relocated back in 2007, but all our extended family remain there. One relative was kidnapped & later released unharmed. One uncle left the village with his family (out of fear). A family friend can't go to work (out of fear). You just can't up and walk around town in broad daylight - all the citizens of the area are in fear. They even attacked and killed some law enforcement guys who were sent to protect the area. Please pray for South Eastern Nigeria - thank you.

Ah, yes, the world cup. I do not discriminate on the basis of race, religion, national origin, color, sex, age, disability, etc. I am simply rooting for West Africa to carry the cup. We got four chances to take the cup home (to West Africa), and six to at least keep the cup in Africa... just for once - please Lord (smile). South Africa, well done - a great start (& you too Mexico). Nigeria put on a good show, although it took an early goal against them to restore their confidence (& not bad Argentina). Korea had one excellent goal against Greece... did you see it? It was just a perfect shot. The US did a good job (England, what's up?). Now, I prepare for the Ghanaians... (Serbia, watch out).

Okay, enough said. I am happy. I am grateful for every good thing in my life thus far. I am grateful for every bad situation that I have overcome and learned from and promised will never repeat itself. I wish you all the very best that June has to offer. Check out the South African games until July. Have a good summer. I am looking forward to a much needed vacation in a couple of months. Fall, I think, is my favourite time of year. Another time I shall share with you why. Until my next post comes out, stay safe & happy wherever you are.Blessings,
LJ

*Me & my husband's bike in front of our home - I was home for 3 weeks at Easter.
A friend's parrot - DRC 2010
The moon - taken from my hotel apartment terrace, DRC 2010
A co-worker's ram - DRC 2010

Info on South Eastern Nigeria:

Government to attack kidnappers' camps

NEXT
June 10, 2010

Various criminal gangs in several southeastern states, especially in Abia State, are operating seemingly unchallenged by policemen deployed to the states. ...

About time we contain the kidnappers

NEXT
June 10, 2010

Recently, the governor of Abia State, Theodore Orji told a stunned crowd in Lagos that the state government was in the know about the identities of the ...

Going Home

2010-05-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

Thin. Gaunt. Dirty. Diseased. Imprisoned a long time. Now I await my release. A handover, they call it.
Then they come, the three, standing out from everyone else. Lanky white guy. Old muslim man. And the doctor. She talked to me in English. I didn't understand the old man's French. They left and the lanky guy came back. We got into a nice new car. We drove in through some gates and they took me to a big room. It was a hospital. It was my room. Someone came to cut my hair. Someone bought me bananas but I was still hungry. Then I was alone after another old kind doctor had examined me. He hadn't been afraid to touch me. I lay down until two of the strangers came again to see me. They changed my bed and showed me how to use the toilet. She asked me what I wanted to eat. Hours afterward, the muslim man returned with food for me. This was my first decent meal in a long time. I slept for the first time in years. I took a bath. In the morning I was at the airport with the lanky white man. He was taking me back to my people. I thought of my family. I remembered the day I was taken. At last, I was going home.

2010-05-23T09:18:00.000-07:00

Growth
It is painful
It is natural
Taller
Bigger
Stronger
Wiser
More tolerant
More flexible
Increased compassion
Better understanding
Come let us grow together.

2010-05-23T09:14:00.000-07:00

Afraid.
Alone.
Not what I expected.
Life.
My life.
Where do I go from here?
Apart.
Together.
Do we share a vision?
Hope.
A future.
United until the end.

Remember To Face The Light

2010-04-30T23:50:00.001-07:00

Wow, I was just moved to respond to a fellow blogger's post.
It was heavy and weary, but there is much light all around.
When we feel in a dark place, let us remember to always turn and face the light.

This was my response.

Lilly Jones said...

A Bath

2010-04-30T08:08:00.000-07:00

Hello there. How are you all enjoying a great weekend so far?

I got the day off, which was splendid, but the morning didn't seem to turn out so fun. It has been a great year for me, and I am determined to keep it that way. Thus, a few bad days or one lousy morning shan't ruin my 2010.

On Wednesday night I was in bed by 20.00h; yes, 8 o'clock pm. I slept for almost ten hours and woke up refreshed and glad to be alive. The next night, last night, I lay down around 11pm and woke up later than usual, but this time I felt sluggish... physically and my mood was the same. I was picky at breakfast and had a few slices of freshly cut cucumber, carrots, pineapples and some chocolate (yep, quite a combination there). This was topped off with potent local West African herbs which I drank in the form of tea. Then I lazed around, getting work done online while half-heartedly watching American movies in French - The Postman with Kevin Costner and one with Jenny Lopez and then The Perfect Stranger.

I was lonely. I am lonely.
There are some things that I never realized in life before. Like, how you could love someone and yet leave them... thinking of divorce specifically. How you could be amongst so many and still feel lonely - in my case, right here and right now I am both alone in the apartment and lonely. Like having so many dreams as a child and growing up not accomplishing them. Like having a great family but life not turning out so well. Or others from far less ideal homes succeeding at every turn. Like someone trying to quit smoking but just can't. Like working so hard for something which comes too easily to most people while remaining elusive to you. There's a lot I never realized or understood, and still can't figure out for the life of me. Like why God created hormones.

I had a hormone attack this morning. Yes, that time of the month in the female cycle. I know it doesn't bother many women, but it gets me from time to time. The irritability, volatile mood swings, sadness, wistfulness, aloofness... sometimes I wish there were pills to make it go away. For some women it gets milder after they have children, I think. Oh, I don't know. I later had some wine. It tasted good. It might not be the best or the fanciest as far as wines go, but it felt good going down. I decided to run a bath. To do so had been on my mind for the past couple of days.

I have a lovely bathroom and will be changing apartments next month (sigh). I used to wonder what the big deal was in taking a bath. People talked about it like it was a big deal. I have not taken a bath in years, probably not since high school. At that particular boarding school, we had a bath schedule. Pupils were to wash everyday and have a bath every 2 days. I don't think we had showers there (hence the strip-down washes). I've usually lived in houses with bathtubs but guess I just never took a bath. Anyway, an hour or so ago I ran a hot bath. Then I set up my laptop music collection - 1980s U.K. Those were my hey days... I have fond memories of that era. I covered my face in an all-natural avocado mask (I mashed the avocados myself and keep it refrigerated). Then I had a couple of cold tea bags for my eyes. All was ready and I climbed in.

Wow. I felt aglow. The warm water caressed me, body, mind, soul & spirit. Soothing. The warm undulating water worked its magic. The only thing missing were my scented candles back home in the States. My darling husband had bought me a nice pomegranate one. The music took me to another place and time. I was floating and lightweight. Nevertheless, after a short time I was ready to climb out. So typically me, I could not even stay in for 20 minutes. In my defense, I can say that after years of 10-minute showers, it will take practice to learn the art of relaxation and enjoying a good 20-minute soak. Perhaps the shower defines me more than I had realized: a get up and go sort of person; brusque in a way; never stopping to enjoy the moment.

Thank God for 2010 which is changing me. Now I can stop and smell flowers/roses (see my earlier post); watch birds; swing on a swing; and now I can also take the time to enjoy a bath. When ever did I turn into that hurried up-tight little woman that I became? Gosh. I promise myself today that life can only get better. It took a phone call from my husband to make me realize that I was as tight as a steel rod (ugh) and ready to snap. I hate to admit that I did snap ... at him. This was an emergency - I had to de-stress. That's when the bath happened. Now I feel less taut and strung out. The hormones might take several days to settle but I feel soft and pampered (chuckle). God is good. Life is good. And my husband is a good man.

You all have a wonderful evening.
Ciao
xxx

Can't Cry Anymore

2010-04-17T03:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it hurts so bad and no one seems to care. It is not their fault and I don't blame them either. Friends and family... they've all got their own problems and can't always cry with you. Many-a-time they don't even hear you. Perhaps they find you complaining too much. On my part, I've always seen myself as quite sensitive to the pain of others. I might not know what to say to them and consequently I say nothing often, but deep inside I feel for them and I feel their pain.

One of our dogs ran away. Sailor. My husband told me the news only a couple of hours before I got on a plane to head home. I lost it emotionally and I bawled and cried for ages, crumpled on my bathroom floor until I had no tears left. My flatmate came in and tried to console me. I heard her words of compassion and wisdom and appreciated her godly counsel. She is like a younger sister to me, and very kind. Then I began shutting down. I got, showered, dressed and left for the airport.

Many hours, planes, airports, continents and time zones later... I landed at Jacksonville International airport and waited for my husband to pick me up. He was late. My emotions were stifled. I prayed for God to bring Sailor home. Then more bad news. I spent the first 3 days of my vacation in a hotel because our home had plumbing problems (which never got fixed until I left). When I was finally allowed to go home, I found some more tears and wept. The house was a mess... like a whirlwind had visited. Whenever I was alone I sobbed, day and night. I took long walks along paths that I had taken when I took Sailor and his sister, Sasha, on walks last year. I sighted him once; jumped out the car and tried to run across the neighbour's yard to catch him but he was gone. I screamed his name in anguish, jumped back into the car and my friend drove around to where he had been. No sign of him. Not a trace. Some days later she saw him on the road to her children's school. I will always wonder why he ran away. Maybe if I had been home, he'd still be there. Maybe I should have listened to my heart and paid someone to watch him and love him and feed him while I was gone. I thought to call the police, animal shelter, put up posters of 'lost dog - please call this number if you find him'... but I was numb. Truly, my emotions were paralyzed and I could do nothing. I found myself disconnecting from my life.

Sasha hadn't run away. I had begged my husband to have her spayed (as advised by a vet) and even sent a cheque to cover the bill. My husband didn't do it. I arrived to see Sasha, barely a year old, pregnant. On Easter morning, I believe, she gave birth to 5 pups. I was amazed at the great sadness that overcame me. Only a year old, and now a mother. I said I'd take photographs of her babies but I never did. The numbness grew deeper and I could barely get myself to take out her food and water. I was intrigued that she remembered me after my 6-month absence and she longed for my time. She would roll over for a stomach rub in her familiar manner and I missed her even though she was right there. I suppose I missed her because I would leave again soon and there was nothing I could do for her. I had already been told that she would be given away and I had nothing to say. After all, I had never wanted dogs and when they were forced upon me, I loved and cared for them as best as I could under the prevailing circumstances at the time. I grew attached to them. Then I left them to work overseas. And now... on my way to the airport to catch my flights back to DRC, I made a final quietly desperate plea. I asked my husband to please leave Sasha with my neighbour and friend after he gave the puppies away. She was still a puppy herself. The reply to my request was a distracted half-hearted 'okay' while concentrating on the cell phone held up to his left ear. I surrendered to God... Sasha, her pups, Sailor (wherever he was), my life, my love, my future and my husband.

It was a lot for me to handle. It was a difficult vacation. I hurt so bad but no one even noticed. No one even cared. My sister felt my pain over Sailor and I was grateful. A good friend felt my pain over the house and I was grateful. My mom felt my pain... she always does and somehow always knows even when I don't tell her what is going on. I can't cry anymore. I've actually been hurting for years. I've cried since 2005 over one thing or another... crises, tragedies, disasters, burdens and weights all going on in my 'little' life. How much more can I take? I feel like someone who has been underwater for a very long time and just managed to get to the surface.

Gulp. Gasp. Breathing hard and heavy. A hand pulls me out of the water gently and carries me ashore. I am laid on the sand and my head placed in someone's lap as he strokes my hair, my head and temples. Soothing. Peaceful. Hopeful. Alas, I remember the kind words a friend shared with me... God's sweet peace is my weapon. Amen. Yes it is and I boldly declare today that, in spite of that 3 week vacation home, I have not lost my sweet godly peace. I am happy and so I have been every day this year. 2010 is an awesome year for all of us. Believe it and get to living.

Reste benit dans la grace de Dieu.

Exhale

2010-02-28T06:39:00.000-08:00

This year I am a different person.
Most of my life, I have been waiting for that magical moment when everything would be perfect and I could start to live. For instance, waiting to be thin enough to wear that perfect dress; to meet the perfect man; to have the perfect job; get those perfect grades; have the perfect house; the perfect life... waiting to exhale.

It has been 3 decades and now I know that there is no perfect moment. I accept. So this year, I was reborn. The other day I got home tired after a full work day. I parked the car, climbed up the stairs and turned the corner towards my apartment. Suddenly I stopped and admired the brightly coloured flowers growing on the left side overlooking the car park. Guess what happened next? I stopped and I smelled the flowers.

One morning last month, I went for a run. It felt great. I returned to the hotel where I stay and decided to walk around the pool to cool down. I climbed up the stairs to the pool area and after several turns, I noticed the small swing set. I stopped and sat on one swing. Now, when was the last time I did that? Once last year I swung on a children's swing at a park near my home in Georgia. Before that, I think that I'd not been on a swing since childhood.

Some weeks ago, I stopped to listen to the sound of the birds that gather every morning in the trees within the hotel grounds. More often nowadays, I pause and stare at the huge river Congo (that I learned about in history and geography books). As I cross the bridge on my jogging route I watch the fishermen in their simple boats and nets. I catch the beauty in the sunset and sometimes the sunrise too. These are the things that matter. Sometime last year my husband and I bought some take-out food from a Jamaican restaurant and sat in a park to eat. Its the little things... the little miracles in life that we should live for.

When was the last time a little child hugged your neck? [excluding your own kids if you have the sort of kids that hug a lot; including your own kids if you are not a family of huggers; LOL]. When is the last time you had a picnic? The last time you had a spa treatment (ladies & guys too)? The last time you read to an elderly person or a child? The last time you cooked for someone? The last time you visited someone in hospital? The last time you spent time with extended family? The last time you played hopscotch with your kids? The last time you played catch? Do you remember any of those times?

Life is precious and life is short. This is 2010 - a year to remember all the good things in your life and to do some of the fun things that you haven't had time to do in a while (or that you have been putting off until that perfect day). Today is as perfect as it gets. Start living. Just stop what you are doing right now and ... Exhale!

~

GLORY

2010-02-28T04:20:00.000-08:00

Wow. Glory y'all.
Look... can't you see it (with your spirit's eye)?
Can't you feel it? I sure can - His awesome glory.

Thanks for all your lovely and uplifting comments. . . Finally Free, Prerna, Bob West, CathM, RCUBEs, Peter Stone and Violet.

Today, I heard it said that we passed the test and His glory will manifest in our lives. STOP and think about that for a moment. Meditate on this. Many-a-time we go on and on about trials & temptations; being tested and being put in the fire. STOP. All that may be true, but how many times have you congratulated yourselves on passing the test? You made it- well done. You came through the fire and were not burned [at least not much- lol- see the burn marks as a warrior's scars; a reminder that you did it]. Maybe at this point in time, at this juncture in your life, maybe there is not much that God wants you to do ... except stay in place. Just stay in position and let your guard down. You are not waiting for any thing. Simply enjoying the moment. Consider this a REST STOP. Pause and take a breath. Let Him carry you a while.

Earlier I was tuned in to Ron Carpenter's service on TBN Africa and this is what I heard from his message... (this ain't no quote because it is like I heard a whole other message - smile)

We are the yeast and therefore we need a lump of dough to function. Our function is to leaven dough. Yeast is used to cause dough to rise and it needs the right temperature to do so. God wants to use us to cause others to rise and we need the right atmosphere to accomplish this. Peoples, face your situation and change it like yeast changes the dough it is in. Change the family that you are in. Change the church that you are in. Change the town that you are in. Change the school that you are in. Stop asking God to remove you from that environment (as difficult as it is) lest you remain as inactive dry yeast. Choose to continue until you have leavened the entire dough... the entire extended family; the entire congregation; the entire community or campus. Find or create the right temperature and moisture level required for your activation. Realize the level of your anointing and remember to dress daily in your godly armor.

Waste is not always bad. We know of toxic waste, but recall that some waste is valuable raw product that can be turned into precious substances. "Fermentation products contain chemical energy (they are not fully oxidized) but are considered waste products, since they cannot be metabolized further without the use of oxygen." One of yeast's waste product is alcohol through a process known as fermentation. Yeast is used in the manufacture of beers & fine wines. There have been no wasted events in your life because, like a manufacturer, God takes all that waste and turns it all into fine wine.

Hmmm, I digressed back there [smile]. I am lucky to get unto Blogspot today and I really want to share with you the biggest miracle of my life. Honestly, God's done a lot for me and my family, but this is the biggest gift yet. I can't go into details, but believe me when I say that my darling sister is finally free after 14 years of captivity. The Holy Spirit reminds me of the lady with the issue of blood- 12years; the man at the pool of Bethesda- 38years.

My dear reader, how long have you suffered a particular problem? The kind of problem that has caused you angst, deep depression, loss of sound mind... for how long have you wailed in travail? For how long has your marriage lingered or your health teetered on the brink? Today, I speak with boldness and confidence when I say, hang on; hold on; don't give up; because if God can answer a prayer that my family has prayed for over 10years (with incessant prayers and support of pastors at the different churches we each attend, and the prayer groups at each of these churches, and the pastors of friends' churches and their prayer groups too; and the prayers of ministers I never met whom I called on prayerlines & hotlines all over North America)... if God can answer our prayer after all these years of tears, then my friends God can do anything.

Think of the life and ministry of Jesus, Joseph, Daniel and other great men in the bible and in history... from the time of their birth, it took years of ordinary living and human suffering until the appointed time for them to be revealed (made manifest) to the world. Yesterday I watched parts of different movies on Ernie Davis (see movie The Express) and Jim Ellis (see movie Pride). You are almost a nobody until God is ready to reveal you and commence your ministry. So get ready. Be patient. Your time shall come (if it hasn't already). Hold on to that promise - don't let the devil make you doubt it. I choose to believe that 2010 will be our best year yet. Claim this testimony for yourself too, and then watch it unfold in Jesus' precious name. God is good. He is awesome. Have a wonderful month of March!

- GLORY -
xxx

THE WINDING ROAD

2010-01-24T03:27:00.000-08:00

It was curves and hills most of the way. Rocky in parts. Potholes too; lots of them. The bus driver navigated the route effortlessly. He must have done it countless times. I was the only one on the bus; the only passenger, I mean. "VIP", I told the driver. He laughed. Later he echoed in his french accent, "VIP". Yes, I felt special on the bus that day. Thankfully the driver left me to my thoughts. My eyes wandered as I gazed out of the windows. We passed a little village with mud homes scattered on both sides of the road. There were also brick structures - cement brick rather than the familiar burnt brick. Children played in the different yards. I saw three boys along a small foot bridge. I saw a toddler engrossed in some activity and another small child sitting on the steps of an old dwelling. Along the way we passed a mother sitting out in a front yard, breast-feeding, while others conversed about her. The scene was busy yet she appeared oblivious to the goings-on. I watched a lady walking on the side of this major, yet narrow road, carrying a baby. I remember thinking how I could never live near such a busy road-

The Holidays

2010-01-07T06:03:00.000-08:00

Dear readers,

I wish you all a glorious new year 2010! We made it, all thanks to God. Remember that many people gave up at the last minute... a young teenage cousin of mine died a day or two before January first. Very sad. Then this first week of January, 2 family friends also passed away. Life has never been a given, and even though things can get unbearably rough sometimes, let us continue to be grateful and press on. My sister quoted a Chinese proverb in her recent newsletter... The journey is the reward - how true! I now think of it as Life is the journey!

