a prophecy hidden in fiction #UGBlogWeek

Today started out pretty well, I completed all my tasks by midday. Including one task that I was dreading with all of me – let’s face it, some bugs are easier than others.

Despite this awesome start, little did I know that my life would come to a grinding halt after a crashing collusion with Paige’s. For the first time, two timelines have crossed and I’m seated here in the aftermath not even sure about where my head’s at.

I’ve always loved the mystery that surrounds itself in the stories that are born in my head. I knew Paige when I started typing, but I didn’t know what was going to happen to her… so as I wrote, the story unfolded. The twists and turns always happened at the point where I’m nervous about the story getting too long, also coupled with the fact that life sometimes poops like a chubby cute newborn.

Paige’s day one literally picked itself up and plopped itself into my existence. Sadly, I did not have the luxury of running to my Dee. No. I had to return to work and try to continue with my existence sans glitter, fairies and butterflies.

Because the chances of my Jared reading this are microscopic, I’ll regale you with the detail of this tale turned reality.

I’ve been smiling for no reason for the last 4 days, despite the insomnia I’ve suffered for the past 2 weeks. No, not the mind drifting, lets-soft-build-castles-in-the-air drifting. Nah bruh! More like lets-create-multiple-universes-with-different-timelines-and-warp-capabilities kind of drifting. When my mind wonders, it takes the brutal force of reality to being me crashing back. Thats the second time I have used the word crashing and it am just 200 words in.

Some universes are worth smiling over, a gaze focused passed the object in front of you, into a reality even your imagination wouldn’t mind but will not admit it. I wore blue today, for the sole reason that my mind was convinced that you liked blue. I wore those black shoes from the other day. Come to think of it, it might be the shoes. The last time I wore these shoes was also a set up for disappointment.

I was early. Ha! These days, I am hardly ever early but look at me walking in 10 minutes early. None of that, restaurant adjacent to another business. I am momentarily distracted by your scent because you smell soo good. You smile good too. Yes, insert the African blush all over this material. Conversation is easy. No forced talk or awkward silences. I’m bidding my time, I am waiting. There is a question coming. A smile on my face as I write this. The kind of question that leaves men weak and women giddy.

it was worse than website.

Paige should be happy she got website.

emotional-abuse

Split second recovery is something that is taught to you in grad school as your hours of hard work are shredded to pieces. Split second recovery is what makes you smile an emotionless smile as the memory of the moment is pulled into your head. Split second recovery is nowhere, as you stand and stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I stare at her, in the mirror, trying to scrutinise… what exactly is it about her that is not just not desirable but… sigh. I’m hugging my middle before my knees give way, making me slide into a squat. Like the one when you use in a pit latrine for better aim. You know the one…

I just need a minute. I need to process what just happened. I just need my pillow, thats all. No, it’s not a blankie, but it has more experience in these situation than the soothing cold tiles of this toilet. I’m just staring at the floor and letting the cold seep into my back.

I should probably talk to God at this point. It is probably a good idea for me to do that right about now. I should find my completion in him. I should find my centre in him. I should put my hope in him. I should… I should… I should… You know just because you say it does not make it easy.

Just because it’s running through my mind doesn’t mean I have the energy to get off this floor.

Today, should have ended different.

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***

This Dandelion tale has stolen a verse from my life.

Even Hollywood wouldn’t have been able to script this ish! Only life in it’s purest form! There is aways a possibility that life will attempt to screw you over but hope must remain. Dawn will return. 

The Dandelion series will return after this short break. In the mean time, find part One, Two and Three here.

 

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even weeds can be pretty #UGBlogWeek

You could have said that in an email, she said while glancing at her cup.

I could have, but I wanted to see you, is what I wanted to say. I really did, but that would not have been professional.

While in Aristoc, Bosco had insisted on me keeping it professional, going on and on about Paige’s status in the industry and about how she didn’t take crap from anyone. He was in the middle of the lecture when Paige had breezed in. From the stationaries stand, they quietly watched her hand her helmet to the guard and walk to the African Authors section.

Her blue jeans had me singing that Ginuwine song, they perfectly sculpted her lower body. She wore a plain tank top and a red and white checkered shirt unbuttoned on top of the jeans. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up, revealing her arms. Her smooth arms.

I shifted my stance to get a better look from our concealed spot, and literally felt Bosco’s accusatory stare.

That is exactly what I am talking about, Jared!

Even though he spoke in an octave above a whisper, it was hard not to overlook the urgency in his voice. What did his friend think he was capable of doing?

