We planned….but so did death.

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Okay she’s gone.
I hear a groan as my heart begins her mourn.
Okay she hurts no more.
Thoughts of all her earthly wondering, cause my soul to thirst for more.
Okay she sleeps.
A soul caught up in glorious wind which sweeps, our tears it reaps.
Okay she’s mute.
The last time we spoke, we planned to meet, I was to commute.
Okay she’s away.
Taking another road on a gravel I cannot travel.
Okay she’s at rest.
I am a mess, though I cannot comprehend, it is best.
Good night you who was she.
May your soul not wonder on a restless sea.
We planned but so did death,
life is our only wealth.
In your slumber you will not be held under,
for a grander day is on it’s way.
I will see you when we all wake in the final wakening!

Take You All In

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You watch, you listen and you take it all in.
You savor, you meditate and you question and cast aside the misunderstood.
You inhale, you soak up and it informs the chamber of your thoughts.
You become, you materialise and your ideas become your deeds.
You hurt, you blame and you wish you could change.
You watch, you listen and you do it all again.
You notice, you practice and you change your ways.
You select, you choose and you write your mental story.
You live, you strive and you transform your World no longer a captive to the norm.
They watch you, they listen to you and they take you all in.

HERE I AM

ImageHere I am but am I here? Do you see all of me or have I left too much of me in places where I should not have been. I have chosen you and though I have given too much of me away, believe me when I say all that is left, is here. Here my all I lay. Here I stay no longer a stray. From here I can no longer be away because you are my only way.

Here I come not compelled or led in constraints. Do you see? No bondage or binding bids me. I have come of my own free will and on this hill my heart is still. Listen, no thud nor fleeting flutter stirs my heart to sway. Here my heart has found its fertile ground and here it will pulse its final sound. On this hallowed ground, I who was lost is finally found.

On this hill I lay my life down. This is the fight I choose to loose for no more battles of rebellion will be waged against thee. I will not run even if it is all I can opt to do, for you are my all and my all is you. I have poured out my everything and all that is anything is now in you. It is no longer I that lives but you who lives in me. To resist you would mean to battle against my very own being for all that I am is in you.

Look, see, I am worn thin to my very soul. Through fields of takers I have trudged, I gave it all up and hold no grudge. Through trenches of heartache I have bled but here I shall mend. Here a heart that has been void of thee shall pine no more but cling to thee. I breathe my last for all is past and my anchor is cast. I am yours, here I hold fast. Bound to your mast my wondering mind shall sail no more. Let thy breathe be the wind that guides my mangled vessel.

Should waters of Noah’s day return; here I stay though flood waters cover me. I will be the olive tree that stood from whence came the olive shoot in the doves beak. I am yours though fires of Armageddon set me ablaze for your love will ensure the flames don’t consume me. Your love is an everlasting flame and in it I am saved. I hide my name in thee for what is in fame but that which is only shame. You are my identity my only remedy for all that is humanity to dust it must return. All of the Worlds glory is lowly and only you are Holy and I am wholly yours.

Here I die! Here, no wings will take flight for my feathers have fallen one by one! Here no limbs will carry me to escape for everything is numb and pledges its allegiance to thee. This is my escape and here I have come. On this hill where wood, thorn, nail and blood meet. Here IT IS FINISHED! Here I kneel, naked and unashamed, broken and ready what you will. Speak for I am weak. Your words are life they sooth my strife.

Here, no lie is spoken for lips need not move for souls to commune. Here, is a bonding that no one can decipher. Here, minds need not apprehend. Here, intellect need not comprehend. Here deep calls to deep, it is where we oft have been in sleep but now I tread wholly awake ready to reap.

Here the same fingers that knit me in a wombed chamber now stitch my wounds. Your scarlet cord threads me to your everlasting existence. Loving mercy pursued me and grace brought me back to the ninety-nine, a prodigal soul and heart of Magdalene. I have wept at your feet and perfumed you with my pain. At thy hem I have found healing and at thy command death has loosed me.

