Gracious father

It’s upon those miracles that we humans think are small that I remember how much you love me..

It’s in my troubles and how you are always here that reminds me of your grace..

It’s in my mingling with people and hearing what their lives are that I can touch your love gracious Father…

It’s in my brokenness and hopelessness that I can see your kindness my gracious Father..

It’s in my getting lost and stupidity that your love finds me oh my maker…

It’s in you that I can say am safe gracious Lord..

Thank you for
Breath
Life
Health
Family
Friends
Love
Joy
Peace
Kindness
And everything else..

Anytime that I think less, open my eyes that I may see your goodness upon my life
My gracious Lord..
Your love is amazing.

Professor Shitty

I walk towards main campus in an okay pace..
I could say am a bit excited but then I have learned in this life to get excited over anything.
The thought of coming back here for postgraduate still crosses my mind but I honestly don’t know why I would do that..
Why not undergraduate in literature or linguistics? I think to myself as I remove my I.d card to be allowed into campus.
I walk towards Mahtma Gandhi wing barely giving a glance at Taifa hall. The only thoughts that crossed me in when I attended class in that hall is how high it is and if the floor was good enough for badminton.

At the entrance, I once again show my I.d.
Where to? The soldier asks
‘Department of Psychology’ I answer as I head for the slow elevator.

The department is on 4th floor and is well hidden. It takes me 15 minutes to locate the lecturer’s  office.
I knock.

‘Come in’
I push the door and am in the office.

‘Close the door’ he says..

‘No. I like the air’ I say back the lie rolling easily off my tongue.

He is a shrink… I think to myself.
He can probably see through me..

Not really… my brain counters..
I smile to him.

‘I am Winnie’ I say stretching my hand.
‘Hey Winnie. Professor..’ I don’t get his name. I am struggling not to squirm as he checks me out.
My baggy jeans and oversize t-shirt with the words ‘BLACK CHIC’ seem like inadequate clothing.

We have a mighty problem.

Monday quote

We are afraid to care too much for fear that the other person does not care at all. – Eleanor Roosevelt

Blessed week

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