Wait upon the reason for the season

“Any animal that exists, was in Noahs ark.

The Snail is one of those animals.

If God could wait long enough for snails to enter Noah’s Ark,

His door of grace won’t close till you reach your expected position in life. Never look down on yourself. Keep looking up….because broken crayons are still colours..”

Sometimes the light at the of the tunnel seems to keep receding and the last mile is just never the last mile. It becomes as if it were a game of the never ending last mile. What you want, what you crave, what you are searching for becomes a mirage… always more than an arms length away on the better days. But those are the days when your legs are so calloused that they won’t let you leap that arms length. The days when you are so drained all you can do is look. Arghhh, the folly of it all.

And somewhere out there, someone is singing, dancing to their hearts delight, shouting out loud how good life is. They seem to have stepped into their mirage. They have merged with the light and there’s no tunnel.

So God, please do not stop waiting for me, do not bloat out my mirage just yet. Please let this little snail called me reach it one day. Lord, where I am today, I could melt and roast in my own fat. And that tunnel, Oh Lord, you how at my size it’s really an impossibly tight squeeze.

But I believe that the camel went through the eye of the needle, only having to leave it’s load at the entryway. Teach me Oh Lord, how to travel this journey lighter. Help me to unbuckle my load, so I can travel this Lenten season with you.

To walk more closely with you Lord, is my Reason for this Season🙏🏿

Miss Me, But Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me, I want no rite in a gloom-filled room, why cry for a soul set free? Miss me a little, but not too long,and not with your head bowed down, Remember the love that we once shared, miss me-but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take, and each must go alone, it’s all part of the Masters plan, a step on the road to Home. When you are lonely and sick at heart, go to the friends we know; Laugh st the things we used to do, miss me, but let me go.

To be gone but only from sight

George Ng’ang’a Gikanga aka Daddy 18.01.1983. 35 years gone by.

It has been more years without you than I lived with you but memories of you could fill an ocean.

Today I remember you with a great sense of calm. You know the kind of inner peace that comes from perfect assurance. A feeling that I am justified and entitled to claim to call you Daddy and say that I am your daughter. Somehow it was as if all these years I feared you would leave, yet you were already gone. How could I fear you leaving after you had already died? But now I seem to have found a place where I am settled in the conviction that nothing can hurt our relationship. It is for keeps. It’s a long distance relationship but it’s real. A One way ticket kind of journey without a baggage allowance.

Though death is painful for those left behind, I wonder how it feels to have a parent walk away from their family by choice.Which “death” is more painful, or is it just different kinds of pain?

Daddy, thank you for choosing to stay and be with us for the time you had on earth. Yes, the contentment and sense of entitlement stem from the realization that when you were alive, you chose us, your family and stayed to the last day.

Thank you Daddy!

01.01.2018 @ 00.01

At the stroke of midnight, the moon stood guard, lighting up the precious first seconds of the first day of the new year 2018. Mmh..the night has its own special appeal even in its black and grey hues.

It looked like any other night, any other new day. But it seems we attach a lot of importance to the first anything. Did anyone record the last minute of the last year? Does “finishing” not matter as much as “starting” does? Is that why we start so many things and leave them incomplete, excitedly running into the next “new”? Supposing there was only the first day and then we counted on and on, no cycles? Would we treasure our days more, knowing there would never be another cycle? Cycles make us believe that there’s a next time. Is there ever really a next time. Would we appreciate this time if we believed there would never be another like it?

My Lone ranger

Flamingoes are gregarious wading birds, They live in large flocks in aquatic areas. A group of flamingoes is called a “pat”.

I thought I was at L. Naivasha only to discover that what was once a part of L. Naivasha is now it’s own lake…,Lake Oloiden. This is a saline volcanic lake that produces spirulina, the bacteria which is the main food for lesser flamingoes.

So what was this flamingo doing all alone in the early evening? Has it left the “pat” in preparation for death? Is it sick? All day I had watched so many flamingoes and other birds flying around, but no loner. And because they were so many, I saw them but did not really see them as individuals till the Lone Ranger appeared.

Sometimes our uniqueness gets lost in the crowd. While in a “pat” would this flamingo still have had space to be alone? Does a flamingo experience aloneness in a crowd as we so often do?

Maybe tonight I shall get the opportunity to ask my Lone Ranger flamingo, though the last time I tried to approach him he flew away. I think he doesn’t get taken in by ‘forward Ladies”.

So in the afternoon I got an opportunity to go out on the lake and look for my Friend the Lone Ranger. And in my 30 minutes of sailing I saw 2 flamingoes ang uncountable scoops, pods or squadrons of Pelicans. So it seems this lake now has a greater population of Pelicans than Flamingoes hence the lonesome swim by my Lone Ranger .

Till next time my friend the Lone Ranger of lovely lake Oloiden.