Where then can I go? Who then will be my God? From you I have come. In you I am. Through you I find my being. In thy living scarlet drops that fell upon Calvary, I am set free. And though my deeds have bruised thee you love me. It is a love not even death could detain. A love not even heaven could retain.

Here I am for I am yours. My Lord here in thy embrace I die for you are my resurrection. Here I am! No longer my own but wholly yours and for your holy use. Ignite your altar for here I stand ready to be a living sacrifice and a pleasing offering. Here I am. Your light to the World, your salt to the earth and your servant ever available for your deeds of righteousness and justice.

Here I am.

No longer a Lady in Waiting

We wait on love like birds wait on the dawn. We usher this messiah into our lives in dance as we welcome the promise of dreams that love will weave into our reality. We hope that love has come to liberate us from earthly foes and our rapturous celebration is a mark of love’s indentation but all festivities come to an end. The music fades, the entertainers pack up and love knows what comes next.

We danced with intention not for what love is here to accomplish; we dance for the plans we have for love. We hand love our Santa list. Love did not come to dispel all our fears and compel the ones we yearn for, to commit to us. For love is not moved by futile whims. Love only dances to the tune of what love comes to accomplish. We do not move love, but love moves us and shapes us. William Shakespeare said it well, “Love does not alter when it alteration finds.” Love enters a door that is freely opened and where love resides there is no room for hate. Love permeates like sweet perfume invading and infusing the willing soul with love’s agenda. Love comes for the many not only for the one. And so like Mother Theresa, “I want to love Christ like He has never been loved before.” I used to wait to be loved but now I wait for the daily set-ups by Love to love. I do not know what life Love will conform out of my daily offerings but I know I will live every day for Love and to love. But I must admit I was not always this way. Love has moved me, changed me, shaped me.

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A dream is a wishful whisper of the heart, I should know for I have been a faithful listener to it’s pulsing preaching. So I waited, believing in the visions of the night, having faith that one fine day fantasy would become reality. On that day, my joy would expel the phantoms that clung to my fears and wash away the dark groping of waiting. I would then be ushered into the light of savoring the now, the here and I would find delight in today. I would finally live in the moment and not waste years waiting for a moment. I would then stand on the greener grass, carpeted beneath my feet all gentleness and I would finally know the strength of the long awaited embrace enfolding me into the fold where every hurt would finally be healed. And so I waited!

“Do not awaken love until it so desires” King Solomon’s words sound a warning that comes too late. What if love’s flame needs no hand to light it? What if love is already awake when the first hands catch you, folding you into a World where the first catch of breathe ignites a longing. I often wonder what these new humans in the crib, wrapped in humanity smile to as they sleep. What have they seen? What do they know, these needy, suckling strangers? How is it, according to Psychology, that what they receive or fail to attain will shape not only their expectations but also their dreams. Is this longing in the human feminine heart born of lack or is it formed by satiated hunger? Why does the red plume of a rose bud declare I am loved? Why does the heady sensation of gleaming eyes, strong arms, candlelight, crooning duets and slow dancing, flutter her heart? What is this Romance? Who is this charming prince? Where have all the cowboys gone? And so I wait.

Here, there are no cowboys only roaming pastoralists with clubs and spears. There is no lone rangers, chewing on a blade of grass, wearing jeans and riding on a tamed stallion. Here, there is no charming prince dressed in tights with soft hands and a sword. No. Here, the only royalty that once was were chiefly chiefs seating on goat-skinned thrones but they too are but a memory. If my grandfather walked into his home with roses in his hands my grandmother would have thought him mad or cursed. A greater gift would have been for him to walk into the home with something that would feed her children. Romance was unknown to my grandmother, love was not a word that was uttered but a deed that was poured out daily. Yes, her heart ached and it broke too often but she still gave of herself, she still served. She mourned as my grandfather nursed his brokenness with drink for he had returned from the Second World War with severed fingers and tormented dreams. The book of proverbs explains that a hope deferred makes the heart grow sick’, my grandfather was a sick man. He was not welcomed as a hero of war, neither was he seen to be an equal by the colonial powers. He went to war a man but returned a ghost, a shadow of a man. But I do not remember my grandmother ever feeling sorry for her self. She tilled the land and fed her children; she tilled her heart and loved even the unlovable. And maybe because she waited for no hero, she became our hero. She became the wind that filled out hearts and enabled her family to sail past deadly storms. And so I wait.

