Many a time life has pushed us to the limits, to
the point of questioning the existence of god. During such grim periods, we
tend to ask, why me? We search every corner of our hearts and mind to see the
wrong we’ve done but see none. We feel like we are in a void and no one can
reach out to us and even tell us a word that would bring us comfort. We feel so
angry that we decide we have had enough of God and can’t pray to him anymore. As
human beings, we suffer from selective amnesia. In such situations, we forget
all the good we have ever had and focus on the little negativity. Yes, you don’t
have shoes, but did you know that there is someone somewhere with no feet? You can’t
afford a huge turkey for Thanksgiving, did you know that someone somewhere hasn’t
had anything to eat for three days? My word today isn’t of condemnation though.
It is of encouragement. Sometimes when things get too cloudy and you can’t see beyond
your nose, know that you are not alone in your predicament. When you can’t see
any help coming your way, don’t stress out or even start blaming others. Don’t curl
in a corner and cry yourself to sleep. When the night is too thick and your
heart is filled with fear, all you have to do is reach out. Wonders lie where
we least expect. Jesus Christ is that magical light that switches on when all
others go off. Jesus Christ is the biggest comfort when our hearts sorrow. He is
the hand that reaches out, pick us up when we fall by the road. My word today is,
when you think you are alone in the darkness, all you have to do is open your
eyes.
I will remember you, motherland I will remember you motherland, when my days are gone. I shall remember the sweet sun that burned bright on our oiled backs, the old sun that decided never to set, to stay and let us play all day. I will remember them, your young men, those we used to play with all day, roll in the dust and fight, love and hate. I shall remember the moments when we believed in life and in love. I shall sing of thee, my motherland, you who suckled us on your old, withered breasts, you who whipped us and took care of our little wounds every day. I will remember you, lovely home, you who condoled with us when we died inside, you who wept with us and smiled with us. I shall leave someday and wander away, for a lion that grows around his father will never roar, and a chick that grows along his father will never get to crow. Chin up, motherland, for here you go unforgotten, here you are, not written with ink but carved with thorns, thistles and sharp stones in my heart. I sha...
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