I came to Ghana to spend the holidays with my parents and baby brother whom I had not seen since January 2006 (4 years). Lots had transpired in that time... armed robbers broke into their home in eastern Nigeria, then months later in NJ a man broke into my apartment. My parents later relocated to Ghana two years ago, and I relocated to the southern U.S. a little over a year ago. 2009 was a turbulent year for me. After a turbulent 2007-8, I positively anticipated 2009 to bring peace in its wake. With a new husband and new home, I had much excitement and trepidation. Alas, the strain and stress became a torment and I am glad that 2009 is gone. Golly, I must be the happiest person in the world.

For those in hard places right now, hold on to hope. Hang on to the good things in your life and believe God that things will certainly improve. After all, as is said, once you hit rock bottom the only way possible is up. A minister at church once told me (after I cried out in desperation and she prayed with me), your situation will get much worse before it can get better. I was miserable yet I braced myself. How right she was. After she said that, all hell broke loose in my life. Honestly, back then, I didn't know that I could survive the year. I was on the brink... an amalgam of despair and frustration. But I did survive, because God gave me His strength and I leaned on Him. It is not over until God says it is over. As for me, I think my life is just beginning in some respects. I can't explain it properly but kind of like a new lease.

From a distance, now living miles away from my old life in the States, I have had time to reflect and mull over the many experiences of 2009. At this juncture I know the future will be greater than the past. At this precise moment I feel a glorious peace in my spirit, and as I gaze outside through the open door to the balcony, I see the clear blue sky and smile... then I burst into song I feel good... na na na na na.

Accra is a beautiful and colourful west African city full of life and energy. My parents live in a quiet suburb and this has afforded me much needed rest. This holiday has been a special retreat and I have recuperated physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually from the strains and stresses of the past four years. I have taken lots of photos and will leave with fond memories. I was glad to meet my parents alive and well. The years roll by and the human body ages. Death hovers and I am not naive to the fact that not one of us knows the time nor the place when and where we shall breathe our last. I am thankful for each moment spent in the company of loved ones.

In a few days I shall return to the central African city where I work. Back to the grind. A trying assignment but a welcome source of livelihood. I will be miles from my family once more, dealing with the daily hassles of living in a war-ravaged nation while being overwhelmed with sympathy for the people who have no where else to call home. At the same time, a certain weary despair for the world in general settles upon my heart - why all the fighting? Wars from Asia to Africa? Instability in Europe and the US? Why can't we just all get along? But in all things we should give thanks and be grateful for what we have. I hope to have better internet access when I go back and plan to resume regular activity on blogspot. Thanks for reading and sorry to be missing all your lovely blog posts. I do try to catch up as much as I can, although not usually able to leave comments.

Again, I wish you all a glorious new year 2010! We made it, all thanks to God.

2009-12-17T12:42:00.000-08:00

Thin
A small tear
Green
Dark and lush
Broad
The size of a palm
Covering
Raindrops roll off

Shelter
It blocks out the sun
Food
A caterpillar nibbles
Rest
For a weary grasshopper
Growth
As its veins run long
Life
Tis a part of a cycle

- THE LEAF

WORDS ON A PAGE

2009-12-17T12:29:00.001-08:00

One day, I was thinking of all the different ways to capture (hold) one moment forever - inspired by Rogue ...

The words seemed to just drop unto the page without any deliberation or thought in my head... then a phrase continued to resound ... Words on a page!

Dreams
Images
Words on a page

Sketches
Paintings
Words on a page

Murals
Mosaics
Words on a page

Photographs
Lyrics
Words on a page

Poetry
Prose
Words on a page

Pottery
Sculptures
Words on a page

Film
Projections
Words on a page

Pixels
Focus
Words on a page

Visions
Imagination
Words on a page

Cartoon
Collages
Words on a page

Videography
Cinematography
Words on a page

SOUNDS

2009-11-22T09:52:00.000-08:00

The air conditioner rattles away on low cool.
The motor of the small fridge hums nonstop all day; every day.
The gentle tapping of the keyboards as I put my thoughts into prose.
A car pulls away from the office block in which I sit;
the main gates to the yard creak open to let it by.
A faint knocking on the clinic front door, then a louder knocking on another door as the owner of the knuckles searches a means to enter.
A tiny jingle alerts me to a message on my screen,
just as a cell phone sings its tune.
A discussion with a friend with a heavy European accent.
Then all goes quiet as the power shuts off suddenly and blackness envelopes me.
A moment goes by when I could have heard a pin drop.
Now the revving up of the computer as it boots up again.
The air conditioner comes on again, and the fridge picks up its tune.

A Blur

2009-11-22T09:08:00.000-08:00

I sit here dwelling on the past few months. Its all been a blur. Started a volunteer position and then got an offer from an old job. Just settling into a new life, and new routine, when there's an interruption in rhythm. Stress everywhere. The phone's been down for weeks and I feel isolated. No internet either so disconnected from the world. Too much boiling inside of me. A to-do list pending for months now. My partner in his own world and unconcerned. Not connected. Alone. Lonely. Enfin, I get my driving license but days later I'm hurrying to catch a plane. My darling hustled my bags along and at the gate the tears began. Sadness, relief, anxious anticipation. Did I run away from a stressful life... perhaps. But moreso, I ran towards a necessary bridge that would link me to my future. I cross one last gate into the baggage claim area, about forty hours later, on another continent- crowds bursting with excited energy and activity. Foreign languages graze my ears as my mind tries to catch up with the present. I want to speak and I know not to use English; but instead Arabic or Igbo words try to tumble out. Its all a jumble in my head. The languages. The rhythm. My life. Yes, its all been a blur.

The Kid And The Coat

2009-11-21T11:40:00.000-08:00

You know those puffy jackets that are made for extreme cold weather… with small squares designed to trap air in a bid to offer maximum insulation to the wearer? The ones worn by skiers on mountain slopes, or scientists headed for the research station in Antarctica? Yes, those ones that make one look as round as the Michelin man. Well, I saw one of those coats today. Not a big deal you might think, but for some reason it was a big deal. For some reason the image of that coat stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, let me tell you why. It was a big deal because I saw that coat here, right here in the middle of the center of the African continent; in a province known to be one of the hottest in this country. I saw it the other morning on a little child no more than five years old. He (or she - babies have the same face and with such short hair, who but the mother can tell?) stood there, with his back to me on the street, in this light-coloured coat and nothing else on. Barefeet and all. I stifled a laugh and then wondered a long time about this kid and the coat.

FACES

2009-11-21T11:23:00.000-08:00

A sea of African faces...
Some of them so young;
They might have never seen the sea
or ever heard the waves.
Born in this Sahara village
out in the middle of nowhere
desert sands stretching
for miles and miles -
endless...

LJ
18112009

Bits 'n' Bobs

2009-11-15T11:22:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

Thanks for sticking with me. I loved your comments for sure. I've found out that, for some reason yet unknown to me, I can sneak into Blogspot on Sundays. Of course it takes hours for the site to open (no exageration) but its better than nothing. I've missed all your posts and so I am happy that I can come into the office and catch up with all your news on Sunday evenings. Needless to say, I have no social life here. I go from home to work, then back home again. There's lots to share. Right now I'm still house hunting. Found a lovely new house but no regular power and so I hesitate to take it. Maybe I'm being fussy, but I love to read and I refuse to invest in the 'wahala' (in Nigerian broken English, wahala means 'trouble') of owning a generator. So, I wait for my miracle ... a small apartment close by work with somewhat regular electricity.

Shall I make you laugh? I got my work car, and then got my work driving license, and the car sits outside my office every day. One day I'll have to start using it, I suppose. The truth is simply that there are so many pedestrians and motorcycles and bicycles on these predominantly tiny, narrow, hilly roads that I can't imagine adding my four-wheeler to that mix. Oh Lord, I pray for courage. Even to walk about scares me. The first day I ventured deep into the market with trusted coworkers, it was harrowing. I was nearly knocked down by a bicycle. He literally missed me by centimeters and had the nerve to yell angrily in French, or was it Lingala ... maybe Swahili. I was too busy trying not to be run over that I missed what language he was speaking.

Ah, adventures that can only be found in Africa... and Asia... and the Middle East, and lots of other places actually. In spite of my adjustment issues, it is a great experience and I'm getting settled. My French is improving forcefully, but thanks to my French teacher back in high school (Mrs. Idu at Kent College- she'd be so proud of me), I can remember quite a lot. I understand quite a bit and read easily, but need help with conversation. Alors, any French speakers out there? I salute you all. Golly, anyone who speaks more than one language is actually very clever.

Donc, mes amis, c'est tout pour ce moment mais avez vous une bonne semaine [so, my friends, that's all for the moment but you have a good week]! I gotta get a ride home. Its almost 10pm and its back to work tomorrow.

Bonsoir Tout Le Monde

2009-10-24T13:02:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone,

Gosh it has been ages. This won't be long but I just managed to wriggle my way on this computer that has lots of sites blocked including blogspot. Somehow I stumbled upon it in some foreign language (Italian I guess), and it opened. Anyway, I am now half way across the world in Congo DRC. Google it and see. It has been an exciting 2 weeks so far and I'm sure I'll have plenty to share with you readers soon.

Ciao and stay blessed.
LJ

Worship is the answer

2009-10-05T00:17:00.001-07:00

Wow, I've just been blessed by one of my sisters-in-law who greatly uplifted my spirits and shared an awesome testimony. Here's something she said ... a lovely insight...

I CAN BOLDLY DECLARE THAT PRAYER, PRAISE, WORSHIP ... WORSHIP ... WORSHIP IS THE ANSWER. WORSHIP QUIETS OUR SOUL, AND EMPOWERS US TO SEE THE BEAUTY INSTEAD OF FOCUSING ON THE BEAST.

A big amen to that & you all have a wonderful week!

A Real Woman

2009-09-25T05:30:00.000-07:00

I once wrote an essay titled "A Real Woman" for a Child & Adult Development class. In it I mentioned the differences between the sexes ... my personal perspective on an age-old subject. Of course some of you, men & women, Christian or not, might see it differently. Here is a quote from that essay:

" 'So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field. But for Adam no suitable helper was found. ²¹ So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man's ribs and closed up the place with flesh. ²² Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.

²³ The man said,
"This is now bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called 'woman,'
for she was taken out of man."

²⁴ For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh' [Genesis 2v20-24].

God created the first male on the sixth day of His creation. Then on the seventh day He rested. I believe it was sometime after this that God carved out the first woman from the rib of that first man. Therefore man came first. Nevertheless God created man [male and female] in His own image, so men and women came from the same prototype – God Himself. God’s intention was to provide “woman” as a suitable helper to “man”, thus uniting them into one entity [Genesis 1v26-27; 2v20-24]."

Recently, at a women's conference at my church I heard it like this: Women do not need a man. We don't need a man to complete us. From that rib we were made ... a complete person, and therefore we can function alright all by ourselves. On the contrary, men have a missing rib. Thus, they need a woman to fill the gap. They need a woman to complete them. However, even though we, women, are complete, we were created for the primary purpose of being a helper to our men, specifically our husbands. The theme & title of the 3-day conference was Desperate Women [i.e. desperate for Jesus].

I encourage all you beautiful ladies out there to grow your self esteem and confidence because you are good all by yourself! Whether married, single, separated or otherwise, you are good all by your self. What you need is not a man to validate you [you ain't desperate like that], but for God to complete you [be desperate for God]. I believe that most men would prefer confident complete women to bless their lives. Again, this is just my personal take. Feel free to share your views and comments, and have a glorious weekend!

2009-09-23T09:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

I am moved to share this with you. Although it mentions women, it truly applies to men also. Be blessed as you read it, and remember to pass on a blessing to others.

To all the "sisters" who I have known for a very long time and those who have only recently come into my life:

THIS SAYS IT ALL:

Time Passes ...

Life happens ...

Distance separates ...

Children grow up ...

Jobs come and go.
Love waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're suppose to do ...

Hearts break.
Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors.
Careers end ...

BUT Sisters are there,
no matter how much time & how many miles are between you.
A girl friend is never farther away than needing her can reach ...

When you have to walk that lonesome valley & you have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end ...

Sometimes they will even break the rules and walk beside you, or come in and carry you out. Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters ...

Daughter-in-laws, sisters, sister-in-laws, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!

The world wouldn't be the same without women, and neither would I. When we began this adventure called womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other. Every day, we need each other still.

You are all very special to me!

No Voice

2009-09-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

How dare they?
Walked in and handcuffed me
Refused to listen to my pleas
Guilty until proven innocent!

How dare they?
Is the law for us or against us?
Tears on the face of loved ones.
Heads shaking, others looked on

How dare they?
Bound by men just like me.
And where was God?
Because I did nothing wrong.

How dare they?
Etched an image in my memory forever.
Distrust of men in uniform
Black, white, all alike.

How dare they?
Harvard professor & Sean Bell
Rodney King,
Now me

How dare they?
Caused me to anger and cry
Let me go without a word
Not an apology was heard

How dare they?
Showed me the ugly side of life.
I also am a man in uniform
But for a moment I was a man scorned.

A few weeks ago, this scenario played out in my life and I was deeply affected. Although the thoughts are mine, the handcuffed hands were not ... but I sat there and watched it all. Sad, alone, two hundred and sixty miles away from home. When it was all over, it felt like a strange dream. The experience taught me so much - God is an awesome deliverer!

Aloha

2009-09-08T05:25:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone,

I would like to appreciate all my readers for being a part of A Voice On Fleming Road. Many of you have become cyber friends who encourage me and show concern for my personal affairs. It is so touching because a friend laughs when I laugh & cries when I cry and I feel that from you all. My sincere apologies for not yet responding to your most recent comments [Sarah, Darsden, CathM, RCUBEs, Christine, Peter ...]. I also acknowledge all new readers & followers to my blog - thanks for stopping by and for your lovely and kind comments. Please continue to follow as I hope to be back to blogging regularly as soon as life permits - lol!

There is so much to share, but let me leave you with a few photos for now...

Sailor, then and now ...

... sister Sasha

Remember my completed jigsaw puzzle? Well, I finally got that framed and it hangs on our study wall. When things get rough or I feel myself lacking motivation, a glance at my jigsaw reminds me that I will get through that tough spell. I completed most of that piece when confined to my home all weekend becuase of a health problem- I survived it! A new puzzle brings excitement in spite of anticipated anxieties about how hard it might be and brief frustrations along the way - I finished it!

More of God's creatures ...

Remember these?
I'm still working to improve my amateur photography skills

You all have an awesome week :)
LJ

Happy Labor day weekend!

2009-09-06T20:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

How has your year been thus far? Gosh, what a year it has been on my side of the world. My life seems to have run away with me and the last couple of months have been rather unsettling, in the sense that unexpected events continue popping up and catching me well off guard. My goodness! [I really do not like surprises or sudden changes in plan or direction (i.e. upheavals - lol).]

Now though, I hear God saying to me: Hold on, for these storms won't last forever. As the thunder cracks, the lightening flashes and the rains pour. I remain in the safety of my home, unafraid and know that the weather will improve. I command God's peace to be still, then settle down to wait it out. Before long dawn arrives, bringing calm in its wake ... broken branches and trees reminding me of what occurred the previous night. Since being in Georgia, I have experienced many small isolated thunder storms. Each time, the next day's news reports the damage that was done and I realize how lucky I was. In my spiritual life I have faced many storms too. Remaining in the security of God, I have waited it out and watched the spiritual climate change. This is my testimony:- I am still here.

Friends, for those of you passing through a tough spell, be encouraged. Hold on for life will get better. For others who are having a good season right now, be grateful and do not take things for granted. Thank God for every good thing. Have a glorious Labor day weekend!

LJ

Sisters ...

2009-08-11T18:57:00.000-07:00

This is a salute to all sisters (and brothers), whether real siblings or just people we consider as the friend that sticketh closer than a brother [Proverbs 18:24]. Reference is made to my blog post dated June 11, 2009 and titled Give Me My Flowers While I Am Alive. It came to mind as I prepared to write this post.

As you know from the aforementioned post, I have a real sister [CathM], but I also have lots of other sisters. Childhood friends who have known me all their lives. A younger sister- a dear girl whom I got close to while living in Nigeria. A big sister- who opened her home to me and invited me into her family in NJ. Close friends the world over who took me as their younger sister- 2 wonderful nurses and a doctor in Nigeria; a lovely nurse from Cameroon & one from Liberia; my coworkers in Liberia. The list goes on & on. Truly I have been blessed because wherever God has placed me, He has sent the right people my way. Nothing is a coincidence or accident, and I believe that our paths have crossed by divine plan. Even you, my readers & fellow bloggers, our paths have connected in cyber space for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

Today I realized that God has done it again. He has sent 5 wonderful ladies into my life. In the past, when I thought about beautiful black women, my mind would go to the likes of Cece Winans, Whitney Houston, Angela Bassett, etc. One day I read a presentation on Strong Black Women and remembered the women in my life. My mother, my sister, these are great examples of beautiful women I esteem highly. Now I add the 5 ladies I met at a church group. My spirit loved them from the first and I feel a spiritual connection. Each radiates an elegantly gentle and humble spirit, yet their inner strength and beauty is undoubted. In addition to these qualities, their individual experiences and Christian maturity make them attractive, inside & out, with smiles that come from the heart ... and if only you knew their generous nature. Mentors, role models, God strategically places people in our paths but many times they go unnoticed by us. We need to pay attention to the traffic in our lives and notice the people who come our way. Be kind to everyone we meet because God may have put us in their path for a purpose. Besides, what goes around sure comes around and the kindness would come back to us in some way.

Hebrews 13v2 reminds us not to forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Be blessed & remember to be a blessing too!

THE WOODPECKER

2009-07-18T19:57:00.000-07:00

I sat there. Just sat there gazing through the window pane. Then I noticed him through an open window as he climbed slowly and steadily up a big tree trunk. His red head bobbed as he went along, bobbing up and down as he pecked. Occasionally he would pause as if to survey the lie of the land - the portion of tree bark he was working. Working, he was, yet some might say he was destroying. Yes, he was destroying the tree, attacking it and creating holes in the beautiful old pine trunk. He, on the other hand, must think that he was simply carving out a haven for himself ... taking refuge in an old tree.

I wrote this piece the other day. Posting it on my blog now makes me feel like I need to carve out a safe haven for myself in this topsy turvy world of mine. I long for a physical place of refuge. However, deep down inside me I know that God is my safe haven; my place of refuge; my rock and sure foundation. I pray that He keep us all safe, and hide us in His most secret place where we can rest as peace and love flow upon us without ceasing. Have a blessed weekend!

SLEEP

2009-07-17T17:16:00.000-07:00

Hello Readers,

I sincerely apologise for my infrequent blog posts lately, and I truly appreciate your still visiting my blog. A lot of things have been going on in my personal life that made me quite weary, yet God gives me strength to go on. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. When you stumble, hold on lest you fall. But if life manages to knock you down, pick yourself back up and keep on going. It 'aint over until God says it's over. Have a blessed and restful weekend!

Here's a piece I found among some old notes of mine from last year [raw unedited version] ...

My eyes begin to cry
Why cry?
Slowly the glands open their dams and the rivers of tears unleash
As the eyelids flutter and the yawns begin their rhythm
Faster now, yet faster, one yawn becomes another and the eyes feverishly fight to close
The mind still alert yet slowed far below operational levels
The adrenaline kicks in and she goes into panic mode
Oh yeah, I am so sleepy
Oh no, tiredness has set in and now who knows?
Shall the mind still be able to control her thoughts ... her words
REM will take the final frontier
Easy now, watch what you say
Answer no more questions lest the truth of your heart be known to the stranger far across the seas
Indeed, REM - the last frontier - I concur
In the ubiquity of slumber she shall rest
Drifting off as he appears in her dreams.

