Uncertainty

I'd like to think I understand but I do not
God works in mysterious ways
In bigger ways, in the smallest of ways
And even in between.

I thought I've grasped it all
With all humility!
But no! There was more to it
Than I could have even conceded.

I don't know why
I don't know for what
And it's beautiful this way
Special this way.

I sense peace, my countenance is at rest
I feel at ease with others too
None of that rush is left
I am letting things be.

I certainly don't like surprises
I don't like being caught unaware or off-guard
Maybe this is a chance for me to appreciate surprises

Maybe I should risk being fooled for once!

Maybe. Maybe not.
Perhaps for the first time,
There is no anxiousness in uncertainty
Is this faith?

Maybe!

Of Shoes and Dreams

After two years I am walking the same road wearing the same boots and sweaters. Still struggling. Nothing much have changed. What happened in between? I have inched  closer to my dream, and what I would count as prizes are the people I met during these two years and the invaluable experiences I got.

The preacher said that the way to begin dreaming is to ask yourself what you would do if you were guaranteed success in anything you choose to undertake. That minuses fear and all impediments of the mind. I asked myself that question a long time ago and I had made my choice. I risked all comforts, closed all doors, and just walked towards it. This was it for me, and it still is.

It's a long overhaul. I am being refined, redefined, tested, taught, and stretched. Not always pleasant but I am privileged to be going through these. A chance to pursue your dreams! How precious! I am thankful for the way things are, for I know my Father is in control.

There was a time I couldn't bring myself to run this race though I knew for sure the prize at the end was all that I wanted in an aspect of my life. That made me realize that even for making myself do what I need and even want to do, I need the strength of God. Of all the battles I fight, the one with my own self is the hardest. I can be my enemy too!

And the battles rage on. I hope that next year I won't have to wear my old boots; not because I have new ones but because I won't be walking the same road again, for I will be in that place I risked everything for...and that place calls for sophisticated high heels!

To ME

Take a really deep breath. Pause. Reaffirm yourself. Hold your head up high and take your walk.

There is always a better you than you or others know. Believe that that "you" exists. Let her come forth. Let her be known.

Misunderstood

It's not always a pleasant thing saying the truth. However much gently you put it,one can always be misunderstood.
Today I feel so misunderstood.

I have never wanted to be a tyrant. Responsibility put me in a position I otherwise won't have chosen. But with sincerity I carried out what my role demanded.

And now I am misunderstood!

Words can cut deep, so deep that it numbs you. I didn't cry. I didn't. I was raised not to pity myself. I was taught to put my point across without appealing to tears. I was taught to be strong.
Even if I am misunderstood!

Maybe I misunderstand myself, or maybe I am the one who misunderstood. I concede to the possibility. But when the yardstick of wrong and right, of duty and slackness is laid up against me, I know that I won't be found wanting. No, of this I am confident.

I won't let plurality or subjectivity blur my sense of duty, my principles, and convictions. I won't meander in confusion. I will be hated, and misunderstood again but I would live in spite of and because of it all.

Some Things

"But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart"(Mark 2;19).
There are some things which are worth not saying because they are so profound, so precious!
Some things should be just between God and you.

These are things that can be shared with Him alone
And blessed are we if we have much to share with Him!

Our hearts rest truly only in a trusted friend's hand
And there are things only God can handle
After all and before all, He is our best friend!

She is

When she is what she is
She is the woman with the kindest of hearts
Who thinks of you before you even think for yourself
She volunteers to stand by you before you realize you need someone
She goes to crazy lengths to ensure you are alright
Runs that extra mile for you, save that extra seat for you....

When she is what she is
She is as stubborn as we women could be
Insisting, persisting, and never relenting
Caught in her own opinions she doesn't care
That there could be and that there are landscapes beyond her view
She decides what she  will see....

When she is what she is
She is a nervous wreck beyond redemption
The raging of her emotions overtake her
As she cries like a baby and refuse to be comforted
She's a picture of devastation
Beautiful nonetheless, for her honesty....

When she is what she is
She is an intellectual par excellence
An orator who'll make your heart skip a beat
A woman driven with a zeal to compete with even herself
A ferocious worker, a committed student
There's nothing stopping her
No, not even herself.

When she is what she is
She's not always lovable, not always appreciable
A mere face in the crowd, just another struggler, just another voice;
An ordinary woman with big dreams
A bag of worries, a fearful adventurer, a nonsensical babbler
Another bother to deal with!

But she is what she is
And I love her just the way she is
She loves me and I never doubt her love for me, that intriguing love...
If I could have chosen I never would have chosen her
But here she is in my life, joined at the hip
A bosom friend, someone I always needed and didn't know existed.

She is what she is
The best friend a woman could ask for in another woman.

Now

I can't walk through life waiting for someone to do me a favor
Wake me up with a kiss, rescue me from a bad mother
Or slay dragons and witches for me.
My happily ever after won't be after I meet that illusive prince.

I let go of thoughts which makes me lesser than what I am and should be
I am not a slave to my emotions and the raging turns of my mind
Much as they are part of me, they are not me in totality.

Yea, I could be a princess who goes on hunting adventures
A queen who rules over her domain with wisdom.

I can be the imaginable.

I am the daughter who carries the jewel of her parents' hearts inside her
The sister who stands in the watchtower of the castle her family lives in
The friend who fights alongside her army of friends
The teacher who counsels in the courts of the budding minds of her children.

I am these and so much more.
I am not nothing.

I am she who is living.
Soaking up  and sowing love along her way
Waiting but not whining
Anticipating but not anxious.

I dare to dream , to take risks
I waver but won't sink easily
I rattle but there's an unfathomable silence within me.

I am a person myself
My time is now, it was never"will be",
I am alive now, I am living now.

Good Morning

Had a bad morning!Actually when I was getting out of bed I had prayed that the day be good; but it just took some words to bring out the bad side of me. I don't like being crowded with reminders and requests before I have my quiet time, and this was actually what happened. It was a simple request but enough to invite an irritated and sarcastic comment from me! My, my! I could have bitten my tongue after those words slipped out, but at the same time my heart weighed down heavily in anger at being disturbed! Self-righteousness manifested!

I went on with my quiet time and did what I usually do. I was not quite happy with myself for snapping off so easily and unreasonably! As for the person who had to face my wrath, I was not sure what to do to make it up....Heaviness weighed in as I stood in the balcony,looking out into the fresh rain washed scenery in front of me. I exclaimed, "It's so beautiful!" My heart was overtaken by the wonder of it all. "It's a beautiful morning....His mercies are new every morning...." I stopped at that for I realized something beautiful- His mercies are for me as well, for this morning as well! I smiled....my heart was at peace again. It was going to be a good day after all! 

How Long Is Forever?

How long is forever?
I think it won't be long because Forever for me would be with my Savior
I think I won't bother about this question once I see His face and settle up in those mansions He has prepared for me.
I think time won't be a drag anymore for anyone nor would we worry about "less time"
But I also think that everything will be done on time and in good time.
Time won't be a tyranny in any way
There will be enough of it but it won't be wasted in anyway by anyone
For everyone will be in their redeemed glory.

Perhaps time will cease all together
And timelessness will begin
We will then go on without the rhythm of time in the background!
Won't it be strange?
I find my imagination limited on this count....
But should God choose to retain it  I think it will be in a redeemed too
And time would be kind to everyone and there will be only"good times".

