FAMILY TURNS

I woke up to the sound of my mother calling my name. She was shouting my name with a sense of urgency. I wiped the sleep from my eyes, trying to imagine what could have riled her so early in the morning. In my short fourteen years, I have learnt to identify the tone of my mother’s voice. I could tell that she was getting more impatient as she called my name a second and third time. I also sensed she was displeased about something. I would have to get up otherwise she would come into my room and drag me up herself. Then she would pull my ears and our confrontation would be much worse. I scrambled out of bed, put my feet into my slippers and tied a wrapper around myself to cover my nightgown. Three months ago, my mother had warned me not to step out of my room without covering up. I slipped out of the room and closed the door quietly without waking my younger sister.

I walked through the corridor separating my room from the kitchen towards the sound of mother’s voice. Immediately I walked past our living room, I knew why she sounded agitated. We had some early morning visitors. Three of our relatives had come from the village. They must have left the village the day before and arrived in Lagos with the overnight bus. I wondered what they had come for this time. Visitors from the village never brought good news. The last time we had unwelcome guests from the village, they came to tell us our grandfather was dying, and father had to foot a huge hospital bill. They stayed for three days eating everything in sight. And when they were leaving, father had to give them back their transport fare. I didn’t understand why our custom dictated that we should entertain unwelcome visitors and give them money for their transportation. After all, we hadn’t invited them.

Mother was stirring something on the cooker when I stepped into the kitchen. She looked to me like she had lost more weight in the past week. Her once plump cheeks were gone and in their place were just her high cheekbones. She had stopped smiling or laughing a long time ago. Her long hair was tied back and hidden under a black scarf. She had been wearing that scarf for more than three months now. I imagined the scarf was tired of being tied around her head. She turned to me as I greeted her.
“Good morning ma”
“Ah Tope, you are awake. Your father’s relatives are here. Go and greet them and come back to help me with breakfast”
This was what I got for being the first child and daughter in the family, I mused as I walked back into the living room. My sister was still asleep even though she went to bed earlier than I did. I had more responsibilities in the house than she did. She was three years younger me and everyone’s pet.
I entered the living room to greet the visitors. There was my uncle who was my father’s elder brother. He sat in the big armchair. My father’s aunt and another elderly woman I didn’t recognise were seated on the long sofa. There were three well-worn travel bags near the entrance to the living room as well as a bag full of foodstuff, suggesting to me that they planned to spend more than one afternoon. I tried to imagine how many days they would stay with the amount of luggage they had brought with them. I greeted them quickly but as I turned to leave, my uncle called out to me.
“Don’t you know how to greet your elders? You children of nowadays, because you are born in the city, you have forgotten our traditions and customs. Come back here and greet us properly!”
I hesitated for a second before turning back and going on my knees. I crawled round the room, greeting each of them in turn. My father’s aunt looked as if she was about to make a comment, but she changed her mind. After I had greeted the last person, I got up and waited for them to speak.
My father’s aunt spoke first. “Tope, come closer. You are too thin”
I shook my head. “I’m okay ma”
The elderly woman I didn’t recognise cleared her throat. “Tope, don’t you know me?”
I looked at her face intensely for a second before I spoke.
“No ma”
She looked shocked. “Tope? You don’t know who I am?”
My uncle spoke up. “You don’t know your father’s relatives anymore, you this girl. Go and call your mother for me”. Then he spoke to the others in our native language as I left the room.
I walked back to the kitchen to call mother, wondering why relatives always seemed to make a big deal out of everything. All she had to do was tell me who she was. In the last three months, my sister and I had met many people claiming to be related to our father in one way or the other. We couldn’t keep up with all the names and faces after a while so we just smiled and greeted them politely.
Mother was cutting up a tuber of yam when I went back to the kitchen. “Mummy, uncle wants to speak with you”
She looked at me with a frown on her face. “Is everything alright?”
I recounted what had happened in the living room to her. She shook her head sadly.“Please chop the onion and the tomatoes for me. Let me hear what they have to say now”
She dropped the knife and the yam she was cutting. It looked to me like she had tears forming in her eyes again. I watched her as she wiped her hands on her wrapper and went to the living room. I picked up the knife, rinsed it in the sink and started cutting the onions and tomatoes. I did the tomatoes first because they were easier on my eyes. Then I cut the onions. They made my eyes water and I sniffed. I didn’t want to cry again. I knew I had to be strong for my mother and my sister’s sake. As I worked, my mind went back to the events that had been happening in our family since eight months ago.

I remembered mother coming home from work one evening, looking very happy and excited. She told me and my sister that she had important news to share during dinner when father got home. I hadn’t taken much notice at first, until my sister tried to guess what it was. We argued about what it could be and we narrowed it to two things: she had gotten the promotion she deserved at work or her brother had finally gotten his visa to the United States. When father came home, we told him about mother’s surprise news and our guesses. We were all taken by surprise when she announced at dinner that she was expecting a baby! We had stared at her with complete surprise, looking at mother’s face to see if she was joking or pulling our legs. But she wasn’t, she showed us a note from the hospital confirming her pregnancy and her next appointment. Father’s face displayed several emotions at the same time: there was shock, then joy, then pride. He got up and hugged mother tightly, something I had only seen him do once before. After we all calmed down, mother had told us that she knew that this baby would be a boy, that he would be a wonderful brother to us girls, and he would have dad’s nose and her eyes. We all laughed at this at the dinner table and as we lay in our beds that night, my sister and I had talked and imagined having a little brother. She grumbled a little about giving up her position as the baby of the family. But I knew that deep down, she was excited about the news and she was looking forward to having a younger person to fuss over.

My mind was brought back to the present when mother came back into the kitchen. She looked sad, with downcast eyes; lips pressed tight together and a stressed expression on her drawn face.
“Your father’s relatives say I’m a bad mother” she said half to me and half to herself. “They think I’m not raising my children properly. When will I ever do anything right?” she leaned heavily against a wall.
I rinsed my hands and went to hug her. We seemed to be having this strange role-reversal scenarios a lot lately.
“Mother, please don’t get upset.”
“They said I don’t feed you well because you are thin. They said you are spoilt because you don’t know how to greet your elders” she was crying softly now and her shoulders were shaking. “They said I am turning you against their family”
“Mother, please stop crying. We know you are not turning us against them and we know you are not a bad mother.”
She stopped crying after a few minutes and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I could feel a headache coming. I was tired of crying and I knew mother was tired of crying too. I went back to the stew I was making, stirring it slowly as I added the tomatoes and onions into the mixture. My mind drifted back and I started thinking about our lives again.

I remembered mother coming back from her second appointment at the clinic to tell us that the doctor said he thought she was carrying twins. It was still a bit early to tell, but he booked her for a scan in three weeks time. She was excited as we all were. I had touched mother’s stomach in wonder, thinking of how big it was going to grow if it was true that she had two babies in there. Three weeks couldn’t come quickly enough. Father was especially excited. The day before mother had the scan, he decided he was going to take her to the hospital himself. Indeed, the scan had confirmed that mother was carrying twins and they were two boys! Father had been so proud of her. He had gone out and bought her two dresses the very next day. He commanded me and my sister to help out more with the chores in the house. He began to pay more attention to mother, asking her if she was hot, cold, tired, hungry or thirsty almost every ten minutes, much to the amusement of my sister. She had remarked that they looked like newly-weds the way dad was looking after her.
Mother’s voice brought me out of my reverie. “Please pay attention to what you are doing Tope. Don’t let the stew get burnt”.
“Yes ma”
We finished making the meal of boiled yams and fish stew and dished it out. While mother set the table for the guests, I went to wake my sister up. I peered into the living room as I walked past. My father’s aunt and the other woman were whispering together and pointing at something in the corner of our living room.