Appointment With Death

2009-07-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

I traveled up to NC for a funeral last Friday. The minister reminded us that death is the one appointment that we will not be late for or forget to show up at. He called it a divine appointment. An appointment with death. Old, young, rich or poor; when death comes knocking there is no where to run to and no where to hide. The bible says that it is appointed once for man to die. A time to be born and a time to die. I ponder these things. The mystery of life. I wonder ...

A country lane
A fish pond
An old man and woman
Married fifty years

A funeral
The procession
Brave faces and tears
An appointment with death

Grandchildren
Great grans
Hustle and bustle
Families gather for comfort

Soul food
Sausage and grits
Hash browns and ham
Home cooked cuisine

Memories
What might have been
No warning sign
No hint of tomorrow

Darkened face
Still as stone
No memory left
So much left undone

Serene
Refreshing
Fresh dew upon the earth
The early morning sunrise

Life
Ours to go on
I return to my world
Until the last breath is done

Jack & Jill - Jael

2009-07-05T13:31:00.000-07:00

Hello again readers, this is a continuation of an earlier piece titled Jack & Jill - The Move. This time it is narrated by Jill.

The US Airways flight 415 touched down in Phoenix at exactly six thirty-nine in the evening. The temperature was 75 F and the time on the huge digital clock mounted in the baggage claim lounge read 19:20. I located a trolley and moved to position myself near the origin of the conveyer belt. This airport is so ultramodern. On my way to get my bags I had passed the WELCOME TO PHOENIX sign overhead and a beautiful large eagle crest etched into the flooring, enclosed within a circle meant to be a compass pointing out North, South, East and West. It looked real nice. There are lots of other cool digital displays and the signs had enabled me to navigate the airport easily. Lots of new construction had been undertaken over the last few years and I contemplated checking out the new car rental terminal. A lovely older gentleman who'd sat next to me on the plane had told me about it; the biggest of its kind in Arizona (and maybe in the whole country). He had said it was close by and I needed a car anyway to get to Avondale which was less than a half hour away. Spying some neat shops, I realized that I had eaten very little all day. I walked over to one and bought a snack- a packaged tuna sandwich and a bottle of vitamin water. It would do for the moment. As I got back to the conveyer belt, I noticed my bags had been pulled off to the side. Without a thought as to why, I loaded my trolley and moved toward the seats to gather myself and eat.

Jael, honey, I've missed you. I nearly jumped out of my skin and my water was knocked off its precarious perch on my suitcase. Jack quickly reached for it and spared my denim skirt from getting as soaked as it might have been otherwise. Hi. What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were having a late meeting out of town? Jack embraced me in a tight bear hug and kissed my face. You look gorgeous and that silk green blouse is perfect on you. The colour makes your eyes sparkle. Sandwich still in hand, I managed to hug him back with my one free hand. He looked good too. He had on a striped mauve and white jumper over a pair of new blue jeans. He looked like a magazine model and I often wondered why he had never considered modeling. He was smiling and right then I felt in my spirit that all my fears were unfounded. He was a good man. This was a good decision. I loved him. I excused myself from the meeting to surprise you, Jack finally answered. You sure did, you scared the daylights out of me, I retorted; you'd have missed me if I hadn't decided to eat before heading over to the car rental. He chuckled and got my things together. I hope you don't mind eating and walking at the same time? he asked politely. Not at all, I replied. His arm around my shoulders, the other pushing the trolley, we made for the nearest exit. By now it was almost eight thirty-five and I was pleasantly exhausted.

We arrived at Jack's home in Avondale just after nine. The house was gorgeous and I bet he used an interior decorator. You like?, he had one eyebrow raised and his dimples became more prominent. I love it, I said dramatically. This was an absolutely gorgeous single family home with 4 bedrooms and 2 baths. It was a duplex, had a double garage and lots of space all around. All this for the unbeatable price of $50000, thanks to foreclosure. There was a huge tree at the front of the house, so close that one could actually climb it to enter one of the rooms on the top floor. The building was cream coloured with a soft pink hue. Jack took me on a quick tour of the house. I could tell that he was also tired. Built in the 1980s, the entire interior had been further modernized. I admired the huge French windows in the living room that opened out on a small quaint veranda. The white wicker furniture with plush cushions were perfect here. The big kitchen window gave the most amazing view ... like a picture frame. Jack said that in the daytime one could see the park against a background of the mountain peaks. I saw the window seat in the dining area and decided that that would be my reading spot. It must have been awful for the previous owners to give it up. Jack went downstairs to heat up dinner while I took a shower and changed. Feeling so refreshed I joined him in the living room.

He had set up our meal in front of the television. Soft rock music played in the background and huge candles in the corner of the room had been lit. I was asked to have a seat while he brought out a bottle of vin blanc. Taking his seat opposite me, he said the grace and we began to eat. Jack was a great cook. He had spent a year working in Paris as a chef's apprentice, either after high school or after college. While he was expert at cooking and creating hotel-style cuisines, I stuck to perfecting my skills with home-cooked meals. We ate and talked. Hours later we called it a night and turned in. My first night in my new home with Jack. This was the beginning of our life together. Still, the anxieties remained and I was not sure why. However, somewhere in the back of my head I think I knew the answer and was simply afraid to admit it. Ah, all in God's time. I would try not to worry. Already I could hear Jack's even breathing which meant that he was fast asleep. I let my mind drift to thoughts of the future and the trip to Montgomery to see my host family- that was going to be fun because Missy and Carla would meet me there. Then I thought of all the things I needed to do the next day, making a mental list that seemed to grow longer and longer ... call grandpa and Missy; search for flights to Alabama; call Mr. Jameson to check on the status of my shipment; prepare for grad school and find out if Missy would also be at La Jolla; I certainly had enough to occupy my mind these first few days. All would be well.

PRAY THE DEVIL BACK TO HELL

2009-06-21T12:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

Awesome. I just finished watching a wonderful interview and highly recommend it to every one out there as a "must see". I expect that you can request a copy from your local PBS station or find it online. I worked in Liberia from 2004-2006, a country in West Africa that boasts the first female president in the history of the continent of Africa. An amazing story with amazing heroes. Check it out & you'll be glad that you did. It only takes someone ordinary to do something super-ordinary. Open your heart today and let God use you to move mountains and change lives and reshape the world into a better place. Let us all join hands and stand in prayers of agreement that we each will do our best to follow our heart and do the right thing because every little step counts. This has stirred up my spirit so strong this afternoon that I feel I could preach a sermon- lol! Be blessed as you watch the documentary film "Pray The Devil Back To Hell". It is about the Liberian struggle, when the mothers (local market women) rose up to declare that enough was enough. They fought for freedom.

Pray The Devil Back To Hell - a PBS television interview of Liberian Leyman Gbowee (she fought for freedom) and American Abigail Disney (she told the story of freedom). This topic is also presented by Bill Moyers on his web page: Bill Moyers Journal. Have a blessed week and do come back and share your feedback about the film. Thanks.

LJ

A Psalm of Life

What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
    Life is but an empty dream! --
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
    And things are not what they seem.

Life is real!  Life is earnest!
    And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
    Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
    Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
    Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
    And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
    Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
    In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
    Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
    Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, -- act in the living Present!
    Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
    We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
    Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
    Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
    Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
    With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
    Learn to labor and to wait.

 -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Keep looking beyond tomorrow…
temptation whispers in ill-humored fashion.
Sand sifts smoothly through the hourglass
half full, half empty at the birth of twilight
and an eerie notion stills my heart.
Keep looking beyond tomorrow…
temptation now drones my name.
But sand has drifted in errant ways.
My path has steepened; I labor to climb.
Wind’s shifted north, I’m facing south
and pushing forth one inch at a time.
Keep looking beyond tomorrow…
temptation calls its wretched wish,
though I can’t see one grain of sand
past the one on which I stand.
Doubts pushing and pulling with equal force,
one step forward two steps back
till silence roars; temptation no longer calls.
Sand sifts quickly through the hourglass
half empty, half full at the birth of twilight
and a black moon eclipses the sun.

Musings In May

2009-06-12T20:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
Hello and I hope you've all had a good month so far. This piece was written last month and I apologise for publishing it so late [I was waiting to upload more photos but my camera battery is acting up]. Well, lots happened in the past few weeks that caused me to be away from my blog quite a bit. Now I can't wait to catch up with all that I have missed on your blog posts and promise to respond to all your comments.

I went up to Massachusetts for my brother's graduation from Graduate School. It was a lovely 5 day trip and I traveled by train which afforded me time to write most of the pieces from The Train Ride to The Waterfront. My husband had driven me all the way to the station in the nearest big city. The train was three hours late arriving so I left Savannah around 0400h to DC; there I had about a 4h lay over and switched trains. The second train was much less comfortable than the first, and the reduced leg room was inconvenient. I got to Boston by eight o'clock in the midst of the morning hustle and bustle; tired. As often as I plan to travel light, I rarely ever seem to accomplish it. Struggling with bags, and following the hand-scribbled instructions in my pocket, I made my way to the Red line and got off at Harvard Square. There I walked a bit until I located the bus terminal where I was to wait for the 73. For some strange reason, sometimes you pay when you get on a bus and other times when you get off. I puzzled over this apparent flaw in the MBTA bus system for days, one that possibly makes sense to a certain breed of Bostonians but not to me. Sometimes you go to pay and the driver says "pay when you get off" and other times you walk in and have a seat only to see people behind you paying immediately. One evening when the bus carried a sparse population of passengers, I ventured to beg for clarity by asking the driver. He explained that you pay as you get off the bus only when you embark on an outbound bus from Harvard Square. Otherwise you pay when you get on the bus. How utterly confusing for newcomers to the city? Surely there must be an easier way ... just ask NYC. Anyway, the AMTRAK train journey was quite the twenty-four hour scenic route.

I arrived at my girlfriend's home as she was leaving for work. From there she would head to NC for a few days. So I had the house to myself- what glee! S' home has always been a safe haven in which to unwind and de-stress. It is like going for a retreat and checking in to a bed & breakfast. Heavenly. The spare room was made up for me, with towels, soap and a lovely lavender body lotion (by Clarence O. Bigelow) set aside for my use. Then there is the bathroom which is actually like a spa. The impressive array of face and body and hair and feet treatments, washes, cleansers, lotions, shampoos, etc. entices my senses every time. It was a joy to wake up with eager anticipation of the treat of a long shower each morning. Bliss. Then the kitchen, I mean cuisine, is so homely and inviting. Being a natural born cook, as is the rest of her family (including mom, sister and brothers), the kitchen lacked nothing. It is no wonder that I treasure my trips to Boston which never fail to leave me refreshed and rejuvenated. I can then return to my life, better able to cope and continue from whence I left off.

H's graduation week went well. I attended a dinner for students and their families the first evening. It was lovely. The day after, my brother and I spent time together in the city. Then on Saturday we visited a market in a posh part of town. It was great and I bought a huge container of the biggest, reddest and sweetest strawberries I have ever seen, for just $2. Awesome. I saw some lovely displays of garden herbs, a photographer's work, antiques and lots of other items. I bought some Rosemary tea and my brother got some lovely homemade cookies. Later we snacked on your all-American favourite, hotdogs and french fries. The fourth day was graduation day. I found out that transportation is difficult in that neighbourhood on Sundays. It took forever to get a taxi to the university. I finally went to the pay phone to call one and was told to call back in twenty-five minutes to see if one had become available. Imagine that! Golly gosh, where was I? I suddenly missed NYC's transportation system. Eventually I sighted a taxi and managed to flag him down. The pleasant older Lebanese driver proceeded to take me to the wrong school. Mildly anxious at this stage, I remained calm as he tampered with his GPS and soon we were headed for my brother's school, Brandeis. I made it into the hall just in time, laughing at the memory of the stern instructions to be seated at least a half hour prior to the start of the procession. The ceremony ended well, as did the day. My brother and I met up with S (now back from NC) and her brother to have dinner in honor of his recent achievement. He had done my whole family proud. Especially in light of the fact that after first semester, the student loan company canceled his loan because they were no longer offering personal loans (or something to that effect). Nevertheless, the good lord made it possible for my brother to stay in school and come out with great success. Praise God!

Upon my return home, another overwhelming event occurred. An earlier discussion had taken place where I had clearly stated that I have no desire for pets at this time. Firstly, I have never personally had to raise any animal so I would need to prepare my mind psychologically for it. Then I would want to start with something simple like goldfish. Plus, I have so much going on in my life that it would be a strain on me. Finally, I would get dumped with the task of taking care of the animal which I did not want. As words that fall on deaf ears are in vain, so my explanations were a waste. My husband came home one late night with a month-old puppy. A few days later he traveled and guess who was stuck with a pet and no clue what to do? My prayer was simple: God, please let not this puppy die. By His grace, Sailor is waxing strong today. I survived the five-day self-taught immersion crash course on Raising A Puppy Alone. I graduated but still have tons to learn :). While my husband was in SC for Memorial weekend, I had the house all to myself. Another gift of a "me" time from God. Besides tidying up the yard and getting the house cleaned, I spent time with my neighbour down the road and her children. It was nice to be able to operate at my own rhythm for a few days. Unlike my husband who always seems to be on the go and needs to be "up and doing", I tend to like a peaceful and tranquil existence. I love to work and be busy, but it needs to be busy helping people or doing my job as a doctor which gives me much joy, yet my innate tempo is on the slow quiet side ... curled up with a book, hours working at a jigsaw puzzle, gardening, a lazy long walk or short jog. It fascinates me how different people are. Whether naturally or as a result of learning or exposure, we become who we are.

Two days ago, I had a bit of a health problem. It was completely unexpected and for me who has generally been pretty healthy, it took an emotional toll. I tried to brave it for hours especially since I was at a loss as to what to do. An extreme feeling of anxiousness and confusion as the symptoms heightened caused me to finally ask my husband to take me to the Emergency Room. We must have gotten there about four or five o'clock a.m. and I was discharged after a few hours around nine. I spent the entire weekend at home, receiving separate prescriptions for complete bed rest from my mom and aunt over the phone. Of course it drove me nuts to lie in bed all day. I had to get up and sit for a while, I dare confess, and even walk about the house a bit. I nearly completed a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, so you get an idea of how absolutely bored I was... lol. It is a lovely jigsaw that I bought at the Boston market from a couple who create the pictures themselves, then have them sent off to the factory to be made into jigsaws. Pretty cool process, huh?

Much later I realized that in actual fact I was depressed. Hmmm, this surprised me somewhat and ought not to have done so really. But of course, things tend to be different when they happen to "us" as opposed to "other people". Henceforth my empathy goes to patients who are prescribed "complete bed rest". It is easier said than done, doctor! I won't go into detail, but permit me to say that being unable to articulate my emotions and thoughts, this incident leaves me feeling a little numb and sad; bereft to be more precise. Perhaps at a later date I shall be able to process this entire experience psychically and move on. It can be a rather emotional ordeal yet the good lord remains our almighty physician. He is a healer [Exodus 15v26] and maketh all things beautiful in His time [Ecclesiastes 3v11]. Some illnesses are not unto death, but for the glory of God [John 11v4]. God has a purpose and a plan in every event, and I look forward to discovering the blessing in this incident. After the initial weakness and shock, and in spite of the intense pain that racked my body, all I could do was pray and praise [Acts 16v25-26] for I knew that what the enemy intended as harm, the lord shall use for my good.

Today I watched an awesome ministration by Pastor Schreve on "marriage". I caught it by chance and was glad that I did. Extremely insightful and invaluable information for all married folk and anyone who might be contemplating marriage any time in the future (lol). Check it out at FromHisHeart.org. Well, I just thought to share the recent goings-on in my personal life. Many-a-time it is therapeutic for me to do so and it might possibly also encourage or touch someone else out there. I wish you all a wonderful week as we leave May behind. Summer is in the air; let us all welcome June with open arms, fresh hope and reaffirmed security that our future will be brighter than our past. Afterall, God is in control and I admonish us all to stay focused and keep the faith because the best is yet to come:)

Give Me My Flowers While I Am Alive

2009-06-11T20:17:00.000-07:00

I've often wondered about "soul mates" and what that really means. Somehow I concluded that a soul mate is like one's other half. All my life I have had a soul mate. Someone with whom I get along even through the rough times. Someone with whom I have shared secrets and for whom I have kept secrets. Someone who has been there since the day I was born. Someone I looked up to over the years and admired. Someone who set the pace and I followed in her footsteps. Someone who calls to check on me and offer sound advice. Someone who encourages me in my walk with God. Someone who has overcome grave trials and tribulation yet carries on and continues the fight called life. Someone who is always smiling even when her heart is heavy. Someone who is a wonderful inspiration in all that she does. Someone who is gifted in many ways and has so much to offer the world including her experiences. A gentle soul who is so wise beyond her years. A lovely spirit filled with so much goodness. Kind, caring, compassionate, dear and a true sweetheart. I have loved her; cried with her and laughed with her. Yes, truly I have a soul mate. She is my dearest, oldest and closest friend and she is my big sister. Some of you fellow bloggers know her as CathM and undaunted I do declare that she is simply the best. An aunt of mine always says "give me my flowers while I am still alive" and finally I get it.

Have a glorious weekend everyone, and may the good Lord show Himself to us in a big way this coming week ... in Jesus' precious name. Amen.

Excerpt I

2009-06-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
I have decided to pen down some excerpts that develop in my head as they develop. One day they might be incorporated into full stories. In this case the whole story outline is already trying to form in my head. Here is the first one and I do hope you enjoy it ...

Her feet moved so slowly as she walked. Her hair hung over her face, matted by sweat and her tears. As she passed the lamp post the light caught the silhouette of a troubled soul. Just then it began to rain. For each rain drop that landed upon her, a tear rolled down each cheek. Lightening struck and thunder cracked. Her sobs grew louder and more intense. Her eyes continued to look at the ground unseeing. Puddles were forming all around her, coalescing into large pools of water. Absent-mindedly she crossed the side streets until she reached another street corner. The big clock above the gas station sounded the hour. It was ten o'clock at night and she was on her way home. A place that had become more of a prison than a home. A place where her freedom was denied her and she felt like a puppet on a string. At times she was merely a robot or zombie doing things automatically with no feeling or thought involved. Where was God? He who promised that He would never leave her nor forsake her and would be her helper [Hebrews 13v5-6]? He who said He was not a man that He should lie [Numbers 23v19]? He who said to call upon Him in her time of trouble [Psalm 50v15]?

Suddenly, she noticed that it was not raining on her but it still rained a few feet ahead. A gust of wind blew, so forceful that she fell to her knees. In a crack in the wall of the building on her left, she saw a light like that from a candle. It was a tiny flame yet produced such brilliant white light that she turned away a few times. Mesmerized, she stared at this light as it increased in brightness unsure of its source. Then the flame rose up the wall and following it with her eyes, she got to her feet. The light moved and she walked alongside it, being careful to keep it in view. It continued raining several feet in front of her and all around but not above her. After a few blocks the light disappeared and she found herself standing outside a huge Catholic church. Without thinking, as if in a dream, she walked up the three steps and pushed open the large wooden doors. She walked down the aisle and sat in the very first pew. An empty sanctuary. Alone and scared. The sobbing started again and the flame returned. Sensing a presence, she looked around but saw no one. She prayed and cried and sobbed. Finally she fell asleep where she sat.