The women in my life have not known the happy ever after scenarios but they are ever happy! They were not carried to a castle far away for we do not have castles here. Here, you cannot dance in glass slippers because our rhythm is not a waltz but a frenzied stomping. Here, a girl who sleeps waiting for a man to kiss her into life, would be scorned, Sleeping Beauty is just lazy! Don’t even need to mention Snow white for where I live anyone who is white as snow is a ghost! Here, we, the daughters of powerful women allowed our hearts to be robbed. Robbed by tales that were not manufactured for good. God have mercy on the fallen soldiers that have attempted to rescue the damsel for she is often not in distress, instead she is the distress. Our brother was never made to complete us and in his attempt to do so he emptied himself of life. Her story is not one of waiting. Her heart was formed to save lives; she is the heart of life’s tale. Woman must no longer read, ‘once upon a time’; she must read, ‘In the beginning God’. There is purpose and plan in a formation. She lives in an unfolding tale with no fairies but there is a plan for her; she serves an eternal purpose. There is no living happily ever after for eternity trumps ever afters.

And He said, “It is not good for man to be alone, I will make him a help mate”. And so I wait, no longer for cowboys or pastoralists. I do not wait for charming princes or chiefly chiefs. I do not wait to be held but to hold. I know a rose will dry up, romance will dwindle and rescue is for the distressed damsel not me. A heart that seeks to love in service and in pouring out of ones all, that is a greater calling then to be a Lady in Waiting. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Telenovela’s Maria and all other cheerleaders of the woman in wait of a hero, be gone fowl spirits for “Beauty is fleeting but the Woman who loves the Lord, she is to be praised”.

Father’s Love Lesson

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“Loving your mother is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.”

The pain in his voice was more than I could bear and I turned to look at him. He stared into the horizon and I knew he was looking into his past. This was the first time my father had ever given me a glimpse of his heart because his feelings, especially those regarding his wife, had always been locked up in a vault.

“And I still love her”

He laughed shyly as though embarrassed. He turned to me to see if I thought he was ridiculous and smiled when he saw nothing but admiration in my eyes. I remained silent. No words were necessary. This was the holy of holies for me. My father had trusted me and finally allowed me to see his wounds. I had graduated. My father had seen in me a friend not just a daughter. In this moment I was meeting a need for the one who had done so much for me and I was so blessed. I guess its true even heroes need heroes sometimes.

As I drove home that night I pulled out memories of my father. I saw him trying to teach us a balancing act on my brother’s bicycle. I saw him trying to convince my mother to accompany him to a business trip. I never knew the Gikuyu dialect had such sweet words. I saw him mentoring a few young men in our town and sending them abroad for further education. I saw him give of himself every time he was in my sphere of vision. And when his World came tumbling down and all his friends ran away he was fine because he had invested in his family. We loved him even when things had to change badly for us because he had taught us that love hurts sometimes but more than that he made sure we never lost hope. My father limped from love’s many injuries but he loved still. My father is a wounded warrior who still fights in Love’s army.

