Man, Hear Me Talk

Can You Hear Me Now?
Photo Credit: Found through Google Images. http://www.brainlesstales.com/2009-05-26/thumbkin
On January 31st 2016, I finally fulfilled my lifelong dream of moving to America. It’s such a arbitrary dream to have and to be 100 percent honest, I don’t really know why I felt crossing the Atlantic Ocean would give me a sense of achievement, but it was something that I had been wanting since forever. If I had to truly think about it I wanted to  accomplish this feat because for so long it felt like a pipe dream, a note that I had long ago blown the last horn on, yet it felt so essential to see it through. I never want to be the girl who talks about doing something and then not do it. So I did it. I dreamt. I wanted. I fantasied. I conquered. I did it. I saw my dreams through. I did. I didn’t just say I was going to do it. I did it.

I’ve lived here for a few months now, aaaaaaaaaaaaand,  America is not perfect but it’s my new home now and I am finally starting to embrace it as such. I am excited about this new chapter of my life. On the flip-side, I am also having to leave everything that I know behind to start afresh, and that is not so exciting. Apart from not having easy access to Morley’s 3 wings and chips or the ability to glide through New Look at any given time, the one other thing I miss is not seeing my Mum everyday.  Living without my Mum is odd, it’s kind of like losing a limb not realizing how much you need that limb and then having to spend the rest of your life trying to adjust not to having that limb. To summarize: I miss her.

A few weeks ago, after making it a more prominent focus in the main part of my brain to be more diligent with studying my Bible I woke up early, I took a casual stroll through my living room, fought away the early morning tiredness then I opened up my bible for a nice little reading sesh. One of my ‘SoulFood’ verses for the day was Deuteronomy 18: 9-13, which mainly warns God’s people to stay away from the occult practices of the land he wants to give them. Practices such as divination and sorcery, as they are “detestable to the Lord”. This verse made me think of the fact that I used to watch Charmed, you know, the show about three sisters chosen to protect the world from evil demons and whatnot. Not to add, my sister’s recent discovery of The Ghost Whisperer, a show about a woman who, you guessed it, whispers to ghost. I know, I was shocked too. Total mind blown. Whilst I indulged her by watching it with her (it was also around her 18th birthday and it felt rude not to let her have her own way). A part of me felt guilty, I wasn’t sure if watching this show was a good idea and I would grumble a little bit by complaining it was scary, but for the most part I kept my mouth shut. Then I woke up one lovely Saturday morning and lo and behold, this was one one of my bible verses the day?! I don’t know about you lovely folks, but I don’t believe in coinkydinks. I read the verse and thought ahaha!  I was utterly convinced this verse was for me. Gurrrrrrrl, you could. not. tell. me.nothing! Then I thought to myself, “why was I not more confident in expressing what my instincts were telling me whilst watching this show? Is that not part of the reason why I stopped watching Charmed because somehow I just knew it was wrong?”

As always with memories, it made me think back to a similar time in history when I was about 13 or 14 and my Mum was inexplicably hooked on watching horror movies. I used to cower in fear and I just remember having this growing sense of paranoia about the world around me. I was terrified that something was going to come out of the shadows and get me. I even remember this one time in particular when I was home alone, and I was absolutely convinced that something creepy was in the house with me. I hated that feeling of helplessness. I darted out of my house and raced down to Woolwich. I called my Mum, regaled her with my tale of dread and paranoia and absolutely refused to return home till she was home to assure me that there wasn’t a boogeyman under my bed, or as my little brother Samuel used to say, ojujujuju (my fellow Nigerians feel free to correct me in the comment sections, I always use this term and sadly I don’t know how to spell it. Tragic.)

This event took place a few months after I got saved for the first time. I am talking tongues, visions, rolling on the ground saved. I was for the first time serious about having a relationship with God. I wanted to savor the each morsel of the word of God so I persuaded my Mum to buy me a teen’s study Bible. I then spent a great deal of my time, day after day religiously reading and highlighting verse after verse till my bible resembled more a candy floss than a Bible. I used to excitedly recap my observations to my Mum who would listen to my keen interpretations, dutifully playing the role of the African mother who had finally got her headstrong daughter to read the Bible. Praise God!

One night as I went through my daily routine of scouring through the bible, I found something that stood out to me. I want to be honest here and mention that my memory is a bit shoddy. I  don’t really remember my thought process or how I ended up there, but I found a verse in the bible that I felt at the time gave me an argument to combat the fear I had been feeling. I don’t remember the exact wording, I have tried to conjure it from the deep parts of my brain. I even spent exactly less than 2 minutes trying to find the verse via Google. I wasn’t exactly successful. I scrolled through one page then decided nah, I’d just go tongue in cheek and hope I am not completely wrong. I recall it as pretty much going a little like “fear nothing but the Lord your God”. I don’t know what, but reading that made something click in my mind. I had, to be utterly crude, a brain fart. I sat my Mum down, and righteously explained to her in a way only a know-it-all 14 year old can that as children of God we should not watch horror movies as they make us fear things and we are not supposed to fear anything but God. My Mum stopped watching horror movies from then on (she is now hooked on Bollywood films instead – I give her a few years to be completely fluent in Punjabi). I know it might not be the most significant thing ever, maybe not even significant enough to warrant me writing a blog post on this subject, but it’s important to me because it is the first time I distinctively remember an adult taking me seriously and actually listening to what I say. It’s really the first time that I remember anybody listening to what I have to say.

It felt awesome.

*This post was supposed to be for Mothers Day, but I want everyone to know it was US Mothers day so my procrastination was not that extensive. 
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