Someone was tapping her hand gently when she awoke. The young man sat beside her and asked if he could help her. Kindness and love radiated from his face and she felt so sad. She had married a man who was stingy, selfish and drank himself drunk coming home in the wee hours of the morning. What she could not understand was why God did not change him? Yes sir, she replied eventually. You can help me. You can tell me why God won't change my husband and make him generous and make him stop drinking and staying out all night. The young man smiled and simply said, "all in God's time sister; all in God's time." He prayed with her for a long time and spoke kindly to her of hope and patience and love. She was reminded of the God of the Impossible as well as the Ghanaian word, Sankofa, meaning to take from the past what is good and bring it into the present to make meaning of one's life. It took her about thirty minutes to get home and find that her husband was not back yet. He walked in ten minutes later without so much as a greeting. God would get her through this new day and she would praise Him anyway. This experience was changing her forcefully. God was clearly working on her and she knew she'd become a much better person at the end of this season of her life. She accepted this as the words of Proverbs 3v11-18 came to mind ...

¹¹ My son, do not despise the chastening of the LORD,
Nor detest His correction;
¹² For whom the LORD loves He corrects,
Just as a father the son in whom he delights.
¹³ Happy is the man who finds wisdom,
And the man who gains understanding;
¹⁴ For her proceeds are better than the profits of silver,
And her gain than fine gold.
¹⁵ She is more precious than rubies,
And all the things you may desire cannot compare with her.
¹⁶ Length of days is in her right hand,
In her left hand riches and honor.
¹⁷ Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her paths are peace.
¹⁸ She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her,
And happy are all who retain her.

2009-06-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

Pain
Severe
This looks grave

Endurance
Fortitude
A face so brave

Symptoms
Worsening
Something wrong

Fear
Panic
Hours too long

Emergency
Labs
News not good

Doctors
Meds
Depressive mood

Clouds
Dark
Hovering too near

Reassurances
Condolences
None could I hear

Back
Another clinic
Emotions spill

Kindness
Everyone
Tears begin to well

Fatigue
Over
Strength regained

Support
Love
These remain

*TOUGH TIMES DON'T LAST
BUT TOUGH PEOPLE DO!

The Waterfront

2009-05-24T13:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
I thought it would be interesting to study my thought process. I try to understand the ways and reasons why I review and revise certain writings, so I decided to post this work, The Waterfront, in its different shapes (versions) in the order in which they were written. I'm not sure about the final piece, but the process is certainly valuable. Sometimes I sift through (process) stories and poems in my head while writing, and I am able to post the finished piece as is. Other times, I seem to edit forever until it feels "right". Sometimes words roll off my mind a mile a minute, faster than I can write. Other days my brain considers each and every word resulting in scanty pieces.

I)
The murky depths beckoned
Millions of tiny waves rippled across
Reflections on the surface from the afternoon sun
Cast haphazard shadows all over the water

The embankment was steep
Muddy with cans strewn upon
A grey steel railing ran around
Fencing off the water

The small house was painted white
Old yet of simple style
The second floor afforded the view
Of the waterfront below

II)
Clear deep blue depths
Beckoned as tiny waves rippled across
Reflections on the surface from the afternoon sun
Cast delicate shadows on the water

The shoreline sloped softly
White sands bare and inviting
A bamboo fence surrounds all sides
Keeping separate the water

The large house was painted white
Modern and exquisite both
The French windows opened wide
Revealing the waterfront below

III)
Murky depths
Millions of waves
Reflections
Haphazard shadows

Embankment steep
Muddy
Steel grey rail
Fences off the water

Small house painted white
Old yet simple
Second floor view
Waterfront below

IV)
Clear deep blue
Tiny waves ripple
Reflections at noonday
Delicate shadows

Shoreline slopes softly
White sands invite
Bamboo fence surrounds
Separate is the water

Large white house
Exquisite modern
French windows wide
Waterfront below

Door To Nowhere

2009-05-20T15:06:00.001-07:00

I peered inside. It was eerie and dark. A foul smell overwhelmed my nostrils. Giving my eyes time to adjust, I entered slowly and stood right by the door. I could taste vomit. I could smell it too. Soon I could see better, and inched forward cautiously. The weight of the door caused it to slam forcefully behind me. Automatically I tried the handle and it turned. Whew! I was not locked in. There was a long corridor leading off both to the left and to the right. I dared not go further. Yet my feet were still moving and I fell forward over something. Someone screamed in pain ... a horrible hoarse sound. It made my skin crawl and the hairs on my arms seemed to stand on end. I suddenly felt cold. Then there was a string of cursing let out through clenched teeth. I sat up and rubbed my head, anxiety taking over my entire being. From nowhere a beam from a large torchlight startled me and it remained fixed directly on my face. Across from me was an old man, wrinkled and disheveled and dirty. He looked very very old. He sat upon crumpled bedding on a stone cold floor. Plastic bags and torn duffle bags surrounded him. Then he began to cough. A long and raspy bout that must have hurt his chest. It went on for a long time and the light darted about as his frail body shook. I covered my ears with my hands. Finally the coughing ceased. The old man swallowed a potion he had taken from his jacket pocket. Silence. Those little beady grey eyes did not blink. He gazed at me for hours, or so it seemed. He just simply stared.

2009-05-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

Heartbeat
Hoof beat
Pulse of the Earth

Planets
Rhythm
Dance of the Stars

Nucleus
The Soul
Foundation of the World

Threads
Veins
Bodies in Motion

Explosion
Vibrations
Nature's Forces

Drums
Windpipes
Creation's Spirit

Swinging
Swaying
Cycle of Man

Awaken
Evolve
Universal Light

Qi
Prana
Human Essence

Chai
Dunya
Language of Life

2009-05-15T22:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
This piece was born from the last post. While I was writing that story of my train journey up north, certain words and phrases jumped out at me, then clung to my mind and begged to be freed from the tangled mass of words on the page. It was a persistent feeling to recreate the journey in poetic form and were I equipped right now, I'd paint a picture too. Imagine a collage, a photo image and painted picture of this narrative side by side with the prose and the poetry. A delightful idea perhaps ...

The train weaves a snakelike course
Destination certain yet path unknown
Unexpected sights and thoughts
An assault on the senses,
The ugly and pretty both.

Sheep and pony graze alone,
A figure on a tractor content
Age-old trees line ancient tracks
Vibrant green clothe grotesque limbs
Painted by the hand of God.

Sand quarry, settlements
Journey in bygone years a peril
Fears threaten as excitement builds
Chord strikes, guts writhe in hope
New life; rekindled dreams.

The Train Ride

2009-05-15T20:22:00.000-07:00

The train snakes through a tunnel and over a hill, passing vast countryside after countryside. Various scenes and diverse settings whizz by. A huge expanse of the tallest trees but this is no jungle. A sheep farm with a small flock feeding. No sheep dog or shepherd in sight. Another empty land except for a lone pony grazing in the afternoon sun. More trees as if the tracks had been deliberately constructed through these woods. How old were these railway tracks anyway? Older than the trees no doubt. Some of the tree branches distorted and ugly like the deformed arthritic fingers of an old maid. Their leaves so alive and green in contrast, as if freshly painted by the hand of God. A farmer out on an old tractor in a wheat field overgrown with tall grass-like stalks. Nearby lies a small settlement, a town of sorts, with a pet shop sign and a public library; Randolph-Macon college sitting majestically in neat and tidy grounds. High above, clouds float by; light and white and free. A trail disappears into the thickness of trees. The train bumps along an uneven portion of railroad, riding well beyond the green surroundings reflecting a golden hue from the warm sunlight. Earth rises above the tracks as a hill of dirt, the train seeming to be in a valley for a moment. Houses are dotted about the scene, and the skyline becomes visible once more. Tell-tale signs of man's intrusion exist in the graffiti on a wall arch erected for some unknown purpose. Another trail. Another settlement. Thoughts drift to what might lie on the other side of the clearing. A sand quarry comes into view and the next plot houses stacks of hundreds of wooden crates and aluminum-coloured sacks. What sort of creatures lived here? Intriguing. Snakes, wild rabbits, possums and skunks, maybe ... This was the eastern part of the country and progressing northward, memories of history book descriptions surfaced. How harrowing were such journeys in the 1880s - fear of robbers and the unknown in spite of exuberant excitement of hopes, and dreams of a clean slate and a new life. Yes, a feeling familiar begins to well up inside. Life has been a distressing journey in recent times. A journey nonphysical, yet the fears and risks have been all too real. Reverie of life in the 1880s strikes a chord, evoking a gut-deep sense of hope. Personal dreams vividly emerge, one after another. A clean slate and a new life ... yes, life is a risky yet necessary journey. Years of lethargy melt away, leaving, at last, exuberance and excitement bubbling forth from a fountain within the soul ... a well-spring of life energy restored.

2009-05-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
You must read this story posted by Greener Bangalore and you'll be glad you did. Here's the story about a dog called Faith. Have a lovely end to your week.

2009-05-09T15:01:00.000-07:00

Sudden inspiration by Vancouver Canada's ever so lovely photographs ...

Inviting,
Tranquil,
Refreshing to the soul.

Healing,
Uplifting,
Magical it makes me whole.

Peaceful,
Pause,
Reflecting upon God's role.

Distant,
Brilliant,
Meeting His light my goal.

To Violet at Promptings, could this be considered a sequence then?

2009-05-07T18:45:00.001-07:00

If you could meet God, even for an hour, how would you spend that time?
What might you ask Him?

Well, here is someone's idea of how it might go ... Interview With God.
I personally enjoyed it.

God Knew His Name

2009-05-05T09:04:00.000-07:00

There was a loud banging on the gate to my tiny flat on the hospital premises. It was just after one o'clock in the morning. My boyfriend awoke and shook me, your call. When he was on call, we'd sleep in his flat next door and I believe he had a weekend call coming up. Anyway, I got up to see who it was. I stepped outside the room and leaned on the protectors. The orderly passed me a note through the iron bars while explaining: doc, it get serious case for casualty [there's a serious case in Casualty]. Unfolding the note I said, make una dey go - I fit walka [you may go, I'll walk up]. She left with the ambulance driver. I rushed in and pulled on my simple and casual, yet lovely, Arab kaftan (in the Middle East we called it a galabiyah). Stethoscope in hand, I hurried out as my boyfriend shut the door behind me. I loved the Hamartan season which typically runs from November until March or April. In spite of its dry hot days, the nights are so cool. It was into this coolness that I stepped and thoughts of a break at Christmas cheered my heart. I'd be traveling to my father's village with my family and I could not wait. Excitement filled me as I made the relatively short trek to the emergency room.

Upon getting there, I saw quite a few patients. There had been an RTA [road traffic accident] on the Umuahia-Aba expressway. The small Casualty room could not contain them all and so some were out in the corridor on make-shift beds. It was always a blessing to work with the male Casualty head nurse. He was the epitome of efficiency. I'll never forget my very first casualty call as an intern. In the middle of a doctors' meeting, I had been called out for a case of mass casualties. I entered the ER to see bleeding, dying and dead people all over the place. The casualties overflowed into the corridor where additional beds had been provided. I froze and could not move. I just stood there and stared. The male head nurse had said, doc, I'm taking care of it. Just follow me and write up your notes accordingly. Like a robot, I did as told. By the time I came to myself, he'd stabilized all the patients by working fast, telling me what to do, and enlisting the help of student and other nurses. We were nearly done when doctors poured in from the meeting to assist. My notes were complete. I had survived my first call. Years later when I had returned to visit the hospital, I met him on duty and was greeted with an enthusiastic and excited “Eya (oh wow) ... doctor, I never forgot you”.

I snapped back to the present. Doctor, most of the patients are stable. I have one bad case ... he went on to brief me on the situation so far. I took the folder he held out, and tears came to my eyes instantly. The name on the front cover read "Unknown". Our young man, college-age, was unconscious. He was in deep coma. Even now, I see his face albeit more faintly than some years back. He was tall, slender and had shiny dark skin. Clean shaven with a baby face. Eyes closed as if in sleep. I read the case notes and took over from where the nurses had stopped. He continued bleeding from the mouth and we continued suction. Intravenous lines were inserted and drips started. Medications were given straight into the vein and his vital signs continued to be monitored. A bladder catheter was put in too, connected to a uribag. Tubes all over him, we were sending out further lab requests for blood work and x-rays while waiting for blood to be grouped and cross-matched. I was overwhelmed. I had invited specialist consults from both surgery and orthopedics, waking up my chiefs for help at that predawn hour. They came, as a courtesy no doubt, and later I knew that they had known that only God could wake the chap up. It was a long night. An exhausting battle. Periodic assessments yielded no improvement. I could feel him slipping away. I prayed but felt utterly hopeless. I coaxed and bargained with God for his life. Eventually, I heard a cock crow somewhere in the distance and realized that it was past six o'clock and I had to take a break. I needed to go prepare myself for early morning ward rounds: I had a few new patients (children) to present to the unit so I wanted to glance at their case notes before the senior chief arrived. I left my patient in the care of the nurses and hurried back to the flat to take a shower and change for the new work day. In my heart I begged my head injury case to be awake by the time I returned.

While in my room I couldn't concentrate. My boyfriend tried to cheer me up and wanted to fix me breakfast, reminding me that it would be a long day. I hurried through my morning routine and denied myself a moment to de-stress. There was no time to waste. I was not hungry. I received no further call and for the first time felt hopeful that my patient had stabilized. I retraced my footstep to Casualty. Doc, make you check am oh; it be like say he don go [doctor, please check your patient; it seems like he has passed]. They knew he had passed away and I later learned that it had happened soon after I had departed for my flat. Literally it had been a battle to the death. I sat down on a stool by the bedside and stared at the handsome face of this stranger, distorted by edema (swelling) and lacerations with dried blood all over. “Unknown”. Lord, why? why? You could have woken him up. The accident wasn't his fault. He had a life ... maybe brothers, sisters, parents still living. He must have been in college ... trying to better his life. Lord God, why? What did I miss? What did I forget to do? How could I have managed him better? I stayed a while, lost in my own sorrow. Colleagues came by having heard of "last night's tragic case". They offered me condolences. I felt a part of him. My classmates from medical school knew how I was feeling. They tried to cheer me up and told me that I had done my best; that it was a bad case from the start. All I could think about was, so why didn't he die at the scene? Why did God bring him here if he was going to die anyway? Why was it my shift, my call? At that moment, I blocked everything out in search of only my own solitude. It was time for rounds.

I certified my patient dead and walked out without looking back. Behind me I could "feel" the nurses removing the infusions and i.v. catheters and Foley catheter and blood bag and ... I passed the doctors' lounge and meeting room. It was located next to some administrative offices which were to the left. I walked by the Male Surgical ward where someone greeted me from inside. I responded automatically. More hellos and good mornings were exchanged as I crossed Female Surgical and Obstetric/Gynaecological. I was almost at the end of the long corridor that went beyond the operating theatre [OR, Operating Room] and XRAY Department. I was turning into the Paediatrics wing and could still "feel" the nurses moving the stands, and the oxygen machine out of the way. I could "feel" them unfolding a white sheet and laying it over this unknown stranger. I saw his face covered with that white cloth, in my mind's eye. He had no name. Without a single tear, I began to weep.

After rounds I hovered around Casualty. It was bustling with activity this morning. There she is. Doc, please help this couple. I turned to face a young man and woman who were clearly nervous. I asked how I could help and then sighed when they told me. The fatal crash had been “breaking news” all morning and Dr. Eze had his little radio on ... “if anyone recognizes any of the names that will be announced at the end of this broadcast, they are asked to immediately contact the police department at Umuahia. Also, if anyone knows of any one who might have been traveling to Aba late last night, they should please verify their safe arrival or contact the police otherwise. There has been a fatal accident and some unidentified victims. We need your help …” My sorrow deepened and I returned my attention to the couple.

They were friends who had heard the name of another friend on that broadcast. They had had a bad feeling about it because the newscaster had used his proper name, Maculay Princewill Ndukwe Obasi. So what? I wondered. They explained that it meant that his school I.D. card had been found. If he were alive he would have given his name as Maculay Ndu Obasi; he never ever gave his full name. Wow … I said nothing for a while. The place was so busy with the usual emergencies arriving in addition to anxious loved ones looking for the survivors of the crash. We were directing all relatives to the Surgical and Orthopedic wards to enquire after the survivors there. I knew that we had no one by the name of Maculay Princewill Ndukwe Obasi admitted the previous night. Finally I mustered up the courage and explained: many people died at the scene so we never saw them. They were taken to the central mortuary. Some survivors were sent to other nearby hospitals so perhaps the police can give you a list of the other hospitals. I am not sure why the news had implied that all the cases were brought to our center. Lastly, I told this young couple of my “unknown” patient who passed early that morning. I can permit you to go and view the body at the mortuary across there, I said pointing to the low building close to the main gate. The man was shaken. The lady was calm. They stepped away from me and I knew he was crying.

Maculay was his best friend. They lady comforted him. She insisted that they see the body. They had traveled all the way from their university campus in Port Harcourt (about an hour’s journey by bus) as soon as they heard the news. How could they leave without confirming? The man was numb. He needed to know but he was afraid of what they might find out. A long time passed and then he turned to say, we’ll be back. I watched them walk towards the morgue feeling sick in my stomach … sick with dread. I waited. I helped out in the Casualty room – they were ever in need of a free hand. Twenty minutes later, the couple came back to me. It wasn’t him. Praise God! Simultaneously we all let out a deep long sigh of relief. Still, he could be in another morgue? I told them to go speak with the police. They departed and I prayed earnestly that they would find their friend alive in one of the smaller hospitals in the area. My heart was so heavy and I wanted to go lie down. I cried for my “unknown” patient and then for Maculay. Why ever did I choose medicine? What did God have in store for me in this field?

As I write this post ten years after the incident, I struggle with the thought that, had this all happened in a top Trauma Center in America or Europe or Australia, my patient would have recovered. That contributed to my decision to return to America to chase up residency and specialist training that I could use to improve the facilities available back home. I wonder whether Maculay was ever found by his friends, alive or dead? And I wonder if my unknown patient was ever identified? Of some comfort is the knowledge that God knew his name.

To God be the praise for everything that happens in our lives!

First Night

2009-04-29T18:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoy this. A short story about the dangers of travel in Africa. In recent times the news has covered stories of sea pirates. Many of you probably can not imagine any of this. Here in America, I get to hop on the Greyhound with a carefree spirit. In Nigeria, every journey is at the risk of death.

SAFE LANDING
We were finally allowed off the plane. The large Virgin Atlantic Boeing 747 aircraft had brought us safely over 5200 miles, crossing the north Atlantic ocean with one stop in London. At this moment I was a long way away from America. I thanked the air hostesses for a pleasant ride as I passed them on my way to the exit at the back of the plane. They smiled, looking smart in their uniforms. They wore bright red knee-length pencil skirts with matching red jackets over a white open-necked blouse. Lovely silk red and mauve coloured scarves adorned their necks, reminding me of the Tie Rack that I loved to visit at London's international airports. They sold the most beautiful, colourful and soft scarves and ties that I ever saw. Just then I turned to descend the rickety retractable aircraft steps. Looking out of one of the oval windows after the plane had reached a full stop, I had watched the ground staff drive the steps to the plane and position it for the passengers to disembark. Halfway down, I paused on the tiny platform and looked around the tarmac. My gaze focused on the old airport building in the distance. A plain white multi-storied building, it was not very big compared to some of the major airports of the world. Surprisingly, to me anyway, it was modeled after Amsterdam's Schiphol international airport back in the late 1970s. Amsterdam's was, and still is, one of the largest and busiest of European airports, comparable to Heathrow, Frankfurt, Charles de Gaulle and Madrid. The design of Murtala Mohammed airport, located here in Ikeja-Lagos, is simple and the surroundings far from spectacular. It looked exactly as it had the last time I'd been here ... eight long years ago. Dad had taken two month's leave to enable us have a family vacation. That was the last time we were together as a family. Inhaling as deep a breath as I could, I perceived the thick humidity of Nigerian airspace. I was home. This was home ... the land of my peoples.

