MuguRe

DECEMBER DOES IT AGAIN

2023-12-05T18:14:00.002+03:00

Thirteen years ago, 3rd December, 2010 was a regular Friday...a busy one at work...print houses tend to get unbelievably busy because for some reason, everyone waits until the last minute to order items they could have comfortably ordered in October. SMH. I was just getting in to my routine when I received a phone call from my sister's boyfriend to rush to Nairobi Hospital where my sister had undergone a minor surgery the previous night. I was to go to ICU. I didn't even know where it was situated but finally found my way and walked in to see a team of doctors and nurses working to resuscitate a patient. And I stood there watching and praying for the patient. It's like I was blind. Or maybe it was grace. Because that patient was my sister. I didn't recognize her on that gurney. Maybe that was a good thing. The team of doctors and nurses seemed very laid back.....nothing like what you watch on tv shows or movies....the desperate actions to pull a patient back to life....the one doctor who refuses to give up and has to be dragged away by their colleagues and another doctor reluctantly calls it. That's stuff for the screen. As I was standing there, a nurse finally noticed me and when I said I was looking for Susan Kagori, I was quickly whisked away to some office to await the doctor. And they wouldn't tell me what was going on or whether I could see her. The fog was real. I sat there and had to wait for my sisters, my brothers and her boyfriend to arrive. When the doctor finally broke the news, the fog cleared and that's when I realized that I had witnessed attempts to pull back my Suzs from the darkness but that day darkness had the win. And December forever lost it's luster.

Today, 5th December, 2023 we are here dealing with the darkness again. Early this morning, death showed up again and took our cousin. She shares a middle name with my Suzs and and to take her final breath in December, two days after my Suzs.....devastating....heartbreaking. Kabura held me together as I worked on my sister's tribute and funeral program. Brought me water and fruits and kept me breathing through the pain of working with the designer to pull it together. She was there. Quietly keeping watch. And knowing when to take a break...even if it was only to the bathroom. It was as if she just knew what I needed. And now she's gone.

2020-11-12T22:03:00.000+03:00

"Saa-sa?" - 12th November, 2010

The answer to my phonecall

Heard last in July

I was dreading today since then

Knowing that I wont be able

To call you up and hear you say,

"Saa-sa"

And I get to sing

'Happy Birthday to you'

And listen to you laugh

In wonderment that I remembered

And you had forgotten

That today was your day

We miss you in the everydayness of life

But with time and especially today

We celebrate you,

And thank God

For the years we had

The tears still fall

Always will

But we know that

Wherever time may take us

We will always love you.

Happy Birthday Chanjo!

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle Rules the World by William Ross Wallace (1819-1881)

2020-09-26T13:06:00.000+03:00

Blessings on the hand of women!

Angels guard its strength and grace.

In the palace, cottage, hovel,

Oh, no matter where the place;

Would that never storms assailed it,

Rainbows ever gently curled,

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy's the tender fountain,

Power may with beauty flow,

Mothers first to guide the streamlets,

From them souls unresting grow —

Grow on for the good or evil,

Sunshine streamed or evil hurled,

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission,

Here upon our natal sod;

Keep – oh, keep the young heart open

Always to the breath of God!

All true trophies of the ages

Are from mother-love impearled,

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!

Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,

And the sacred song is mingled

With the worship in the sky —

Mingles where no tempest darkens,

Rainbows evermore are hurled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand rules the world.

Daddy Came Home To Say Goodbye

2018-03-30T14:18:00.000+03:00

For a brief moment in time, Daddy was home
We rallied around him, fussing, worrying
Each one of us happy to have him so close
Making plans for the days ahead
Of how full each day will be
Of grandchildren surrounding him
Of children who had daddy home
We had hopes that he would be up and about again
Sit us down for his famously long speeches
Forgetting that we were all days after thirty
That was not to be
Daddy came home to say goodbye

ThE LoVE AffAIR - Héloise to Abelard

2012-03-30T20:11:00.000+03:00

"It is hard that we should part

just when we have become used

to each other's thoughts and ways,

and each needful to the other.

When thou art with me, life is full,

and when thou art away, my life is a desert.

It cannot be that we will not sit on our bed making plans,

plans in which I had a share.

Didst thou not say that I could help you

and will it be somebody else taking my place?

I do not intend to make this parting harder than it is;

the strain is too great, I cannot bear it;

my tears will flow if I try to endure it.