My sister was still sleeping soundly when I entered the bedroom.
“Bola wake up”, I said as I shook her.
She turned to me sleepily.“It’s early Tope, why are you disturbing me?”
“Daddy’s relatives are here again.”
She sat up when she heard that. “What do they want? Do they have any news?”
“I don’t know. Mum says you should get ready and come out for breakfast with them.”
“I won’t go out to see them.”
“Look, you must go out”
She folded her arms and refused to move. I pulled her nightdress.“Do you not hear me? They have already made mother cry this morning”
“How?”
“They said she is not raising us well”
“Why?”
“Stop asking me foolish questions. Just go to the living room, and make sure you kneel down to greet them properly”
She looked at me and without speaking, it dawned on her that I had been given a hard time about kneeling down that morning already. She hurriedly put on her dressing gown, and we went to the bathroom to brush our teeth.

When we got into the living room, our visitors were seated at the dining table. I noticed that my uncle had taken father’s usual seat at the head of the table. The unknown woman sat next to him on his right, while my father’s aunt sat on his left. Mother served the meal and sat down next to father’s aunt. I sat between my mother and my sister. From where I sat, I could look outside the front window. I watched three of our neighbours leave their houses dressed up to begin their day. The parents were going to drop the children off at school, before going to work. I tried not to think of school. My classmates would be wondering why I wasn’t back in class since the beginning of the term.

Father’s aunt took a bite of the food and made a face. “There is no pepper in this stew” she said.Mother got up to get some dried pepper for her from the kitchen. The rest of the meal passed slowly in silence. The only sound at the table was the sound of the cutlery against the plates. I thought about how different this setting was from what we used to have when father was around. We used to discuss and laugh during our meals. Mother used to tell us funny stories about work and her staff members, Bola and I would talk about school, father would tell us about the politics going on at his office. Now that seemed like a lifetime away.
When breakfast was over, my uncle announced he wanted to have a talk with mother. Bola and I cleared the table and went to the kitchen to do the dishes. We spoke in low tones while trying to listen to the conversation the adults were having in the living room.
“Why have they come again?” Bola asked me.
“I wish I knew” I replied. “They came with luggage so that means they plan to stay for a while this time.”
“Where are they going to stay? We have only one guest room”
“That would be funny you know. I hope mum doesn’t tell us to give up our room for those women or something like that”
“I hope not! Do you know who that other woman is?” Bola said, piling the dishes into the sink “She looked like she’s older than uncle”
“She asked me if I knew who she was, but she didn’t tell”
“I don’t like her. She kept eyeing me during breakfast. I’m worried about this visit”
“Well I’m not delighted either. I’m worried about mother”
“Me too. Father used to protect her from his family members”
“But father’s not here…” I trailed off, scrubbing one plate with too much vigour.
“When do you think we can go back to school?”
“Mother says she needs to sort some finances out before we can resume. Help me get the glasses from the table”
Bola went to the living room to collect the glasses and came back to the kitchen in a flutter.
“I heard them talking about father!” Bola whispered. “Shhh… let’s listen.”
We moved close to the kitchen door and leaned on the wall separating us from the living room. We heard mother speaking:
“That’s easy for you to say. My children and I still believe he is alive”
Another voice said: “We have to assume that he’s dead”
“No! I can’t believe that”. That was mother’s voice again.
“Well the elders in the family have decided to begin the funeral arrangements”
“How can you start arrangements for a burial when we have no body to bury? And….”
“Look, our wife, he’s been missing for more than three months” a voice that sounded like the unknown woman spoke up.
“I can’t give up on him just like that”
“You have to move on. We all believe he’s dead now” That was the voice of my father’s aunt. “Since he disappeared, nobody knows his whereabouts and we have not heard from him. If he was still alive we would have heard from him by now”
“The children and I believe he is still alive” mother repeated.
My elderly uncle spoke up. “For how long will you continue to live like this? He’s dead, let his family bury him and …..”
Suddenly mother raised her voice and shouted:“I know what you are trying to do! You want to bury him so you can take our house and everything he has!”
My sister and I ran into the living room when we heard this. Mother turned to us and pulled us close to her.
Father’s aunt stood up, clutching her wrapper, and shouted back. “How dare you accuse us of trying to take our son’s possessions?”
“Why else would you declare him dead? What would you have to gain from his death?”
“We only want what belongs to our family”
“But we are his family! I am his wife and these are his children!”
My uncle stood up and pointed at us. “You call yourselves his family? My brother has no heir.”
“What do you mean he has no heir?” mother was getting agitated now. “If he is dead, everything he has worked for will go to his children! I won’t let you take away my children’s inheritance!”
“Listen woman” my uncle said. “You have no claim to my brother’s wealth. You did not produce a male child for our family”
Mother froze in shock. My mouth was agape. I could not believe what I was hearing. My sister and I looked at each other and then at mother.
Then I heard Bola’s voice.“How can you say that? Are we not considered daddy’s children because we are girls?”
I wanted to speak but I couldn’t. Mother regained her voice and her composure after a few seconds. Then she spoke calmly and quietly.
“Please pack your bags and leave our home. You are not welcome here anymore”
“Are you chasing us away? From our son’s house?” my father’s aunt asked.
“Yes I am” mother replied. “This is still my home and I can throw you out if I want to”
“How dare you? You can’t send us out! This house is our son’s house!”
My father’s aunt and the other woman started shouting. They called mother some ugly names and threatened to deal with her. My uncle shook his head and started packing the bags. He spoke quickly in our language to the two elderly women and they hissed. Eventually he calmed them down enough and they turned to leave.
Father’s aunt said “We are going to have a burial soon whether you like it or not. We have already started making arrangements. And you won’t get away with the way you have treated us today.’’
“We’ll be back very soon” the unknown woman said with another hiss and a snap of her fingers. “You will all leave this house by the time we finish with you.”
Mother held on to me and my sister. “I won’t let you ruin our lives even more. Please leave and never come back here”.
Uncle said, “You’ll soon hear from us again”.
They eventually left, talking loudly and heaving their bags as they left the compound. We watched them leave and hail a taxi outside our gates. I turned to mother and looked at her face. She was breathing rapidly and she looked like she was shaking as she sat down on the long sofa. It was the first time I had seen her like this. In the past, my paternal uncles and aunties had been covertly horrible to my mother but she hadn’t reacted to their bullying for peace sake. Previously father’s presence stopped them from being openly nasty to her. Now father was gone, they probably felt that mother had nobody to defend her. I felt proud of her for standing up to my father’s relatives.
Bola sat down on the sofa and put her head on mother’s shoulder. I sat on the floor with my knees drawn up to my chin, and my back resting on the sofa. We stayed in that position for a long time, each person with their own thoughts. Everywhere was quiet until mother started speaking softly.
“Everything started going wrong after I had the miscarriage” she said sorrowfully. “That was the turning point wasn’t it?”
I looked up at her and shook my head for her to stop speaking but she continued anyway.
“That was when he changed; he started to withdraw into himself. He stopped talking to me, he stopped caring about anything. He didn’t even notice that I was going through my own grief. I had dashed his hopes for a son.”
I knew what she was talking about even though I didn’t want to hear it again. Everything had happened so fast. One day I had been looking at mother’s rapidly growing belly and asking her if the babies were already kicking. The next evening, she had complained of slight stomach pains. By the morning, the pains in her belly had increased and father had rushed her to the hospital where she was admitted immediately. He had stayed by her side the whole time she was there; he only came home once to get some things to make her comfortable. Mother was discharged after two days and father brought her home. They told us mother had lost both babies, and the doctor said she needed plenty of rest. Bola and I were very sad to hear it, and we had cried for a long time.