But whatever it is, it will be awesome!
Forever and ever and ever....
In that home above graced with beauty, peace, love, joy and abundant life
Ruled by His wisdom, adorned by His grace
So close to the Savior, our hearts beating along with His
No sorrowful tears, no unanswered questions...
It will be forever with Him!

O Come Emmanuel!

Do Something About Your Dream

A lot of us are afraid to face up to our dreams. It's surprising that we dream but are afraid of it coming true! No.am not talking about bad dreams. Am talking about the fluffy, high dreams.
Perhaps this is so because of the roads that entail our dreams. They are not usually very pleasant and they involve asking some tough questions, facing up to our own weaknesses and working on things and issues we'd rather not disturb. No wonder there is no dearth of people especially young people who dream idly! Turning dreams into reality involves stepping into reality and reality is not always kind.

I was shaken up from my slumber when I came across a write-up which equated lack of ambition with sin! On further reflection I couldn't agree more with the writer. Imagine a generation of complacent, aimless, comfortable, demotivated people. They would certainly be a "lost generation"! What this world needs today and what duty calls us to do is to make the best use of what we have been bestowed with. As Christians, what concern us should be the optimum utilization of our gifts and talents and that requires having an ambition,planning for it and working towards it. Most importantly we should remember that it is God Himself who put those dreams in our hearts. Am assuming here that you have a sanctified desire about your dreams and aims, and that you have begun your walk with the Lord.

Yea, "sanctified desire". Do we have it? Are the words of our mouth and the meditations of our hearts acceptable to the Lord? Do we pray for God to search our hearts and know all our desires? Do we keep our hearts with all diligence knowing that from it springs the issues of life and that it is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked?

I look back on my life and thank God for those people who were tough on me and made me ask all the tough and uncomfortable questions. Believe me, I even used to pray that God would take such people out of my life! They unsettled me, they made me feel inferior! I didn't like them . They hurt my pride. But today I can say with a sincere heart that I am grateful for them and to them . Bless their hearts!

I believe that not all of us are not called to be firsts or toppers or high achievers- that would be an impossibility. God looks at the heart, He requires sincerity not winning performances. Winning and losing are not for us to decide. They are sometimes superficial. The lazy servant in the parable of the talents was called "wicked" not because he earned less but because he did nothing with the one talent he had been given. One talent. Oh so many of us complain that we are inadequately blessed! Whether we say it out loud or not we allow ourselves to dwell on thoughts such as, "if only I had more", "if only I were born in a different family, a different place...", "if only I didn't have to do this", "if only..." the list goes on. These are fatal!

Life is not a joke.If you aren't serious about your life who will? We are called to be responsible and responsibility requires taking stock of your life. I have realized that surrender to God is not a passive act where you absolve yourself of your responsibilities. It entails that we take stock of our life and work through it with God's guidance-facing the tough questions and situations with Him! God is not intrusive; is is very respectful of our free will. I can't emphasize enough this truth!

So go out! Face your dream. Embrace those people who make you face it-you know them! Take risks. Dare. Plan. Try.If you fail, try again. Learn from it, plan again.  Try again. Let go of monotony and complacency. Go!

Personally, at the end of my days I would like to be able to say to God that though I might have" failed", I tried, with all my might, with all my being, to the best of my abilities. Let it be so for you and for me!

Reminded

When you stop doing the things you love to do
You know something's wrong with you
I am appalled to find in myself that I do what I ought to do and loved to do
Only as an exception.
What woke me up from my slumber was an old friend
Who spoke of "the girl I used to know"
I pictured myself as I used to in my dreams
I was hardly what I wished to be.
She gently took my hand and showed me 'what was' which defined my vision
The faces, the memories, the pain, the joy, the sharing...
While reminding me that what I wished to be might not be what God wants me to be!
Pause.
Hit.
Surrender.
I was back on a different plane
Not one I controlled, not one I absolved myself from
But one where there's purpose,meaning and peace...
My prayers changed since then
Now  I really bow myself  down when I pray
I say"Thine will be done" and I mean it.

I have another reason to be thankful for
This old friend from the old pages of my life
Old yet relevant
A treasure to cherish.

Hold onto old friends
They are your links to the past
The past which holds your dreams
Unalloyed by reality, disappointments and the harsh elements
They help you see the fearless child you once were
And I tell you-
That child is what you should be!

Christie

Today I thank God for a friend
A friend who has always stood by me unflinchingly
Whose dreams for me has encouraged me on
Who zealously guards my time
Who thinks I can be more than I think of myself
Who corrects me gently, nudges me on
Whose insight and wisdom I always seek
Whose gentleness I can always lean on
Whose courage inspires me
Whose trust guards me
Whose empathy comforts me
Whose heart holds my deepest shame and secrets
Who has given more than I could ask
Who seeks me out in the crowd
Who sees the best in me
Who makes me feel beautiful.

I wonder what I have done to deserve her
I am sometimes afraid she might just go away
But she has been like the air-always around
Her purity, her devotion to God and her sweetness
Are rarities in this crooked world....
So when I count the handful of good people I know
She's among them...
God's own giant, my friend, my sister, my confidante
My Christie!

Song for Today

I saw how unfair life is
Someone labors and the other enjoys the fruit
Someone takes the blame and the other goes free
Someone does the dirty work and the other basks in the gleam
Someone is misunderstood and the other is empathized with.

I complained, I ranted, I resisted such injustice
And I just ended up feeling depleted and rejected.

I recall a song"Give them all to Jesus"
And this is what I am gonna do...

How good it is to have the right song for what you are feeling...
Thank God for song writers!
Bless their hearts! :)

Let me share the song's lyrics-

"Are you tired of chasing pretty rainbows
Are you tired of spinning round and round
Wrap up all the shattered dreams of your life
At the feet of Jesus lay them down

CHORUS
Give them all
Give them all
Give them all to Jesus

Shattered dreams
Wounded hearts
Broken toys

Give them all
Give them all
Give them all to Jesus
And he will turn your sorrow into joy
He never said you’d only see sunshine
He never said there’d be no rain
He only promised a heart full of singing
About the very things that once caused pain."

Simple Pleasures

It finally rained today! My friend and I were so happy that we wore gum boots and went out sloshing in the flooded streets. Then we went to the park to play in the puddles and wet grass...it was so much fun! We squealed in delight...jumped and ran...we were almost oblivious to the surroundings...luckily it was dark! :)

This reminds me of the simple joys of life, timed perfectly by our sovereign Lord. I have been wanting to write down about the things I simply love for quite a long time....inspiration withers quickly and I am tight on time so I am just sharing in short the simple things I love:

1.Playing in the rains of course!
2.Sitting by the window with a hot cup of tea watching the rain dance outside.
3.When a child runs to me with her arms wide open and hugs me tight!
4. A note book well filled with my own handwriting(only if it's neat)
5.The feeling after you have spoken well in public.
6. Singing with your friends.
7.Seeing your hard work pay off.
8. Someone relishing what you cook(happens rarely)
9.Knowing your girlfriends have your back...
10.Writing on a smooth paper with a really good pen.
11.Finally drinking a glass of cold water after being out in the sun!
12. A good night's sleep
13.Listening to my father sing
14.Texting your friends to tell them about  little things
15.A dress that fits me perfectly
16.A lovely quote that expresses my feeling precisely!
17.Discovering a great song!
18.Reading C. S. Lewis' books!
19.Running my hand across my freshly washed, dried hair.
20.Listening to kids tell stories
21.A long rickshaw ride
22.Singing in the choir
23.My"quiet times" with the Lord
24.A well set room
25.A good conversation
26.A long walk with a friend talking about just anything or just being quiet
27. Coloring!
28.Paper-craft
29.That rare moment when I love sewing!
30.Waking up before the alarm rings
31.When Papa says"thank you" when he's proud of what I have done.
32.Doing an impromptu dance with your friend!
33.Doing well in an exam
34.Playing with ice from the fridge
35.A bag with many pockets where I can keep everything organised
36.A bunch of pale colored roses
37.A letter or card from a friend
38. The postman at the door with goodies from home
39.The sun shining warmly on my face
40.Red shoes
41.The smell of guava
42.Yipee noodles with fried eggs
43. Goose berries!
44.Bhel-puri
45.Uncle's chole kulche
46.A good vegetable market
47.Cardigans
48.Earrings
49.Fresh and clean bed clothes
50.Cats!
51. Dark chocolates
52.My Beethoven and Barbie
53.Mama's touch....
54.Brushing my teeth!
55.Reading...

There's a lot more....and I am thankful for all these! :)  :)

I Hate

"I hate them with perfect hatred."
Yea, I clearly recall these lines from the Bible itself,
David's words
Pouring out his heart to the Lord
He is  always too honest for comfort.

Have I ever told the Lord that I hate someone?
Yea...but with a sense of guilt.
I reckon that He  won't be pleased
Telling Him such things don't come naturally
I like to be pious before Him.

And when I do hate am I conscious of His presence?
Almost never!
All I ever see before me is the object of my hatred
And a swollen sense of self esteem
While a fire within me is kindled.

If hatred is an art I would rate myself a pro.!
I am passionate in hatred
My ire is insidious
I slowly poison myself with it
But I wish the other would be harmed.

Yes I hate with "perfect hatred"
And I shudder at this realization
I am even ashamed to admit it
I go to lengths justifying, defending myself-
I hate but I am not wrong!

It's not so much my wrath at the other person
As what I hold within me
The contempt reveals so much about me!
My utter depravity and my poverty
And my need-my need for grace!

"'Hate' is too strong a word", I often say
But actually no word can capture the intensity of a heart that despises
It'll be a horrible word, too horrible to be uttered
It's ugly, it's terrifying, it's vile
No wonder then that I lose my peace when I entertain it.

I believe this is what my Savior knew
When He told me to ,love and taught me to love
He saw the hideousness of this sin
It raises its banner against Him
And against my soul which He loves.

May I then remind myself each moment how villainous hatred is
Until at long last I hate it with"perfect hatred"
It is only thing to be hated!

P.S. Even as I was writing this I realized that I have gotten into something more than I bargained for! This is not a very refined thought, I have agreed to disagree with myself here. But this will serve as a marker in my journey towards a clearer understanding of the scheme of things in this theme. Bear with me! :)

Longing Without Knowing

"Can you miss someone you have never known?", I was asked.
It was a "yes" then and it still is.
I miss some people I will never know
People whose lives have touched me and still influence my life.
I am not talking of obscure great men and women who made history
I am talking about"missing" someone in the sense of really longing for them
There's an empty space in your heart and life for them which  only they can fill
You know that they are supposed to be there but you find them absent
You have this acute sense of wanting and even needing them
You feel as if you know them though you've never known them
You miss them.

I miss my paternal grandparents, for example.
I never knew them but I love them and long for them
I know that they would've loved me too if they only knew me!
There's an empty space in my heart meant just for them which has never been occupied.
The Lord knew better and took them away before we even met here on earth
I don't complain about the emptiness though I have felt it
It's not a pain I cannot bear
I feel blessed that I love someone I never knew
And rest in the assurance that they surely loved me even though they might not have anticipated me.

Yea, then there was dear Josephine, my sister!
I have never even seen her
I wonder what she would have been like
If she had grown up to be a woman
What personality would she have graced?
What color would have been her favorite?
With what would I have likened the sound  of her voice?
Would she have demanded that I piggyback her and tell her stories just like her siblings?
Or would she have been the understanding one,
The one who would talk about grandpa and grandma with me?

And how do I not miss my dear nephew
Whose heart was so feeble that he had to go?
We didn't get to pick up names with glee for him
Like we did when his sister was born
Frail from the start, he had our hearts in knots
And then he was gone before the reality of his presence sunk in.
I would have been an absent aunt had he lived
But I would have cherished him nonetheless
Now I can't even speculate the" ifs"
He's gone, gone before I even saw him.

We might say at the risk of sounding debased
That one can do without a cousin or a nephew
They are not "necessary".
Objectively, I agree.
But what about the "necessary" relations?
That, one has to concede.

I miss without knowing them whom I miss
And I believe it's a blessing to be longing like this
This sense of loss makes me tender, makes me ponder
And perhaps makes my heart stretch  a bit more to accommodate more love
Love for others for the sake of those I miss.

My mind and my heart have not explored all the ramifications
Nor have I closed myself to the possibility
That there might be more whom I'll miss in the future....
I pray then that I'll have the tenderness of heart to miss them then!

I sense that calm over my face after all these years...that same one I used to have when I was so sure of God, myself and to a certain extent my future. My muscles are relaxed, my eyes steady, my cheeks brave, my ears drawn back yet alert, my lips settled in a shape I won't know how to replicate at other times and the overall contours of my face set as if I am feeling the warmth of the sun on my face after a cold winter's night. It sounds good,it feels good ...but I am afraid it might not be really good.

I recall the storms I faced after that calm, how it ravaged my soul, robbed my peace and defaced my heart. I remember being tossed about by circumstances, people and my own weaknesses. Is it coming back? Is this the lull before the storm?

When the storm comes your preparedness matters. Perhaps this is the time to be prepared? Perhaps. A part of me  feels excited at the prospect of facing the storm, much against another part which wants safety and quiet. But it's not for me to decide whether the storms should come or not. Is it?

So why am I afraid?

I am afraid that I might not go to the right place for shelter. I am afraid that I might not survive this time. I am also wary of  the lies...I am wary of the deception the calm wears....

The last storm broke me down. Am I stronger now? I like to believe I do. But still I am afraid to face the storm which might not come after all!

For Papa

One of life's greatest delights is to see growth-whether it be in a little baby or a tiny sapling. Thankfully, growth is not limited to the tangible and the physical. It encompasses the spiritual, the emotional and the mental too. I have been blessed to witness spiritual and emotional growth in people close to me, people I love and cherish. This includes even my parents. Over the years I have seen them love each other better, if not more than they used to. They grew in love and the tree of their love sheltered, protected and provided for us. The tangibility of their growth showed in the affectionate gestures and words towards each other and towards us. Their love is a living example that we fall in love and then grow in love. In falling we die to our own selves and in that death we find ourselves sprouting and growing in love (the death and resurrection principle I referred to in my last post). Love is not a spark that lights up your world for a moment and then dies away; it is like a candle which lights other candles though it is melting. It knows that life on earth is too short to even worry about how short it is; we are to live and help others live. I am so thankful that God helped me see this in my parents.