C.S. Lewis wrote “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

What my father feared would make him look weak only strengthened the hero in him. My father’s vulnerability was his greatest strength and one of my favorite memories. In his loving risk my father had rescued me from the wrong mentality of love. Vulnerability is not kryptonite; it is not a weakness. My life teacher taught me to love irrespective of how others treated me. My father taught me that love was a double-edged sword; love cuts both ways and changes everyone. He reminded me that love was also a gift that blessed the giver more than the recipient and when life became more than he could bear, my father would often retreat into himself but we never forgot we were his everything. My father always made sure his cup was overflowing by taking long walks and trips by himself but he returned bearing gifts reminding us, we were in his thoughts. My father taught me to forgive quickly because an unforgiving spirit was a weed that chocked out love and shriveled the heart. My father trained me to identify leaches, people who drained you and did not only take, but also plotted to sabotage what little you had left. So I learned to let people go and to burn bridges knowing when I came to canyons I would fly because “I believe I can fly”.

My father often told us that he didn’t have a will. He said that all he had belonged to him and his wife and he had given us the best he could by ensuring we got an education. Then we laughed at this but now we thank God for him. We often sit with my siblings and thank God for this man. My father loves us well. There is no wealth, which my father could possibly leave me that would be more valuable than his lessons on love. If he leaves no will or inheritance I will not be disappointed for my father’s lessons on love is the greatest heritage.

As I pray for God to give him long life, I think of the Father we share with my father and I smile. God loves vulnerably! “For God so loved the World that He gave his one and only Son that who-so-ever believes in him would not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16. Love compelled the saviour to take the cross. Love held Him there. Love caused him to look at those who cried for his death with mercy and forgiveness.

God’s vessel on earth, my father, continues to give me a glimpse of Our Father’s love. I see how God loves me in granting me the gift of being raised by a man like my father. God loves me with an everlasting love and God has taught me love’s beauty in my father’s limp caused by the injury of loving. I will love till the very end of my journey no matter the price and I will love till my last page is finally turned.

Change

“You can’t change nature, son!”
Change IS nature, dad, the part we can influence. And it all starts when we decide.”

Ratatouille

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Soon the snow will be melting on wintry lands and rain will be falling on sun-scorched soil; there you will be riding on the cold and harbouring in the heat. The wild salmon will seek its birth pool and the wildebeest will be caught up in its wondrous migratory wonder; there you will churn the rivers where the bear and crocodile wait. The hibernating bear will raise heavy eyelids and the long legged flamingo will colour blue lakes pink; there you will serenade a bloom awakening a plume of scents and senses. Soon you will seduce the seasons and they will turn life into a churning swell; you who is named Change will change nature because change is nature; and in changing, nature thrives and all life is made alive by the fallen and the buried. In nature nothing is wasted and so in life, man must waste nothing!

It all counts, it all matters, because in matter every part matters. There is a never-ending story in being and a justice of sorts, for in the cycle of life even the antelope eats the lion. On this good Earth no king sits on an earthly throne forever for even thrones crumble and empires tumble. In the changing seasons there are no guarantees only matter remains, so be someone that matters. Live a life that is full of purpose and remember that purpose is not found in doing but it has always resided in being. Don’t you see, all that is, has reason to be. Nothing is a waste because when change comes “all things work together for good.” Romans 8:28. That is why you are here! You are vital to the whole and your voice makes the choir ring, so sing your song. It will only be a moment and your season will end. But moments make movements that outlive the movers; so move in this moment and have no fear. No one made a difference by conforming to the norm, “Be yee transformed by the renewing of your mind” Romans 12:2. In your transformation colour your World with your exuding essence. Why worry about the day you seize to be? It is of no value because we lived. We were there, in that moment in time and that truth will never seize to be. So glean the harvest of all that has been and store it for all that is yet to come! Remember Shakespeare’s question, “To be or not to be?” It arises only when we fail to see, “that man did not weave the web of life, he is but a mere strand in it. Whatever he does to it, he does to himself” AMEN to Chief Seattle! You make up part of the whole and you are vital to History because even the miniscule holds together the grand. So be you and live in the moment not for a moment. Do not wait for the season to change for it already has, “Awake you who slumber, rise up from the dead and Christ will give you light” Ephesians 5:14.