Then about two weeks later, father disappeared. He just went to work one day and didn’t come back. We had prepared dinner and waited for him to arrive, but he didn’t come back home at his usual time. By the time it was 11.00pm, we knew something was wrong. Father had never stayed out late after work before because we always had dinner together as a family. Mother and I had kept a look-out for him throughout the night. Bola stayed up until 1.00am but she eventually fell asleep. The next morning we didn’t know what to do, so we went to the police station to report him missing. After three days, we were getting more worried about what could have happened to him. Thoughts of attack by a group of armed robbers kept crossing my mind. We had waited for three weeks before telling our families about his disappearance. The situation worsened after that. Father’s family members had accused mother of so many things. They suspected she sent father away by making life unbearable for him, they speculated that he had gone to live with another woman since mother wasn’t making him happy or perhaps mother had even killed him herself! Mother had made herself sick with worry and all the trouble that she had been re-admitted into hospital again for another three days. She was on compassionate leave from work for a month and the doctor had reiterated that she needed to rest.

And now this: the family members threatening to take our house from us. It did not bear thinking. What would happen to us? Where would we live?

“Tunde where are you? Why did you leave us alone like this? Why is this happening?” mother sobbed. “Where will I go with my children? What will I do now?”
“Mummy please don’t cry anymore” Bola and I put our arms around mother’s shoulders even though tears were running down our faces too.
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”I asked her.
“I don’t know who I can run to. My own parents are dead, my brother depends on me for his own food and my aunt lives in the village. Who can I turn to?”
I hated seeing mother feeling so helpless. I started thinking about any possible solution to our situation. There had to be other people we could ask for assistance apart from family.
I asked her, “Mummy can’t we go to the police?”
“The police wouldn’t want to get involved because they will classify this as a family matter”
I got up from the floor and sat down beside her.
“What about a lawyer?” I continued.
“Lawyers are so expensive” mother answered. “I don’t know if I can afford one”
“But we can’t just give up like this!” I wanted mother to think about solutions, not just the problems.
“Okay” mother sighed and the room was silent for another moment.
Then she sat up and stopped crying.
“Listen girls” she said. “You both witnessed what happened. Your father’s relatives want to strip us of our home”
“What can we do?” I asked.
“Who can help us?” Bola asked.
“Let me think” mother replied. “Maybe I should go and see my friend, Mrs Ajani. She is a lawyer and she can advise us”
“Can we come with you?” we asked.
“I should call her office first to get an appointment” mother replied. “It would be good if we could all go together”.
“Ok ma” we replied.
While mother went to make the telephone call, Bola and I went to our bedroom to talk. “I pray we can get this lawyer to help us” I said. “Otherwise….”
“What will happen to us then?” Bola said with a confused look on her face.
“I don’t know”, I replied. “Maybe we’ll have to stay with one of our relatives on mummy’s side in the village”
“I don’t want to move to the village! How will we go to school?”
Just then, mother came into our room.
“Don’t worry girls; I have just spoken to the lawyer and there is hope”
“What did she say?” I asked her.
“She said there has to be a way to protect us from being evicted from our home, in the event of your father’s death. She also asked me if your father had made a will”
“What’s a will?” Bola asked.
“It’s a document that a person writes before they die, that explains how they want their wealth to be shared”.
“Did daddy leave a will?”
“I’m not sure. But the lawyer suggested that even if he didn’t leave a will, his wealth should go to his wife and children as immediate beneficiaries”
“So she can help us?”
“Yes” mother sighed with relief. “She said she’s busy today, but we can come and see her tomorrow”.
“Thank God!” Bola and I said.
“What I need to do now is to look through all your father’s documents and keep anything that looks important. Come with me and we’ll go through your dad’s files”
“Okay ma”.

For the rest of the afternoon, we sifted through father’s files, searching for any documents that would help our case with the lawyer. Mother found a lot of useful documents including their marriage certificate, father’s bank statements, contract letters, house deeds and employment records. She put them all in a file and set it aside to take with her to the lawyer’s office the next day.

Later in the evening, after we finished having dinner, mother went to the living room to watch the news on the television. I went to the kitchen to do the dishes, while Bola got out the broom to sweep the dining room. About three quarters of an hour later, we heard mother scream loudly. In a panic, I dropped my work and rushed into the living room to see mother clutching at her chest and half-kneeling on the floor staring at the television. I looked at it and caught the announcement. They were announcing my father’s obituary on the news.
I was in a daze. Mother was still screaming and Bola was too shocked to say anything. We all stared at the television until the announcement came to an end. Then we looked at each other. “Look at what your father’s relatives have done!” mother was about to start crying again. “Just look at that! They are really going to bury your father so they can carry out their wicked plans”
“Don’t worry mummy” I said quickly. “We will go and see the lawyer tomorrow and we’ll explain everything to her”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “You know, I’m already tired of this” she shook her head. “I just wish your father never left. I just wish I didn’t have to deal with all of this…”
Bola and I hugged our mother. “It’s going to be alright mummy; let’s go to bed now”. We half pulled her into the room she used to share with father and sat her down on their bed. She was still mumbling to herself when we crept out of the room. We both finished our chores in silence each of us trying not to show our emotions. Afterwards we turned off the television and the lights leading to our bedroom and got into our beds. I stayed awake for a while thinking about everything that had happened. It had been a long, emotional and confusing day.

Early the next morning, we were jolted out of our sleep by the bell at the gate. I rushed out first and Bola followed close behind. We stopped in our tracks when we got close enough to gate to look out. Father was at the door, looking thinner than I remembered.

I'M HUMAN

If you pinch me, I will react

If you annoy me, I will get angry

If you hurt me, I will cry

If you cut me, I will bleed

After all, I'm only human.

I try to be a better person everyday

Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's hard

Sometimes I get it right

Sometimes I get it wrong

But it's okay because,

After all, I'm only human

I make mistakes, I have my flaws

I'm not perfect, I'm not pristine

I'm not a robot or a machine

I have emotions that I express

And that's perfectly fine,

Because I'm only human

I'm not an angel, I'm not God

I get tired and irritable

I have moments of strengths

But also moments of weakness

I cannot see the future

I cannot promise not to fail

After all, I'm only human

I will fall, but I will rise

I will do my best once again

I will admit when I'm wrong

I will say sorry when I offend

But this I know for sure

I am only human

Great Article

I loved this article by Fr Joe.He says....

"JESUS BEGAN the most famous sermon ever preached saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit...” A rich man becomes poor in spirit if he uses his wealth to care for others. A poor man is not poor in spirit if he wastes his salary getting drunk.

When Jesus exalted poverty, he was not promoting a life of begging on the streets. Nor did he want his disciples to live in slums. He was not praising the kind of poverty that feels like dirt and smells like sewage.

He did not praise the poor for being poor. He praised the poor in spirit. He did not praise poverty but the virtue of poverty.
Jesus wanted to lift the poor out of their poverty.

In the parable about Lazarus, the rich man did not end up in hell for being rich; he was sent to the eternal fire because he did nothing to help a neighbour dying of hunger.

Jesus was asking his disciples to acquire habits necessary to live the way that he lived. He said that the “Son of Man has no where to lay his head.” But he also said that the “worker deserves his wages.”

