My father was an amazing man. That’s how I remember him. I remember when he’d take us out for soda at Uncle Sam’s joint (
no relation) back in the day. I remember bowling green in Parklands. Is it still there? Near City Park I think. I remember tandoori chicken at some joint in Parklands too. He must have been a foodie, come to think of it. I must have gotten it from somewhere! I remember his hands. Strong, firm, with roughish palms, a result of peeling. As he held my little ones teaching me everytime we met, how to cross the road. *sigh 🙂
He died, my old man. Ages ago. Almost 16 now. I was young then. Didn’t understand much.
I didn’t even cry when my mum broke the news to Kris n I. Then it began to eat into me. . . All throughout adolescence. In highschool as everyone flung loosely tales of their super-hero dads, because that’s what we all see them as regardless of whether or not they pay attention to you, I had none. I felt like I needed to make up excuses for his absence, forget that he was absent by death. My mom, bless her soul, had stepped in to fill that void. Super woman this one. She was everywhere for Kris n I. She was everything too. . . And without complaining. Always reminding us that we were now the King’s concern. That God was our Father, and her Champion. [Psalm 68:5].That things were good for us, because we love God [Rom 8:28]. That we were in His hands. His business. And I wanted to believe her. I really did. 10years. I went through life. 10years. Then one day, at The Encounter weekend (a program of DCIK-Z), I let it all out in God’s presence. I mourned my dad for the first time, ten years later, in 2010. I let go. I allowed myself to believe God… And mum. And trust His hands. Or begin to, anyway.
And the healing process began. The tearing down of walls I’d set up as defence mechanism. The formatting of all the lies of the devil. The renewal in the spirit of my mind. I’m still God’s student, and oh how deeply I love it.
About a month ago,
give or take a few Rev. Geoffrey Mwithi travelled to India. Rev, truly is my father. I never asked him to be, initially. God just put him in my path. His 1st son is my boysest. 😂. (It’s not a word, but I’m a creative, so now it is. Go on ahead and explore more words, like boyser, its comparative. 😂) So being around him, made me a regular sight around Rev. He didn’t know much about me then. . . But it didn’t matter. He stepped right in. As a Father would. From calling me in for that probe, to calling me on phone just to tell me “Mwash, you can do it”. In my head I’m like, “I’m just about to have my dinner, dad. I can do this?” hehe. But I knew what he meant. I’d get into details, but zee word count. 😩.
So, he is perfectly healthy. He was there on sonship assignment. But on the last Sunday before his return the following week, he collapsed and went into a coma.
When my boysest called me about dad that Sunday evening, I was confused. It was like a joke. I fumbled, but with my words. I never fumble. Atleast not with words.
I remember saying to Hush, ” It’s a good thing it happened while he was in India, right? I mean, isn’t that the world’s medical capital? So he’s in the right place. In the right hands. ”
Only, there was no peace in me as I said that.
One peaceless week later, I’m praying about it all and God’s sharp correction comes in.
” He’s in The right hands“? He asks.
“Have you met them? The doctors in India. Have you? Do you know them? How, pray tell, did you conclude they’re the right hands? I mean, they could be back door entrants into the medical field with nary experience! ”
And God went on and on. And I broke down. I too was shocked at my lack of faith. (
Hello Faith 😘)
” If you’re gonna trust me, it’s got to show in your words. And your secret meditation too. I’m watching! ”
So I met up with boysest soon after. And undid that thought. And set it right. He’s in THE right hands. The hands that send forth instruction. That point in the direction of life, saying this is the way, walk ye in it[Isa 30:21]. The hands that wound, and bind up. That smite, but also heal[Job 5:21]. Those hands. God’s hands.
That to mean, that it didn’t matter really whether it had happened in Kenya, or in the Kalahari, or in Aitong, of the Mara, or in Kalampton, of Nyahururu. It didn’t. Because no hands quite match up to The King’s hands. Nothing even comes close.
And this peace flooded my soul. And I set myself on gear praise. . . And that’s what has been taking up all of my time lately. 💃. Dad isn’t back home yet. But there’s tremendous, miraculous progress. His recovery is winning souls already! Because in this pain was a plan, orchestrated by God’s own hand.
His sovereign, commanding hand that everything falls under. His loving, gentle hand, that all things are subject to. That all things cannot resist.
To think that everything in life, the highs, lows and in between is subject to God’s own hand. That he is supreme and over it. That it doesn’t matter how bad the situation is, it is a toothless bulldog. It has no will of it’s own. It cannot destroy you.
The Lord says, “I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. It was I who sent this great destroying army against you. [Joel 2:25 NLT]
It is God that sent it! He’s in charge of it all. Rest child! Rest! It cannot invade what God’s hand hasn’t allowed. It is not sufficient in itself. It is receiving instruction too! Whatever it is. The story has you victorious in the end. I mean doesn’t Jer 29:11 say it? There is yet a future for you. And a bright hope. And a glorious latter.
Quit complaining. Over that loss. Over that pain and suffering. Over that heartache. Over everything that has/is going wrong. Quit it. The worry is not worth it. That pity party is not for you. You’re not invited, child of God. You’re crashing. You know your God. [Dan 11:32]. Obey His Word. Be strong! Exploits await!
He sent it. For your own good. He’s your Father. Trust His plan. You shall come out with great substance. He’s your champion. Trust His strength. His name is God Almighty.
Trust His Hand.