Only this have I the strength to say,

that this parting cannot be long;

for those who love as we do cannot be parted.

We shall always be united in thought;

and thought is a powerful magnet.

I have often spoken to thee of reason;

now I speak to thee of faith."

Héloise to Abelard

NOTHING!

2012-03-15T13:52:00.003+03:00

I gotta admit

Sometimes I feel weak

For loving you the way I do

It’s beyond me

I cant control it

Or force it to be

You know,

What I want it to be

I think about you so much

When I’m with you

And when I’m not

It’s deep the way

Looking into your eyes

Changes my whole perspective

Nothing is more beautiful

Than loving you

Holding you

Been next to you

Kissing your lips

Taking my time with you!

Nothing is more beautiful

Than loving you

Holding you

Been next to you

Moving my hips

Moving in time with you!

A moment of interlude in the album, "Beautifully Human" by Jill Scott

I Love Me

2012-03-12T13:04:00.000+03:00

Even when am angry,
Frustrated,
Lonely
Afraid,
Or cry myself to sleep
When jealousy sets up shop
And doubt
Brings a lounging chair
And you laugh at me
Say am unreal
One thing keeps me still
Grounded
Your love for me
That shines through
And warms my fragile heart
And you teach me
To trust me
And love me
Unconditionally.

Superwoman - Alicia Keys

2012-03-08T12:34:00.000+03:00

Lyrics to "Superwoman" - Alicia Keys
(Play the song loud and dance in celebration of the woman)

Everywhere I'm turning
Nothing seems complete
I stand up and I'm searching
For the better part of me

I hang my head from sorrow
State of humanity
I wear it on my shoulders
Gotta find the strength in me

'Cause I am a Superwoman
Yes I am, yes she is
Still when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest
With an S on my chest
Oh yes, I'm a Superwoman

This is for all the mothers fighting
For better days to come
And all my women
All my women sitting here trying
To come home before the sun

And all my sisters coming together
Say yes I will, yes I can

'Cause I am a Superwoman
Yes I am, yes she is
Still when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest
With an S on my chest
Oh yes, I'm a Superwoman

When I'm breaking down and I can't be found
As I start to get weak
'Cause no one knows me underneath these clothes
But I can fly, we can fly, oh

'Cause I am a Superwoman
Yes I am, yes she is
Even when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest
With an S on my chest

Oh yes, I'm a Superwoman, yes she is

Let me tell you, I am a Superwoman
Yes I am, yes she is
See, even when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest
With an S on my chest

Oh yes, I'm a Superwoman
Yes I am, said I'm a Superwoman, yes you are

Oh yeah, I'm tellin' you
I'm super, so super
I'm super, so super
Yes I am, yes we are
Yes I am, yes you are

Happy International Women's Day

2012-03-08T12:19:00.000+03:00
Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now, Part 3
The Sweetness of Charity

The New Testament informs the reader that it is more blessed to give than to receive. I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver. The size and substance of the gift should be important to the recipient, but not to the donor save that the best thing one can give is that which is appreciated. The giver is as enriched as is the recipient, and more important, that intangible but very real psychic force of good in the world is increased.

When we cast our bread upon the waters, we can presume that someone downstream whose face we will never know will benefit from our action, as we who are downstream from another will profit from that grantor’s gift.

Since time is the one immaterial object which we cannot influence –neither speed up nor slow down, add to nor diminish – it is an imponderably valuable gift. Each of us has a few minutes a day or a few hours a week which we could donate to an old folks’ home or a children’s hospital ward. The elderly whose pillows we plump or whose water pitchers we refill may or may not thank us for our gift, but the gift is upholding the foundation of the universe. The children to whom we read simple stories may or may not show gratitude, but each boon we give strengthens the pillars of the world.

While our gifts and the recipients should be considered, our bounty, once decided upon, should be without concern, overflowing one minute and forgotten the next.

Recently I was asked to speak before a group of philanthropists and was astonished at their self-consciousness. The gathered donors give tens of millions of dollars annually to medical research, educational development, art support, and social reform. Yet to a person they seemed a little, just a little, ashamed of themselves. I pondered their behavior and realized that someone had told someone that not only was it degrading to accept charity but it was equally debasing to give it. And sad to say, someone had believed that statement. Hence ,many preferred to have it known that they dispense philanthropy rather than charity.