He advised his disciples not to worry about food and clothing, but he ate like everyone else and wore a seamless garment.
St Paul said, “As long as we have food and clothing, let us be content with that.”

It is not money itself that is evil but the anxiety for more and ever more money. “People who long to be rich are a prey to temptation; they get trapped into all sorts of foolish and dangerous ambitions which eventually plunge them into ruin and destruction.”

Spending money to make other people think you’re rich is a vice. If you want to be poor in spirit, start by overcoming the impulse to spend money just because you have money. Maybe you could use that money for someone in need.

Every time you’re about to make a purchase, even if it’s something small, ask yourself: “Do I really need to buy this now?” You’ll be amazed at the number of times you might comfortably survive a whole year without something you thought was absolutely necessary.

Eventually you’ll discover the secret of true poverty.

You’ll begin to ask: “What does my family need? What can I do to help others?”

Jesus promised to reward those willing to change and live this virtue. He said, “Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” He opened our eyes to treasures that this world cannot offer – God’s love and life everlasting.

These treasures are only for those who overcome the tendency to be selfish with their money and their possessions."

Are you poor because it is your fate or because you want it.

NEED TO READ THIS...

A step by step guide to installing love on the human machine. 

Customer: I can do that. I'm not very technical, but I think I am ready to install now. What do I do first? 

Tech Support: The first step is to open your HEART. Have you located your HEART ma'am?
Customer: Yes I have, but there are several programs running right now. Is it okay to install while they are running? 

Tech Support: What programs are running ma'am? 

Customer: Let me see... I have PASTHURT.EXE, LOWESTEEM.EXE, GRUDGE.EXE, and RESENTMENT.COM running right now. 

Tech Support: No problem. LOVE will automatically erase PASTHURT.EXE from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory, but it will no longer disrupt other programs. LOVE will eventually overwrite LOWESTEEM.EXE with a module of its own called HIGHESTEEM.EXE However,you have to completely turn off GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM. Those programs prevent LOVE from being properly installed. Can you turn those off ma'am? 

Customer: I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how? 

Tech Support: My pleasure. Go to your Start menu and invoke FORGIVENESS.EXE. Do this as many times as necessary until GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM have been completely erased. 

Customer: Okay, I'm done. LOVE has started installing itself automatically. Is that normal? 

Tech Support: Yes it is. You should receive a message that says it will reinstall for the life of your HEART. Do you see that message? 

Customer: Yes I do. Is it completely installed?


Tech Support: Yes, but remember that you have only the base program. You need to begin connecting to other HEARTS in order to get the upgrades. 

Customer: Oops...I have an error message already. What should I do? 

Tech Support: What does the message say? 

Customer: It says "ERROR 412 - PROGRAM NOT RUN ON INTERNAL COMPONENTS". What does that mean? 

Tech Support: Don't worry ma'am, that's a common problem.It means that the LOVE program is set up to run on external HEARTS but has not yet been run on your HEART. It is one of those complicated programming things, but in non-technical terms it means - "you have to 'LOVE' your own machine before it can "LOVE" others." 

Customer: So what should I do?


Tech Support: Can you find the directory called "SELF-ACCEPTANCE"? 

Customer: Yes, I have it. 

Tech Support: Excellent, you are getting good at this. 

Customer: Thank you. 

Tech Support : You're welcome. Click on the following files and then copy them to the "MYHEART" directory: FORGIVESELF.DOC, SELFESTEEM.TXT, REALIZEWORTH.TXT, and GOODNESS.DOC. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching any faulty programming. Also, you need to delete SELFCRITIC.EXE from all directories, and then empty your recycle bin afterwards to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back. 

Customer: Got it. Hey! My HEART is filling up with really neat files. SMILE.MPG is playing on my monitor right now and it shows that WARMTH.COM, PEACE.EXE, and CONTENTMENT.COM are copying themselves all over my HEART! 

Tech Support: Then LOVE is installed and running. You should be able to handle it from here. One more thing before I go 

Customer: Yes? 

Tech Support: LOVE is freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everybody you meet.They will in turn share it with other people and they will return some really neat modules back to you. 

Customer: I will. Thank you for your help

I ASKED GOD

I asked God to take away my pain.
God said, "No, It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up". 

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
God said, "No, her spirit was whole, her body was only temporary". 

I asked God to grant me patience.
God said, "No, patience is a by-product of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is earned". 

I asked God to give me happiness.
God said, "No, I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you". 

I asked God to spare me pain.
God said, "No, suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me". 

I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said, "No, you must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful". 

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.
God said, "No, I will give you life so that you may enjoy all things". 

I ask God to help me love others, as much as he loves me.
God said, "... Ahhhh, finally you have the idea".

DON'T

Don't think that no ones loved you,
because they've turned away.
Don't feel they didn't care for you,
because they couldn't stay.
Don't damn the world for not returning
the love you feel you've given.
Don't hate the one that you were yearning for,
because he couldn't make a commitment.
Just think of him as experience,
and think how much you've grown.
Think of him as the sacred prince
who placed you on a throne.Think of your plans of now and forever,
and hold them in your heart.
And don't let yourself feel so much hate,
For when you're both at Heaven's gate,
that man will be your brother.

The Greatest Love Of All

This is a true story that happened in Japan. In order to renovate the house, someone in Japan tear open the wall.

Japanese houses normally have a hollow space between the wooden walls.

When tearing down the walls, he found that there was a lizard stucked there because a nail from outside hammered into one of its feet.

He sees this, feels pity and at the same time curious, as when he checked the nail, it was nailed 10 years ago when the house was first built.

What happened? The lizard has survived in such position for 10 years!?!! In a dark wall partition for 10 years without moving,it is impossible and mind boggling.

Then he wondered, how this lizard survived for 10 years without moving a single step - since its feet was nailed!

So, he stopped his work and observed the lizard,what has it been doing and what has it been eating? Later, don't know from where appears another lizard,with food in its mouth... AHHH!

He was stunned and touched deeply. For the lizard that was stucked by nail, another lizard has been feeding it for the past 10 years...

Such a love, such a beautiful love!! Such love happened even on this tiny creature. What can love do? It can do wonders!! Love can do miracles!!

Imagine it has been doing it for a tiresome 10 yrs, without giving up hope on its partner. Imagine what a small creature can do that a creature blessed with the brilliant mind can't.

September 11 ( 9/11 ) Story

"You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news On September 11, 2001. Neither will I. I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say "Good-Bye." I held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace to say, "Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK...I am ready to go."

I was with his wife when he called as she fed breakfast to their children. I held her up as she tried to understand his words and as she realized he wasn't coming home that night.

I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a woman cried out to Me for help. "I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!" I said. "Of course I will show you the way home - only believe in Me now."

I was at the base of the building with the Priest ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He heard my voice and answered.

I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers there, comforting and assuring them that their faith has saved them.

I was in Texas, Kansas, London. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me?

I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew every name - ! though not all know Me. Some met Me for the first time on the 86th floor.

Some sought Me with their last breath.

Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the smoke and flames; "Come to Me... this way... take my hand." Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me.

But, I was there.

I did not place you in the Tower that day. You may not know why, but I do. However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me?

September 11, 2001 was not the end of the journey for you. But someday your journey will end. And I will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may be found. Then, at any moment, you know you ! are "ready to go."

I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.

God.

AMAZING LOVE

The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in urban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work.

They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve. They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc. and on Dec. 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.

On December 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days. On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sunk when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 6 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high. The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home.

On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, hand-made, ivory colored, crochet tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross-embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.

By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later. She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc. to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area. Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet.