There is destiny in design but according to evolution, design is not a limitation. We are not Human Doings but Human Beings; spiritual beings having a human experience and our capsules must not dictate the terms of our purpose. Many deeds make a man weary but in being true a man finds his purpose. When humans are lost in the motions of doings, then like hamsters on a wheel, it is the mechanical that drives the machine not the soul that influences the being. The Being Mahatma Ghandi cries, “Be the change that you want to see in the World!” Being is the drop, that causes the ripple and the spark that starts the flame. You must therefore just be! You are here for a reason and your season will come to an end but as you fall remember you still are. The seed falls and in dying it is made new. The autumn lives enrich the earth and bring brilliant life in spring. Why should you be paralyzed by the fear of the unknown? What good will dreading the parting of spirit and flesh do for you? Live and be, planting only what you wish to harvest. Haven’t you heard, “For as he thinketh so is he” Proverbs 23:7 and “of the abundeth of the heart the mouth speaketh” Luke 6:45. Let us know you were here! Do not imitate originate!

From yester years we still hear the voices of beings who lived each day with purpose. They were not caught up in the current but swam against norms like the wild salmon. These magnificent souls still illuminate our existence with the manifestation of their being. They lived true no matter the sacrifice and in so being they fought for the good of all and for all that is good in humanity. The past continues to last when it is held fast as lessons by the living. The fallen are memories that make a good education to those who savour them in their daily meditations. Time is a passing and like the wind it only caresses but it is the choices we make in the unfolding of time that will make all the difference. Where is the bold heart that longs to beat to a new rhythm? This is the heart where change longs to reside and catalyse a metamorphosis that will trigger social transformation. Yes Change hurts but hurts often hurtle us into our greatest choreography in this dance of life. Is your dance the leap of the salmon swimming up river or the sway of the palm tree moving in the breeze? Are you the eagle soaring in the blue heavens or the chicken pecking in lowly places? They say you are the greatest of all creatures but Human how you have failed to see that in destroying nature we destroy ourselves. In pursuing fame at any expense we have brought on a shame we cannot recompense. Where is the humane human who will lay their life down.

“He will make all things beautiful in his time,” because there is a time for everything. See how Earth exposes her circumference to the Sun’s glare and in so doing, everything lives out its purpose for a season. See how invisible fingers turn the circle, tilting her and holding her in place as she rides in empty space. See her for there is none like her in the entire Universe, well they haven’t found another yet. Perfect, powerful and purposeful. Time and change have been her constant companions. So make use of time and change for they will last but you must change in time.

As you plan to change, change plans to change you. As you write resolutions that will experience dilution as the days turn into months, know this, time waits for no one. Doors are only opened to those who arise, walk to them and turn the knob not to those who sit and contemplate the fortunes that lie waiting on the other side. Who will you choose to be in this season? The one who waits or the one who makes fate?

Feeling Christmas!

Woke up this morning feeling Christmas in my bones. The last time I felt this excitement I was 13!! This time the radio was off so no carols screaming on the sound waves, no seasonal tune brought this effect. No Christmas scents or colours of a Christmas tree or decorations in my house. It was the sound of nephews running around the house laughing, screaming, giggling. It was the sound of their bare feet slapping against the concrete floor that made me smile. Loving and being loved is what makes Christmas worth while. So when they hugged me and splashed my face with wet kisses I got my Christmas present!

Mary welcomed God with a kiss and though she delivered his body alone in a stable, I know holding Him in her arms blinded her eyes to the dirt. Rocking Him deafened her ears to the cold wind seeping in through the cracks of the stable. Nursing Him warmed her very soul and numbed her to any pain that remained. As His eyes searched for her in the dimly lit, cave-like room, she wept from her very core. Not only from the joy of a mother but from the gratitude of a delivered soul.

Christmas is much more than a carol or a festivity. Christmas is much more than a good story that makes a good movie. Christmas is heaven meeting Earth. Christmas is more than a birth. Christmas is salvation coming to generations if only generations will stop for a minute and see their liberation!

Glory to the new born King!