For all of those who know me, I am the son of a teacher from a family of teachers. Please if you notice anything wrong about my grammar or punctuation, let me know before mummy sees it.

FATHER HOOD

On Sunday, my daughter turned 18. I remember that day, 18 years ago when she was born as if it was yesterday. It was not a particularly difficult birth. Not for me anyway. She did not cry much and I carried her towards the window to look at the moon.  I gave a heartfelt prayer of thanks and told my daughter to look up at the moon. That bonding process led to the relationship that we have now despite a number of setbacks along the way. She then rewarded me greatly by giving me all her “firsts” when I was around - step, word and sentence. 2 years ago, we were both heart-broken when she could not get into her preferred choice of sixth-form but then as we discussed her options, I then realised that my little girl was  growing into a young woman and I watched and listened to her in wonder.

It also takes me back to what might have been. 21 years ago, I had a son who was not to live long. Unfortunately, I was unable to deal with his passing as philosophically as my hero David did in a similar situation. After David’s first son (with Bathsheba) died, a sickly baby, the Bible says in 2 Samuel 12:22, that David said (and I paraphrase), “Why should I cry now when the child is dead? When the child was alive, there was hope. Now the child is dead, I will go to him one day.”

In 8 or so weeks, I lived and aged 10 years. I did not think or act rationally and long after his passing, every decision I made and every thought I had was around the birth and death of my son. Outwardly, I was able to speak calmly and quote the Bible to members of the local community who would come and share their condolences. Inside though was continuous turmoil, anger and rage, directed towards myself for being helpless about the situation. In reflection, perhaps, my anger was more directed at God. And then Sue arrived.

I thank the Lord that I had to go through the painful process so that when my daughter arrived, I appreciated her more. Like a wise woman said to me a short while ago, this too shall pass.

HOSANNA

This has been a year of coincidental dates. I shared my birthday with Mother’s Day, my daughter had her birthday on Palm Sunday.  I do not believe in astrology, or reading the stars, however I have asked the Lord that this year should be a year of success, a year of greatness, a year of prosperity for me and all I love. Lord as you make me prosper, may I touch the lives of all around me in a positive way.

THINGS FALL APART

Chinua Achebe died last week. He introduced me to Okonkwo, a conflicted man, who worked hard to achieve power and wealth to separate himself from his father’s legacy – and fighting the religion of the white man. What an agenda! In the end, he ended up committing suicide, therefore bringing about the shame and disgrace to his name that he had spent avoiding all his life. It was the first African writer I read by choice.  Then, I did not quite understand the mysticism and the complex nature of Okonkwo’s driven nature and the consequences. The lesson I learn from it now is hard work and riches amount to nothing unless God has a hand in it. Except the Lord builds a house (or a dynasty, or a family), they labour in vain that build it, Ps 127:1.