"Pastor," she asked, "Where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crochet into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria. The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and here husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. She was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.

The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home. That was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return. One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he was not leaving.

The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike? He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for here safety, and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a concentration camp. He never saw his wife or his home again for all the 35 years in between.

The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and the pastor saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.

A GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING..

She is, in many ways, an old-fashioned person, a woman who longs for a traditional, intact family around the table and sees herself as a mother first and foremost.

She says of her husband ,“He’s a gifted man, but in the end, he’s just a man”.

.....

In every speech, she makes, it's clear that her husband’s political career has meant considerable sacrifice for her own family, and talks about how hard it is for her, personally, to find equilibrium. In one little-noticed admission to an interviewer, Michelle Obama estimated that over the past year, her husband had been home with free time for a paltry total of 10 days.

That means 355 days in which Barack Obama was not home with free time, and it was Michelle who had to get up and get the girls ready for school and get through the day, somehow, herself, and try to preserve some semblance of a career and a life. She is not a martyr who endures this kind of thing silently.

Today, she tells an anecdote about how the four of them — Michelle, Barack, Sasha, and Malia — travelled together recently, and “at one point someone asked Malia, our older daughter, what she enjoyed most about the weekend, and she said, ‘Being with my dad.’ “And,” she says, “it nearly broke my heart.”

The ‘boss’ behind President Obama Obama’s road to the White House was a whirlwind of a political life, the sort that rips marriages apart. For 10 out of 365 days, dad wasn’t at home, and it was Mum who had to get up and get the girls ready for school... and get through the day, somehow, herself.

Luckily, even in the struggle to preserve some semblance of a career and a life, she appreciated the value of sacrifice. give her husband the go-ahead to run. She feels that all children, not just hers, deserve “the resources they need to ensure a healthy future.” Michelle’s most important role is explaining Barack Obama.

She does this beautifully. It is her crucial task to humanise him, to make sense of him—to normalise him. “Who is Barack Obama the man, the father?” she said in Nashua, New Hampshire, during the primary campaign. “What is his character? What are his values?” It is the traditional duty of the political wife, of course, to reinforce her husband’s virtues, channelling the audience’s admiration through what has become known as the Adoring Gaze.

But Michelle Obama’s task is different, because Obama has such a complicated personal back-story. She often acknowledges to audiences that when she first heard about him, she assumed he would be strange. He is a bi-racial man, technically, who identifies himself, as he writes in his memoir, Dreams from My Father, as “a black American” and “a black man with a funny name.”
...........

She has a quick and wicked sense of humour. Sought assurance Before agreeing to her husband’s presidential run, she insisted upon — and got — a series of meetings with his closest advisers, during which she sought assurance that the campaign was plausible and that it would be well run.

She is said, by those who know her, to be as smart as her husband. Some say she is smarter. Unlike her husband, who in his early 20s spent a great deal of time by himself, reading, she seems more of a doer, an extrovert, a list maker, not ruminative. She does not like to cook. She is almost heroically well organised. She is a better boss than an employee; she likes to be in charge and does not like her time to be wasted. She is forceful and can be intimidating.

Her husband says she is “a little meaner than I am.” Her brother says even family members are scared of her. He may or may not be joking. She is the person her husband trusts to be his radar about people; she is seen as more sceptical than he is. He calls her “the boss.”
.....
......
This Saturday article was a challenge.Ask yourself will you be that gift that keeps on giving?

WHEEL OF LIFE

Because of my boredom I jumbled in to this website that gives you evaluation and drawing of wheel of life. Here is the result of my boredom. I got this one at mindtools.com

I'M WITH YOU

Im standing on the bridge
Im waiting on the dark
I thought that you'd be here
by now

Ther's nothing but the rain
no foot steps on the ground
Im listening but ther's
no sound

Isn't anyone trying to find me
Won't somebody come take me home

it's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are but I
Im with you
Im with you

Im looking for a place
Im sarching for a face
Is anybody here
I know

Cause nothing's going right
And everything's a mess
And no one likes to be
alone

Isn't anyone trying to find me
Won't somebody come take me home

It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I
Im with you
Im with you

Oh
Why is every thing so confusing?
Maybe Im just out of my mind
Yeah yeah yeah...
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't Know Who You are
But I
Im with you
Im with you

Take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't Know Who You are
But I
Im with you
Im with you

Take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't Know Who You are
But I
Im with you
Im with you

Only love can make a memory..

It's a cold February night. People are bustling through the streets, either pulling up their coat collars or wrapping scarves around their necks, trying to stay warm.

It's so cold today.I'm standing at my window, looking at the people moving like little dots. Standing in a heated room, I'm beginning to pity those people. Why don't they go home? Do they plan on wandering until morning?

"Almost time to go home! My boyfriend must be going crazy." One of the nurses breathe a sign of relief. "Still needs to work overtime on Valentine's Day. It's so unfair!"

"You are fortunate." Another nurse says. "Some people don't have anyone waiting for them."

"You mean Dr. Shu?"
Like Sherlock Holmes, my ears perk up when I hear my name.
"Do you remember how she lost control on this day last year?"
"Of course I do." A nurse shudders. "I've never seen Dr. Shu like that. Crying and yelling, like she was crazy."
They are talking about how I was last year. They are correct. I was out of control, like they said.
"You can't blame Dr. Shu. If my boyfriend died in front of my eyes, I would probably go crazy as well."
"Keep it down. She hasn't left work yet. She might hear you."
The two nurses are too late. I heard the entire conversation through the canvas wall.
"Dr. Shu, what are you doing standing here?"

Just as I was deciding whether or not to reveal myself, another nurse exposed me. I awkwardly step out. The 2 nurses who discussed me start to blush. Their faces became redder than the bow on Valentine's Day chocolates.

"I'm waiting to go home." I pretend that I didn't hear anything.
"Dr. Shu, you must have gotten too involved in your work. It's already past time to go home. See you tomorrow. Happy Valentine's Day!" She waves goodbye.

"Happy Valentine's Day." I wave back and watch the 2 nurses hurry away.

That's fine. I was ready to go home anyway. Even though no one is waiting
for me, at least there's a lazy cat waiting for me to feed.

After I come home, the first thing I do is feed the cat. I forgot when I first had the cat. Probably since last year's Valentine's Day. At that time, I was like an abandoned cat, with eyes filled with despair. Cats don't cry, I do. That's the only difference.

"Better drink all the milk or I'll skin you." I threatened the cat. Her name is Christine, my least favorite English name. I don't know why I named the cat Christine. Christine meowed once to let me know she heard me, but her eyes are complaining about my severity. Her eyes remind me of someone I used to know, standing in front of me with eyes of rebellions.

A year ago today, I had lunch with my boyfriend and took the opportunity to complain to him.

"Today is Valentine's Day. Why didn't you give me any flowers?"

He raised his eyebrow. "Why should I give you flowers? You are not my anyone."

"Then... you should at least give me a card!" I pouted my lips, hurt by his tone.

"I know, I know. After lunch, I'll send you an e-card."

E-card. That sounds so impersonal, but that's the way he is. "You have to e-mail it to me. I'll be waiting." I excitedly smiled and planned to sneak home after lunch to check e-mail. Even though he wouldn't use any good words, I still looked forward to the card.

"I can't stand you women. Why do you make such a big deal out of Valentine's Day?" He grumbled while eating his food. His comment induced me to fight with him again.

"You are boring!! Don't you watch any Japanese drama?"

"Japanese drama? I only watch Discovery Channel."

"Your life is so boring." I made a face at him. "One recent drama was really good. You should have watched it."