A HELPING HAND
An old lady struggled above me with a large hand luggage and I turned to take it from her. How did she get this on the plane? I wondered how she was able to sneak it past the hostesses. I continued my climb down, now with two bags instead of one, until my feet touched the runway. Lucky for me, both bags were on rollers and I wheeled them towards the airport entrance. It was a long slow walk. Slow, only because I permitted the elderly stranger to set the pace lest she think I were fleeing with her bag. Finally, with half the passengers ahead of us and many still scattered on the tarmac behind, we reached the airport building. I guess whoever is in charge of the airport deems it unnecessary to supply shuttle buses from the plane to the airport building. Perhaps he ought to visit other countries' airports to see how they provide conveniences for their passengers. I ought to give him a piece of my mind, I thought, but of course there's no way they'd have a suggestion box. They hadn't eight years ago.

THE AIRPORT
I handed over the woman's bag and wished her well. In a heavy Yoruba dialect which I did not understand fully, she thanked me and rained down blessings upon me and my family for the kind act I had just displayed. I thanked her in her own language, Eshe Ma [thank you mama] being one of the few Yoruba words that I do know. We parted ways and I joined the queue for Nationals. It was a long long line. Standing there I overheard a security guy telling someone that the airport terminal's air conditioner had broken down since last week. The week before there had been an electrical fault that had just been restored yesterday. Imagine if I had arrived two days ago? The entire airport might have been in sheer darkness. Finally I got to the front of the line and was called to a booth. I handed over passport and landing card; they were passed on to another officer, standing behind the first, who stamped the passport before returning it to me. With not so much as a smile, I was dismissed and moved on. I turned left and paused at the head of the wide staircase. Looking down, there were people milling about like busy bumble bees. In the hot stuffy atmosphere, with archaic fans in motion, the noise of conversations and reunions seemed abnormally loud. All sorts of accents and languages could be heard. A lovely array of colour seen in the various traditional outfits painted a pretty picture ... from attire typical of the northerners to styles associated with the mid-westerners. Long forgotten memories rushed through my head and swamped my senses. Wow, had time stood still in this part of the world? I got to the bottom of the staircase and hurried to grab a trolley. I was too late and no trolleys were left. Oh well. The heat became nauseating and in spite of the slow moving fans, I felt unwell. Sauntering over to the conveyor belt, I found a seat close by and sat down.

THE CONVEYOR
Forty minutes later people began getting agitated. Where are our bags? What in the world is going on? I was still seated. Some time later we heard an announcement that the bags had been sent to the wrong conveyor belt. We were asked to be patient and an apology was offered for any inconvenience. Before long, a whirring noise caught my attention. The belt had begun rolling and suitcases started to appear. Weary passengers gathered to wait for theirs, blocking my view in the process. Craning my neck, I monitored the belt until at last my suitcase surfaced. I dashed over and yanked off the brand new grey samsonite I bought a week ago, hurting my foot as I did so. The suitcase had landed hard on it. Putting the case on the trolley, I waited for the second piece of luggage. This one was a darker grey large duffle bag. I'd had it for a couple of years now. All done, I proceeded through customs with nothing to declare. Of course I was stopped and subjected to the routine of random checks. I could barely contain my irritation and snapped at the officer when he carelessly tried to shut the duffle and got the zip caught on the fabric. Breathing hard with a definite look of annoyance, I pulled away the bag and tried to fix the zip. Silently I dared him to ask me to hurry up. Huffing and puffing, he said nothing. I managed to zip up the bag and left.

THE BUS TERMINAL
I walked through the lanes and corridor until I was beyond the double doors. A deep breath escaped me as a wall of heat hit me. Crowds waited around anxiously for loved ones and other arrivals. Pushing my trolley ahead, I escaped the scene and strolled to the taxi park. Glancing at my favourite black leather watch, bought in Virginia for seventeen dollars once upon a time, the time showed ten-thirty. An old smallish man in a faded white up-and-down outfit, complete with cap, approached me: Madam, which side you dey go [m'am, where are you going]? I looked over, acknowledged him, then hesitated. I had planned to spend the night at one of the hotels I remembered from family travels. Instead I found myself saying: I wan go ABC; na how much [I'd like to go to the ABC bus terminal; how much is your fare]? He reached for the trolley and tried to push it for me. I said, na how much ... no push am oh, make we talk first [I asked how much; leave the trolley until we're agreed]. He stopped ... how much you wan pay [how much do you want to pay]? We began the age-old custom of bargaining (which I absolutely hate). Twenty minutes later, agreed on a fare, he pushed my trolley to his worn taxi while I followed. Baggage in the boot [trunk], I collapsed into the cab and he shut the door. The ride to the ABC bus [coach] terminal was not bad and I alighted with my things. I paid the old man who called out in parting, go well, hear [have a safe trip]! I made my way to the ticket counter. The place was crowded. I asked for a one-way ticket to Aba, a traders' town in Abia state, located in the southeast of the country. If you hurry you fit catch the bus wey dey leave now now [if you hurry you can catch the bus that is about to leave right now]. I paid, took the ticket and thanked the lady as I ran to catch the bus which was leaving now now.

THE NIGHT BUS
An hour later, seated next to an old woman I waited for the bus to depart. I deliberately chose the seat because I had no energy to strike up conversation with the young guys on board and I figured the old lady would soon be asleep. This was the night bus and if we left by midnight, we should be in the east by tomorrow evening. I was a little nervous. Armed robberies were notorious on these night buses and on these routes for that matter since the thieves assume everyone to be a wealthy trader. My parents were actually home because they had retired some years back, and my baby brother was with them. They had no idea that I was on my way because this was a surprise visit. Only my sister in England knew. I got out my cell phone to switch the sim card to a local one. Then I sent my sister a text saying, all's well so far. Bus leaves any moment from now. Keep me in your prayers. Her response was so quick, safe trip & I'm praying for you. I muted the phone lest it attract attention and someone think I was loaded with money. I was very anxious. No sooner had I put away the phone, the bus driver shut the door and made the routine announcements. We were on our way.

PREMONITION
I ended up falling asleep before mama, the old woman next to me. She was headed to villa [village] to see her newborn grandson. Her daughter had been married eight years with no issue [child] and mama's excitement and joy at God's favour & kindness overwhelmed me. I drifted in and out of sleep, noting when we had left the outskirts of Lagos, and sending my sister periodic updates. Looking out at the pitch blackness, I imagined all sorts of shapes and things in the bushes along the roadside. We passed a row of little huts and kiosks with burning lanterns. Their occupants were selling bread, drinks, and other snacks to hungry travelers. My thoughts dwelled on how brave they are to be out this late selling stuff. Or, maybe, how desperate they are to make some money to feed the family. Some of the women had little babies strapped to their backs in wrappers. A hard life. Miles down the road, something lurched in my spirit ... premonition? The driver and conductor whispered amongst themselves. Those at the front seats strained ears to eavesdrop. Over a few minutes, information filtered to the back of the bus. Suspicious activity was occurring further down the road. People began standing up and peering through the windows. I did too. There was a car on fire a long way ahead, in the center of the road. Something was amiss.

ROBBERS
I sent a text, sis pls pray, something's up. She replied, stay calm and let me know what's up. The whispers were no longer whispers. Everyone was awake and on maximum alert. All the vehicles ahead of us started reversing, backing up for miles in the dark. Did I mention that the roads are strewn with pot holes and no street lights? At the point where we were, damage to our side of the road necessitated that we cross the median and form a two-way traffic on the other side of the highway. The reversing drivers opened their windows and were shouting, go back, go back, na armed robbers oh, go back, go back. Besides the burning car which was closer now, I couldn't see the "armed robbers". Our bus driver had seen and heard enough. In high speed, he backed up the bus in a perfect straight line (except for dodging the vehicles behind us and the potholes) for over five miles until we reached a turn we had passed moments earlier. He navigated the turn expertly and the bus lurched on. All this while, we who stood at the windows were waving to all cars behind us to go back, mouthing armed robbers as if they could see us let alone our moving frightened lips in the blackness of the hour. Our driver was awesome. He knew this new road and assured us that we'd be alright.

SAFETY IN NUMBERS
We entered Edo state, crossing its capital Benin-City, and continued on to Delta. Passing a huge clearing where, during the day an open market would be in session as well as other petty traders' businesses, we happened upon the longest line of vehicles I ever saw. A queue of cars trying to head to Delta state was at least a mile long. No other cars were coming in the opposite direction. My pulse picked up and I felt faint. What now? Another text, wahala [trouble] for Benin. Reply: I had to text mom and dad to pray. You'll be fine. That was the end of my "surprise" visit home. A text came in from mom, are you alright. Your sister just woke us up with her text. Your father and I are praying. I returned my attention to the scene on the road. A luxury bus, not one of ABCs vehicles but it belonged to one of the smaller companies that plied the Lagos-Aba route, had met with ill-fate. ABC and Chisco were the giants in this business which meant they were more expensive and more secure. They always travelled with one or two military escorts on board. All this while, our two soldiers had relocated from the back of the bus to the front to monitor things with the driver and bus conductor. Their guns, rifles to be exact [I think], were clearly visible hanging over their backs and ready for action. My silent prayers intensified. All the horror stories I had heard in the past popped into my awareness. I was prepared for the worst. Apart from all the vehicles parked on and off this major roadway, tension was palpable yet I forced myself to feel the safety in numbers.

SIRENS
People got out of vehicles to exchange information and update the newcomers on the situation as they saw it. One man in our vehicle learned that a couple of miles ahead, a group of robbers had waylaid that unfortunate coach, forcing out the passengers at gun point after collecting watches, jewelery and all monies they had on them. The passengers fled into the nearby bushes and hid for hours, praying that the thieves would leave. The thieves proceeded to ransack all the bags in the cabin as well as those stowed underneath in the bus' hold. Over two hours later they were still at it. Our bus driver decided we must continue. He was fearless and said he would speed past the robbers who were now busy inside the other bus taking what they could. By the time they would notice us, they'd not care to pursue. We all screamed in fear and outrage. Driver, you are going nowhere. Are you crazy? It be like say something dey affect your brain today ... you wan make we all die [its like your head's not on straight, you want to get us all killed]. He ignored us, revved up his engine and before he could shut his door we all started running off the bus. If he wanted to drive into the armed robbers' lair, then he'd go it alone. He was forced to turn off the engine again. A long while later, the sound of police sirens broke into the din. Several police cars raced past us into the thick of it. Delta police to the rescue ... or were they from the Edo state side? No matter, there was hope after all. More than forty minutes passed ... one brave soul started his car and took off. Then another. Then another. Soon we realized that traffic from the opposite direction had started to trickle through. More cars drove on. We clambered back unto our bus and the driver followed suit. As the bus passed, I peered out the windows at the aftermath. The robbers were now gone and I saw a sight that I will never forget. The bus had been shot at ... all tires were flat, no doubt to prevent any attempt to get away. A hefty elderly woman emerged from behind a bush. Her clothes were torn and dirty and she had mud and leaves in her hair. She was shaking with emotion; eyes teary and wide with fright. Clothes and suitcases littered the roadside. Other folks came forth to where the bus stood. Some searched for missing shoes for their feet and gathered items they identified as theirs ... in my heart I cried. It was now after six thirty and the sun was just beginning to rise over Delta state. It would be a glorious day.

2009-04-26T15:52:00.001-07:00

You must read this.

Did you know that almonds are seeds and not nuts?

Have you heard that 1 castor bean can kill a man (while 4 can kill a horse)?

Anyway, they are on the list of top 10 poisonous foods we love.
I knew about mushrooms (toadstools), rhubarb & puffer fish,
but not the others ... elderberry, cherries, potatoes, tomatoes, apples.
Excellent information.
Have a quick glance when you get a minute, by clicking on the link above.

Red Handbag

2009-04-26T10:58:00.000-07:00

A lovely red handbag sitting on the rack at Goodwill.
I wonder about its journey thus far. How did it get there?
Well, this is my version of the story.

Jolie and Pierre had it all. Or so it seemed. Pierre was the director of a huge cruise line that had been established by his grandfather many years ago. His family originated from Nice where he'd had a happy childhood. He later moved to Norway with his mother and stepfather when he was eleven. He was there to finish high school and college, after which he returned to France for the first time since his parents' divorce. His father had remarried and his new family lived in Lyon. Anyway, Pierre Sr. never forgot his son and granted him a part of the family business. It took about nine months for Pierre Jr. to fully understand the workings of the company and then he was ready for his first real position. At the university he had studied Hotel Management and was an excellent chef. He loved to work on the boats, in the kitchens whenever he could. Years later, having had to rise through the ranks like everyone else, he made it to director. This was a large business with many directors and he was one of the junior directors. Grandfather had retired few years back but remained on the board. His father headed the main office in Paris. Young Pierre now lived in Morocco after falling in love with the people on his first cruise to the Mediterranean. That's where he'd met Jolie. They had spent a perfect week together and then he'd gone home to Oslo and she to Senegal. They'd kept in touch faithfully via telephone and internet, and snail mail too. She'd visited him twice during the six months that followed. He'd also met up with her in Dakar that Christmas and that's when they'd discussed marriage. It was obvious that Pierre was not your conventional type of guy but she loved him and wanted to be married to him.

Jolie was the last daughter of a wealthy farmer. Her six older siblings were established in their marital homes and careers all over Africa. Only one lived in Dakar; the others were scattered in Cote D'Ivoire, Guinee and Mozambique. She'd excelled in her graduate studies and her father's best friend, who happened to be her godfather, bought her a week-long cruise to the Mediterranean. It was the best time of her life and on top of that she'd met Pierre. Their's was a rocky marriage from the start. No church wedding. No honeymoon. No romance. But she loved him so much ... if only he knew. Well, God knew and that's all that mattered to her. He, God, was always there for her. She was prepared to suffer for love. Many people married for compatibility and made common sense decisions. In the past, she'd almost done that too - marry someone who was good and right for her - but then figured she'd wait and marry for love. Now that she had, a colleague asked her recently whether he should marry for love or for common sense. In an impulsive moment of truth, she blurted out: always think with your head and never your heart!

It was February 14th and Pierre had surprised her with a weekend trip to Paris. He'd bought her a gorgeous red leather handbag from an uptown boutique; it had cost a fortune. The bag was lovely. They had a great time and pleasant memories of ... the villa, the restaurants, the pier, the awesome elderly Italian couple they'd met and so much else. A month later, Jolie and Pierre had had a huge row and Jolie was fed up. She had left her home, her job, and her life to join Pierre. She wanted to be with him. He promised to take care of her and she believed him. She thought he loved her. Early on she was sure he did. Now she was not sure. No church wedding. No honeymoon. No romance. She had her doubts. While waiting to get a job, she tried to be the dutiful wife. All her efforts were in vain because Pierre always found fault in what she said, or thought or did. He had promised to give her a regular allowance to take care of her needs, and she had believed that too. Her friends had always called her gullible. For the first time, she agreed with them that she was. When she went anywhere with friends, she knew she stuck out and they knew something was wrong but Jolie wasn't talking. They could get nothing out of her except I'm fine; No, I don't need anything. I don't have any money on me. You all go ahead and buy- I'll get my stuff some other time. Well, after the row he still refused to live up to his promises. He had his own worldview on life and tried to be a dutiful husband in his own way, she supposed, but that did not change her reality. She packed a box of her most treasured or expensive possessions and sent it to Maurice who needed items for a thrift store. She wasn't looking for compensation because her daddy would always look after her. Only the other day, he'd asked if she needed some money for groceries and bills. Pride had made her decline and she'd said she would be alright.

Last night as she lay awake on the bed, Pierre snoring gently by her side, she remembered the red bag. It was amongst the items she'd given Maurice. Suddenly memories of the weekend in Paris flooded her consciousness. Slowly she began to cry. Her heart ached and the tears gushed forth as if a damn had been broken. She couldn't stop herself and tasted the salted tears on her lips. She cried for her life; for who she had been; for her dreams and her future; she cried for Pierre who was in his own unconventional world. She cried as she thought of everyone who had advised her and prayed with her before she made the commitment. She cried because she had believed God. An hour later her breathing became even and the gnawing in her heart became a dull ache. Her eyes grew dry and she crawled out of bed. She went to the living room and knelt down in prayer. Her knees had barely touched the floor when the phone rang. She rushed to answer it lest it wake Pierre. It was his mother. She heard the surprise in Jolie's voice and apologised for calling so late. I'll be in Morocco Thursday night and would like to spend time with you. I'd like to tell you a bit about Pierre's childhood, and to return the red handbag- I knew it was yours the moment I saw it on a rack at Goodwill.

2009-04-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

Hello Readers,
I hope you are all having a pleasant weekend so far. Here, the weather is glorious and today's high is 84 F. Pretty soon it might get unbearably hot because the nights are extremely warm already. I spent time in my garden with a wide-rimmed straw hat. There are so many mosquitoes and gnats in this part of the country. Gosh, so many that it triggers long-forgotten memories of the African Anopheles mosquito. Its sting sends one to bed with a high fever and chills. The last time I checked, at least a million people die from malaria every year. Thank God the Georgian mosquitoes are disease free. However, they leave their marks in the way of huge red and terribly itchy swellings of the skin. Many a night I have been up as a result of the itching. Anyway, this is a minor irritation and I was reminded earlier of Ecclesiastes' piece on time. A time to be born and a time to die ... I remember hearing or reading about the deaths of ...

Bernie Mac on August 9, 2008 at the age of 50. A well-known actor/comedian from Chicago's south side, he was said to have sarcoidosis and died from pneumonia complications.
Natasha Richardson on March 18, 2009 at the age of 45. A British actress (married to Liam Neeson), she died from an epidural hematoma following a ski accident.
Bea Arthur on April 25, 2009 at 86. One of the Golden Girls, she was a well-known witty actress from New York and passed away from cancer.
I feel saddened in spite of the fact that I knew not these people in real life. I connected to them only through the media. I feel the same way that I did years ago upon hearing of the deaths of Princess Diana and King Hussein of Jordan. People whom I perceived to be good people in their own worlds which were worlds away from mine. Life goes on ... it always does. May God comfort all grieving families because the pain or shock of loss never really goes away.

You all have a blessed evening and do remember to be thankful for your life and all that you've got (even if it doesn't seem like much right now).

2009-04-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
Please, this is a must read. Consider the questions for yourself before reading the articles.
Where does one draw the line between sense and nonsense? For believers in the bible, we know that God gave us a sound mind and reminds us to ask Him for wisdom when we need it. All these cases require one to investigate the soundness of mind of all involved. In addition, all should be mandated to pray for wisdom before petitioning for such. I have lots to say on the matter ... lol! Anyway, life shall never cease to amaze me.

Can plants be humiliated?

Should a doctor be prosecuted for refusing to participate in assisted suicide [in states where assisted suicide is legal]?

Petition to legally declare an ape as a person... a dangerous precedent or not?

DUSK

2009-04-22T13:08:00.001-07:00

God's Beautiful Dwelling Place

2009-04-22T13:05:00.001-07:00

The great thing about images of all types is the silence. Stillness. No need of words. Each image initiates different images in the minds of the different observers. Even in the same individual, one picture can draw out a myriad of varied thoughts and feelings. Photography can be an extremely emotional experience. It heals & relaxes. Revives & inspires. It allows me to feel the pulse of nature. The rhythm of the earth. To be almost in sync with creation and indirectly with the creator.