I like charitable people and like to think of myself as charitable, as being of a generous heart and a giving natures – of being a friend indeed to anyone in need. Why, I pondered, did the benefactors not feel as I?

Some benefactors may desire distance from the recipients of their largess because there is a separations between themselves and the resources they distribute. As inheritors or managers of fortune rather than direct earners, perhaps they feel exiled from the gifts; then it follows that they feel exiled from the recipient.

It is sad when people who give to the needy feel estranged from the objects of their generosity. They can take little, if any, relish from their acts of charity; therefore, are generous our of their duty rather than delight.

Happy International Women's Day

2012-03-08T12:16:00.000+03:00
Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now, Part 2
What Should She Do?

She will need to prize her tenderness and be able to display it at appropriate times in order to prevent toughness from gaining total authority and to avoid becoming a mirror image of those men who value power above life, and control over love.

It is imperative that a woman keep her sense of humor intact and at the ready. She must see, even if only in secret, that she is the funniest, looniest woman in her world, which she should also see as being the most absurd world of all times.

It has been said that laughter is therapeutic and amiability lengthens the life span.

Women should be tough, tender, laugh as much as possible, and live long lives. The struggle for equality continues unabated, and the woman warrior who is armed with wit and courage will be among the first to celebrate victory.

Passports to Understanding

Human beings are more alike than unalike, and what is true anywhere is true every-where, yet I encourage travel to as many destinations as possible for the sake of education as well as pleasure.

It is necessary, especially for Americans, to see other lands and experience other cultures. The American, living in this vast country and able to traverse three thousand miles east to west using the same language, needs to hear languages as they collide in Europe, Africa, and Asia.

A tourist, browsing in a Paris shop, eating in an Italian ristorante, or idling along a Hong Kong street, will encounter three or four languages as she negotiates the buying of a blouse, the paying of a check, or the choosing of a trinket. I do not mean to suggest that simply overhearing a foreign tongue adds to one's understanding of that language. I do know, however, that being exposed to the existence of other languages increases the perception that the world is populated by people who not only speak differently from oneself but whose cultures and philosophies are other than one's own.

Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try to understand each other, we may even become friends.

Happy International Women's Day

2012-03-08T12:12:00.001+03:00
Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now, Part 1
In All Ways A Woman

In my young years I took pride in the fact that luck was called a lady. In fact, there were so few public acknowledgments of the female presence that I felt personally honored whenever nature and large ships were referred to as feminine. But as I matured, I began to resent being considered a sister to a changeling as fickle as luck, as aloof as an ocean, and as frivolous as nature.

The phrase "A woman always has the right to change her mind" played so aptly into the negative image of the female that I made myself a victim to an unwavering decision. Even if I made an inane and stupid choice, I stuck by it rather than "be like a woman and change my mind."

Being a woman is hard work. Not without joy and even ecstasy, but still relentless, unending work. Becoming an old female may require only being born with certain genitalia, inheriting long-living genes and the fortune not to be run over by an out-of-control truck, but to become and remain a woman command the existence and employment of genius.

The woman who survives intact and happy must be at once tender and tough. She must have convinced herself, or be in the unending process of convincing herself, that she, her values, and her choices are important. In a time and world where males hold sway and control, the pressure upon women to yield their rights-of-way is tremendous. And it is under those very circumstances that the woman's toughness must be in evidence.

She must resist considering herself a lesser version of her male counterpart. She is not a sculptress, poetess, authoress, Jewess, Negress, or even (now rare) in university parlance a rectoress. If she is the thing, then for her own sense of self and for the education of the ill-informed she must insist with rectitude in being the thing and in being called the thing.

A rose by any other name may smell as sweet, but a woman called by a devaluing name will only be weakened by the misnomer.

Was It Ever Love?

2012-03-06T13:17:00.000+03:00

Love and hate. So intertwined! The line inbetween so thin. And sometimes it’s hard to know whether it’s love or hate. So turbulent! So, so unsettling!

Here she was. At an age where she should really know better but it seemed commonsense and experience had disembarked the train that was her life at some unknown station. Perhaps if she could remember when and where, she could attempt to go back in time and reunite with both.

Unforgivable. That’s how she felt about the crime she had committed. She had thought, no, she knew for sure that she had escaped the frying pan. How then did she end up in the fire? She had been careful, did all the things she could to keep herself safe. Still, how she had ended here was a huge mystery. And now it wasn’t just one crime.........they were several.