"What's that drama called?" He didn't believe in the love portrayed in TV and movies. He always thought they were lies.

"It's called 'Story of A Century'." I gladly answered.

"What kind of trashy plot did it have?"

"What do you mean trash?? Show some respect!" I was so angry. "That drama was very touching, and the theme song was beautiful as well. It's called 'Only Love', performed by Nana Mouskouri." I wonder if he knew who Nana was.

"Nana, I know her. A Greek singer with really expensive albums."

"Her voice is worth it." Even though I secretly agreed with him, I couldn't bring myself to admit it.

"Whatever." He glanced at his watch. "I'll give you 5 minutes to tell me the plot. After that, I'm leaving."

I tried hard to explain 6 hours worth of story in just 5 minutes. The drama portrayed the love stories of 3 generations of women spanning 100 years, from 1901 to 2000. Each generation was portrayed by the same actress. The story was tear-jerking.

"What's so touching about it?" He asked, after listening to the story.

"Don't you think each generation's story is wonderful? If I have such great screen writing ability, I wouldn't be a doctor anymore. I would become a screenwriter."

"If you become a screenwriter, I bet no one would watch the show. The TV station can go out of business." He quickly interjected.

"I'm going back to work. Hurry and send me the card!" I was so mad that I went home immediately, not even finishing my coffee.

As soon as I walked in my door, I turned on my computer and go online.

Staring at the empty in-box, I began to reminisce about how we met. Maybe no one will believe me, but my boyfriend and I were actually neighbors. Our homes were only 1 wall away. Ever since we were kids, we liked to fight with each other all day long. I still remember when I moved to the country that year. Used to the city life, I couldn't get used to the simple life in the country. After school, I would just go home and do nothing. Whenever that happened, he would always come over to tease me.



"Why are you staring off into space??" He loved to pull on my hair. "You're so ugly when you're doing nothing. But you're also not pretty when you smile." In other words, I'm really ugly.

"You're the one who's ugly!" I pull back my hair. "If you think I'm so ugly, why do you visit me??"

"Can't help it. My home is right next to your home." He argued.

"Then I'll move!" The next day, I drew a line in the ground using some white chalk. A line that I forbid him to cross.

That year, we were both in the 5th grade. We couldn't stand each other and hoped the other would move away. But 5 years passed, and neither of us moved. Not only that, we got into the same high school and into the same class.

"You're that infamous couple." All the students and teachers in the school would say whenever they saw us.

"We're not!" I always tried to explain. "We're only neighbors." At that time, I hated my parents for making us live next to him.
"My standard is not that low." He would say. "Who wants her to be a girlfriend? It's not like I don't have eyes."

"Yes, I know your eyes are on top of your head." I really disliked him. "Better than having eyes on the bottom of my head like you." He implied that I couldn't judge guys. At that time, I had a crush on a senior.

I didn't think that his sarcasm had a hidden meaning. After a while, I found out that the senior student had lots of girlfriends. When I cried about it, he silently passed me a handkerchief .

"I told you he wasn't any good." He roughly comforted me. I cried the whole night, and began to see him in a different way. Things began to change between us. We still fought all the time, but he started to look at me differently. And I blushed . We both knew: we fell in love with each other.

Even with this knowledge, neither of us said anything. Even though we cared about each other's every moves. Both of us refused to admit our love.

Time flew by quickly, and it was time to face separation. I chose to study medicine, and he chose physics. Yet we still couldn't separate from each other. Our parents worried that we didn't know anyone in Taipei, so they forced us to live in the same apartment building. Once again, we became neighbors. We didn't even spend Valentine's Day together until he saw me share dinner with a man one Valentine's Day. That night, he waited for me in front of my door and said that he would take me out to dinner on Valentine's Day from then on. I have to say that he was very arrogant. But I nodded and accepted his request. Since then, we spent every Valentine's Day together. After graduation, I became an intern. He started a small computer company with some friends and became a programmer. We were busy with our own lives and had no time for a relationship. Three years later, I became a doctor, and his business began to boom. We separately moved to bigger
apartments and stopped being neighbors. On the surface, we left each other. In reality, we were still together. We spent every Valentine's Day together but each year became more dreary than the next because he never told me he loved me even with all my hints.

Facing the empty in-box, I suddenly grew very angry. He wouldn't say it and wouldn't send me a card. What did he mean? Who did he think I was? I called his cell phone.

"Hello." He picked up the phone.

"I didn't receive the card." I immediately showed my displeasure.

"You didn't receive it?" He seemed really busy. "But I sent it."

He was really busy but I didn't care. "I didn't receive it. Send it again."

"Okay, I'll send you 100 times. Is that good enough?" He said with impatience. His tone further infuriated me. Is that how people in relationship speak to each other?

"Don't bother sending it to me. And you don't have to pick me up tonight.

I'll eat dinner by myself."

"Don't be childish, ok? I'm really busy."

"I AM childish!" I hung up the phone and tears rolled down my cheeks.

Childish? Why didn't he consider the situation? We've gone out for so many years and spent countless Valentine's Day together. I never received any flowers nor cards from him. Now, I just want a little e-card. Is that too much to ask for?

I unplugged the phone from the wall and turned off my cell phone. I didn't want to hear his explanations. After I returned to the hospital, I instructed the receptionist not to forward me any phone calls. I wanted to concentrate on work.

Because there were so many emergencies today, I was sweating 1 hour later and forgot about our argument.

"Dr. Shu, please take a look at that patient."

As I was collecting my equipment, the shrill sound of an ambulance sounded outside the ER. When I stepped out the door, the emergency medics hurriedly wheeled in a gurney.

"What happened to him?" I asked the 1st medic. Everyone else were trying to help put the patient on the gurney. He was covered with blood.

"Car accident." The medic replied. "Very serious. He may die."

I nodded and ran to the operating room with them. When I arrived, the nurses told me that the man had already stopped breathing and also his heartbeat also stopped

"Prepare for shock." I calmly instructed the nurses. Saving people is our duty. We can't lose our calm.

But when I saw who laid on the operating table, I lost my calm. That person was my boyfriend!

"No..." I stood in shock. "NO!!!" I grabbed the paddles and continuously shocked his body. His body bounced up and down from the shocks. The scared nurses went to find another doctor, to tell him that I was crazy.

I didn't know if I was crazy or not. I just wanted to save my boyfriend. Even though we fought all the time. Even though he never showed me his love. I still wanted to save him. He still owed me a card. He couldn't die! I threw away the paddles and began to press on his heart. I pressed with all my strength, hoping it would revive him, but he didn't wake up. He didn't even say "It hurts". He just laid there with his eyes closed, punishing me with his silence.

Dr. Jian angrily pushed me away. By that time, I couldn't see clearly anymore. I cried. I wailed. I bowled until no sounds could come out of my mouth.

"It's too late, Dr. Shu. He's already dead. I'm sorry." Dr. Jian patted me on the shoulder. They knew each other and ate together once. I introduced them.

"He can't die." I shook my head. "He can't die!!" I struggled to run to him.

"Dr. Shu, control yourself!" Dr. Jian slapped me. "I understand what you're going through, but you're a doctor."

Yes, I'm a doctor, but I'm also a regular person. How can Dr. Jian understand how I feel? I've loved him for so many years that it's become a habit. How can I just throw away a habit? Besides, he still owed me a card. "I want him to live! I want him to live!" I ran to him again and tried to knock the life back into his body.

"Take her away!" That day, I lost my control and my professionalism.

And that day happened to be Valentine's Day.

Afterwards, I asked his co-workers why he left work early that day.