Being Still

How Things Grow

Touched By Colour

Green

2009-04-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

For now I just take photos, sample them and post on this blog. All your comments continue to be helpful. My future plan is to organize the pictures into themes and set them up as separate mini-collections. For example, my first experience is "Green" and I'll show it here. Like Brosreview articulated, I enjoy capturing animal life. It intrigues me. Their silence and the silent communication is palpable and intimate. I also appreciate nature's scenery and take lots of shots of trees, the sky, the sun and the moon. I find it peaceful and relaxing watching the clouds glide by or the sun disappearing for the night; waiting for the moon to show herself and the stars to sparkle as they fill the sky.

What do you think of these? The title is GREEN. Looking at trees I often meditate deeply about the million different shades of green that exist in nature. Then I consider all sorts of green. The color green; man-made mixtures versus nature's repertoire. Greens that we eat- vegetables. Going green- saving the planet; mother earth. Greener Bangalore 's In Search of a Greener Tomorrow- his site is great. I also am fascinated by litter. How do people have the heart to toss a tin can or piece of paper unto the grass and leave it there? I came across various items thrown away or dropped by accident and never picked up. . .

2009-04-19T21:14:00.001-07:00

Hi all, I haven't found my tortoise friend again yet, but I am hopeful that our paths shall cross again. Today I caught two turtles unawares; both were bigger than my tortoise friend and had paler shells that made for a great camouflage. This caused me to nearly miss them as they blended so well into the muddy banks of a drainage stream. I managed to see one through my lens before the both disappeared into the murky water- their habitat. They moved pretty fast considering the stereotype [as slow as a turtle; turtle speed].

I Never Knew ...

2009-04-18T14:56:00.001-07:00

I don't think I ever heard of the word "ellipsis" [eclipse yes, even elliptical, but not ellipsis] and certainly never wondered if the 'three dots' had a name. I just use it in every other sentence in lieu of et cetera, wrongly so. I never knew 'the slash' had a proper name either - solidus. Solar system; solitaire; but solidus? How many times have I used miles/hour and worked on mathematical fractions over the years. Still I never heard the word solidus before. Truly, learning is lifelong.

"Ellipsis...

Ellipses, which are never more than three points (...), indicate an omission in the text. Should an ellipsis fall at the end of a sentence there is no final full stop.

It can also be used to replace a line, sentence or paragraph of the text.

When placed at the beginning of the text, it is followed by a normal space.

When replacing one or more words in the middle of a sentence, it is preceded and followed by a normal space.

Continental practice also uses the ellipsis in the same way as the word ‘etc.’ is used in English. Avoid this -Lol.

Solidus/

The solidus, also known variously as an oblique stroke, a slash or a shilling stroke, is used for alternatives (and/or), to mean ‘per’ (km/day) and fractions (19/100). "

My World Through My Lens

2009-04-17T16:04:00.000-07:00

Humble beginnings in the realm of images and pixels.
Basic yet I must start somewhere. In time I shall be able to create;
and display the pictures I see in my world in a more artistic manner.
But for now, the basics in Lilly's photography journey.
A journey through which she can explore her world and see it through the objective
lens of a camera. Exciting because I know I will see more than meets my eyes and learn more that will enhance my rudimentary artistic side and my life altogether. For instance, today I took a photo of a couple of rails on a train track. Looking at the picture later, I notice a broken green bottle between the rails. Wow! I say wow because, how come I didn't see the bottle when I was taking the shot? Was I too preoccupied with thoughts of a train happening upon me suddenly? On this infrequently used track, knowing that the train sounds a long loud warning horn... I never saw the bottle. I look forward to discovering great things during future walks/jogs/photo trails.

The Rainbow In The Garden

2009-04-17T15:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
This is what I tried to describe in yesterday's post... my rainbow- the rainbow I saw in the water as I held a garden hose in my hand and watered the plants. Its funny that the image doesn't show the spray of water gushing forth in the afternoon sun. Its kinda kool! Anyway, I've started using my camera and hope to improve on my amateur photography skills. If anyone has any helpful tips for novices, feel free to comment. Your comments are always appreciated. Thanks.

2009-04-16T20:07:00.000-07:00

Tired, oh so tired.
Weary with eyes heavy and head aching.
Limbs lightweight and mind unfocused.
A drawn out yawn.
Another yawn followed by another...
I give up trying to concentrate as a third yawn causes neck muscles to tighten. Now a proper headache. Yawns become continuous and eyes water. I must get off to bed but lack the energy to move. I linger to catch the end of the news. CNN. It will be repeated over the coming days. News stories always are. So why do I fight the onset of sleep?Blissful sleep. Many insomniacs would give anything to be able to sleep. Am I ungrateful? Do I take sleep for granted? Come unto me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest for your soul. Oh yes, rest I need. Sweet peaceful rest. I remain listening to the news, but I do not hear it. Background noise. I am wasting my time. Time for bed, I must go. I bid you fare well and a pleasant night's sleep. Good night.

A Rainbow In My Garden

2009-04-16T13:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
I had a unique experience this morning and thought to share it with you. I've had a good day so far. I woke early and refreshed and hungry. My husband took me out for breakfast which is always a nice treat for me. Earlier I had watched Joyce Meyer on television. I like listening to her because I learn a lot, and receive lots of encouragement to press on in this journey called life... No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, ¹⁴ I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us. ¹⁵ Let all who are spiritually mature agree on these things. If you disagree on some point, I believe God will make it plain to you. ¹⁶ But we must hold on to the progress we have already made - Philippians 3v13-16. These words have greatly uplifted my spirits even as I write.

Later - it was such a warm day - I went to tend my garden. I transplanted some onions, did some mulching and watered the entire garden. As I held the green end of the long garden hose in my hand, a sudden brilliant gleam caught my eye. I stared until it came into clearer focus and noticed two parallel arches of colour in the stream of water. They were the the colours of the rainbow. They were two small rainbows; absolutely glorious! How awesome is that. How awesome is God. The rainbows reminded me of a song we used to sing in school... "red and yellow and pink and green, purple and orange and blue; I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too " Wow, I hadn't recalled that song in decades. Truly the rainbows were lovely, and they stayed with me until I finished watering the plants. I am reminded that beauty is everywhere. God's presence is everywhere.

A while later I decided to go ahead and clear another patch of ground as an extension for the young corn plants still in peat pots, but then I might consider it for the tomatoes. The rake got dislocated so I made do with the prungs of another old broken rake. I had just shoved a heap of leaves unto the pile when I let out a squeal. I ran across the yard, through the gate and out to the front of the house to call my husband who had been working on a boat trailer. Curious, he came to investigate what I'd seen. I'd seen the remains of what he calls a critter. It was the skeleton of an unfortunate squirrel (the only rodent I seem to like). Sad. No wonder I had perceived an awful rank smell the other day while I was working in that part of the yard.

Some days ago I was out running a familiar route when I passed something gleaming. I impulsively ran back to check it out. Guess what? I let out an exclamation of excitement. It was a tortoise. I was amazed. Its shell was at least ten inches long and its colour that of autumn hues. Of course I neither had my camera or my phone which has a camera feature. I was sorely disappointed. I wanted to pick it up and take it home but was unsure. If I'd had a bag I might have done it. At the same time I hesitated because I didn't know if it might be illegal and I sure didn't want any PETA women descending on me. I was torn. Should I take it and run or not? It just sat there. They are so slow that, had I run home to get a camera or a bag, I might have found it still there when I returned. Hmmm, I finally left it and ran on. Ever since I scout the woods each time I pass that way, hoping to find my tortoise friend. One day, perhaps our paths shall cross again. In NJ I had a similar experience when I stumbled upon wild rabbits along my jogging route at Branch Brook Park. I remain in awe of God's creation. He is awesome indeed.

Snapshots Along Memory Lane

2009-04-11T15:30:00.001-07:00

My sister [CathM] tagged me and its a challenge... 15 Influences. Name things that have impacted my life for better or worse. Everything seems to have affected me in some way & I believe nothing is mere accident or coincidence. Things happen for a reason whether we ever discover the reason or not. I digress... here is my list [with the lessons learned] in no particular order.

My family. How I love my family. My parents and three siblings were the earliest and strongest influences on my life. Mine was a strict family, organized and no nonsense, with the best of intentions but not always the best of approaches to realize those intentions. My sister is a year older so I've never known life without her. My younger brother, by four years, has always been close to me even though we are very different in many ways. Then there's my baby brother, only ten years old, who has touched my life in amazing ways. How I love my family. THEY SHOWED ME THE IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION & HARD WORK, AND TO BE GENEROUS & GOOD TO PEOPLE.
Boarding school. Mixed feelings. I first left home at 10 to attend a U.K. boarding school. First we were in Shropshire (my sister and I), then moved to Kent. Boarding school life added to what I got from home, strict discipline and no nonsense behaviour. I became mature & independent that young. My tender impressionable mind absorbed everything I was told (no room to question any of it) with dire consequences later in life. I've learned much how not to raise a child. Mixed feelings. IT TAUGHT ME INDEPENDENCE, ETIQUETTE & TO BE ARTICULATE.
God. Ever present. I guess He was always there but my acknowledgment of His role in my life never surfaced to conscious levels. My family went to church every Sunday. In primary school I attended (Bible) Story Club every Monday and took Religious Knowledge as a subject. Boarding school mandated Religious Studies too and weekly Sunday Service. Then I survived college without ever entering a church... except the time Gina told me to go see a dead body laid for viewing at the chapel. It was when I transferred to Nigeria after second year of medical school that I began to contemplate God as a part of my life. I would live in Nigeria for the next 9 years- one of the most trying chapters of my life. Another most challenging time of my life is now... it began the first time I ever heard of a place called Hinesville. Ever present. HE SHOWS ME THAT I NEED SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN; TO KEEP ME GROUNDED.
The 1980s. I'll forever love the '80s music.Those were my high school years (boarding school), a formative period in my development. The culture then, fashion, art, history, music, etc was all soaked in and has remained with me ever since. Oh sweet nostalgia as the memories come trickling out. I'll forever love the '80s music. I LEARNED THAT LIFE SHOULD BE FUN & MUSIC IS A WELCOME ESCAPE OR RETREAT.
Water. The amazing energy of a turbulent sea. Growing up in Israel I have fond childhood memories of trips to Nahariya, Eilat, Lake Tiberias... walks along the shore, wading in the water, boat rides, fishing with family friends. I first learned to swim in Oswestry, England and remember swimming practices at the leisure center. Then it was a chore & not really something I enjoyed. In Kent the school had its own pool and my best friend, Helen, was drawn to water like fish; so I grew to love being in the water even if I still couldn't master the front crawl. I've experienced the Mediterranean, the Dead Sea, the Atlantic Ocean while at Ghana's La Palm Hotel, the Caribbean Sea... Med school in Grenada was memorable. I went to lectures with my bathing suit under my clothes & as soon as we let out I was headed straight for the water. The lovely secluded beaches. One day a friend and I joined some fishermen out to sea. In the middle of the sea I climbed out of the boat to feel the power of the sea... a lone head bobbing on the water. In Cyprus I once stayed at a waterfront hotel. I stood on the balcony watching ferocious waves lash upon the beach while the storm raged all night. The amazing energy of a turbulent sea. LIFE IS UNDULATING- PEAKS WITH ENERGIES THAT REVIVE & NADIRS THAT CALMLY SOBER.
Media. I don't know whether their good outweigh their bad. I was never skinny but I don't think I was fat as a child. At least not fat enough to be teased, not fat enough for my parents to be concerned and not fat enough to even worry about it. But I did worry. Obsessing about my weight began in high school, all thanks to fashion magazines like Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Elle; and television and music celebrities that reminded me that thin was in. After decades of tears and weight loss tactics, I have become less obsessed. Now the same media tells me to love myself as I am and focus on staying healthy while enjoying the simple pleasures of life... for me this includes the occasional chocolate-covered pretzel or peanut butter wafers. I don't know whether their good outweigh their bad. LEARN FROM BOTH GOOD & BAD- APPLY THE GOOD & AVOID THE BAD.
Queen Latifah. She's great. She's not much older than me but subconsciously has helped to inspire me. I find her beautiful both inside and out. She radiates self confidence and inner strength. She is well spoken and accomplished too. She's great. BE YOUR BEST BECAUSE YOU MIGHT BE A ROLE MODEL FOR SOMEONE WITHOUT KNOWING.
Janet Jackson. There's a gentleness to her that is becoming. A friend in high school adored her. Although I've never desired fame or been overtly inclined towards the arts per se, witnessing her life through the eyes of the media has taught me that everyone has struggles of some sort. However, when you stumble you don't have to fall. You can get back up and keep on going until you get to where you want to be. There's a gentleness to her that is becoming. BELIEVE IN YOUR DESTINY FOR YOU SHALL GET THERE.
Kindness. A gift to give and receive. I saw my parents as generous and kind. I saw our family friends and other friends in our U.N. community in Israel the same way. Naively I thought all people were good. Somewhere, somehow, this translated my desire to be kind and help people into a desire to become a doctor. For the most part I was always treated with kindness and when I wasn't, I often perceived a good intention behind the act anyway. A gift to give and receive. BE KIND REGARDLESS OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES.
Principle. An addiction. My father is a man of enviable principle. I grew up knowing that to be principled is a good quality. Yet our family was extreme. I became driven by, and mastered, principle, logic and common sense. If something doesn't make sense then I might get disoriented and vexed until it makes sense. Maybe that's why I excelled in Math, because I was born to figure things out? Now I see it as a weakness... an addiction according to Joyce Meyer, and I'm working hard to let it go. Things won't always make sense and having what the Americans call a melt down (I laugh anytime I hear this phrase; like a snowman by a fireplace or a popsicle in an oven) will never solve a problem. An addiction. ITS GOOD TO UNDERSTAND THINGS BUT DON'T LEAVE THE BIG PICTURE TO FOCUS ON THE TINY PIXELS.
Physical Activity. Good health goes a long way. My father is a believer in exercise and used to play football [i.e. soccer]. He loved to walk and this is what got me into physical exercise. I ran many races in Elementary school and got into Athletics in Secondary school. I played sports because I enjoyed them, not because I was good... but I did win the 100meter sprints many a time. Over the years I've engaged in tennis, badminton, squash, ping pong, volleyball, netball, field hockey, rounders, swimming, and was on the crew team in college... but nowadays I mainly run/jog/walk and hit the gym & join group aerobics whenever I get a chance. Thanks to God, I've been a pretty healthy person. You can't buy good health. Good health goes a long way. DO YOUR PART TO BE HEALTHY & MAKE HEALTH A PRIORITY.
My Husband. God's grace is sufficient. A recent addition to my life, my husband obviously had no influence in my life before now. However, in the last nine months he has affected me greatly and I wonder to what extent he shall continue to influence me in future? Will he ever be a strong influence in my life? It seems that sometimes we allow ourselves to be influenced while other times we just get influenced and its beyond our control. Hmmm... we've got to actively resist negative influence as we graciously accept the positive. God's grace is sufficient. DO RIGHT BECAUSE YOUR BEHAVIOUR INFLUENCES THOSE AROUND YOU.
Culture. The Power of Culture. I was born in Congo (the People's Republic of) and believe that this Francophone culture has some yet unrealized influence on me. However, my family is Nigerian and their culture certainly runs through my veins. I grew up in the Middle East and was blessed by the Israeli and Arab ways of life... these cultures similarly have a definite thread running through every aspect of who I am. My years in the U.K. transformed me tremendously and college in the U.S. and Med school in Grenada further shaped and molded the clay that is me. Moving to Nigeria for 9 years and then working in Liberia added to who I became. Back in America since 2006 I am still growing as a result of the exciting and amazing influence of culture. The Power of Culture. LOVE ALL PEOPLES & EMBRACE ALL CULTURES.
Dreams. Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true - Leon Joseph Cardinal Suenens. I was an avid daydreamer. It was my favourite pasttime and I loved having nothing else to do because it afforded me time to slip into my dreamworld for a moment. I daydreamed so much that I thought it highly abnormal. I created so many stories in my head, led different lives, perfected plans to change the world and make it a better place; thought up ways to make others happy, planned a happy future; My dreams were never like goals or ambitions, just fantasies. Nevertheless I believe that dreams have a positive correlation with drive to succeed. Just like I blogged a piece on doodling, I might post something on dreams... both real dreams & daydreams. Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true - Leon Joseph Cardinal Suenens. DREAMS CAN PREPARE YOU OR PROPEL YOU TO YOUR DESTINY.
Experiences. The best teacher. Like I said ab initio, everything in life seems to have affected me in some manner, whether positively or negatively. The night a man broke into my apartment- a year later I still see his face. The night a mini-bus almost ran me over as I crossed a busy street. The night I walked home from a late shift at the hospital- so dark, no street lights, no cars about, and a torrential downpour typical of West African rainy season. The time I was caught in a violent wave on the sea that threw me unto the beach sparing me a violent end. The night I got a phonecall that my family had been invaded by armed robbers. The time I got the message that mom had been in an accident [she's still recovering]. Working at a mission hospital. Volunteering with UNV. Going to a food shelter. Meeting victims of child trafficking. Seeing seven dead bodies by the side of a road. Speaking with an uncle [family friend] before he died. Watching my grandmother die. The day I helped deliver my good friend's baby [they made sure I was on call]. The boy in the ward with Ameloblastoma- jaw tumor. While all that has happened to me has been significant, things that have affected others have also sometimes happened to me... lessons learned. The best teacher. USE YOUR EXPERIENCES & THOSE OF OTHERS TO BECOME A BETTER PERSON.

Alas, I've hit 15 influences so let me stop here lest I go on and on. It started as a challenge & turned out to be cathartic, therapeutic and liberating. Thanks my sister for tagging me. And thanks Linda S [whose page I shall visit again] for neither of you would have known that I needed this healing exercise when you got the "tag" ball rolling and sent it my way. Thanks readers for reading and I invite you all to try this Tag: 15 Influences.

2009-04-06T07:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

How motivated are you?

Did you know your genes play a role in determining your motivational state and triggers?

Well, I came across an interesting piece and thought to share it with you all. It is worth thinking about. So take a moment to find out what gets you motivated by clicking here. The better you know yourself, the easier it is to weather the storms of life! I'm on a quest for self discovery, spiritual growth and personal improvement... maybe this has something to do with my middle name - Ijeoma. It is an Igbo name (a Nigerian language) and means "Safe Journey". I always believed it means a safe journey through life! Well, I wish you all a safe journey too. Ijeoma!

2009-04-02T17:05:00.000-07:00

DRIVE CAREFULLY can never be overstated or overrated!

Although seemingly funny, these are serious.

The driver insisted on going to work in that weather... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaJhm4J4idQ

With all due respect, I hope she retook the entire test... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAw8DbFg5YM

Hmmm, almost got away... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0CV6w2nEpE

Real lucky officer... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGkeUD1Lfek

Years ago at work, I saw a ghastly photograph of a car accident; the young driver was completely gutted. He was found outside the car (thrown out I guess) while the intestines lay on the steering wheel inside the vehicle. Please always DRIVE CAREFULLY!

