A thanksgiving close to my heart
‘God, I had been a fool.’ ‘Wow! I’ve never had any picnic like that.’ These were the things on my mind at the end of each of those two respective days. Jesus meek and humble of heart; make my heart like unto yours!
It all started with the salvation of lord. The G.S story was typical of an undulating tale. I had earlier known that the promises of the Lord were ever to be fulfilled, it just played out the course and every one was ‘seeing the dream.’ The joy was boundless. Plans bugged brains.
Events followed events and the thanksgiving arrived amidst the heat of the committee’s admirable scurrying. The hospital visitation brought tears to my eyes. I thought of the world we live in and yet understand not. We grasp only our own very lives, not others. Leaving there, I hoped to go to the Blessed Sacrament to seek for pardon and with the understanding that the only one who understands all life on earth is He hidden in there. Perhaps he could let me understand some so that I could then become less insensitive to the needs of our neighbours. A ‘new bible’ also made my list. I needed to give words of the creator to certain despairing souls there and wanted! I lay on my bed that night, in a sober mood pondering on things which I now cannot recall but feel subconsciously; I didn’t know it when my friend sleep came, he didn’t leave me, I was excused of him by a human being.
After a little delay, principally to my most regretted credit and which was resolutely paid off in some sub wise auto hurry, I made it to my vexed friends. ‘I thank you all’ was preferred to an ‘I am most sorry.’ We were just on time! We danced out ‘David’ at the thanksgiving procession. We awkwardly made it back to our seats conscious of the gazillion eyes bickering at opinions of us as they read out of our countenances.
At the site, on money matters, the ‘caretakers’ refused. God did His thing. Wow! Photo shots, skipping, footballing, setting venue, praying, taking: ice creams, garden eggs with groundnut paste, play competing: thug of war, dancing, pressing up, sack racing and play cards, eating: natural leaves foiled moi-moi and fried spaghetti, toasting wines, cutting the cake and having them, all in a flavouring of good music and in a very flexible framework, was mighty fun.
The day, our friend, had to leave; we had to go very reluctantly. To God be the glory, it was concluded. It would always remain ‘a thanksgiving close to my heart.’
Cyprain Gozie (Lifeline writer)
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