#31Days31Writers: Tessa says, “I don’t have to feel perfect to give thanks”

Tessa’s on today, and her post is one that invokes memories for me, and I’m sure for everyone else who has ever lost someone. Her voice is one of thanksgiving though, and it is a charge to us that even on the days when we just want to curl up in a ball and moan, we can (and should be) thankful. Harder than it sounds I know, but doable.

I am writing the 30 days of gratitude challenge and even though I don’t feel perfect inside me, I realise that I don’t have to feel perfect to give thanks.

Why don’t I feel perfect?

I am still getting used to the fact that my dad is gone.

My daddy died on the 1st of October in the early hours of the morning.

I didn’t think I would cry but I did and I grieve but in spite of that I’m grateful for his life and that he got his chance to make his peace with God.

Life without God is not a walk in the park. I’m writing on my way to church. I’m thankful to God that he got a glimpse of God even if he didn’t get to walk closely with God.

I am thankful for my family. For love, for life, for God’s grace and favour. I’m thankful for the victories that we have gotten and more to come.

I’m thankful of all things for the relationship I have with God, even though I’ve not been talking much to Him, just listening. I’ve not gotten my bearings yet.

In spite of my silence, God is still good, I keep seeing His hand around me, even in things I didn’t pray about. I am kind of low on compassion these days cause I am looking out for yours truly.

I am thankful for the new year and this one. It would be interesting to see how we cope without our dad and who he was to us. I am confident though that God is not going anywhere, he remains in the midst of us, lifting, guiding, protecting, defending and leading us and most of all, I am confident he has good thoughts for us.

Nothing prepared me for this but I believe it’s the right time. It happened at the time that God allowed. I’m stretched on all sides trying to be everything for my family members and failing.

Now, from this moment, I surrender it all to God, He is the One who knows how to take care of us all, all the aspects of our lives, and most especially, our inner man, He knows how to soothe the hurts, how to work through the pain, pierce between soul and Spirit and bring peace and calm, he knows how to sort between friend and foe and bring helpers, Jonathan’s, sent by God.

He knows how to take off the pressure and lead beside the still waters, so even though I weep, I’m grateful for new things.

I trust God to make a way in the wilderness and bring streams in the deserts.

So in all the awesome things that have happened and in the passing of our father, the One God gave, I give thanks.

O Give thanks to the Lord, his mercies endureth forever.

First off, my most profound condolences on your dad…it is well with you. Receive strength and comfort from The One who gives and gives and gives. Plenty hugs, your family’s in my thoughts and prayers.

Second, I envy your relationship with God, seriously I do! And I trust Him for grace for myself to be able to lean on Him completely. 

Hey aunty… what’s happening in heaven?

In the last five days or so, there has been one reference to my aunt or the other. And each time I’ve smiled. Not because I don’t miss her (and I miss her terribly), but because… I don’t know.

I think of all the times she said things like, “it will get better, this thing you don’t seem to have now, no be this life? You go get am tire.” If only she knew how true her words were!

I stumbled on one of the songs that helped me get through her passing this morning, and I played back the 22nd of July 2013 real quick… how from a phone call about 5am my life literally became a blur for months on end. How I refused to go to church for a while after she passed, and then getting super angry the day I finally went because the pastor started preaching about how God could heal everything, including cancer. I remember I was like, “yeah, and you had to preach this after it killed my aunt abi?” And of course that meant I didn’t go for a bit after that.

I remember when we checked to see if my nephew would remember her (he was like a year old when she passed), and of course he didn’t (I wonder what we were thinking). I felt a little upset he didn’t remember the person who was literally his nanny when we all went to work, who was there from the first day of the pregnancy, encouraging my sister, spoiling her (because of her own struggles with pregnancy pregnant women could do no wrong in her eyes, lol), how she spoiled my nephew with gifts, and how he loved playing with her, and then falling asleep on her big body. I think that was all the children around then, who didn’t want to sleep on Big Mummy’s body?

I miss her o, kai.

I remember attending Winners’ Chapel Durunmi, and us queuing for puff puff every Sunday after service. It was like an unspoken ritual. Even if we were all angry with each other, we would still buy and so would start talking to each other from eating the puff puff in the car.

Aunty was a unifier; like she couldn’t stand for malice, quarrels and all of those kind of things. I remember quarrelling with an ex once and he called her to report me (the gall of that man). She invited him to the house and we were sat in her office. She was trying to ‘settle the fight’ but I guess we were arguing too much. Know what she did? She got up, left the office, and locked us both inside. Said she wouldn’t open the door till we had sorted out whatever was making us argue like we were strangers. Lol!! I nearly popped an artery from anger! But she didn’t open the door! We eventually settled down, had a conversation, and then she opened the door.

I love her. I really do. Years ago someone stole my parents’ numbers from my phone and sent them lies about me. My parents (resident outside Nigeria at the time) rang her and she stood up for me. Not only did she do that, she went to the person I had wronged according to the lies, had a conversation with her (that one had only sweet things to say about me), and got the woman to call my folks to tell them not to be bothered about whatever message they had received because it was a lie. I didn’t know she’d done this till my folks called to say, “this is what your aunty Pat did”.

God bless her, I have stories for days! Interestingly, she ended up telling me which of my friends had done the texting, and about a year or so later, we were right. She’d been cautioning me about a friend who she said had envy in her eyes and would rubbish me if she could; one who would come spend nights with me but would say things like, “na wa, how can only you have this or that?” I never took it seriously, till an incident involving a job a few years later. I’m sure I heard the Yoruba proverb, “the insect that kills the vegetable lives on it” at least a million times when she was alive.

The memory of the righteous is blessed. You’re blessed aunty. I love you and miss you everyday.

Because I miss her…

I wish, I wish, I wish. If all my wishes came true, beggars would ride (fly sef), Boko Haram would be history, Nigeria would truly exemplify ‘Giant of Africa’ in words and in deeds, and my darling Aunty Pat wouldn’t have succumbed to cancer. Nah, she wouldn’t. She would have beat it so bad she’d have obliterated it, never to trouble anyone else, never to cause anyone the pain and suffering her exit left us with. The emptiness, gaping void…

I miss her everyday – the memory of her in my heart is living, breathing, possessing a full life of its own. There is so much to catch up on, stories to exchange, gossip to whisper (and laugh about), shopping and travel to get through, foods to cook (her fried rice is legendary and till date the only way I know to make it) – there’s so much she’s missing out on because she’s not here!

I miss her. Kai. I miss her in ways I cannot explain.

All the prophecies she’s made (about my friends and I) have come to pass – plus the ones she said would attempt to stab me in the back o, the things I worried about, things I wanted to achieve – God has taken care of, just like she encouraged me. And she’s not here to laugh and say, “no be me tell you say make you no worry?”

I was in church on Sunday (House on the Rock The Refuge) and in the midst of dancing my heart out in appreciation to God, I teared up with a speed I didn’t think was possible. Why? The choir sang a song my aunty used to sing, even in the height of her pain. Gorgeous woman.

Funny, I was chatting with my sister earlier this evening, telling her of something else God sorted for me today. Guess what, our comments were the same! Different wording, but the same thought: we would have wanted to share this with her, and we just knew what would happen when we did!

Aunty, quick message to say I love you loads. And I miss you everyday. Keep resting, I can imagine you and Aunty NK are causing quite the ruckus up there, keeping God and the angels entertained. Give them kisses from us here ok?