2009-04-02T11:42:00.000-07:00

A Funny Thing

These past few weeks have had me overwhelmed (lots on my plate) and consequently a bit absent-minded. One day I read a sign that said ROC DR. ILL. For some reason something seemed amiss and I read it and re-read it many times. Dr. Ill? In a flash the traffic lights changed and our car took off. One last hurried look at the sign and I began to chuckle. It is amazing how sometimes we see what we want to see rather than what is actually before us! You'll not believe what the sign really said... it said ROC DRILL! Why on earth did my mind separate the word drill into dr ill. Does my being a doctor have anything to do with it... probably not. Just a tired ol' mind. Have a great weekend.

2009-03-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

After reading In Search Of A Greener Tomorrow's post on the smallest car, I came across the one he spoke of as well as another [see below]. I thank him for such stimulating articles and posts.

http://news.cnet.com/8301-17938_105-10201922-1.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJfSS0ZXYdo

2009-03-24T09:45:00.000-07:00

I watched the rays of sunlight spill unto my carpet.
Lifting my head I stared at the window for a long time.
Then I parted the shades and peered out.
Overhanging branches of the big pine tree obstructed my view.
My gaze moved between the branches and dangling moss,
and I looked past the thick white clouds overhead.
Into the deep blueness of the sky; so I followed the path of light.
Traced it as far as I could towards its source.
Way beyond my ken. . . somewhere out there was God.

Doodles & Me

2009-03-23T13:45:00.000-07:00

This is really cool stuff.

Today I was getting some information over the phone. Glancing at the sheet of paper I wondered about my age-old habit of doodling. I consider myself an anxious personality, inherited from my mother I believe, yet was never a fidgety or hand-wringing sort. People always admire how calm I am, knowing not how my stomach is either secretly turning somersaults or being invaded by butterflies. Anyway, I decided to research the significance of doodles, if any. I used to be interested in the study of handwriting - Graphology. Maybe because I have always had various regular handwriting patterns and I think it unusual to have more than one prominent handwriting style. I have a slanted neat cursive which I proudly consider evolved from my father's penmanship that I have admired since childhood. Then I have the bold bubbly type that caused friends to tease me that I waste paper. Then there are the careless characters of rushed work that developed in my college/pre-med days to cope with work loads that realistically needed extra hours in a day.

Anyway, this is what I found out about me and my doodles based specifically on today's pattern of triangular shapes. I am: strong-willed, have a masculine streak and like facts. I am determined and need an outlet for my mental & physical energy. This is so true. Currently I am bored and have been since 2006. In spite of over 8 years working as a doctor overseas, I can't practise as a physician here until I get into a residency training position and this has proved impossible and frustrating. On top of this, I just relocated to GA where getting into a simple diploma course is hard because I am not a state resident yet. I am broke after using up all my savings paying for medical courses and living in NY/NJ for three years. Desperate for anything I applied (and later interviewed) for a receptionist post. They sent a polite email saying that its only $8 an hour and I have too much experience, so I didn't even get that... E.t.c. You get the picture? I need an outlet alright :)

I have good organization & I am methodical. Queen of logic, that's me- lol! If it doesn't make sense it shall nag me and I shall nag you until it does. I like order & control. Yes, yes, yes. Everything has its place & purpose. Now my husband is an artist... suffice it to say that we are at either ends of the spectrum on this. At the time of doodling, I was dwelling on the future & outside world. True. I was chasing up something in connection with immigration paperwork, which once approved will relieve the causes of my pent up energy mentioned above. Interesting stuff. Check out what your doodle means --> DOODLE MEANINGS .

Joel 1v13-15

2009-03-22T20:12:00.000-07:00

Queen Esther had an important assignment to do that required God's wisdom and direction so she sought His face. She (and others on her behalf) fasted for 3 days & nights before she set off to address the problem. Jesus had a habit of fasting before certain big assignments. He did 40 days and nights before his temptation by satan. It is amazing how often we take decisions without committing it to the Lord. Big or small, dilemmas or successes... we should involve God in all areas of our lives & trust His promptings.

Joel's reading is about priests being called to consecrate a fast for a problem. Everyone in the land needed to be in the house of God crying unto Him. Likewise we should declare a fast from time to time. We can fast alone, call a fast in our home or join fasts called by our churches. Sometimes this will be when there's a tough task or decision ahead. Other times we may fast for spiritual cleansing. This benefits us physically too because our stomachs rest and our bodies get time to recuperate. One might do a weekly or monthly fast from 6 a.m. until noon (or until 3 p.m.). On the day of the fast pray intermittently with a thankful heart. Petition Him if you have a need and ask for divine cleansing of body, mind, soul & spirit.

Fasting is to sacrifice something. For instance, giving up food and drink in order to focus on your spirituality & being at one with the creator. Keeping the body empty brings it under the control of your spirit. This enables your spirit man to rise above carnal and worldly thoughts and draw closer to God's spirit. Being in tune with the Holy Spirit opens you up to the mind of God and allows you to pray and live out His will.

SONG: Goodbye World

2009-03-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

Remember my blog post called Edge Runner?

I had written that the Edge Runner had a crooked back wheel. We had another older yet sturdy bike which was in worse shape and needed more serious repairs. Well, the other day my husband got a new bicycle for me to practice on. Although new to us, it was actually second-hand. It was slightly smaller, faster and named the Mongoose. At his insistence, I went on a trial ride... all the way down our road which lacks any pavements and back again. By pavements I mean what is known here in America as sidewalks. I succeeded somewhat in overcoming my fear of the traffic, holding my ground and not falling off as passing cars whizzed by. I looked forward to perfecting my confidence and turns with Mongoose in the coming weeks. Sadly though, my plans were shattered.

Today we left home at 0955h for an appointment. The three bicycles were lined up against the wall. Upon our return at 1420h my husband immediately noticed that the latest addition was missing. Mongoose was gone. Taken from where she'd stood behind the others only hours earlier. A sudden sadness overcame me. Why would someone steal our bike? It was unfair, for one thing. My husband works hard and saves his money to purchase a bicycle; then someone comes along and just takes it without sweat. Going online I realized that bike thefts are not uncommon. Still, I felt violated. Had the thief been watching us to know that we were out. This incident, minor as it may seem, challenges my sense of security and safety. Some consolation is that Edge Runner was spared, because of her wonky wheel - no doubt.

Back in New Jersey, a man had broken into my apartment at three o'clock one morning a year ago when I stayed in Irvington. Of course I moved out within twenty-four hours to a safer neighborhood in Newark. Over there you leave nothing outside. Here everyone leaves stuff lying around in open and often gate-less yards. Perhaps this caused me to let down my guard when I moved to this seemingly quiet street in this small town. Today's episode was a necessary reminder to be ever careful wherever I am... and prayerful too.

Unless the LORD guards the city, The watchman keeps awake in vain. [Psalm 127:1]

2009-03-18T19:27:00.000-07:00

I wrote this on a whim after being inspired by a lovely photograph. It was taken by a fellow blogger... check him out on In Search Of A Greener Tomorrow.

The sun & the electric pole,
The light creeps upon the dark,
White gleam and yellow hue,
Oranges blend and fade.

Silent palms speak of life,
The tall wooden pole lifeless.
How rich are these colours,
So beautiful is God's creation.

This is the original unedited piece, and I propose to develop it further so stay tuned folks and have a blessed day.

Joel 1v10-12

2009-03-15T20:58:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt dry?

Physically your body feels weak and tired, your mouth is dry and you might even have a headache. Medically this is a state of dehydration where your body is starved of water. Spiritually you feel empty, lonely even, in spite of being surrounded by people. Unhappiness. Your spirit begins to wither and dry out... in the way Joel describes the vine and fig trees.

Joel concludes that surely joy has withered away from the sons of man. Has your joy withered away? Are you dry at this time in your life? Do not worry if you feel so. Look to Jesus and declare that it shall be well with you. If Ezekiel could prophesy to dead dry bones to live again then so can you. We are children of the same God therefore we can call things that are not as though they were, and so they shall be.

Think of all dry spots in your life (write them down). Meditate upon them... what caused those areas to dry up? How long they have been dry? Maybe they've been dry so long that they are already dead. Declare in Jesus' name that all dry aspects shall be revived. Ask Jesus to water every part of your life from his spring of living water. Ask him to water you daily as you trust God for the increase. From henceforth you will grow. Speak positive growth into everything that concerns you. You will see catch-up growth in all formerly dead or dying areas. The power of the resurrection will resurrect all dead and dying plans you ever had... dry or dead dreams... according to the perfect will of God.

Pray that all futile plans and dreams not be reawakened. May God only grow that which will become fruitful in your life.

Song: Breathe on me breath of God

2009-03-14T19:54:00.000-07:00

Darkness
Deep melancholy
All the world a blur

Deluded
Dejected
Alone and unsure

Downcast
Desolate
Emotions a tempestuous sea

Deranged
Disagreeable
Frenzied silent plea

Depression
Denial
Anger takes its toll

Drowning
Desperate
A bottomless hole

Despair
Despondence
Fighting to hold on

Dazed
Disoriented
How the night is gone

Determination
Desire
Morning revives the soul

Divine
Devotion
Faith has made me whole

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning! -Psalms 30:5

2009-03-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

Eyes open
Unseeing
My mind searches

Open door
First rays of dawn
New hope on horizon

Walking fast
Faster, farther
Air rushes in

Running hard
Breathing harder
Blessed escape from all

Feet pounding pavement
Throbbing head
Heartbeat loud

Pause
Deep breath
Sweat drops and tears

Where do I go
Why here
Purpose for my birth

My mind is searching
Eyes wide
Future is unclear

2009-03-04T12:38:00.000-08:00

I stopped suddenly. There was a tiny bird lying motionless on its back, wings tucked into its side. It lay as if it were sleeping but I knew it was dead. Another step, another bird and this one lay at an odd angle. It too was lifeless. The birds were barely a foot from the main road upon a patch of grass. I wondered at their demise unable to fathom what might have occurred. Sad. I didn't know what to do. I left them there and walked on. Days later the vivid memory remains with me. Perhaps I could have found a spot and buried them. I felt sombre. Might there have been a lesson in that? I look for life lessons everywhere now. Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? - Matthew 6v26. Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow - Psalm 144v4.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven - Ecclesiastes 3v1-8.

2009-03-03T09:32:00.000-08:00

I had written this a while back. Today I started toying with the structure of the phrases and rearranging the way the words were placed on the page. It interested me how different the piece looks now, compared to when it is properly written in full sentences.

I woke
too early
with eyes still heavy
and a morning chill
in the air.
It was times like this
when I wish
you were here-
my love,
my warrior
& protector.

I would crawl
into your arms
and curl
up
against
your gently heaving chest
until you wake,
feeling
warm
and safe
in your warrior's embrace.

Anticipating
the sweetness
of morning kisses
that you'd rain upon my face
strong
hands rubbing my shoulders
tension eases away.
Soothed
I would feel
your weight shift
as you turn to me

still sleepy-eyed and
breathing
slow,
heart beating
right next to mine:
you alright bright eyes?
you might ask
with a smile,
sparkle
in the depths
of your brown eyes.

Prayers For Bobby

2009-03-01T14:32:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

I trust that everyone had a pleasant weekend. I was up until the wee hours of this morning watching a movie that touched my heart deeply. The title is Prayers For Bobby and it is a "must see." For those who don't know, this is a movie that shares the extreme experiences of a young boy, a teenager, who determines that he is gay. Coming from a staunch Christian home where the wrath of God and peril of hell fire hung over the heads of all, and witnessing disdainful remarks about homosexuals by his most beloved family, young Bobby was thrown into a state of mental anguish when he finally decided that he was gay. Life became unbearable. After contemplating suicide and confiding in his older brother, the parents become aware of the crisis and mother goes above and beyond the maternal (and human) call of duty to try to "cure" him. Bobby's internal struggle within an innocent and timid mind heightens until at the last we watch him fall backwards off a bridge in Portland, and supposedly unto the path of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. I wept.

The aim of this post is to encourage you all to watch the movie. I only want to trigger readers (and myself) to further, and objectively, reevaluate their stance on this subject. No disrespect or offense is intended. Like many I have my beliefs about the extremely controversial subject of the acceptance of being gay. However, I shall exclude my personal convictions while writing this blog post. For Christians I encourage you to commit it unto the Lord in prayer (if you need to) and ask Him to grant you understanding. At the end of the day I feel we should be able to accept one another, differences and all, without compromising God's word. Jesus did.

Several old Hebrew words were translated as Abomination in the bible. Oftentimes those Hebrew words implied forbidden, not to be touched, and not to be eaten. Significantly too, the word Abomination in English means detestable, abhorred, shameful and vile. The Word of God says that being gay is unacceptable. Levicticus 18v22 states You must not have sexual intercourse with a male as one has sexual intercourse with a woman; it is a detestable act. The same book reiterates in 20v13 that If a man has sexual intercourse with a male as one has sexual intercourse with a woman, the two of them have committed an abomination. They must be put to death; their blood guilt is on themselves. As a Christian, life should be all about salvation and getting into heaven; living according to God's word. For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Mark 8v36. It seems clear then what the bible says about gay persons. However many people apparently skip or ignore or are simply not aware of certain pertinent verses. Let me add here that there are numerous diverse ways in which the bible is interpreted and this is understandably confusing.

Take Deuteronomy 1v18-21 for instance:

If a man have a stubborn and rebellious son, which will not obey the voice of his father, or the voice of his mother, and that, when they have chastened him, will not hearken unto them: Then shall his father and his mother lay hold on him, and bring him out unto the elders of his city, and unto the gate of his place; And they shall say unto the elders of his city, This our son is stubborn and rebellious, he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton, and a drunkard. And all the men of his city shall stone him with stones, that he die: so shalt thou put evil away from among you; and all Israel shall hear, and fear.

Or 1Corinthians 6v9-10 which asks,
Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived! The sexually immoral, idolaters, adulterers, passive homosexual partners, practicing homosexuals,thieves, the greedy, drunkards, the verbally abusive, and swindlers will not inherit the kingdom of God.

What does this mean? That offenses worthy of death include children's disobedience, stubborness, drunken behaviour? That those who have extramarital affairs and con men should be treated in the same way as gay people and none shall get to heaven? How unsettling this might be for some. Accepting gay people is commonly and heatedly debated yet when last did you hear debates about saying no to sex outside marriage, prostitution, etc? Many of us appreciate the good work that AA (alcoholics anonymous) does. How many have ever thought this problem warranted stoning to death? I have simply presented these facts for your review and to draw attention to certain things that you may not have paid much mind to previously. May you discover for yourselves what it means to you, to others in your world and to the Christian walk. Nevertheless, please always treat others as you would want to be treated and remember Jesus' powerful words: He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone at her - John 8v7.

I believe that we all have a cross to bear. Whether it be homosexuality, depression or some other grave illness, dealing with rebellious children, abject poverty, fighting addiction, surviving rape, domestic abuse or anything else, we might find ourselves in a real dark place. A situation which no one else seems to understand. We are alone and afraid. We lose hope and let life slip away. Please let us know that there is always hope. Remember that most times we only see a tiny part of the big picture. Imagine a baby in a cot crying. He is hungry. He can not see outside his cot and he can not see his mother. However the mother is in the room preparing his bottle. The solution is right there- he just can not see it. Just hang on a while longer. No matter how long you have been in your situation, help might already be nigh. Don't give up. A winner never quits & a quitter never wins. It is easier said than done, you might say. Yes, it is but we got to try anyway.

Thanks for reading and be greatly blessed this week and always.
LJ

Jack & Jill - The Move

2009-02-25T17:44:00.000-08:00

After much thought & prayer Jill agrees to travel across the country to live with her boyfriend, Jack. They'd talked about it for months but she was still skeptical of the outcome. Her finances were low and even though Jack had promised to take care of the entire moving expenses, Jill had an uneasy feeling about this. Its just nerves, her girlfriend had said last night. Its a big deal what you're about to do, so its alright to be a little scared. Yes I suppose you are right, replied Jill. They were to have dinner together at La Pointe hotel on Saturday, along with another friend. Saying goodbye was never fun but at least they'd already talked about meeting up in Montgomery in a few months. Jill's host parents from college had invited them all to spend a week with the family to celebrate their sixtieth birthday. Both husband and wife had the same birthday- kind of cool. Now it was time to finish the last of the packing and wait for the shippers who were expected in about four hours. Just then Missy called. She wanted to stop by but Jill had lots to get done. I'll help you, volunteered Missy who was already missing her big sister. Well, she wasn't her real big sister but ever since Jill had worked at Maris summer camp three years ago in Clover, near Rochester, the now nineteen year old Missy had grown attached to her. Jill was equally fond of her.

Straight away the two girls had clicked. Their friendship was instantaneous. Missy was dark and often mistaken to be Latina, Italian or Greek. In fact she was none of them. Her father was Scottish and mother Japanese. Her dark waist-long hair always attracted compliments wherever she went. She had other siblings who were much older than her, in fact much older than Jill too, so Missy spent much of her time alone. Her parents were still out in California yet Missy had chosen to attend university on the east coast after the college of her choice offered her a scholarship to study psychology. Already in her third year she was thinking of moving back home for graduate school, just because she'd be closer to Jill. Her family resided about 85 miles east of San Diego on the outskirts of Borrego Springs. Jill was relocating to Avondale right outside of Phoenix. She planned to check out the programs offered at University of California at La Jolla and California State at San Marcos campus. Her course advisor had informed her that UC had a Joint Doctoral Program in Clinical Psychology whereas the latter had an MA in Psychology course.

Jill had majored in Architecture and taken a minor in Photography during her undergraduate years at UMass and was ready to commence a Master's Program in Photography. She had contemplated colleges in Arizona but proved unsuccessful in finding a suitable course. Unknown to Missy was the fact that she had received an acceptance letter from La Jolla earlier in the week, so both girls might end up attending the same school. Missy would be thrilled. Jill was eight years her senior and equally dark in complexion. On occasion they had been assumed to be siblings. They differed in that Jill kept her hair so short that it barely touched her shoulders. It was usually pinned back like in the style of the fifties. It suited her. Both girls were about five feet and six inches tall, muscular and lovers of the outdoors. The older girl was of Jewish ancestry. She was named Jael but mostly her family called her that now. She remembered the first day at a new school when she'd gone home in tears, announcing to grandpa that she wanted to be called Jill. The kids had teased her because of her name. Her grandfather had cradled her in his arms and laughed a long time. Then he had told her this story: There was a cruel leader who ruled his people mercilessly for a long time. One day his soldiers were caught off guard and attacked but he managed to escape. He ran into Jael's tent begging for safety. She took him in while her husband was still at war. That night she waited for him to sleep and then killed him. She was very brave and saved her people from further trouble by that cruel general . Grandpa had been kind but she had asked everyone to call her Jill anyway. In a moment of introspection she decided that she would revert to using her Hebrew name.

The Heskels, her father's parents, had emigrated from Iraq around 1950 and settled in Israel for a few years. She recalled many of her grandfather's stories. They had been part of the rescue en masse of thousands of Iraqi Jews by the Israeli government. It had been a perilous time. They had come to America a decade later in the wake of some shift in Israel's economy, settling in Southern California. Anyway, she spoke Arabic and Hebrew fluently as a result of spending her summers studying at language institutes all through high school. Regardless she considered herself to be a second generation American. Well she was. She made a mental note to call grandpa before she left this weekend. She missed him. They had been very close. These days she hardly had time to visit him, especially since she'd lived between Massachusetts, New York and Maryland these past few years. Disengaging from her thoughts she glanced across at the clock.

