I’m living my best life.
Freshly squeezed bitterleaf juice in one hand, thoughts of recent events in my head, and the soft melody of soothing voices from my radio kept me snuggled in the corner of my bed. I watched the rays of light that I hoped would touch my yellowing philodendron bounce off and on the multicoloured rechargeable torch on the window instead.
The bitterleaf juice is bitter, and this reality is dawning on me more than ever. I’ve been taking ethnobotanical classes by a professor who wrote a moving poem on ‘Her bittersweet plant’. But my insides are happy, and I feel stronger than I used to be.
Some moments ago, I was going through the instructions God gave me. I had cried over them the first time I became aware of them, and I went through episodes of embarrassment and humbling situations trying to follow these instructions. Yet, it is all coming together like a beautiful mosaic masterpiece.
The word of God is working, and I’m set to review the phrase “God is not a magician,” Maybe he is. We only want him to be a robot. “Do this!” We would love to say to God while we pressed the remote device that told him what to do and when.
I’m amazed at life. God’s watching me keenly, reading my thoughts, making notes, and poking out stuff that doesn’t look like him, even though it’s usually painful at that moment.
Everything is working well in the midst of this chaos called ‘a world’. I’m happy here, being who I’m supposed to be, gulping down the last swirl of bitterleaf juice and awaiting the next plot twist of life that God already knows of.
Yeah, tomorrow will tell, and I’m sure life in heaven will be better.
Someone wrote on Twitter once, and I paraphrase, “Anyone who says he is happy in this world is telling a lie,” But maybe they are not. At least I’m not lying about being happy here. The people he created are beautiful, their excesses apart. The skies are blue. And when the clouds are grey, they declare the promises of rain.
When the sun is shining at its brightest, sending off harsh rays, the calendar hung by the window in my room will still sway to and fro from the slightest push of wind, adding to the solemn afternoon music. And at night, we all shut our eyes in sleep, hoping for the daylight we took for granted some hours ago.
And now, it’s a new year, and I’m still trying to process that in my little brain. Like King David, my heart is declaring, “How unfathomable are your works, oh Lord!”
This was a really beautiful piece.
Thanks for reading🤭