They told me that after I hung up the phone, he tried to call me several times but couldn't reach me. Worried, he drove to the hospital to find me and got hit by a large truck on the way.

When I heard this, I froze. My tantrum killed him. Just because of an unmailed card, he died. After that, I lost my privilege to be childish.

Like an abandoned cat, I couldn't even cry anymore. After his death, I couldn't cry anymore, regardless of how touching the plot or how tear-jerking the dialogue. They didn't affect me anymore.

Now, I'm only left with a cat and a seldomly used computer. Stepping over the cat, I turned on the computer. Even though I know no one will send me a mail, I still hoped that someone will remember me on this day.

Meow, meow. I looked at Christine to see what's wrong. She finished her milk. I went into the kitchen to get her more milk then came back to look at the computer screen.

I have.... 100 emails! Who would be bored enough to send me 100 junk mail?

I was just about to delete them all when I received another mail, and this one said: "Because of system error, we could not send these until today.

We apologize for the delay." The sender was my ISP.

I looked at the 1st mail. It showed the send date is last year's Valentine's Day. My heart began to beat fast. Could he have sent these?

With a trembling hand, I opened the mail. The first thing that popped up was a gorgeous red rose set against green leaves. Then a beautiful melody began to play.... "Only Love". I couldn't believe it. The rose was so beautiful and the music was so dreamy. I almost thought I was in a fantasy. Most touching of all were the words underneath the rose, because the words read like a beautiful poem.

"Hwei."

That's my name.

"Knowing you so many years, I've never sent you any flowers. Today I send you a rose."

I received it and it's so beautiful.

"You know we are always fighting. We can never really open our hearts and tell each other how we feel."

Yes, but it's all your fault for being so distant.

"I know I always make you mad by the things I say."

Good that you're admitting it.

"But today I want to say to you: I'm sorry, and I love you."

I waited so many years for those words.

"And I want to tell you a good news. I finally saved enough money."

You already have enough money. Why did you need so much?

"So Hwei, let's get married!! I was afraid to propose to you, because I didn't trust in my ability to give you the good life you deserve. But now I've saved enough money so we don't have to wait anymore."

Who wanted you to wait? I'm already yours.
"Today, I use this card to propose to you. Will you marry me, Hwei? Will you?"

That's the content of the whole card. Like a fool, I kept reading his words and talking to him. It's like I can hear his voice and see him again.

As if it's back to 1 year ago with us constantly fighting.

The song played over and over. Repeating Nana's heartbreaking voice.

Only love can make a memory. Only love can make a moment last. You were there and all the world was young and all it's songs unsung. and I remember you then when love was all, all you were living for,
and how you gave that love to me...."

The lyrics of this song fits our love so closely. When he was alive, my world was so young. Every day, I could find a something different to fight with him about. But after he left, my life is only left with memories and coldness that will never go away.

"Will you marry me?"

When I read these words, my tears unconsciously came, wetting the keyboard.

Will I? If he's in front of me, I will definitely kick him and call him a big fool. If I wasn't willing, I wouldn't have waited until today.

So I moved the cursor over the "Reply" box, and typed the response that I've already prepared for so many years - "I will."

I will - be by his side for the rest of my life. I will - fight with him forever. That is how I answered him, but the only response I got was the repeating song "Only Love."

Nevertheless, I opened every single letter, accepted every singled rose, and typed the same response: "I will."

I replied 100 times, and "Only Love" played 100 times. In this cold Valentine's night, the line that's been broken for 1 year finally got reconnected.

WHO SHALL STAND?..

How Ms Karani spent the borrowed money
Sh17,000
Amount she spent to buy anointing oil. The oil packed in small bottles cost between Sh1,000 and Sh1,500, depending on spiritual needs
Sh5,000
What she paid for prayers to get a spouse. She was desperate to get a partner and borrowed money to pay the preacher.
Sh14,000
Spent on prayers to get a job. Ms Karani trusted that through her preacher, God would answer her prayers for a job, and was ready to pay.

Having been jobless for three years after college, Ms Carole Karani, 25, joined a church in Nairobi to seek divine intervention. She believed that through her preacher’s prayers, the good Lord would grant her a good job and a husband.

“I was desperate and needed help from God. I had no job, no money, and it’s hard to survive without an income, especially if you live in the city. That is why I went to church to pray through the assistance of my pastor,” she says.

However, she soon learnt that prayers in that church were not for free. But this did not deter her because she thought that if she got what she was seeking, then it would be a small price to pay.

“I had a job, but the company I worked for collapsed and I joined others on the streets. I went to many offices, but to no avail.”

Ms Karani joined the little known-church in the city in September 2008. She soon realised that money played an important role in her daily spiritual nourishment.

“You had to go to church with money. The preachers demanded money during a session called ‘planting a seed’. I was so convinced by the preachers that by ‘planting a seed’, one receives blessings and what God has in store for them,” she adds.

Ms Karani says “planting a seed” costs around Sh1,000 per session, depending on one’s divine needs.

“If, for instance, you are looking for a job, you might be asked to pay about Sh1,500, while a problem in your marriage will set you back Sh3,500 for prayers for you and your spouse.”

Ms Karani told her pastor that she only wanted a good job and a marriage partner.
“If a woman is seeking a husband, prayers will cost her Sh5,000. I was in dire need of a partner and I also wanted a job.

Despite being jobless, I had to find money to pay for these divine services.”
And where was she to get the money from?

“I borrowed from friends and tried to convince my parents about my new-found faith in God. Most of the time they sent me the money. I also sold my cell phones and other property to raise cash for the preacher to pray away my troubles,” says Ms Karani.

She adds that every Sunday after service, church boys would hawk “miracle fruits” and “fortune soaps” that cost between Sh500 and Sh1,000.

The “anointing oil” packed in small and large bottles cost between Sh1,000 and Sh1,500, depending on one’s purchasing power and spiritual needs.

.................

“When someone crams all the verses of the Bible and starts preaching to someone who rarely reads the Bible, chances are that the latter will be influenced by that person’s opinions, whether wrong or right.

So that even if he or she asks for money, the one who has been manipulated will give because of the trust they have in that person.
“The best way to deal with this is for Christians to read the Bible and understand what it says about money.

Once they do this, it will be difficult for them to get duped.”
.............

So sad indeed that Gods power can be estimated with a few bucks..

Puddle of memories

I walked up the stairs
To the attic
The place my friends
Mostly feared

I opened the door
It creaked loudly
I stared at the room

Everywhere was dust
Dust and more dust
And cobwebs
There were papers
Scattered across the wooden floor

Then I saw something
Covered by papers and dust
I reached out
To get it

It was a book
It looked old
I opened it
Then I saw
I saw myself
There
Smiling
I was just a little girl then

I stared at myself
I stared back
Into my eyes
And then I see
I remember
The times
When I was just a little girl

A tear fell on the page
I blinked
More and more tears fell
And washed the photo all over

I can't see my self anymore
All I can see was a puddle
In the middle of the photograph
A puddle of tears
A puddle
Full of memory

MY LIFE,YOUR SONG

Whose hands are these

Holding my trapeze

When I fly

You carry me

Whose eyes are these

Watching over me

Eyes of love

That set me free

Unafraid

What's ahead

You are always there before

My whole world

Your design

You are always there

Just right behind

My life is Your song

To You my heart belongs

Let all earthly crowns

Fade in the shadow of the cross

My life is Your song

I'll sing for You alone

Nothing in this world

Can take me away from You

Our love goes on and on

Whose arms are these

Shelter me from harm

In the storm

You are my calm

Whose voice I hear

Whisper in my ear

When I'm lost

You're always near

In all my life

Be glorified

With Christ in me

No longer I

So take my all

Consuming Fire

Your light in me

I'll let it shine

I WAIT WITH HOPE..

going back to the time
when i was wide eyed,
looked at the wonderful things,
fascinated, content...

someone held my hand,
wanted to let go of it,
wanted to reach out,
i was no more a kid...

i was in the world,
the world was in me,
it lured me,
i let go of that hand...

i ran to reach it,
if only i had known,
it was not for me,
too late, i was hurt...

now only a shadow
walks beside me,
reminding me,
the old innocent days...

so i wait with hope,
my only companion,
i will find that hand again,
turn back and walk away...