It’s not like I was inviting her to a 3-day getaway on an island one minute south of the equator. It’s not like I had imagined exploring every single inch of her on said island. It’s not like I had imagined waking up to the scent of her lying next to me or imagined watching her walk, the way she swayed her…

Are you even listening to me? Bosco said as he grabbed me by the arm.

Yes. I am. I will not mess this up. I replied between breaths and made my way toward her.

My palms were a bit sweaty which was a little uncharacteristic for me. There were no books at the section near her that I could use as a ruse. I mean, really, grabbing a book on IT for Dummies would not make the best opening. Winging it was the next best option.

From that point on, every thing seemed to be going fine. Well, that is until about now. Now, it felt like someone had turned the air condition on in Bistro. I could have sworn that as soon as I mentioned the website, she had sat up straighter and her tone about the email sounded different. Bosco would say I am doing it again. Noticing things that are not even there.

Email is so impersonal, I prefer meeting all clients and partners face-to-face, you know? I say while smiling. Face to face interaction allows people to understand each other better, even from reading nonverbal cues, you know when to sell harder or back off. 

Jeez! I sound like I’m a lecturer at Makerere! What am I doing?!

So what are my nonverbal cues telling you? She asked while sipping her tea.

I suppress a smile, I wonder if she appreciated how her actions had meme material written all over them. Ice. That is what her current nonverbal cues were screaming at him. She was throwing daggers of ice at him and he had no clue why

Honestly, I do not know you well enough to gauge.

That was such a lie! Why am I spewing so many lies today?! I knew her well. I’d watched her at the front of the class for three years. The last two of them spent seriously infatuated with her.

However, what I do know is that you will absolutely love this project.

During those two years, I had learned that Paige loved to get involved in children’s causes. I had volunteered at one event, just because she had gone around class giving out flyers. I was the only one who had signed up that day. That was the same day she had turned, looked at me and smiled. The world had shifted slightly that day.

I leaned over and placed my hand on top of hers, We are trying to mobilise people to visit orphanages around the city on Christmas day. We would like a place where people can sign up, but more importantly be able to give to the cause on the website as well. 

She smiled.

That same smile that made her dimple show. That same smile that elicited a physical reaction from me. That same smile from that day in class. At least this counts to progress! Global warming was hitting the glaciers.

I glanced at our hands, noticing for the first time how soft her hands really were.

I really hope… 

JARED!

Came a shriek on my right. A shriek that I know very well. I’m trying not to groan out load. Sophia! What did she want? And NOW of all times!!

She waddled while panting toward their table, with a small suitcase in tow. The waiters looking slightly confused, slightly worried about the scene that was about to unfold before their eyes

My water. It just broke! Sophia gasped out of breath

***

This is part two in the dandelion series.

Dandelions or Satan’s Jajja as I used to call them in primary school are beautiful and almost have a certain ethereal quality. This, however, does not take away the reality that they are weeds, plain and simple.

There is a mini-poll going on amongst some about the identity of Sophia and who she is to Jared. Who do you ‘want’ her to be?

Part one can be found here

just another dandelion #UGBlogWeek

I’ve been counting down the hours to this meeting. I’m calling it that because using the word date would make my heart beat a lot faster than it should. I’m getting chills even thinking about it.

He has been on my mind since that day in class, that day I turned and I looked at him. He was no longer just another classmate that I took no notice of. No. Looking at him then, he was a such the fox whose wool had fallen off. After that, every single glance elicited the dimple that has been kept hidden from the audience of the masses. I’m shocked at how long we have been in close contact and I have all but given him a once over. Talk about time wasted.

I’m here now. Seated in the Cafe. 2 hours early. Bidding time. You are rolling your eyes because you think I am desperate, don’t you? No. I am not desperate. I am just punctual. I detest being late especially to something that I have clearly been looking forward to. I mean really, why act fashionably late – keyword being act.

I glance at the clock in the cafe, it’s 1.50 minutes left. I should probably order something as I wait. God knows it might make the time go faster. I’m at the cafe adjacent to the cafe we agreed to meet at. Did you really think I’d be seated at the venue for 2 hours, come on! No. I plan to be at the venue at 2 sharp. 2pm will find me walking in, smelling fresh and smiling sweet.

Window shop. That’s what I need. I weave my way through Woolworths and Mr. Price, calling on my temperamental accent (half English-half Kenyan accent) whenever I needed to act like I’m important enough to shop in these spots. Yeah, some facades are real!