It was agreed that Missy would come and help her. She had relented partly because Missy would not make the dinner date on Saturday. She had stuff to do at school. Before long her cell phone rang again- Missy was outside and Jill buzzed her in. Wow, you're all set girl, Missy declared cheerfully. Pretty much I guess, Jill responded. Okay, so what do you need me to do?, the younger girl questioned as she took off her outer coat. They spent the next few hours taping boxes, labeling them and positioning them by the door. At exactly six thirty the phone rang. This time it was the shipper. He parked the moving van as close to the building as he could then he and the girls set about loading the cartons into the van. It was a small van with a trailer behind. Definitely not what she'd expected, but what to do? It took them an hour to empty her apartment. Jill paid a small deposit after which Mr. Jameson departed, promising her safe delivery of her belongings in ten days. Tired, she allowed Missy to order Chinese shrimps & broccoli with the sweet iced tea she enjoyed. The take-out place was only down the road so the food arrived in less than twenty minutes. After eating they settled down to watch some movies on her laptop. The house was empty and their voices echoed. She asked Missy to spend the night and she gladly agreed. It would be collapsed and folded boxes for beds tonight. Tomorrow Jill would move to the small hotel downtown where she would remain until her travel on Sunday night.

Before they turned in for the night, Jill called Jack to give him an update. They chatted briefly before bidding each other good night. By the time she finished, Missy was long asleep and her gentle breathing resounded in the unusually quiet apartment. The temperature was expected to drop and Jill placed another blanket over her friend. She decided to sleep with her warm dressing gown on, then pulled part of the blanket over herself too. With that, her head touched the pillow and next she knew it was morning.

Miriam

2009-02-25T10:43:00.000-08:00

Miriam awoke from a fitful sleep to the sound of an alarm. Getting up to turn it off, the time read 6.00 am - no way! But I only just went to bed. This is almost as bad as being woken up at the crack of dawn by roosters the time I lived on that farm in Omoba. Aaaaaaaaaaaaagh! Omoba was a village in Abia State, Nigeria. Miriam grumbled and double-checked the hour with the watch on the window sill, the one with black leather straps. In spite of the confirmation that it was indeed six o'clock, she crawled back unto the Queen sized bed which suddenly seemed too large for just her. She lay there in the dim light that spilled in from the street lamps outside. Sprawled across the bed with her head off the old feather pillows, she thought about her windows that had remained bare of curtains ever since she moved in. Initially she had purposed to buy some fabric at Cabela & Sons downtown in order to sew the drapes herself. Still she never got around to doing it. Not yet anyway. Consequently, for now the plain ivory Roman-style blind prevented anyone who was tempted to peer inside from doing so. These had come with the flat. With this last thought she was fast asleep and lost in a land of dreams.

Another alarm... 6.15 am... oh man, nooooooooooooooooooo! She had pressed the snooze button earlier instead of the off button. Today was not starting well. Again she leapt from her bed half-startled by the ringing and cut off the phone alarm of her Nokia. This black and silver camera phone with blue tooth technology had been a gift to herself when she was leaving Liberia back in December 2005. It cost her all of $350. She loved it. Climbing back unto the rumpled sheets, her eyes closed yet again. Immediately, or so it seemed, there was a beep and this time the cell phone lay under her pillow. She reached for it noticing the text message from her sister. Time now was 7.10 am. Oh my... I was supposed to leave at six-thirty for my early morning appointment. No, this was not good. Without sitting up she dialed the number to the experimental group and left a voice mail. She knew that the staff would not be in the clinic at that time. They would get her message in the next two hours: Hi Sophia, this is Miriam. I spoke with you yesterday to reschedule but I just woke up and don't feel so good. I'm so sorry to be canceling again but I shall call you later to reschedule again. I am so sorry and please let Cindy know.Thank you. Her body let out a huge sigh. Eyes heavy, voice gruff and body weak, she paused; seated on the edge of the beautiful wooden bed gazing at the lovely feminine dresser in front of her, with its triple mirrors and tiny drawers and white-cushioned stool beneath. It reminded her of the Victorian-style decor that was very fashionable at one time in the U.K. The last thing she remembered was opening her email and finding two messages from the love of her life. Alas he had not forgotten her. She had started to read the first email when the text message had woken her the third time. Had she dreamt that?

Feeling extremely disoriented plus a little unsteady, she made her way into the living room to turn on her laptop computer. At the same time her mind registered hunger and she wondered... was it a stress hunger, or a physical hunger, or an emotional hunger? She gave it no further thought and walked into the cramped kitchen to fix a bowl of oatmeal while her system was booting... cinammon spice mixed with regular flavour. Done, she retrieved it from the microwave and then popped it into the freezer for a rapid cool down. By this time she was already checking her email... no new messages. Then she searched for his IM... nothing. Her heart began racing wildly and her mind became giddy with despair... almost twenty-four hours with not a word? Was he alright? Was he safe? Was he in the sick bay? Perhaps he was too weak or maybe had no access to a computer or even a telephone. She would not worry, she thought. She would not dwell on that now. Besides the clock was ticking and time was moving. She was still tired from such a restless night. Now her tummy was really complaining... she would have her oatmeal then snooze on the couch for a bit before getting up to prepare for work. It was time she got herself another job. The monotonous routine at Lardy's Upholstery was more than she could bear after a mere three months there. She'd call Mark on the weekend and ask if the position at the solicitor's firm was still available. This was a prestigious group run by Kline & Crawford. Apart from the longer hours she might be required to put in there, it would be a welcome challenge. This thought uplifted her spirits and she settled down to eat.

Mother

2009-02-25T10:37:00.000-08:00

A mother's pride when people she meets on the train ask her to thank her son for serving the country;
A mother's wisdom as she explains how in a new town, if they don't welcome you then you reach out to them;
A mother's love as she takes two days off work and spends two cold days aboard AMTRAK to see her only son;
A mother's joy and contentment when she finds him safe and well;
A mother's peace as he tucks her into bed for the night after a long day.
A mother, indeed she is a treasure.

From LJ With Love

2009-02-25T10:10:00.000-08:00

I met a lovely young man named WLJ
Handsome as a gentleman ought to be
Intellectual, articulate, bright as day
A soldier in a land so far away

Deployed overseas more than a year
He longed for a family to call his own
Ever the romantic he loved to write
Words so enchanting, what a delight

Cyber dating had been their turf
This virtual world bonded them closer
Passionate and ardent he made it clear
He'd be back for her hand at the end of the year

Tall he was with brown eyes so deep
Rugged and broad yet tender beneath
Accomplished gifted well-traveled too
Life-long dreams were now coming true

How he did cherish this dear girl
Keeping her in every thought and prayer
She had such big bright dancing eyes
A smile so radiant it mesmerized

Amazing how fate caused them to meet
The destiny of one dependent on another
They fit together like a hand in a glove
Fondness & adoration emanating from love.

Mad As A Hatter

2009-02-24T08:30:00.000-08:00

I got mad this morning and I don't know why. I mean, I know what I was mad about but I don't know why I allowed myself to get mad. I wasn't crazy mad, like mental or insane... just angry mad, like furious and provoked. If I think about it though, when one is angry mad, one sometimes looks crazy mad. In my culture the expression mad woman is not unpopular and paints the image of an angry woman acting crazy. Well, this episode propelled me to do some self-analysis and understand the matter better. I asked myself to consider my feelings and then articulate them. I felt ruffled, edgy and like the other person was being bossy. Physiologically my heart rate must have increased, my voice got louder and squeaky, my words stumbled over each other as they rushed out of my mouth in a bid to keep pace with my racing thoughts. All the while my spirit remained somewhat aloof and questioned my rationale. My spirit knew I was being unreasonable and pleaded silently for me to let it go. My head argued that I had good reason to be upset and continued its rationalization process. Still, I did not feel good.

What is anger anyway? Is it wrong to get angry? Why do I feel guilty every time I get mad?

Anger -

1.	a strong feeling of displeasure; hostility; triggered by feeling wronged.

2.	pain (feeling sore) British.

3.	grief; trouble Obsolete.

4. strong passion/emotion stimulated by real or supposed insult/hurt to self or others.
5. resentment.

Madness -

insanity.

2.	fury; anger;

3.	frenzy; rage.

4.	intense excitement or enthusiasm

At that moment I experienced a strong feeling of injustice and emotions arose from my feeling insulted. Of course the insult I perceived was not intended at all by the perpetrator. Immediately coming to mind were the words of Paul, the apostle. I felt validated as I recalled them from memory... even though I want to do right I always seem to do wrong. For I do not understand my own actions (I am baffled, bewildered). I do not practice or accomplish what I wish, but I do the very thing that I loathe (which my moral instinct condemns) - Romans 7v15. Read the passage from Romans 7v13 to 25. This is exactly how I felt earlier this morning.

But there is hope. I certainly have a hope. Firstly because my hope is in Christ Jesus who came for the sick. The well don't need a doctor but the unwell. Secondly, my hope, faith & trust are in Him in whom I live, move & have my being Acts 17v28a. Then I take courage in the wisdom and experiences of Paul. He who seems to me to be such a powerful man of God was formerly a murderer. He was in the dark being ignorant of his actions until the day he woke up. That day he met with Jesus and his life took a u-turn. All his zeal was now for Jesus rather than against him. In spite of it all, the apostle admits that he struggles still with doing the right thing. Like him, I (my spirit) know the right thing to do in most situations yet I (my flesh) do it not.

Jesus answered them, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent.” Luke 5v31-32.

God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him. John 3v17.

One great thing about me is that I do have good insight, i.e. self awareness, so I do know my weaknesses. Another great aspect to me is that I strive every blessed day to be a better person. If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. In my case it is, if at first I don't succeed, try and try and try and try and try and try and try again.

Now I am calm. I can clearly see that I should have backed down. A friend made me to understand that a relationship is like a garden. It needs to be tended. As the weeds come up they must be removed lest they grow and choke the flowers and plants. Whether it be a relationship with neighbours, friends, spouses, or children, commitment is essential. On the other hand, the nature and type of relationship determines the extent to which one is committed. Romans 12v18 admonishes, if possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. With that conviction, I am off to make peace with the perpetrator... that was a Freudian slip, I meant with the person [this ain't gonna be easy]. But before I go, finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4v8.

For as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he: Proverbs 23:7a.

SEA - addendum

2009-02-23T18:09:00.000-08:00

Have a laugh.
Did you read my last post titled SEA?
Well, did you notice the WashingtonWatch.com quote?

I just re-read it and caught this... referring to the current Guam bill which "Directs the Secretary of the Treasury to make specified payments to: (1) living Guam residents who were killed...". Hmmm, living residents who were killed? Hee hee hee... I had a good laugh. Not quite like the laugh I had earlier watching Lilly's video of the woman who had a fit at the airport because she missed her flight, but a good laugh all the same :)

Well, overlooking this little quirk in that sentence somehow reminds me of how I tend to overlook the little things in life sometimes. As much as I say, don't be overly engrossed in your own little world that you tune out the world around you, permit me to balance this by saying also, learn to see the small details in life too. Notice the way the sun rises in the morning, feel the coolness of the breeze on a cold day, smell the coffee as you walk by the cafes on the block, hear the waves as you stroll along the sea shore; see the smile in your husband's eyes when he holds you, enjoy the excitement in your children's voices as they share a favourite story... I could go on and on and on. I was preoccupied with penning that segment that I missed it... a great opportunity to have laughed. Laughter is known to be excellent medicine. It is a gift. Some people choose not to laugh - their expression permanently appearing stern and austere - but there are those that are physically (medically) unable to laugh- patients with cataplexy, scleroderma, Moebius syndrome, etc. The point is, and my sister says it best so let me borrow her words, "Yes - we should give THANKS for each blessing rendered, especially the gift of life!"

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,877086,00.html?iid=chix-sphere

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=To2JLClnO3U

Looking forward to her smile - The News-Herald News : Breaking news coverage for Northern Ohio

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SEA

2009-02-23T11:36:00.000-08:00

Have you ever heard of the Austronesian languages?

I confess that before today I had not. I don't think that I have ever even heard of the Mariana islands in spite of some knowledge of the South Pacific and South East Asia. This surprises me because I have had good friends from this region. This is the area south of China, east of India and north of Australia. It consists of Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam & the Malaysian Peninsula on mainland Asia and the eastern/southeastern volcanic isles of Brunei, East Timor, Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines & Singapore. Then there are the Christmas and Cocos Islands ruled by Australia and Taiwan which is sometimes counted. Everyone must have heard of the West Indies; well, this region was the East Indies. They certainly have a diverse and rich culture.

Do you know of the Chamorro (or Chamoru) people? Again, I had not until today.

Well, the common factor in the answer to these questions is Guam. I challenge you to look up this island's history- you might find it interesting but if not, at least you'd have learned something. I did. I was stimulated by a meeting I watched on C-Span that talked about the HR 44 and recognizing residents of Guam. Another fact that I just learned is that C-SPAN, a channel which airs continuous programs on government proceedings, stands for Cable-Satellite Public Affairs Network. Anyway, pardon the digression... I have read that the U.S. captured Guam in 1898 while the Spanish were still in occupation, a situation that had existed since the sixteen hundreds. Many decades would pass before the three-year Japanese invasion, after which the colony would be restored as an American territory. However, it remains an unincorporated territory even now. So what is H.R. 44? It is the Guam WWII Loyalty Recognition Act. The bill was introduced earlier this year and has been referred to the legislative committee which I guess is what I was watching, with Del Madeleine Bordallo and others speaking at length. Here is a quote from WashingtonWatch.com:

Guam World War II Loyalty Recognition Act - Recognizes the suffering and the loyalty of the people of Guam during the Japanese occupation of Guam in World War II.

Directs the Secretary of the Treasury to make specified payments to: (1) living Guam residents who were killed, injured, interned, or subjected to forced labor or marches resulting from, or incident to, such occupation and subsequent liberation; and (2) survivors of compensable residents who died in war or survivors of compensable injured residents (such payments to be made after payments have been made to surviving Guam residents).

Well, this was quite fascinating to me and as they say, learning is lifelong. It is easy to get engrossed in one's own little world, to the point of becoming ignorant of other important happenings around the nation or the world at large. I usually stay up to date by watching the news, but in recent years I find the news incredibly dismal. All I seem to catch nowadays is ... today there was a plane crash, house fire, car accident, or gunshot and the victims were... Nevertheless, I will endeavor to keep informed of current affairs from henceforth. By the way, SEA refers to South East Asia!

Joel 1v7-9

2009-02-22T12:17:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine passed away last month, just two weeks after her thirty-third birthday. A shock to all who knew her. She left a young husband and a newborn baby girl fighting for her life in an incubator. Up until now it seems unreal. Up until now her mother can't believe it. I glance at her photo on my laptop and feel the ache within my heart. She was so beautiful inside and out; so full of life and energy; so gentle and graceful. I miss her dearly and mourn her deeply.

Joel says that the enemy ruined the vine and the fig tree. He stripped them bare and threw them out, laying them to waste. Lament oh people of God for this is how the enemy treats God's children. He who comes but to steal, kill and destroy. Lament & mourn... feel the pain of loss, the loss of a loved one and imagine God's pain at the loss of His beloved children whom He fearfully and wonderfully made. The loss of His children who choose to turn away from their creator and live a life outside of Him.

With the vine and fig tree ruined, the priests mourn the loss of wine and fruit that should have been produced. So also the Lord mourns the loss of our productivity. Any one who does not bear fruit is greatly lacking and shall be pruned or cut down. He is the vine and we are the branches [John 12v5-6]. Our purpose in life is to bear good fruit. Know ye the fruit of the Holy Spirit- love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness & self-control. By your fruit shall you be known, both here on earth (as others emulate your character and lifestyle) as well as in heaven (by God who sees all and His angels who continue to rejoice over all sinners who repent unto salvation).

Yesterday is gone... gone forever, and tomorrow might never come. So live life to the fullest today. Rejoice for this is the day that the Lord has made. Today is a gift from God and that is why it is called The Present. Turn to God before it is too late, while He can still be found.

Song: The past is past our mending now, the future's yet to be [KCP School Song]

NB. I wrote this segment in 2007 and yet the pain of her loss remains fresh in my heart. She was like my sister. We grew up together and stayed in touch all the while I was away at Boarding school. Then we lost touch when I came to America for college. After about fourteen years we reconnected again when we met up in an Accra hotel room in September 2004. Then I spent a few days with her in October on my way back from leave. We spoke several times after that but I never saw her again. A raw wound still in the process of healing. A year and half has gone by since her death and it still feels unreal. Here's a poem I wrote soon after I heard the news. It is a rough cut (i.e.unedited).

Our Baby Girl

So innocent when one saw her, demure et tres gentille

Full of mischief when one knew her, up to every childhood scheme

She was really beautiful, both inside and out

Brightened any room she entered, a burst of summer delight

With a smile that touched everyone, even passers-by

A laughter deep and rich with a sparkle in her eyes

Who remembered she was sick? She never let it show

Who was there through her pain? Her family to be sure

From French school to college, then back home to stay

Off to London a new bride, and a baby on the way

She'd been there, had done that, our good-looking girl

Traveled the world with us, shared our joys and tears

Though life threw us apart, like our heartbeat she was there

Hence the disbelief when we heard that her heart no longer stirred

The eerie silence in my head and the numbing of my senses

We miss our baby girl & sister, and the tears just won't end

Au revoir ma cherie, wish that we'd see in heaven

Your lovely smile and beautiful face, full of life and grace

Au revoir

Being Thankful

2009-02-21T20:40:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

I wonder how you all spent your week? I propose that we should all be thankful that we made it through the week. Some blogs that I follow spoke of incidents that their authors experienced recently. This really reminds me that anything can happen at anytime. Sickness & death certainly come to mind. Consider how many people (known or unknown to you) fell sick or passed away in the past seven days around the world... how many sad diagnoses might have been received, how many accidents, how many surgical complications... I thank God that we survived the week and pray that He continues to watch over our going out and our coming in [Psalm 121v8]. So how did I spend my week? I helped my husband clear a portion of our property- cutting down trees, pulling down vines and digging up roots, raking leaves, etc. It is not something I am used to, yet it was fun. Of course I'd do a little bit then have to take a break before continuing. If you could only see the small patch I am talking about, some of you farmers and outdoors people might let out a loud laugh. In my defense, I must say that the last place I lived was an apartment complex so the premises were maintained by the management. Well, I wish you all a pleasant week ahead and hope that you remember to be thankful for even the smallest things in life!

A Voice on Fleming Road

MY LAST RUN

Love Had Not Been Enough

The Earth

A Poem

UPDATE

Going Home

Remember To Face The Light

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A Bath

Can't Cry Anymore

Exhale

GLORY

THE WINDING ROAD

The Holidays

WORDS ON A PAGE

SOUNDS

A Blur

The Kid And The Coat

FACES

Bits 'n' Bobs

Bonsoir Tout Le Monde

Worship is the answer

A Real Woman

No Voice

Aloha

Happy Labor day weekend!

Sisters ...

THE WOODPECKER

SLEEP

Appointment With Death

Jack & Jill - Jael

PRAY THE DEVIL BACK TO HELL

Musings In May

Give Me My Flowers While I Am Alive

Excerpt I

The Waterfront

Door To Nowhere

The Train Ride

God Knew His Name

First Night

Red Handbag

DUSK

God's Beautiful Dwelling Place

Green

I Never Knew ...

"Ellipsis...

Solidus/

My World Through My Lens

The Rainbow In The Garden

A Rainbow In My Garden

Snapshots Along Memory Lane

Doodles & Me

Joel 1v13-15

Joel 1v10-12

Prayers For Bobby

Jack & Jill - The Move

Miriam

Mother

From LJ With Love

Mad As A Hatter

SEA - addendum

SEA

Joel 1v7-9

Being Thankful