I wrote the following lines for Papa during my first year of college, away from home and alone in the confines of my Paying Guest accommodation. A lot has changed since then, all for good. My understanding of Papa has 'evolved' to see him more realistically and I hope more lovingly. I complain about not having received hugs here...well, I have received so much since then! And about the tears...let me keep it to myself for now....

I must not forget to add that the society we grew up in doesn't really display affections...this is one of the reasons we are so stiff most of the times. But things are changing for the better.

These are a teenager's musings, take it as that...she's a big girl now! :)

"Pa, did I ever doubt your love?
Ever thought you didn't care?
Took you for granted?

Questioned your decisions?

Misunderstood your corrections?

Yes Pa, I did.

Pa, I cried for the tears you didn't show
Longed for the hugs you didn't give
And wondered why you are this way.

But this is all I have against you.
I can't count the number of times you said"thank you"to me
When I did well at school or at anything that made you proud;
Nor the times you accompanied me
To school, to church, to the doctors'...
I saw you empty your pockets to fill mine
I saw you give up your dreams
To get me a new dress, or to pay for my picnics and trips.
You stayed by my side when I was sick
You woke up to tell me to go to sleep
When I'd be cramming for exams

(And you know Pa? You calmed me down by saying that).
I was aware when in the dead of the night

You'd come and pull the blankets over us,

And check whether we were sleeping well
Gently stirring us up if when we weren't.
I've witnessed the times you faced humiliation

So that we could be filled, so that we won't lack.
You knew what was important
You lived for what you could die for.

Thank you Papa for the many times you carried me,

For the wonderful stories you told

For the stuffs you mended-whether it was my teddy bear or my broken heart

For the errands you chose to go for us
For the dreams you helped us dream
And for so much more...

Everyday Pa, every single day
I want you to be sure that I love you

How can I complain Pa
about the tears and the hugs?
I know your heart bled for us
Your hand worked for us-
That was hugging in the real sense...
Oh, I can't comprehend it...!

I don't know how successful you are
But as a father
You are definitely a big hit!
I love you PAPA!"

At the Altar

Nothing is really yours till it has gone through the process of death and resurrection. I face this reality again. I am reminded that what I want should first and foremost be given up, and then should the Almighty in His sovereignty and love for me decide to give it back to me alive,it's mine to keep; else in faith I know it was never in my interest.

I wish I had the faith to believe so this time as well.... In spite of what I have known and still know to be true here I find myself in tears over what I have to give up. Perhaps I am mistaken...perhaps God wants me to fight for it and not just give it up? But no.It can't be, it isn't. This is such that I can lay no claim to it unless it is gifted and gifted,it is not. It is not to be fought for, it is not to be sought after without putting on rebellion and pride. I wish it was easy, I wish I had never placed my affections on it...everything was going so well until I was abruptly stopped and made to realize that I had been mistaken all along. I died a little that day.

I hope I am  not talking in the air...a few of you know why I am saying this. I am putting my condition to words so that they bear testimony to what I am feeling now. Perhaps after all these are over I can then come back and view this in a new light. I hope to pass this test. "Though He slays me yet I will trust in Him"..."When He has tried me I shall come forth as gold." I say these lines to myself again today... there's something I have to train myself to see and listen to.

What's in store for me I don't know. Yet I do know that the sacrifice has to be made and it means death of a certain part of me. I believe it has to be this way, I am being transformed, I am being renewed, I am being cut and chiseled to be fit for His crown. He loves me and He has always proven Himself to be true. So I believe and affirm today that His will is "good, acceptable and perfect." I am not looking back, I have raised the knife.

My Sabbath

Those three years I can never forget. Sundays were sunny, bright and clear. The neighborhood really serene because people were away at church; but I had company and that surprises me now. I hid lest I be seen but nobody cared, I got strange looks but never a word. Those were restful days, Sabbath indeed! I don't know what I missed because what was was replaced by newer things-things I never would have known if I wasn't made to stop.

Remember Lord that those days I was most ready to meet You, not because I hated this life but I was in love with your love for me and I was captivated by thoughts about the new abode you have prepared for me. Those were the days I began seeing you as my God and not as an colonial or imperialist legacy. You entered into my private world disrobed of my childish fantasies. There we were together talking about things which mattered to me most...remember the letters I wrote You? I told You my about my dreams, my fears, my shame, my struggles....There were a lot I didn't share too because I wasn't able to; but You knew, You understood...like You always do.

I held onto You desperately in the best way I knew. I realize now that I was not so good at it, You were the One actually holding onto me. You held onto me even when I turned my back those last days...such is Your love! I was attacked, tempted, persecuted...I was shaken...but Your grace was always sufficient.

I remember that You didn't forsake me in any way. You made me thrive by sending me songs for the broken nights and empty days. I starved for your Word and you fed me in miraculous ways...sometimes I wonder how I even survived because I wasn't on solids yet during that conflict! I longed for fellowship and You gave me friendships which I still cherish and nurture. You have always been faithful Abba!

I will always look at those years with a sad sigh but they will immediately be followed by songs of praises to Your faithfulness. They are etched in my memory as bright sunny days, with a tinge of melancholy but glistening with a soft blanket of inexpressible peace and joy. Yes,there was peace and joy then, in the midst of that turmoil...I knew and felt that I was totally on your side. I was away from church but closer to You. 

Papa

"PAPA!" That endearing sound!
It goes without saying that I adore my father. Everyone who knows me knows that!
My cousin says that I am a "daddy's girl". I am unsure what she exactly means by that...
But I love Papa and Papa loves me, so I guess she means that...but I disdain the exclusivity it might imply because Papa's heart is so big that every child he loves could be his"girl" or "boy". I know he loves my sisters, brothers and cousins a lot too and I lay no special claim to his love.

Nonetheless I have always shared a special,if not exclusive bond with Papa. He was never my hero, I never viewed him that way. Papa was well past forty when I was born and the first image I have of him is one of a reverent old man, the patriarch of our family,the pastor of our small local church, the one whom strangers called "baba", and neighbors called"uncle". He was so different from my idea of a hero, so different from the young and energetic daddies of my friends. I was so protective of him even as a little girl! Once I got very mad at a man who took some nails from Papa's hands in a hardware store! I thought he was snatching it away because he didn't ask whether he could have a look...and that man looked rough too. I was so mad I went home and told Mama that somebody took away Papa's nails at the store! Mama was probably amused and told me that I should have spoken up then!I was ashamed that I didn't. Papa was always so good to others that I feared people would take advantage of him. He never cheated, never fought, never lied...he was always reverent and kind...and the world as I saw it was a cruel one!