I bump into a friend as I cross the mall, now headed to Aristoc, to hide in one of its corners with a good book that I cannot afford. She is looking at me with that glance. The one that says, I am trying not to feel sorry for you in your single state. You see, we used to be tight – through out vacation and campus, we were as thick as thieves, but now she is married with twins and I’m just here crushing on a twin.

Jared.

Sigh! Who names their child Jared? Okay. Let me clarify that statement, which Ugandan names their child Jared? A Ugandan parent with a vision, that’s who! Goodness! I’m smiling just thinking about his name.

I hand the guard my helmet and look out for The secret lives of Baba Segi’s wives, I find a comfortable seat and set my alarm before I start the book. I know myself, when I get lost in a good book, dusk and dawn roll into one.

I turn to the first page when it happens. I catch a whiff of a cologne that has kept me up for several nights. Some men just know how to pick the right cologne. I choose to ignore, after all, my mind is made up – Jared and I will become the real deal.

The scent is getting stronger and my concentration is fleeing. Mr. Scent smells like he is walking toward me, Dear God don’t let him sit here! I cannot cheat on Jared.

Paige?

The world stops. A prickly sensation attacks my underarms, which normally means this is the onset of patched sweaty underarms.

Control yourself WOMAN! My brain admonishes the rest of me in a very strong tone.

I look up and the hallelujah chorus is coursing through my veins. Cupid had drawn back his bow and his arrow had hit it’s target.

Jared? No way! 

My voice sounded surprisingly more controlled than my fingers showed.

I got here a little earlier and decided to spend time trolling books in Aristoc. You know hiding the ones I really want but cannot afford.

He does what? Could the universe be more specific – I do exactly the same thing!! My eyes seem to have given away my reaction because he has raised his hand to him mouth.

I probably shouldn’t have said that, you probably think I’m weird, he says while doing the African blush.

I laugh and say, weird is good. What? Did you really think I was going to let him know I do the exact same thing. Nah bruh, sometimes games are good and no, I am not being a hypocrite. Why am I explaining myself anyway, this is my story. I discretely turn off my alarm as we head to the cafe together.

We walk to the Bistro together, because face it – Bistro is where all magical connections begin. Well, at least the magical connections in my head.

His hair is cut just right and his eyes do that squint thing that I find so adorable. He smiles starts from the right side of his mouth and a shadow of a dimple is formed on his right cheek. His cologne is still driving me crazy but I like this kind of crazy. I’m watching him from the corner of my eye, committing everything to memory like that git commit command.

We are seated inside and the waiter brings the menu, I already know what I’m going to have. A. Tall. Drink. Of. Water. He orders an expresso and I go for the lemon-ginger honey tea. I’d rather have a milkshake but milk and my tummy, not for a first meeting.

We talk about the weather, current affairs, even the parking situation in Kampala. In my mind, I’m ticking imaginary radio buttons, going check. We have rapport – check. He scent is absolutely intoxicating – check. He doesn’t speak in the dis-dah-do-dem-dey – check.

Silence. Gosh, We are silent. He is looking at me intently. Crap! Did he ask something and I wasn’t paying attention?

Sheepishly, I admit that my mind wandered off, and ask him what he just said.

Will you do our website?

I’m sorry what? Reality beginning to dawn on me

The reason I wanted to meet with you was to ask if you would do our website. We have seen some of the sites you work on and my friends and I think you would make our project website really ridiculously good.

***

This is part one in the dandelion series.

Dandelions or Satan’s Jajja as I used to call them in primary school are beautiful and almost have a certain ethereal quality. This, however, does not take away the reality that they are weeds, plain and simple.

I am not yet sure where this story is heading but I hope you enjoy this journey discovery with me.

dear friend. 

I looked forward to seeing you today. 

I wore my nice shoes. I don’t wear them often because they are too high and I have a reputation to maintain. I picked out my clothes carefully, you know. Even though these jeans are made in China, they have the superb effect of tucking it all in. As I tidied my hair, I thought about what scent I should wear. A cocktail of Cucumber, Cocoa Butter and an Elizabeth Arden, were what I chose to settle with. 

When I walked, I noticed my gait and posture in my constant companion, causing me to immediately straighten up. Even the cab guy was on time… Never happens. He always says he is at the stage but it’s never the same stage in both your minds. He knows he is knowingly misleading you, but won’t make an effort to correct your assumption.