Zoomin out Life..

It's quite interesting how the unpredictable life keeps us going! Each day brings new ventures and promises of untouched surprises which mock the stagnant aspect of life.

         For many of us, life is beautifully complicated. It can be compared to being on a trampoline, jumping up and down. Being in the air is analogous to going through an enriching phase of life. But when gravity pulls you down, life becomes a tragedy! However, rest assured as you are bound to bounce back.

        There are some people who know how to bend the laws and go down in the history because they see life in a different dimension. There is a reason they are famous, the only reason that draws the line between us and them. So, the question that comes up is how to narrow down that gap? The answer is really easy but we tend to overlook it. About 95% of our species ignore the obvious even when it is staring them in their face.
       The answer is belief. Majority of the dreams remain submerged in the marshes of fears and then, one day, they move to the bottom. Unable to breathe, they die! All you need to do is give your dreams the life sustaining BELIEF..... Just sit down for a while and think.

          "Someday I'll fly...
            Someday I'll soar...
            Someday I'll be so damn much more...
            Cause I'm bigger than my body gives me credit for..."
                

Call of the heart...

Hear the voice of the wind...

Walk with the sun above you...

Bring in the songs of the rainbows...

The colors sparkling new...

Lead me, my heart...

I wish to follow you...

It's a vague start...

I'll do what I should do...

I'll  follow you...

This life is a magical bliss...

You might say it's too good to be true...

I've made it this way...

with love and I'm grateful...

Lead me my heart...

I wish to follow you...

Though dreams are far...

I'll make it through...

I'll follow you...

Call of the heart...

I'll never stop and quit...

even if there's a long queue...

Seize the dreams and fly...

in the skies so blue...

Lead me, my heart...

I am following you...

I'm playing my part...

to get life's perfect view...

I'll follow you...

I'll follow you...

LOST ART OF CONVERSION

Alfred North Whitehead said, “Expression is the one fundamental sacrament”.

Every morning, as my infant niece lies cooing in his crib, I make sure that he hears his name before seeing my face.’Davi….David Senior,” I call out in a drawn and almost forlorn tone of voice. His cooing stops. He hears a familiar sound. If I hide around the corner out of sight, his eyes watch, all his energy goes to listening. This big gal is making noises again, he thinks. Vibrations that name me, and prove that I exist, have travelled across the air from Someplace Else and into my fuzzy and not-well-focused world.

This may not sound like much, but it is the essential human transaction. We speak the world into being-It is “linguistically constituted,” as Heidegger would say, because humans are Homo loquins (speaking animals).The whole of our civilization and sophistication depends on language. In the poetry of Genesis, God speaks the world into being,saying”Let there be light…”.In John’s Gospel God’s best word, which “became flesh and dwelt among us full of grace and peace.”

The story of the Tower of Babel is meant to show that when language fails, human communication and cooperation fails. These days, the tragedy is not confusion, but silence-people moving, ghostlike, in glass houses against which no one dares to throw the stone of a word.

Consider my little niece again. He is learning not only that human beings make sounds to reach out to another, but a face will follow the sound-because the world is acoustical cause and effect. It’s the ear that welcomes the footsteps of the world. The dog barks, the thunder rolls, the screen door bangs out its hyphenated greeting. Sound is a messenger, and an interpreter.

The world is full of noise, but starved for meaningful discourse. There is plenty of clatter and droning, the kind that spills and churns out insults over talk radio. But there is very little real communication. Our homes have become the noisiest place of utter silence on earth and you know why?

TV’S has replaced the linguistic impulse. It turns faces away from one another and toward the mosaic monologue that is entertainment. The art of conversion began to die when we moved from the table to the couch. Passively we listened to others talking, and there was no place for us to speak our lines. We laughed at other people being funny, cried when others were sad, and cheered our sport heroes as if we were playing. As the flickering light of the tube reflected the zombie-like faces of a whole generation, the sound of families-arguing, teasing, cajoling, encouraging, setting and testing boundaries, investigating one another’s feelings, and telling stories-faded to black.

The extent of this silence in a world of racket is so far advanced that drastic measures are needed. Love cannot survive silence. Children cannot grow apart from the words that bridge their fears, and adults cannot rehearse and refine their relationships if they never hear the sound of the voices of their loved ones.

In a world where divorce is commonplace, it is no secret that marriages not only end in silence, they are ended by silence. Conversation is the currency of passion; it is the courier of concern. To be listened to, really listened to, and to be heard is so fundamental to the renewal of understanding that it has become the desperate refrain of our time.

How do we recover from this desperate situation?

It is to cut the cord on the TV that keeps us all drugged with impossible images of unattainable life. It is to say by action, and not by sentiment alone, that you refuse to let yourself be shown how to look, how to act and what to wear. For only when the blue light of the television fades will people get to know themselves again in the white light of the morning?

But conversation, like all the best things in life, cannot be forced. Language is the house of being. Sometimes all we are looking for in this life is a word from someone. A word of reassurance, a word of forgiveness, a word of reconciliation. The authentic life is worth talking about. Talking about it makes it more authentic still. It’s time to move off the couch and get back to the table-because we cannot live without the sound of each other.

BEYOND THE VOWS

Ever heard of this book by John Oscar Macharia?

This book cushions the harsh truth that to communicate effectively, we must risk exposing our true feelings. It’s a fine piece of work-I strongly recommend all and sundry to read it .

This is a Kenyan story of Romeo and Juliet in 1950.

“She noticed the young man discreetly following her. Whenever she left the house to go to the garden or to the stream to draw water, he would be watching her. She pretended not to notice his presence and continued with her work.

‘He’s attractive,’ she said to herself.

The young man on his part had been watching her every move. He knew he was attracted to her though he was not sure why. They had not spoken a word yet, but he was convinced she was the one whose hand he wanted to take in marriage.

‘She would make a good mate,’ he thought to himself.

Days passed. She started seeing signs to suggest that the man was about to make a move. She wasn’t sure she was ready, but he seemed like one who would make a good mate.

He left his home that morning and even with the pattering of the rain, he was sure she would be outside-working.Indeed, there she was. Without hesitating, he made the move. As soon as he got to where she was, he reached out, lifted her off the ground, threw her over his shoulder, and took her to his hut.”

I’m sure somebody somewhere is exclaiming,’Oh what a romance story’. Not at all. This was a common approach to marriage in most of Africa until modern concept of love started being embraced. ‘Love’ is believed to have had no part in our earliest ancestors’ choices of mates.

You can tally with that, right.Rather, partners were chosen on the basis of other considerations like upbringing, character, attractiveness, and ability to work hard.

OH...OH Today especially in Kenya, it is different. First which make of phone do you have, which car do you drive if any that is, do you walk with a swagger, are you in the corporate world and earning big and so on..

But let’s ask ourselves is it worth it...

Catch me on the next sitting as we discuss how it is beyond the vows courtesy of John Macharia.