Papa is the epitome of idealism. I clearly remember that the title of one of the book on his shelf was "The Idealist View of Life". He has high ideals and principles and he is known for that. People take him for a moral perfectionist, an impossible to please person. He is widely misunderstood. He is a man of his words, he sticks to what he says. His view seldom changes once formed. He has definite opinions but he always encourages inquiry...I used to find this baffling!His teachings range from the abstract to everyday manners and conduct. He loves to read and his readings range from history to physics, from theology to philosophy, from poems to politics,etc. Often he would pick up our old textbooks and read them, learning all over again or perhaps learning for the first time. He still has his books,even notebooks from his college days. I used to fancy those yellow exotic pages and once took the courage to ask him for one of those but Papa flatly refused. I never asked for his" treasures" again! He refuses to throw them out, they are older than us and Mama thinks that they should be discarded if they are not being used. Papa disagrees and Mama understands....she is in fact the one who cares for his books and warns us not to soil or spoil them should we use them and as for some books she would insist we ask Papa's permission. Papa values education;though he had to forgo higher formal education because he had to take up responsibilities by taking up a job he never remained uneducated. He has read extensively. To give you an idea, his library has writings by Tolstoy, Joesphus, Vivekananda,H.G. Wells, E. G. White, Gandhi, Hawkings,Billy Graham,etc.. He also has an exclusive edition of the Arabian Nights, he has the Mahabhartha and the Ramayana as well. He never limited knowledge to the range of one culture. So along with our traditional folktales which he would orally tell us, we got to read the Grimm Bothers, Hans Christian Anderson, Aesop fables,Tennali Ramkrisna, Hetopadesa,etc. These might not sound so great now but it was a big thing then when books were scarce and expensive. Only the determined and crazy got all those!

He instilled in us a love for learning and curiosity. He might deny us many things but he won't deny us anything related to our education. I grew up feeling very rich because of that!

Papa loves children. It is a usual sight in our backyard to see him play carom with the neighborhood kids, singing as they strike their best shot! My little cousins are very fond of him and remembers every word he says, often repeating them to their parents. Papa is very fond of chess and would coax any potential partner into playing with him and of course they would play for hours on end! He often plays Chinese checkers with Mama and we used to enjoy playing cards in the evenings too.

Papa never tires of speaking. My aunt thinks that I got this trait from him! Often he repeats the same thing over and over again much to others'annoyance but I see that it's important-this shows the urgency he feels, reveals his constancy and the intensity of his convictions in what he says. Well, it took me sometime to realize this, I wish people also knew.

Some people say I look like Papa. That gladdens my heart because Papa is quite good looking and the photos of him in his younger days are dashing! I got his skin tone and forehead for sure and his liking for bitter food. Both of us love reading. It's a joy to share books with him! Papa can be quite critical at times and so am I. As a part of his pastoral ministry he would go home-visiting and I would hop along with him too, often my two younger siblings would join us. That way I came to know many people and visited many places I otherwise won't have known. Such experience also taught me to listen to "serious"conversations.

Papa was the one who was tough on me, tougher than Mama that is. I was a dreamer and usually very lazy. But Papa would make me work-he would make me carry firewood, water, sand,etc., make me wash his socks and shirts, make him tea, etc. He could have told others to do those works but it had to be me. He usually was the one who saw the wrongs I was getting into. He would reprimand me for being vain, for being careless and shoddy, etc.He would be quick to silence me when I am talking rudely or proudly.He often checked on us while we studied; needless to say he has caught me often lost in thoughts or playing with stationary. He taught me never to wallow in self-pity, never to lie or steal or bear false witness. He was always proud of my work but never satisfied-he would always point out areas I needed improve in. I still need to work on the very things Papa began working in me; I am glad he pointed them out and began the work too.

Papa would take care of us as much as Mama would when we would fall sick. He would sit beside us as he read, massage us, and tell us that we will be well soon. Most importantly,he would pray over us and when he did that I was sure that I would be alright soon. He is very affectionate. He would come check on us while we are asleep. He brings us lots of goodies to eat. He says all those silly things which only a father can tell his kids. He makes sure we have everything we need or even want. I don't doubt his willingness to provide so whenever he refuses me anything I respect his decision. He would lovingly roast eggs and potatoes for us. He spends hours making and packing goodies with Mama to send them to us now that we all are away from home. He would make "chula" and hot water bags for us as we studied during the cold winter days. I was the night owl in the family and would sometimes study late into the night,but Papa would insist that I sleep well. What a blessedness it was (and is) to know he cares....

Papa works very hard with his hands too. He almost single-handedly built two rooms adjoining our small government quarters. He would carve out candle stands, spoons, etc. from wood. He never shies away from menial work;in fact he even cleans our septic tank if need be! He once dug a shallow well near our home all by himself, he built out kitchen hearth in the traditional style too. All the cementing work in our yard has been done by him. He made a comfortable place for Mama to wash clothes by hauling big slabs of rocks from the river! He makes sure we have strong and enough clotheslines too.He also does all the fencing and pruning work in our little abode. There are more I am sure...

Papa is a fighter...he is a generous soul...he is so childlike too...he is naive at times...he has so many faults too...but He loves God and God loves him. God has given me the honor of hearing praises about Papa even from strangers and non-believers. People trust him...there's something about him which commands trust. I love the way he prays...I love the way he blesses us...I love the way he sings...I love my Papa!

When I went home from college for the first time Papa ran out to meet me on hearing my voice. How I long to see him again! I have been away from home for too long....O Lord take me back home to be with Papa and Mama again very soon!

Past that Passed By

I am glad that I miss some things...it means that life has been good. I am thankful that I can look back and smile. Sometimes I wish I could go back, just for a moment, just to experience the feelings I felt then...but I can't, so I have a feeling of  "missing" instead. And it's good.

I am glad that what has happened can't be changed. They have been captured in the pages of time past. Nobody can alter it, and God chooses not to alter it. Everything changes but not the past!

People may change the narrative or adjust perceptions of the past; but the fact remains that what was "is" there in the past and there are limits to adjustments and manipulations.

If time's arrow should take a detour, the tail would always be the tail, never the head. There are some "constants"...always.

Then there are also the tears I cried in times past; my memories contain bad and bitter scenes too. Thank God they can't be changed as well! What is my life story without those chapters on pain, hurt, loss, and sorrow? They bear testimony to the fact that I have lived, that is-loved, hated, risked, cried, lost, won,made mistakes...etc.. They mark my humanness and my need for God. If because of and in spite of the ugly stains I find myself closer to the heart of God, I have all the more reason to sing"Redemption's Story".

So I say again that I am glad some things can't be changed. And this gladness is not just some trick of positive thinking, it is faith at work...faith in God's redemptive work that reaches to the deepest recesses of even the past. And this faith like all good things is from the Giver of all good things who reconciles all things to Himself...

My past is redeemed. What more do I say?

Mama

I call her "Mummy" and when I am feeling sulky or kiddish I call her "Mama" or "Meeehhh". She's my mother, one of my greatest blessings.

I grew up feeling her like the air I breathe in. She was always around-when I woke up, when I ate, when I cried, when I went to school and came back, when I played....in fact I'd inform her of my every move, even when I had to go to the toilet I'd seek her permission and would keep on repeating it until she's take some seconds off her work and nod her head and said,"Okay!" It was important for me to be in her thoughts.

I can almost hear her voice ring loud and clear, echoing all around the house. She has a sharp voice which is unmistakably distinct, and she used it effectively-to call, to scold, to teach, to tell. She has a cheerful disposition, she is a conscientious worker, she is a stickler for cleanliness, she doesn't like black, she loves geraniums,she always cooks a little bit extra(just in case), she often breaks into songs, she has a really good memory, she forgives quickly, loves unreservedly.She can sew, embroider, weave, crochet, knit and do all sorts of things with her hands. She has a good collection of shawls and as a child my sister and I would always take delight in unfolding them and wrapping them around ourselves and dance gleefully, much to Mama's amusement and annoyance! I loved watching her get ready to go out for her work. She would often ask me for suggestions, though I knew she would ultimately go for her own choice! She would apply a layer of her lipstick on my sisters and I as well  before moving out and for this we would wait for our turn with our heads raised and mouths open! When she would late in coming back, we would get anxious and would run out on the little hillock and look out for her. We could usually recognize her by her shawl. I can still feel the delight on finally seeing her come down the winding steps towards our home!