My head was held high as I walked to our spot and waited to see you. I am always early, that has alway been my problem. Not that I mind, though. Not today. Today, everything was going so well… Today, was the day. 

I found our spot, mine not to far from where it falls and yours a little off to my right. We should pick another spot… Maybe one a little more private. 

I sat waiting. I don’t mind waiting. Waiting is the price you pay for being early. I am always early, so that means I am always waiting.

You didn’t show. You never came. You sent a friend. You couldn’t come. I stare at my shoes and steady my breath. The shadow imprint of my toes and that of the shoe’s previous owners, suddenly became an interesting study. 

What wasted time. What wasted effort. What wasted … 

I look at my phone, willing myself not to search for your contact in my green app. Yes, I am one of those girls. Stand me up and I will text you with a plausible excuse you could have. 

I push you to the back of my mind and I walk home. The cab guy didn’t pick and others were charging exorbitant fares. So walking was my portion, in these shoes that I chose to impress you with. I will myself to think about not falling because the road was not built with my shoes in mind. Who can blame the road workers? They didn’t know that little old me would be walking home stood up. 

I finally get home. Slightly stressed, low on sugar and hope. 

Then I see her. She looks different. When did she change so much? She looks strained. She looks older. She looks tired. Where have I been looking all this time? When did she become like this? Where have I been looking?

All this time I have catered to this hope, walking while wrapped in an aura of possibility. Dreaming dreams of one-day-soon, while my own flesh and blood was slowly wasting away!

My gaze is turned back where it should be. My dear friend, you were an amazing wisp that appeared in hurricane season – not only did we never stand a chance, we never will. 

We never will because this isn’t the time. The time seems to have been long past and all I am doing is wallowing in the aftermath of a forgotten season. 

The pain is back, the one in my chest. It’s more of an ache really. An old fear back to haunt me…. Only this time, this time fight is not necessary for I fully acknowledge — this is my new beginning

a friday, in the life of this ‘techie’…

Three successive deep breaths.
Five seconds fluttering my eyelashes.

No.
This was not a flirtatious advance directed at the object of my desire. Although, quite honestly speaking, are we still trained to flutter our eyelashes as Betty Boop trained us; compared to the trendy sub-tweet directed at hashtag oomf?

No.
It was a successful attempt to slow my heart rate. To keep my slowly simmering emotions in check. You know, akin to opening the saucepan cover to keep the milk from spilling into the sigiri; an action that would have left the entire house reeking of burned milk.

I’d thought about running to the toilet, also known as, the throne room of all things private… Except when it came to acoustics, muffled cries are one thing, muffled farts – a whole other ball game.

No.
Surprisingly, I was on a troubleshooting streak and couldn’t afford to step away from my task. Yet, in that moment, my entire being was awash and painfully aware of the absence of my dad.

No.
He didn’t just pass away, so this is not a fresh wound. It’s been 3 years and 3 months and I think I have been doing well so far. Well not I alone. I think my family has been doing well with his absence. My immediate family and our greater family.

No.
This is not a rookie coming face to face with the shapeless shifting wraith named Grief. When you master the art of waking up, you begin to comprehend that corny adage: take one day at a time.

I already took the day and woke up. I should be over this. I should be past this. Instead 3 years in, I am still having moments. Worse still – in public type of moments.

Something had just happened; my personal life was beginning to leak into my professional life. There I was, silently trying to draw deep breath without breaking the train of thought my troubleshooting task needed. For all of fifty seconds, the energy was sapped right out of me. I was tired. Tired, when I could not afford to be tired.

In a cosmic attempt to authenticate her existence, Fate shook her tail feather at me, almost as if it was 2003 again. I was one of the lucky winners of the Father’s day competition. Why is it Father’s though? Is there one Father who owns the day? If not, should it not then be Fathers’, representing the Fathers everywhere owning the day? Or is Father actually in plural already?

Still, this is not what brought on the brimming of salted liquid.

Actually, what did is inconsequential when compared to the lesson that I have learned as result of the entire episode. They say, a parent should never bury their child, again who comes up with these adages?

I have learned of a hidden response from the child who buries a parent; naturally the departure causes a void that needs to be filled. And, who else but a grieving child to assume the responsibility and attempt to fill this void. With a brave face, they drudge on, propelling themselves into an unintended destiny.

No.
Not for me.
Not for us.