Anguish engulfed her to the point of wishing death. The pain assailed her, tearing her apart, keeping her awake for hours on end. The result was a nasty, bitchy, loud and testy human being in the light of day.

Shame was and had always been her greatest enemy. And now, he had taken residence. How would she ever show her face to her circle of friends? How was she going to explain this?

Anger told her it wasn’t all her fault on one hand and on the other berated her for her naivety and stupidity. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, was she? What was wrong with her?

And she fell into a pool of tears as the sobs jerked her body, a wailing, lonely sound escaping her now and then. Comfortless, she cried until she could cry no more and her eyes were swollen shut, her head throbbing painfully, her nose blocked and her whole frame fallen over like a tree thrown about by a gale.

Would the sun ever shine again? Into the darkness that overwhelmed her soul, her spirit, her heart. Would she ever be able to smile again, laugh perhaps or feel alive, ever? She didn’t wonder about love. Love got her into this. Or was it ever love?

You Belong To Her

2012-03-05T19:01:00.000+03:00
You belong to her
Even though you creep
Into my thoughts
In daylight
And into my dreams
In starlight
You belong to her

The epitome of my ideal man, yet
You belong to her
We see eye to eye
Fit like fingers in a glove
But,
You belong to her

To feel your gentle touch
Your body close to mine
You leave me
Wet with desire
Because,
You belong to her

You call me a Renaissance Woman
And maybe I am your ideal too,
But,
We will never know because
You’ll never let go
Of her
For me
Because
You belong to her.

My Heart

2011-09-23T05:16:00.000+03:00
Your little kick nudges me to wakefulness
As you seek my attention
I reach out and lay my palm on your head
As a sign that
I am here for you
I listen carefully
And our hearts beat as one
I feel you tumble and turn joyfully
And everything in me comes together
I know I cannot wait to hold you in my arms
And bury myself in the sweetness of you.

Lemon! Tequila! Salt!

2011-07-21T14:09:00.002+03:00

A pitcher of lemonade, ice cubes clinking, an absolutely hot day. That works well, doesn't it? You raise the glass to your lips, tip your head back and drink deep! Hmmmm.......bliss! Maybe that's the picture you should hold in your mind when life throws you more lemons than you can handle. Or so you think. Probably that's what whoever coined that phrase was thinking. Then again you could get the bottle of tequila out with some salt and take some shots, preferably with a pal who can hold your hand to cross the road for it's okay to experience the lemons at a personal level.
Whichever way you wanna handle the lemons that come your way, it's imperative that you handle them. Because lemons will come. And some of us get sacks of them at a time, while others seems to get a few every other year and others still, seem more blessed and get none.
I believe lemons either thrown at you or your friends are opportunities for growth. Unfortunately, when they come our way, we bemoan our fate and repeat to all and sundry just how much misfortune has befallen us. We completely miss the ultimate lesson. THANKSGIVING!

Everything changes when we give thanks, especially when we give thanks for the lemons. I am not sure how it happens but as we give thanks, the pain seems to ease, becomes easier to handle and the days stop dragging. When we experience the pains our friends go through, our own problems suddenly become trivial, we stop complaining about just how much work is on our desks when we have a friend who just can't seem to get a job; our need for more money to buy that shoe or that handbag becomes secondary when we have friends who cannot put a decent meal on the table because all their money is used up in medical bills.
Lemons must come our way to keep us grounded on a human level, to teach us to love and appreciate each other, to allow us to be more compassionate and giving of ourselves.
So, when life gives you lemons, get the tequila and salt. Or the juicer and ice cubes and have some lemonade. The most important part of this ritual - THANKSGIVING.

What's With Grief?

2011-07-21T13:58:00.002+03:00

That it catches up with you,

in the middle of a laugh,
a smile, quiet, easy moments
And the pain is sharp,
doubles you up into a foetal position
You catch your breathe, try to smile
Push the overwhelming emotions back
Get up and get on with life
But it binds you to your favorite seat or corner of your bed
Or on the floor of the shower,
masking the gut tearing sobs
The sense of loss, helplessness,
anger and frustration
You are now crying , asking the usual questions,
Why, Oh God, why?
You want to understand this loss, make sense of the pain
It will probably make it easier, you know, to let go
But that's just the thing with grief
The more you try to make sense of it, understand it,
The more it seems to hurt,
because you can't really make sense of it
You need to accept the pain
by cherishing the memories, good and bad
Kinda appreciate them, in a sense of gratitude
Until grief losses it's power over you
That's the thing with grief!

