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Situations we feel are the end of us, are actually ways God uses to give us a new beginning in Christ Jesus. A.M.A

                             I
         I had grown quite use to the terribly long walks from the University to my room. I was equally well acquainted with the clouds of dust raised each time vehicles sped by, especially the very old and rusty vehicles that seem to have barely survived the very poor roads of the early 21th century. They shook noisily when irritated by unfriendly potholes. The roads were completely parched and dried by the overzealous sun that shone down during the short dry season. It aimed at making its short reign memorable. I had been going home with friends, but they had branched off, meandering away through the quarter like a rivers in a jungle. I continued my walk, accompanied by heat and a little unwelcome mist of dust that trailed closely behind as my feet made contact with the ground.

          My destination,the room I lived in was dilapidated, slightly stooping to the left with age. The old building was a sharp contrast to it's new aluminum roof sheets, which my landlady looked at all-day with pride, commending herself for having taken a bold step towards innovation. Unlike my friends, I was wallowing in poverty, swimming about with no way to get out. Poverty was a friend since childhood. She was a permanent guest who sat at a dark corner and watched me strive to fill up my belly with meagre plated of food twice a day. For me, living was a difficult task, it had always been.

            It never was easy for my parents before my birth. When I was born, every guest left after the baby shower, the only exception being problems and it's few pregnant relatives. Things got worst when my father forgot to open his eyes one-day, after sleeping the whole night. He left, he died. My beloved uncles and aunts, my father's eight siblings came for mourning and left few days later, tugging away in their bags and cars two or three valuable possessions of ours. Their objective became clearer when they threw us out of our very own home and seized all that was left for reasons unknown to us. They treated us like strangers with incurable diseases, scoffing at us and reduced us to things less than human being with their abusive words. What I felt for them was more that hatred, it was something deeper.

                My mother and I had struggled to survive on our own. Mother toiled hard and endlessly, working herself to stupor to see me through school. She made sacrifices, even her own health was neglected. She often dragged herself out late in the night to clean hospital for very little pay leaving me tugged in on a thin foam spread out on the floor, and under a faded duvet with large holes designed by time despite my request to go along. Nevertheless, we pulled through and I was then in level 100.

           Thinking I was cursed was something I pondered on more often than I should have. I questioned God, but the silence that stretched on after I closed my lips simply drove me mad and left me annoyed for most part of the day. I felt I could never comprehend why some had it all set from birth,rolling their thick bodies on comfortable beds and soiling their lips with oil from various delicacies without lifting a finger.

        We weren't pagans for God's wrath to rest on us, Far be it for us to be. We were faithful members of a local church that my family had been part of for two generations. I was raised in church, listened to the doctrine taught and complied to the messages passed along like a sheep without any counteraction. I was equally baptised, confirmed and served dutifully even more than my peers who wasted away in night clubs and bars especially on Sabbath nights.

        Despite all that, pain was a close acquaintances, close physically and emotionally. I had been played twice in the game of love by men whose deceit and pretentious tongues had been exposed after I was cast away. I hadn't much, but I gave them my most priced possession. They turned me on bed as they pleased and left me aside like a forgotten thing, and I was indeed miserable.

         I had poured out libations and eagerly fed the mute idols lying idle at the back of our village home with hopes of turning things around for the better. Things got better, but only for a short while. Mother soon got into an accident that left me stranded and confused. I was lucky enough to borrow some money from an old friend whose hand was not keen on sharing. She visited everyday afterwards high in hopes to collect her money which I didn't have. I cunningly diverted her attention elsewhere till she left. Mother had been bedridden and laid motionless for a certain amount of time. But alas, she got well even though she never fully recovered.

          I had let doubts seep into my head as to God's existence. It didn't make sense in anyway, that a supreme being should exist and good people should live in turmoil. The "God loves yous'" of neighborhood preachers only seemed like a faint dream, words without weights. I had once heard a man preaching close to the university campus. His deep voice rang through the speakers and he clutched the microphone to his lips as he condemned drunkenness, gluttony, greed, and something else I didn't quite hear. As far as I could recall, I never participated in the acts he called 'Sin' . On the contrary I hated alcohol, gave out and never ate much, which led me into another thinking fit as to why my life had been so unbearable. I therefore concluded, that if indeed God loved, then he loved my friends. He didn't love my mother and he certainly didn't love me .

            Author's note (please read)

         There you have it. I am most certainly pleased to be done with this chapter all thanks to no one else but the heavenly God. Hope you enjoyed it.

              If you think you are not cut out for the Christianity stuff or it's not your thing, then think again. You probably might not know this but God loves you and he has everything planned out for your own good. Don't conclude your judgement on this chapter, read on to discover more, this is just a tip of the iceberg ( it's just the beginning). I dare you not to lay this short story aside but to read to the end. I assure you that blessing lies at the end of the story provided you read in between the line.

                 Question
         Have you ever been through a situation you felt was the end of you?? Some people haven't. What about you?? Have you? Waiting for your answer.

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