To the one who has dealt with the loss of a parent.
To the one that is filled with the burden of protecting the one you have left.
To the one wandering helplessly in the wilderness of an unintended destiny.

stop.
take a knee.
and pray for strength.
gasp out loud and let the tears roll.
then stand up and keep walking, it may have been unintended, but I heard a rumor… Something about all things. I am guessing that all means all…

Some promises are worth holding onto, with all that you are!

Yes.
This is for me.
This is for us.

rom828

The Unknown Plague

Aya! I am still here. I am still alive. I am still on a high. Haha, Yes – seems I have still got that indescribable ish scribbled all over my soul.
(Did you see what I did there with the bibls? ).

Okay, Kirabo – Focus!

Have you heard of the graph effect?

Social_Network_Analysis_Visualization

That visualization is basically how people in the behind the scenes describe a Social Network. You are connected to one person, who is connected to someone else, who you now become connected to through that one person? Makes sense?

Well, this is also how my brain works (weirdo alert). Where the data points are significant events and whenever I look back they are all connected. This perception has seeped into my storytelling – both vocal and written.

Telling a story is hard, because I feel I need to first catch you up on the background of events… Now, the absolutely utterly incredible thing is… My attention span is weak and needs to actively be restarted.

No. Seriously, I zone out a LOT!! I am actually thinking of playing chess again to exercise that attention muscle. (Do you play chess? I am interested in playing – online or at a meet).

Back to the looking-back-and-connect-the-dots effect, I find myself taken back whenever I am faced with the question of ‘what next?‘ It doesn’t matter the context – work, church, personally, food (Bwahaha, I lie! I have a food plan!).

I looove to be prepared, but I have learned that my preparation, often makes God look at me and smile, probably saying, ‘Aww… how cute.’ Our dots are often so far from each other that I am slowly learning to just let go of the reigns more and more every day. That is why that question is so hard for me…

I am often fond of saying, ‘Lol! Honestly, I do not know. I wish I did, but I don’t’

What is next in my career?
What is next in my life now that I have hit that earth shattering age in which universes collide leading to fragmented thinking (Tihihihi, I exaggerate – deal with it, hun)?
What is next now that my nephew looks sooooooo cute?
What is next now that le former crush knows that he was once le crush – apparently this is the way to effectively rid yourself of the crush. So brutal mehn, but very effective.

I have gone on a rabbit trail, haven’t I?

I have hopes about the ‘what nexts’, I have fears about the ‘what nexts’ but the truth is my look-back-and-connect-the-dots view has not only made my conversation skills awkward (like a geek needs more social ineptness) but it has also brought to the forefront that fact that an intricate thread does exist.

A thread that tells of the faithfulness of a strategic commander-in-chief whose infinite wisdom has saved me from the brink of sudden destruction and distraction. Who has commanded the massive angelic army to come to my aide as I lay puddled on the floor. By whose word, life springs forth and yet sends me a gentle whisper every morning to wake me.

Yet, on this 19th day of this beautiful month, I feel that I have let him down. I have found myself lost in the busyness and excitement of my life that I have forgotten who has tenderly courted and danced with me in the stillness of the night.

With a lump in my throat, I pledge to return: to the heart that has consistently sought me out of the mire that is sometimes used to describe my existence.

I am yours, Abba.
Help me maintain!


Cetsusie

*Images source: Google Images*

Birthday. Birthday. Birthdaaayyyyyy!!!!!!!!

April. April. April. April is hereeeeee!!!

Aside from the fact that April is basically when Spring begins to show properly; from the first colourful blooms that shoot out, giving life to the tree and the street that was previously nothing but a white slate… Why wouldn’t you love, April?!

Not close enough to home for you? Okay, How about a blissful break to the heat wave that fried those of us close to the equator? The phone reminder to carry a jacket because the sun is needed else where?

Stillllllllll not close enough for Kirabo! Okay!!! How about it is her BIRTHday!!!

Dancing to Kanda Bongoman's kwasa Kwasa (I wasn't always a two stepper)
Dancing to Kanda Bongoman’s kwasa Kwasa (I wasn’t always a two stepper)

Yes and I am so excited, you would think this is my first birthday! Well, technically, I have been on a high since April 1 (no joke or pun intended *giggles*).

One this day, back in 1986 at the National referral hospital on a Friday evening, I belted out what according to my mum was the first of many incessant cries. Mbu I liked to cry, it was a hobby – I heard the stories of how they made me sleep… Hmph! Heneway… Moving on.

What What!
The hair! What? What!!