 I love what she cooks; I have never been able to judge whether she's a good cook or not...partly because I have grown up eating what she offered on the table and partly because I know lots of people whose cooking I relish. Her cooking is beyond judgement -for me,it is love,purity, trust, warmth...all rolled in together! My friends and neighbors loved her cooking though-my lunch box was always sought after and the little treats Mummy would send over to the neighbors always got great reviews! An old neighbor even said that Mummy's fried rice is better than anything she ever tasted, it is like gold!

She has the most beautiful hands-gnarled and twisted by years of hard work. They are at once the most beautiful as well as the most ugly part of her body. Ugly because, in comparison to the smooth skin on her other body parts, her hands looks grotesquely unfamiliar; and they are beautiful because of reasons I find hard to express...they stand for love, for sacrifice...

My friends love her. I feel so proud to be her daughter when my old friend calls up to say she visited Mummy to share, to pour her heart out, even when I am not around...she love unselfishly and people know that. Once, another friend exclaimed, "I love your mom! " I asked why. She replied, ""Cause she's so motherly!" I smiled when she said that and I still do when I recall that moment. My friends love what she buys for me, they always say that Mummy has a good fashion sense! I don't totally agree but yea, she does have a good sense in clothes. Most of what I wear has been chosen by her and I wear them proudly.

Mummy is stronger than she appears...I have seen her cry a lot many times but she has always come back with that cheerfulness which is her hallmark. I grew up watching her pray on her bed each morning and night.
She would always remind us that God comes first and then parents, and also that we are always in her prayers. She taught us songs which we would proudly sing in Sunday School presentations. She taught us to pray. She bought us wonderful books we still treasure.She would take the day off from office to prepare us for exams. She has an amazing memory power...she can still count in Bengali, read Hindi, recall old Sunday School songs, etc. Still, she's eager to learn. She often calls us to ask about the meaning of a new word she has just heard on TV, and when I tell her something new I have read in the Bible, she'll ask for the reference and look it up in her old Bible written in our dialect. I have often heard her asking Papa the meaning of difficult Bible passages. She tells us, "Now you are all more educated than your father and I, you must teach us back! " Such is her humility! I know that she takes pride in our learning so I make a conscious effort to tell her about some interesting things I have come across. Whenever she calls me she always asks,"Any new news?" or "Do you have something to say?" I therefore read the news on the internet just to update her.I recall a funny incident in which my younger sister and brother were arguing; Mummy intervened and said,"If you want to argue, argue in English!!" We all burst out laughing.

She lives for us, she always have....she didn't cry when Grandma passed away because we were around...I know she wanted to be beside her  while she was unwell but she chose to stay with us. She sacrificed her pleasures to keep us comfortable, to ensure that we don't miss out on anything. Our aunt once said that Mom was so "ferocious"  and protective when we were little, but now that we are grown up, she is more relaxed! Her colleague, herself a mother said that she has never seen parents loving their children as much as Mummy and Papa do. My uncle speaks of her as the perfect homemaker. I smile at  many  such comments about Mummy from people we know.

I never really identified myself with Mummy. As a child I was more attached to Papa. When Mummy would spank me and my little sister, we would cry out for Papa. I would always follow Papa around and unlike my sisters who would tell Mummy all the events of the day when they came home from school, I was never the story teller. I preferred sitting alone in a corner or snuggling up to Papa to hear stories. But Mama says that I have always been good with words and that's the reason why she would send me on errands-during our younger days phones were rare so we kids had to run around with news!

They say that there comes a time in a girl's life when she thinks her mother is her worst enemy. I have been through that phase-during my teens. I was a rebellious teenager who caused much heartache to Mama. I blamed her for everything wrong in my life, I argued with her, and said things I never should have said. I will always be sorry for what I said and did then. But Mama forgave me and loved me more than ever! She cried when I was leaving home for college, she gave up her favorite things especially for me when I was packing then; she made it a point to call me everyday though her phone bills ran up sky high....she still does...and she always shares with me what's in her heart. Over the years since I left home we have only grown closer. I often used to wonder whether people close to you can feel your pain even though you are miles apart and you haven't told them of your grief . I know for sure now that they do because Mama always knew if something is wrong with us. One horrible night I cried myself to sleep; Mama called me up early in the morning to ask if I am alright because she couldn't sleep that night as well!! There has been many more instances when she felt the pain in my heart even when I couldn't express it. She is amazing, she touches my heart in places which are too deep for even me to reach!

I hope I love her as much as she deserves to be and much more too...she is someone who I want to be like in her devotion towards her husband and children. We would be lost without her...she has an indomitable strength I can only wonder at. With all her shortcomings,with all her mistakes she is still beautiful, perfectly lovable! She is a woman through and through...she is my mother, she is God's representative on earth to me. I love her more than I can say and more than I can even know! When God chose me to be one of her daughters He was being extra kind to me....

And when people say that I am very motherly, I hope within my heart that they mean I am like my Mama....

Girls and Dolls

I played with Barbie dolls. I still love them,and I still have my precious doll stored safely in my drawer back home; and each time I go home, I take her out, give her a bath, comb her hair, and put her somewhere near where I can see her. In my imagined world she was a daughter, a wife, a mother, an aunt,a friend, a successful career woman, a good cook, the perfect host, a woman with the kindest of hearts, a strong personality, and the lady whose eternal smile emanate from within. She was my idea of a perfect woman.I "wanted to be like her"; after all, she was what I "made her to be"! It was simple as that then and it still is. She didn't tell me to lose weight when I gained weight in my teens,she didn't make fun of me when I had braces on my teeth,she didn't mock my bad fashion sense. Instead, in spite of being thin she was still my friend, gave me that perfect smile and wore whatever clothes I gave her to wear. She was such a  gracious lady! She taught me that thinner, prettier people are good too!

I write this to state this point-a child's play or what she dreams up in her imaginary world has a lot to do with what her parents and elders teach her and the environment she is in and exposed to. A poor toy doesn't make your daughter develop anorexia or bulimia, or even teach her to be licentious. A doll is what you make her to be. So instead of blaming her thin figure for all the problems our daughters have, let's try teaching them to see the doll in a different way.The problem lies in perception. A little introspection will make us admit that instead of trying to take control of our own home, we are all out fighting the producers of the doll! Yet at the same time we continue buying the dolls and continue blaming them for our incompetence! Old problem with humanity! I have heard many people rant about the evils of the doll. Have the same people talked to their daughters about the doll? What do their girls think of it? And importantly, have they stopped buying it?( Mattel, producer of Barbie reported a 16% increase in profit last year).If there is a problem with Barbie we are to blame for it. Period.

I am aware of reports blaming the doll for poor body image of girls worldwide(if the US of A and a few western countries IS the world!). I am inclined to think that the reports are part of a media war, and hyped by feminists. Can we really know the truth? If that is really the case then who is to blame? I am surprised that in an age of consumerism, the producers have their way, in spite of the consumers!Introspect!

There are girls who effortlessly have figures like Barbie. What about them? Are they guilty of something? Did Barbie inspire them to look like this? No. Beauty comes in all sizes. What frightens me is the subtle waves of reverse discrimination towards the naturally slim girls.Envy has a way of turning ugly; and if it's my daughter who is the envious one,I'd blame myself for her low self esteem and ugly nature, not Barbie.