.

BoneMarrowDanceRocks

2011-07-21T13:06:00.002+03:00

Tonight my soul arose
In a beat that stroked
In the quiet of the night.
Captured my spirit,
Swaying in rhythm
Seeping into ma skin,
Vibrating through ma flesh
To rattle ma bones
To reach the marrow within
Until all of me was fluid

THRUMMING

2011-07-21T12:58:00.002+03:00

It's cold and rainy
With striking lights across the sky
And sounds that growl
Long into the night
Long streaky tears on my window
Yet the thrumming sound nudges
Into uneasy wakefulness
I reach out for comfort
And grasp air
And a cold, impersonal pillow
And the thrumming accelerates
With confusion and uncertainy
Were you really here
Or did I just dream it?

ReneéJ

TIME MARCHES ON

2011-07-21T12:42:00.007+03:00

Earlier this month, 9th July to be precise I shared this note on Facebook. Time really does march on. The sun rises and sets each day effortlessly it seems, yet joy and pain require more effort to work with. Each is a little better than the last though. For that, I am grateful.

It's exactly a year later; almost to the hour when I got the news that my big brother, Chanjo was no more. I remember how the calming words of the Psalmist floated and I wrote down, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me" and little did I know that at that moment my brother took his last breath. I still miss him, his funny stories, his easy way of taking life in his stride, no matter what he brought his way, his endless love for his boys and dedication to each one of his siblings.

Today was made difficult because of memories and realization that you cannot turn back the hands of time. When time has passed, it has passed and whatever it brings your way you accept what you cannot change, change what you can and grow some. The pain doesnt grow and you thank God for that because when you count your blessings and walk in gratitude for the time God gave you, He ensures that your joy multiplies in the memories.

It is not an easy journey and some days the strength to get up and move is almost non-existent. So, you reach out to the gifts around you, - be it the sun, open countryside, your siblings, your children, your friends, your job - things that continue to add to your life and you give thanks and you are strengthened for the day and the next one and the next one.

I have cried this morning. My heart was heavy and then I remembered this verse that a friend shared with us in our time of grief:

Lamentations 3:31-33

For no one is cast off by God forever.

Though He brings grief,

He will show compassion,

So great is His unfailing love.

For He does not willingly bring affliction

Or grief to anyone.

And for sure, in His unfailing love, He continues to bring us the healing we need. And Chanjo continues to live in these words:

I am still here

Because you are here

I still live in each one of you;

In your smiles

In your tears

In your laughter

In your talks

In your quiet moments

I am still here

Just Rambling On....

2011-06-16T22:40:00.001+03:00

You know, it's another month since you moved to another dimension. A dimension where we have one sided conversations going on....you know, me rambling on and imagining your answers. I am still pissed off with you for leaving so soon though it's not as crazy bad as Dec, 2010. The pain is there but I am remembering you without crying my heart out, the tears still fall but as if you are here wiping them away and whispering it's all good, the flow stops and I catch a smile. I hear again what you told me when I wouldn't stop mourning for John all those years and Chanjo last year and I know for a fact you wouldn't want me crying my eyes out.
Still, I wish you were here. There are conversations that I can only have with you, just one gesture and you would know what I was saying. So many things to laugh over, and marvel and decide on! Well, remember the car? I finally got a car but you know the way I dislike driving, right?! Good thing that I live in a country as superb as Kenya.....I got me a driver to pick me and drop me home; basically chauffer me around. Loolest! I know! Totally extravagant! But why not?! I have had the car for two weeks now, drove it the first time today. My left leg hasn't had this much exercise since ever! Arrrgh! This is really hard work and I really miss you here....you would still do the driving ta imajini? Lol! I guess I better get the hang of it so that I can get around easily.

Remembering Captain Kwame Waikenda

2011-04-01T00:30:00.000+03:00
A year ago, April rolled in and you were gone. This is my tribute then and my tribute even now. Hope you have met my Suzs. Miss you.

