It was a windy Saturday morning. The trees rustled behind the grey coloured bungalow. The dogs gingerly barked at the opening of doors and cockerels crowed at a distance. The power cut wasn’t a surprise as it had become a nocturnal ritual perfectly accustomed to.
A mixture of sadness and grief hits me as I awake on this contrasting beautiful morn. I roll over lazily before getting up for morning devotion. It was another day of contemplating the end of this frail life of mine. I entered into the bathroom and poured some water over my face. It seemed a mirror of myself appeared in my mind’s eye. And there I am, leaving this hot air, the faintness and lusterless life.
I easily found my way from the bathroom, to the corridor and down to the sitting room. It was time to worship God and thank him for another day. I muttered within myself “these people do not know i’m far from grateful”. I simply needed a perfect time to leave them unannounced. I joined in the chorus, somewhat hypocritically. I really didn’t think this vague figure I’ve always been told about had me in his hands. If he did, my life would be far from what it is now.
Opening my mouth and clapping my hands, I sang but not with my heart- “He’s got the whole world in his hands. He’s got the whole wide world, in his hands. He’s the whole world, in his hands. He’s got the whole world in his hands”. My mind runs a fast monologue, as I continue at devotion. What’s the use of being here when I was simply a liability? I’m up today and down tomorrow, how does this life of mine count? Does it add value to any one? I can’t continue to remain in this kind of terrible and excruciating pains for the rest of my life. Must I?
I curled my feet against each other as it grew cold from placing them on the white tiles hugging the floor. The pains from the previous day jolting through my bones and making me tense my muscles. I hear dad saying, ” sin would prevent us from getting to heaven and we must avoid it at all cost”. Prayer’s over. I stepped into my room, muscles still tensed and throbbing with pain.
I was just fifteen but it seemed I was fifty already. Always angry and bitter at life for the fair share I’ve had.
I’ve had enough of the pain episodes, bone pain crisis and acute chest syndrome. The crying and shrieks accompanied by a crisis. Worst of all, it came up any time and any day. No respect for occasions, examinations and plans. I’ve had enough.” It’s far better to end it here and now”, I thought. I went quietly into the blue tilled kitchen, closed the door gently behind me in order not to alert anybody. I picked it up from the cabinet. I knew if I was to do this, I mustn’t let the world hear. It had to be quiet and quick.
The sunshine beamed through the window, intruding, as if to prevent me from accomplishing my mission. I was determined, hence, I ignored it nosiness.
I tiptoed to the pantry and placed the cold icy tip on my belly. I closed my eyes and summoned the courage to drive it in. I wasn’t capable of dealing with it any longer. My energy was drained. I really should put a quick end to the frustrating life I had. Always the one to be hospitalized, always the one to use drugs like a junkie. It was tiring and I was totally sick of it.
I needed a break! A total one at that.
As the pressure from my trembling fingers mounted, I suddenly realised it wasn’t simply about yesterday and today, how about tomorrow? I hadn’t given it a thought.
I went down, broken and in tears. The black, sharp and shinny object glided out of my hands. I wept profusely. Would I rather wander into the region of Hades because I was too blinded by my pains and self centered not to see the beauty and purpose underlying all of the chaos? or would I choose to live out in total surrender and obedience, the course God had charted for me as the master planner.
It wasn’t over yet.
A flood of peace swept through me as He spoke to my heart lovingly and gave me a blessed assurance. If I turned away on the day of battle, it simply shows how little my strength is.
No longer do I call it my fair share, it is my blessed share. I’ve learnt to trust Him in the gloomy darkness, I’ve learnt to rest in His unfailing love. I’ve learnt to lean on the shoulders of the One who can carry me. I’ve learnt to walk in his grace, without which I am nothing. I’ve come to see his strength showcased even when this unadorned jar of clay seems to be saddled with weakness or pain. I’ve experienced the joy that wells from within even when on the outside there’s nothing to be pretty excited about.
Yeah, I may be terrorized. I’m not demoralised. I could be struck down but i’m not broken.
So, I’m not giving up. How could I? Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on me, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for me. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things I see now are here today and gone tomorrow. But the things which I can’t see will last forever.
On that windy Saturday night, I began to rest on his unchanging grace. The high, stormy gales and tempest aren’t strong enough to take off this anchor. It holds even in the fiercest of storms. It’s a blessed hope.
This isn’t a story, Its my life.
Bible Reference Personalised: 2Cor4:16-18 TM.