Like an Opaque Gem.

So striking every time a drop of color touches water then stains and ripples form into oblivion and it’s back to just being water…drip…drip…drip, like squeezing ink from a pen when razor meets skin and now we can’t tell red from the clear, colourless, odourless, tasteless, liquid.

Upright post with a transverse piece when razor meets skin…another indelible cross marking. May be after this one, someone will notice. May be after this one, someone will say something. May be after this one, I won’t have to…

So striking every time a drop of color touches water then stains and ripples form into a colorful cloud, frozen in time like an opaque gem when razor meets skin…drip after fast drip, like an excited lover rain eager to touch the ground’s lips.

Upright post with a transverse piece when razor meets tender wrist skin…two final indelible cross markings. Nobody noticed. Nobody said anything. So I have to…

So striking every time a drop of color touches water and color becomes water then all we have is pool of color; the opaque gem. Crystal red.

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Purpose.

You were born to change the world; yet you make it seem like your destiny is just to add to the noise.

You were born to change the world.

Mediocrity.

I keep feeling I am not yet ready to write this piece, not leaven enough, not spiced enough, not enough words to get to the end; only because I am relying on myself to do that, looking down; forgetting that Great is He who is in me than he who is in the world.

Isn’t this what most of us do? Settle on mediocrity (Mediocre + Christianity)? We settle on “enough” and claim that God’s power within us is only for the selected few and not the entire Kingdom.

We refuse to be consistent in practice with our gifts in order to grow them; mediocrity. We convince ourselves that we have finished growing.

We’re cowards. We block the gifts set out for us by settling, feeling we have enough or by being scared.

We’re so scared of realising our full potential as Christians that we miss out on the gifts meant for us; on the full glory of God.

One Sun Filled, Rainy Day…

On most days, I am fire. On those days I am not, it is because my self doubt has turned those flames into technicolour popsicles.

“One day, I shall write a book”…then poof goes those words and up goes the ashes but I am not risen because, well because…self doubt.

On most days I am fire and because these words are not my own; because these words are from the Father, these most days shall overcome those cold ones and because of these most days, one day I shall write a book.

Self righteous Kindness.

I always say, I would rather the person that begs for food than that who begs for money. More so, I’ll wholly give whatever meal I have to the former but reluctantly give coins to the latter.

I have an even bigger problem giving to those who have able hands and legs to work but choose to beg. Question is, is my difficulty to give just an excuse for my selfishness?

Close to two weeks ago, as we were headed for shopping with my brother, a man approached me right about the entrance of the supermarket. (When I’m walking in Nairobi, all my senses are extra alert in a spiderman kind of way, I really don’t like those streets).

He held my elbow for attention, not in a ruthless way. His hand felt cold and ghostly, very distant, almost begging for attention but never reaching it. I could feel his presence even after he had left.

Right then, my senses went to overdrive so his voice was at such a distance as I tried to calculate my next move, James Bond type of thing. So I heard the words “njaa”, and “chakula” and I could barely make out the rest as I said “wacha niingie hapa ntakuchukulia kitu.”

Did I even say that out loud? Did I play it cool or did I look like I was running for my life? I might have played it out in my head like roses and feathery cushions but in real sense I feel like my reaction was prickly because of how bruv came to “my rescue”.

In reality, I was traumatised, I was scared and I could barely speak. I felt like I had been tarnished. I felt confused and my mind violated. Yeah, I know. I wondered why as well.

So Matt and I decided to get him milk though Matt asked, “Are we getting him milk because we want to or because we feel guilty, especially cause of that begging for food thing you always say?” When we left the supermarket, he wasn’t there to receive it.

Above all things that bothered my mind on that day, my reaction topped the list. I pride myself in being so very kind but I am not. My pride is filled with so much self righteousness that I have forgotten why I should be kind in the first place.

As I played through that scene, two scenes came to mind, one; of Jesus with the many needy people He came across and his reaction to each one. The second scene was of me and how I should have reacted to that man outside the supermarket.

God is amazing for showing us our faults and providing a solution; no guilt trip whatsoever, hadi unafeel kujipeleka guilt trip mwenyewe cause, how incredible is this?

I have hardly seen a person show compassion while tossing that coin to a begger, I see how busy we get on our phones when they pass by, how fast our paces get when they try to approach us.

I know, just like you know, that this world is filled with wickedness and with that, many fraudulent ways for people to get our money. Two questions: won’t you just use that 50 bob you would have given for uuuuum lol obviously sio kununua gari…also, why can’t we just trust THE GIVER, not the given.

If the ticket to heaven was to only those who can show compassion to the needy on the streets by just love, sitting next to them, holding their hand, hugging them, without feeling even an ounce of ickiness, I wonder how many people would qualify?

Boneless Bones.

I haven’t met many people with disabilities, but those that I have, are the kindest human beings I think I’ll ever meet in this place that is earth.

I like to think that it’s because they have experienced God in ways we never will.

In the darkness we think the blind go through; there is incredible light that they see the face of our amazing God.

In the deathly quiet we think the deaf experience; there is echos of forever beautiful music by the Angels; the assurance of God’s voice.

In our flesh eyes, we see the limp, the crawl, the limbless formation and we feel pity, disgust, indifference, fear.

I remember reading about a young man, Eduard, who’s father had set out what he thought to be an uber future for him, take over the family legacy; become an ambassador after his father. All Eduard wanted to do however, was paint. Paint images of Paradise from his visions. His parents took him to a mental institution and he was diagnosed Schizophrenic.

We might feel lucky, even proud to be what is considered good, unbroken, complete. But we’re very unfortunate to have the flesh lead us for it is weak and the heart is wicked.

Do not Pass us By.

I find family lunches quite special. Every single person of the family makes an effort to be there and at the end, we’re all there, at The Alps; it overlooks the whole of Vegas (Nakuru),with a chance of a Flamingo filled Lake. The site is one to behold.

As we’re about to leave, I hear Ice (darling sister) say, “The Generation of Today…” and for a moment I think she is referring to a table filled with jittery ladies; not jittery for one another. They are all face down on their phones.

I am about to comment, then she says, “Baba, Mama, Mtoto; wote wako kwa simu na wameketi kwa meza moja.” She is referring to the table just next to the one with the ladies. So much for family lunches being special.

Then Wind (beloved brother) makes a remark of how we (humans) are always chatting making plans to meet. Then we do, but we’re on our phones during the meet up talking to someone else who’s not in the presence. After the hang out we text each other of how lovely the lunch was. What made it lovely though? You can hardly remember what color shirt the person opposite you was wearing. Nor can they. The cycle continues and we invite out the other friend we were chatting with during the former hangout and still do the same thing.

During family dinners, a basket has been put out for all phones because obvy, no phones at the dinner table. But is that really necessary? Are the people you’re about to sit with so unworthy of your company that you need your phone to solidify your presence?

We might all sing along to ‘Do not pass me by’ and truly mean it. Question is, what if He already did come…and passed us by, our heads low wasting away, our eyes one with the phone screen?