Kwame burst into my life with a smile and a witty remark that had me smiling and enthralled for life. He wasn't just Aunty Susan's nephew, he became my nephew too and a friend who loved me for me and always treated me with respect even though he would tease me mercilessly at times, he never at any one time showed me anything but utter respect. He made sure to stay in touch even in the days of handwritten letters, he would take time out and send me a letter or two. In the recent past whenever he landed, he would call me up to say 'hello, Mama Kris I am in town, let's meet'. And it would always be a surprise and I would be amazed by his thoughtfulness and consideration that in the few days he had in town, he would make time to see me. He did not only tell me I was a queen, he treated me as one and I felt honoured by his undivided attention, his openness and his trust whenever we got talking. That was Kwame's way of telling you that you were important, that you did matter and that no one should treat you anything but. Whenever we would chat online, he made me laugh, listened to my idiosyncrasies without judgement and when I didn't understand the marine jargon, he would break it down in English and never once would he get tired of making sure I understood; it's still Greek but tempered with Kwams flavor, it's easier on my ears.

I had the privilege to see Kwame at Mum's in 2008 December, he had invited me to have dinner with him and Mum, you know after the 'hello, Mama Kris I am in town'. And it was a beautiful dinner, an evening of great laughter and beautiful family moments that up to now warm my heart. Never in my wildest nightmares did I see him moving on to another facet of life so fast. He had hoped to come over this year and he made me promise that he would get to see Kris, (he jokingly would ask if I was sure I had a son), so that they could hang out and tell him all about his work. It's inconceivable that he is no more. I have cried many tears, tears he would tease me about, possibly tell me that it's okay, that though I wont see him anymore, he is the whisper of memory that will tickle my brain now and then. I will miss his beautiful smile, his wit, the quiet strength, his gentleness, his ability to make me feel like a queen, his passion for his work & his life, his commitment to his family and friends, his sense of purpose for his life and his childhood dreams. Definitely Google Talk will not be the same without him and someday, the tears and the pain will ease and I will remember Kwame with smiles, possibly gales of laughter.

So, till we meet again Kwame, may God hold you in the palm of His right hand, well, at least to ensure you don't get too worn out giving Gabriel & Michael a run for their wings. And I promise to remain ever fabulous and to always remember that a life worth living is one that is lived to the fullest, and gives it’s best to all people. I am grateful for the gift of you, a beautiful soul that I have loved unconditionally.

I love you. Amigos Para Siempre.

The Alphabet of Life by Iyanla Vanzant*

2011-03-31T13:13:00.001+03:00

The Alphabet of Life*

*From Iyanla Vanzant's Until Today! (March 31)

I open my heart and mind to be aware… how my ABCs will lift my spirit

Almighty Creator of the Universe
Beloved Father, Mother, God
Create in me a clean heart this day
Deliver me from the limitations of the ego
Exalt Your presence in my mind
Forgive all that I have held against you, myself and others
Grant me peace this day
Hold me steadfastly within the boundaries of Your truth
Inspire my heart to know You, my ears to hear You and my eyes to recognize You
Justify me in the presence of all enemies
Knead my heart with words of kindness
Let no harm befall me or my loved ones
May all I do this day glorify You
Nourish me with Your wisdom
Open my eyes to know Your truth
Purge my heart of all things that are offensive to Your law
Quiet my soul in the midst of confusion
Renew my connection to You
Save me from my secret fears
Teach me to trust You at all times
Use all that You have given me to serve You
Victory for Your cause is my desire
Walk with me so that my strength will never be diminished
Xamine my heart continually
Your love and grace are my good fortune
Zealously I commit myself to Your will for my life

Until today, you may not have been aware of the power of knowing the alphabet.
Just for today, practice making each letter in the alphabet come alive in your life.

Today I am devoted to relearning the entire alphabet of life!

What Was That?!