I hear that there's a new doll in the offing named Lammily resembling"actual humans"( I don't need to repeat that it still leaves out many members of the human race, the Barbie-likes being just a fraction). There are so much hype around it and it is going for crowd-funding for production. On the surface of it, it seems like a brilliant idea. My first reaction towards it was one of support; I even planned to buy one. It touched that reactive, egoistic,activist side of me. But on introspection I realized how shallow I was in parroting the popular narrative that Barbie is to blame for poor self image of girls worldwide. It might be an instrument in the least but it's not the cause. By putting the blame on the doll we are absolving ourselves of our responsibilities  as parents, as adults; and by waging a war against her, we are fighting the wrong enemy.

A wise lady older to me once said that the definition of beauty changes with time. By this she meant the physical beauty.Beauty was being plump in her mother's generation; now in her daughter's generation and mine, it is being slim. Physical beauty is subjective.By opposing Barbie we are only reinforcing our materialistic belief that physical beauty is all there is to beauty- that it is beauty itself. I have good reasons to think that Lammily will also face the same fate as Barbie if we don't recognize the real issue involved here.

Change

And I feel helpless because perhaps for the first time ever I can't understand her and she expects me to understand. She is no longer the girl I knew. She is a woman now. All these years have put differences of experience between us. I wish I knew how she feels, I don't want to disappoint.

She has gone ahead yet she thinks I am ahead and like always leave a trial behind for her to tread on. She asks for words I can't give, presence I can't bring,and prayers I don't know how to begin. I have to disappoint her.

I have to let her go, let her grow. She doesn't know she is strong, she is able. She hasn't realized.She has to learn to trust herself, trust her decisions; learn to respect herself, respect her decisions.Is she sorry that she's in the spot she is? She shouldn't; with all my heart I wish she wouldn't.( Oh my dear what have you taken upon yourself?!!)

The only prayer I find myself praying for her is for wisdom and strength. Wisdom to see the beauty of it all(yea, there is) and for strength to keep her part of the promise. She has to learn not to disappoint herself. She has to learn to respect herself.I won't become a crutch for her; she's able, she can run.

The Undertones

Double minded. Fearful. Unfaithful.
Can I give these up
And love someone unconditionally?
Can I let go of my own self
And embrace someone as my own?
Am I brave enough to love?
Can I go beyond passion to pain
And still find myself deeper in love?
Am I strong enough to say no to everyone else
And say yes to him?
Am I ready to embrace the "zeroing in" this involves
The narrow road it entails, the limitations it carries?
Can I speak up for him
When supposedly, my peers disapproves of him?
Can I loosen my ambitions
And integrate them with his?
Can I love what he loves?
Treasure his memories, his stories-just as he does?
Can I love his family, his friends?
Can I walk the second mile
When he fails me?
Can I forgive his shortcomings?
Can I say,"I love you" and mean it?
Can I feel and share his pain?
Can I accept him sick and battered
Defeated, discouraged, broken...?
Would I still believe in him
When no one else does?
Would I be proud of him and what he stands for
Even if the world condemns him?
Can I accept his passions?
Can I exult in his exaltation?
Can I accept him ugly and smelly?
Can I face his anger, his frustration
And still be patient with him?
Can I "donate" my organs for him?
Can I live just anywhere with him?
Can I accept that he cannot give me everything?
Can I let go of my desire for relationships he can never provide?

Would I still be interested in him
When he is blank and mundane?
If he should lose his charm, his possessions?
Can I accept his tantrums?
Can I accept his eccentricities?
And all the things that come with age?
Would I hold onto him
Till death do us apart?

Do I love him?
Can I wait for him
Even if it means years?

O good Lord! Yes!!

Waiting

"I could write a million songs about the way you say my name,
 I could live a lifetime with you and then do it all again.
 But like I can't force the sun to rise or hasten summer's start,
 Neither should I rush my way into your heart."

I just can't get enough of these lines from the song"Love is waiting" by Brooke Fraser. More so because it has a scriptural backing-Songs of  Songs 8:4 which says "not to awaken love until the time is right".

This has always helped me. When I begin"liking" someone, I wait. It's hard, but God knows I have been saved from so many heartaches, disappointments and disasters because I waited. Patience is a virtue. Time is a great"reveal-er". I have had my fair share of heartbreaks,I know the only safe place my fragile heart can be is in my protective Father's hands. So I wait on Him. My heart is no longer mine to give. Really.

That's why,while I know love is beautiful I would have none of it until I hear my Father say,"Go on!"

Love?

I often ask myself,"Have I loved enough?"
The answer is always "no".
Not because we can't have enough of love but because in all sincerity, I know love is not what I always "do".
Sometimes I feel I have so much love bubbling in me, I could love the entire world to bits!
Then at times, I feel so depleted I can hardly say a kind word to my neighbor.
And again,I look around me, I look within me...
Do my friends and family feel unloved at any point of time with me around them?
Have I loved myself well enough...respected myself,cultivated myself?

The resounding answers always leave me with a feeling of shallowness.

Why does loving seem easy and hard at the same time?
I won't attempt an easy answer nor look for an obscure one
Because we all "know" love yet we don't "know it all".

There are ways to love truly, to love well
Love is not indiscriminate...at least in the human realm.
Love is a big thing, it can be everything...
It can settle and unsettle you
It can inspire you, it can ruin you!
Aahh me!

This is heavy stuff!
I shall rest here.
I'll pick up my pen later.
Perhaps when love puts on the garb of inspiration for me!

Finally Forgave

Forgiveness takes time.Even after you have made the decision to forgive,the pain doesn't go away.You continue to bear the brunt of the other person's choice, words,and actions.You are reminded of the pain by the events of life All these often makes you doubt whether you have really forgiven or whether you are really capable of forgiving.

One thing I know for sure-forgiveness is not a feeling. Forgiveness is a choice, a choice you make for the present to redeem it from the past and to restore to ourselves the dreamy feel about the future with its infinite possibilities. The feel good factor is a product of the choice,it is not the cause.

My pride keeps me from forgiving. My self-righteousness  keeps me from forgiving. My self-pity keeps me from forgiving. My sense of justice keeps me from forgiving. My pain cries out to me like a child begging to be acknowledged; and the more I tend to it, the bitter I become.

Preach me all the sermons you can about forgiveness and I might be moved to tears but I shall not forgive..."because little do you know my pain!" ...All the preaching subtly made me feel I have been a bad "forgive-er"...How many times do I forgive?That "seventy time seven"is too tall a requirement! ...Do I still forgive even when the injustice continues?...Am I to remain in  a victimized state as long as I live?...Where is the promised relief?

I had all these questions-legitimate questions- and a hundred more running in my heart and mind as I struggled to forgive. I was in a fighting mode! I wasn't going to be the wronged one, I would not be the saint either. I was going to be realistic and pursue the matter to its logical end. Yes, I would make the wrong doers pay!

But I realized that I wasn't a good judge myself! Who was I to pronounce judgments? I,with my limited understanding of the person , circumstances and even myself! My sense of justice which made me adverse to forgiveness also told me that I was not the right one to judge either. I gave up! Only the sovereign God could do such a thing and He himself said to forgive, so I decided that there was no way to talk him into it!