Reflection time… For the first time, in 10 years – I realise that I was never old. No seriously. I just realised that for all that feeling that I was old, or the that ‘old’ feeling that comes when the burden of responsibility bears down on you – I really wasn’t old. Gah! So what did I do yesterday, I bought me one Fiesta – Caramel with nuts (Ice Cream on a stick) and one Cornet (Ice Cream in a cone) and walked home while I ate them… (Walking home from Church used to be a thing – I am bringing it back. Tehehe…)

But I gotta say, when I look back honestly speaking, the last 10 years have been something else – an epic adventure on the roller coaster called life. The challenge for me now is trying to remember all the high and low lights, the in betweens and the seemingly small and not so insignificant.

By an insane miracle of God, I got two degrees – one. two. By another even greater miracle I am actually practising what I studied in both degrees. Education was always important to my family, Kirabo – on the other hand… (to be completed on a coffee chat). I have been in study groups on both occasion with some of the most brilliant minds, I have ever encountered.

IMG_5096

I lived and worked on two continents and in 4 different timezones. I froze my toes off in one of those places. I put my feet in the Pacific and also trekked from Upper Hill to Nairobi CBD. I have worked for some pretty sick organisations and I am currently employed by one that I think takes the cup!

IMG_6656
Santa Monica Pier, LA

I have been a part of ministry in 5 different Churches here, two of which I am still actively involved in. We went ko for Mango Tree Revival – P.U.S.H. (I wonder if this still happens on Campus). I sang in a mass choir. Yes. Benny Hinn Mass Choir. I was a cell intern who boycotted becoming a leader – or did I? I danced at Prime Time

I have had the privilege of being called many things, some derogatory even – there is two sides to this one: the – Why would someone call you that? What about you made them get to that point of calling you that? Were they justified in their judgement of you? Okay, maybe those are three sides. Tehehe… No, passing judgement is not acceptable, however, if you are ever on the other side – maybe consider these before you banish them to life in the outer realms of your universe. But on the flip side, I have lived to see some words of blessing and prophecy come to pass. I have had way too many Serah moments.

This one made me smile, I have had acquaintances who have turned into friends into family – like seriously, A’bemikwano – you know uwaseleves! Then also had the reverse happen as well, friends who turn into acquaintances. I have broken hearts (this is beyond dating relationships – sometimes we say things to our friends that break them), had mine broken as well. I have made so many friends, so many – for an antisocial melancholic, anyway.

On the heart note, Oh Lord, I crushed on a fellow who was light years out of my reach. Tehehe… Make that two! Eons of light years… I think you get the point.

**sigh**
**sigh** …judging me is useless!!

I have been rock climbing in Kalagi (After Gayaza). Yes, Going up seemed hard until I had to come down. Tehehe… My friends were there for a while, coaxing me to let go of the rock. I went rafting on the Nile… Oh Jesus… You made Water. Eh! I saw my life going… End credits rolling with ZERO hope of an after credits scene!!

I have had the privilege of watching several of my friends grow in their passion and start companies that are defining and redefining industries! I had a taste of entrepreneurship myself and maybe one day I shall return to it. I went for my first ever novel writing class.

I have had dreams. I have watched some of them grow and die. I have watched others grow and bloom into crazy things. I have loads of others that just seem misplaced…

One other thing… I happened to lose my GrandPa and My Dad, in the space of several months. You see, daddy was the other reason that April was special. He was born on the 26th of April. (If this is your first time here, then a quick catchup on why my dad is important can be found here and here). April was our month! However, in 2013, that changed. I also love the number four, because I was born on the fourth day of the fourth month (**smiles** at the random coincidence of the other four that just popped into my head). Sadly, he died on the fourth of February. I remember thinking, Why? Professing the way I will never again love these things. But God has a unique way of using mercy, time, grace and love… Now, 3 years later, I am more excited than I ever remember being.

hny
Happy New Year ’92, avec my Daddy and my sister!

I should close this before the word count hits 1000. I have become verbose in my old age. I am watching the rain through my office window, while listening to Florocka and simply excited. Rain is a blessing and since I love rain, I should like to bless you – whoever has read up to this point

May the God that I worship reveal himself a new in your life. May He shower you with his blessing and his favour. May He hide you in the shelter of his wing. May you walk with confidence and your head lifted high – knowing that the one who walks with you is much more fierce than you can ever imagine. May your story be one that inspires generations to come. May God ignite your passion and may you live to see their impact! May his mercy and love never leave you and May you always be found in the shelter of his love!

Amen!!

Now back to businesssss!!!
It is my birthdayyyyyyyyy!!!!!

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