2011-01-12T00:01:00.001+03:00

I remember January 2010. I was excited. I took the day off to celebrate my birthday. Jan was definitely a happy month. Then Feb came along and the chips turned. My childhood BFF became a widow from a freaky mo'bike accident, just like that Adnan was gone. And the year took on a new feel, a heaviness that was well, heavy. I kept thinking of Kwix and Iraq and wishing him well. March was great, he got out of Iraq, safe and sound. There was a collective sigh of relief. I don't remember much else apart from planning end March to go on safari. April ambled in and off we went to Baringo, laughter, jokes, serious confessionals from the long drive seemed inevitable. Well, hell broke loose from a simple phone.....a phone call that I thought was bringing me Easter greetings and.....some twenty years later that was the end of my fabulous trip to Baringo...... Kwix was dead. I still remember the pain in the pit of my womb and the tears that wouldn't stop falling. I am not sure what happened in May 2010, I was in a kind of daze and I made plans to move.....didn't know where. June found me living with Suzs and it was fabulous. And as we were settling in, I remember a conversation with my big brother.....mundane conversation about bills and how goes life.....the calls you handle casually, always assuming that there will be a next time. That was on Monday in July. Suddenly it was Wednesday and he was in hospital and Friday we were talking with Suzs, trying to get to move him to another hospital and suddenly I wrote in my office diary 'Yeah though I walk
through the valley of death, I will fear no evil' and a very uncanny peace came over me. It was about 10.30am and the phone call came and yes, he was gone. I took a deep breath and drew strength from God knows where and went off to pick up Suzs and my other siblings. I wasn't going to cry.....I couldn't afford to cry anyway, not in the office, in the presence of everyone and definitely not before the family gathered. The tears came, gut wrenching tears and I missed John all over again.....some twenty years later...an older brother who was gone before I got to know him. And just when I was thinking the pain was over.....Dec rolled in and death showed up again and took my Suzs, just as unexpectedly.
Now as I struggle to understand 2010, to make sense of the pain, I find myself referring to the Book of Job in the Bible – Job3:4-10 and want to paraphrase to 'May 2010 be forgotten, may it be erased from
existence'. Yet, it's the same year that I have made some deep emotional connection without fear or strife. Unfortunately, the pain has overshadowed all the fabulous moments of 2010 and all I am left with are questions that beg for answers yet I know they will not make sense. So, the biggest questions is, 'Is there really a bigger picture or is it a bigger frame?' I still don't get it.

A Month & Counting

2011-01-11T22:50:00.001+03:00

It's 2011. Already?! So soon! And life goes on or so they say. Yet, I wake up thinking of you, of conversations we need to have, of advice I need to give and receive, of laughter to share, of Hot Lemon Ginger and cake at Java, the shopping sessions, of course with me not amused at how long you would take. I shake my head with disbelief at several intervals as the day goes on. Will this nightmare end? How will you know about Prada? Can you tell? Is this a path I should be on? Do you get the joy all this brings in the midst of a pain so tangible? Life seems the same yet I feel naked, bereft and in need of a hiding place. I am still pissed off, you know that right? We had plans, we were gonna start living life, remember? You let go! Why? It wasn't time, was it really? And you know what is annoying me some more, the fact that I can't break down, let the pain flood because it's really huge and I am alone and damn! what if I died? Silly, I know but I remember years back, many years back......waking up crying that you were gone and thinking I would die if you did. So, you see, now that you are gone, I cannot let myself cry like I did then. I know I still need to be here, take care of our babies and keep the story of you alive. Else how will they know?
Lol! Guess what, I am keeping up with the Hollywood 411! Crazy! Fashion faux pas, who divorced who, regular muhahes that you always seemed to know. Hmmm....must be you still. Work, well you know me, workaholic me, and every time I reach for my phone to call you and tell you what the boss is pissing me about or to ask what to do about this or that staff issue. Skype 411 isn't happening, you know? Do you think she will handle and Skype me soon? I give her time......just as you would tell me. Arsenal are still getting their asses kicked and you know I cannot deal with losing......yer, ta imajini? I may need to recruit someone to jeer and cheer with Kris when Man U kick Arssenal ass again. Ooops! Did I say that? Loolest!
I miss you in a way that cannot be expressed in words. It's like our baby girl asking if you took your phone with you and will you pick up if we call? Just to hear your voice again. To hear you laugh. To hug you. To hang out and sleep all day in between watching movies and snacking. And you rib me for being lazy! Just a moment of the mundane-ness of life would be a welcome reprieve just about now.
Well, I am here and you are not. Everyday I will need to get used to not having you here....I will have to accept that you aren't coming back. Slowly I am getting to the beginning of that end, an end that I didn't sign up for. So, you will get to hear more rambling such as these. Especially since sleep is becoming a wee bit elusive.Though I am pissed off, I still love you.

MuguRe: Capt. Kwame K. Waikenda

2010-04-17T17:27:00.000+03:00
MuguRe: Capt. Kwame K. Waikenda