Later I derived a sense of relief from the scripture passage which said,"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay."Boy!!God was finally gonna do it! And He is the best at it; He would make sure that not even one inch,one ounce is compromised. He will repay,grain by grain! I was glad and thanked God.

But would He do this to someone who is a family member? As in, someone who is a Christian? Isn't he "forgiven" just as I am? And if God does judge him,won't he do the same with me? And I was so sure I had so much in my account of wrongdoings...but they are already forgiven,forgotten!...but likewise, so is the account other person I wanted judged-they are cleared!

Hmm...change of heart...and that too arrived at by sound reasoning and not by mushy,emotive feelings!!
I felt broken...I wept! Who says the heart is not linked to the head? "Oh!Oh! Oh!" was all I kept muttering...I decided AGAIN to forgive, this time for real, for keeps. I said a prayer, I let go.

Months later, that feeling crept up again and I chose to forgive again. I went on forgiving again and again till I felt it deep in my heart. I believe the repetition was necessary if not for the other person but for myself. I needed to feel what I had been convinced of.

I must add that the path to forgiveness also involved a lot of knowing what God's love is, His redeeming work on the cross and what He says about loving and forgiving others. The things I described above happened after "knowing" God. They were part of my struggles as a Christian and the liberty I took to reason out my faith and beliefs in the space I believe God allows.

Recently, I stumbled upon a revelation-What did God do after forgiving? He blessed! So now, what do I do after forgiving? Bless that person! Pray! And so I did, with all my heart. This, I believe is a sure sign that I have forgiven...or rather that I am "walking" in forgiveness,the pain not withstanding.

A Testimony

I was literally “freaking out”!! The Sunday school kids were scheduled to give their monthly presentation at the church the next Sunday and  I was not quite sure that they were well prepared. Sure we did practice,  but not to my satisfaction; coupled with it was the fact that I felt guilty for being unable to teach them well the previous Sunday-I had been suffering from a slight dehydration for the last few days and so I was less energetic. I was sure I had rub off some negative vibes onto the kids.

During the week, I found myself constantly thinking about it- what could be done, where did it go wrong , what was the worst that could happen and how to handle it ,etc.! I feared that if they don’t do well it will harm their self-esteem, establish a pattern of mediocre performance, and they will fail to realize the intensity of  the utmost need to glorify God through their works and also that they might take the presentation in the church lightly and thereby never learn the importance of  sanctity  of standing before God and the congregation. I was restless, I couldn’t give full concentration to any other work, I dreamed that they were standing in front of the congregation not knowing what to do and I had to rise up and handle the situation; my heart was unsettled. I recalled the reasons why I had previously taken a break from Sunday School : one of them was my inability to multitask effectively, I get too much involved in a thing that I lose my wider perspective. Over the years,  I have learned  to handle a wide range of things much better  and so coupled with the fact that I missed the kids a lot, I “paid a visit “ to Sunday School again and found myself  happily stuck there! But now I found myself slipping into the old pattern again. I prayed about it, examined my attitudes regarding the issue- Was I basing my worth on the kids’ performance? Do I have a surrendered will?  Am I trying to be a control- freak?  Can I really admit that I am worrying?... I messaged my co-teachers and they were so kind as to reassure me that everything will be okay. I felt better, lighter and decided that we’ll face the situation right on without fear.
 

Talking of fear, my strategy to dispel it is to confess the scripture portion which says that God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power, love and a sound mind. On the appointed Sunday during the praise and worship, I was still a wee bit anxious and I was reminded of this verse.

 “Yes, Lord! I do believe so”, I whispered “…these words of yours have been true for me each time I confessed them. I know that I do not have a spirit of fear and I reject in  Jesus name any such spirit…I know that I have power, love and a sound mind…but you see Lord, it’s not about me this time ,it’s about the kids…do they know these like I do? Perhaps not…”

Then as in a flash, I heard God say to my heart, “  That’s why I need you to teach them !”

When I heard this, I felt as if a light shone through,  I could strongly feel God’s presence again and  I could hear my heart humming a tune again after days of alloyed peace.

So I prayed again, “  Thank  You Lord! I know   You were working all along… I release my faith over the children- You have not given them a spirit of fear but of power, love and a sound mind…they will do really well today to the glory of Your name….I surrender them to You. In Jesus’ name, amen!”

What a peace and joy I felt after this! When I went to meet with the kids again for practice there was no longer any negativity or fear. We prayed, sang, laughed and danced in unbounded joy! I am sure they performed to God’s delight that Sunday….He affirmed it through the many positive  feed backs  I received from the church members. Glory to Him!!

There were a lot of lessons and blessings I took  home that Sunday; it would call for another article if I were to articulate them! As for now, I want to confess that God is faithful to His word-it is indeed living and powerful.  I would also like to encourage the parents to confess the Word of God over their children’s lives- taste and see that the Lord is good, His Word which shall never pass away will preserve, protect, mold and bless your children. Glory to Him! 

Dear Friend

May my friendship provide you such comfort
As to allow you to feel loved in my criticisms
And as you admit your wrongs I hope you feel lifted up
Edified,not coerced.
I hope you realize that love can be tough
And sharp enough to let pierce,strong enough to let bleed...
Because it sees beyond.

P.S. I love you!

A Thought

I had the privilege of being invited for lunch at my friend's place one hot day in May.Once there, I sat chatting with her father,who is  a civil servant and his friend and colleague. The conversation ranged from the weather to my studies and went predictably to the situation back home."How's the situation back in Nagaland?, he asked. I tried to paint a realistic yet positive picture about the place I call home. I don't know whether I succeeded or not. It's hard for me.It's also hard for them I guess, to think that the situation in "the northeast" can be anything but normal.

What is "normal"?What does a" normal situation" mean? What do people have in mind when they talk of"restoring normalcy"?
I don't know.

But I do know that it is not"normal" to meet with uniformed armed personnel  patrolling the streets when you walk back home from school. The armed forces in civilian area is no good news.It's not"normal" to have your classes suspended and sent home early because there has been a gun-fight. It's not "normal" to be running for cover on your way back from church because you heard  gun shots. It's not "normal" to have your house searched at night. It's not "normal" to be told to be taught how to react should we get caught in a crossfire. It's not "normal" to read about killings, extortion and threats in the newspapers daily. It's not "normal" to grow up under the shadow of guns and bandhs.

We say,"If you are walking by and a bird drops its poops on you, be grateful elephants don't fly! "
But I would consider myself sadistic if I apply this analogy to the situations above.

So, did I have a normal childhood? What should have been the "normal"scenario?
You tell me.
I don't carry a persecution complex nor do I endorse violence. This is because I know peace is possible,peace is real....and this in turn is the reason I feel things are hardly "normal".

Reluctant

There are some things I'd rather keep to myself
Things I don't want to be questioned about
Things I never let go.
These are things I tie up firmly and charmingly with ribbons of pride
They are hidden deep down,so deep down in my heart
That sometimes even I fail to recognise them.

They are in a vessel sealed away tight
And though I"d give my all up,
I'd keep this vessel to myself.

There are some things I keep to myself
Yes, I do.
I hold it as my person,my right;
But when I come to the altar
And deposit my offerings
I find the vessel is what You want laid down.

How do I lay them down?
Why should I?
'Cause these are the things I'd rather keep to myself  LORD!