It is Well, Really

Today, my Playlist randomly picked that old hymn, “it is well with my soul” (albeit a version by Kristene of Bethel Music 🎶) and it was my first time hearin' the song since a couple of months.

Every time I have heard that song in the past, I’ve intentionally checked out. It’s the song that more than any other holds the power to take me to a place the way only a song can; as if I’m really there again - freshly mint graduate 🎓 covered in acne and scared shitless by her own feelin' of confusion.

It would take me half a decade to understand what was goin' on with me then, that it was completely and utterly normal, every feelin' of grief I had at the time, includin' relief. So normal. But I didn’t know it. I loathed myself and I loathed the world for movin' on without me. Loathin' was all I knew.

This gorgeous old song transported me to a time so enveloped in despair it actually suffocated me. Then today I’m layin' in bed when I hear that familiar tune and without a single thought in my head I found myself runnin' towards the sound rather than away. I found myself now sittin' while the song played on and lettin' every note wash over me, every word sinkin' deeply into my bein'

And there in that moment, I was good. I felt so good. Oblivious of my thoughts 💭 in the last few minutes. The only feelin' in that moment was one of the deepest gratitude because I’m finally at a place in my life where I actually relate to those words, “it is well with my soul.” It really truly is. I am deeply and completely at peace from head to toe. And nothin' could be more than that. Because it has absolutely nothin' to do with “time healin' all wounds.” That’s not even a true sentiment.

To work your way from undone and alone and terrified and clueless to pure delight in life itself. That’s the warrior’s journey. It is not time that makes things okay deep in our souls. It is the great work of God in our lives. It’s toilin' and tendin' and survivin' and blood, sweat, and tears. It is the path of a brave warrior.

If you’re at despair today, I want you to know there’s hope, so much hope. You are not alone and this cloud 🌥 won’t always be there. It shall pass!

Someday, someday soon, the showers of grace will rain down on you and will make everythin' new again. That pain may never be transformed into somethin' painless. It will most likely always hurt. But you’ll teach yourself to tend to the pain. It’s not anybody else’s duty to help you move past what’s so personal to you. Eventually all that tendin' and toilin' will lead you to wellness. A wellness so deep and so real and so true it’s indescribable except to sing, “it is well with my soul.”

HIS PRESENCE

Several months ago, I was so angry and disillusioned with God. I had to basically drag myself to church, where I always sat with my arms crossed, stood with my heart hardened, not singing a note, and not liftin' a finger in worship. I didn’t even open my Bible for several weeks. Anxiety had set in. Thankfully, a heart and attitude change finally happened.


Before then, there was a particular moment I could never forget. As I was singin' with the choir at church, I was suddenly overwhelmed at the unmatched depth of true love our Saviour has for us. In the times I was upset, He was patient with me. In the times I groaned, He listened and comforted me. In the times where I questioned Him, He stayed steadfast with His arms open.


See, the very thing I was tryin' to avoid was the very thing I should have been runnin' to - His presence. In my despair, I crawled there. In my anger, I took my heaviness there. In my emptiness, I found strength there.


Whatever you are dealin' with, get to His presence. Run there. Limp there, if you must. Ask someone to carry you there. Just get there. You may not get all the answers you’re seeking, but there is healin' and wholeness there. There is love there. There is peace there. There is joy there. There is strength for each day and hope for tomorrow there.

Just go to His presence and bloom!

DEPRESSION

I experienced a period of depression last year. Somethin' I have never comprehended before. If you know me personally, you know that though I have a melancholic demure, I am more or less as happy as a puppy in mud. I am perpetually worry-free. All the time. Well, most of the time. I wouldn't say it's because of some zen balance I have or some cheerful wisdom. It is simply my disposition, as given to me as my skin colour or height. I've always been that way. And because of that, I have always struggled to understand depression. I am usually so happy to be alive, so grateful, that depression always seemed an insult to God.

But August 2016 changed that for me. Somethin' happened to my brain, my serotonin or whatever it is called was off on vacation, and I became miserable. I didn't want to get off the bed for my run in the mornings. I couldn't comprehend someone lovin' me. I could neither laugh at House of Payne nor Jenifa's Diary (and if you know me, that's insane). My depression, no, it's not mine. That depression wasn't passive, it wasn't just boredom or an absence of joy... it was a pulsing, active sadness. A mind racin' with misery. This was wholly new to me. My mind was swarmin' with the futility of me. I remember lyin' on the sofa wonderin' "is my brain broken? Is this me now? Is this my life? Is this how I kill myself?"

I don't talk about the devil much. I hate to give him too much press or credit. But sometimes, there's no way around it. He’s got to be called out for who he really is - a liar. He toys with our hearts, messes up our minds with lies. And boy, you' re done for if you believe him. That's what happened to me. I paid attention to him and he did so serve me his lies.

Then came September with quite a handful of heart-wrenchin' news for me. The irony however? That depression, it was over, it ended. I was myself again. As randomly as it had shown up, it left. Though I woke up heartbroken all month long, I gradually felt the beauty of the world return. It was as if God turned his face from me. And then he looked back again and touched me, held me.

I was so amazed by the organ of the human brain. Shaken up really, humbled by its fragility and physicality. We have all these ethereal constructs for self and soul, but take a chemical out of your brain, and you change. Lookin' back one year after, I have new empathy and respect for depression. Well... For the people who lived and died with it. For people who carry that weight. I am amazed by their strength really.

This time last year, I walked into a deep valley that, if I could tell you at the time, I was not prepared to walk through. I look back now and say, "it was for His glory and my good." I am not the same woman that I was a year ago, and judgin' from that experience, I am far from the woman I need to be. But great is His faithfulness unto me, I still bloom!

DECISIONS

If your dad had a farm and worked hard in his youth and planted many crops, and no calamities came to him or his farm, you would grow up with a full belly.

If my dad had a farm and didn't work hard, or fulani herdsmen destroyed everythin' on it, I would grow up hungry.

Either way, you and I didn't earn our beginnings. You didn't earn a successful father any more than I earned an unsuccessful one. We were fated to them.

You, the well fed child, would be strong and perhaps with enough leisure time to develop other skills, ones that make you competitive. You would assume your childhood is what all childhood is like.

I on the other hand would be frail and lookin' for food. My dad may be frail too. I may have to look after him. I may be hardened by the meanness of my fate. I may distrust and therefore refuse to develop any skills.

You may meet me on the playground (though unlikely because we wouldn't go to the same school) and ask why my clothes are dirty. I would be ashamed. You may be kind and successful. I would most likely be hard and sad. Both are a self-affirmin' spiral.

Now imagine this cycle over ten generations. It just repeats itself.

There is a paradox in our thinking: to believe that the efforts or misfortunes of our parents greatly determine our lives (this is logically true), while simultaneously believin' that we come into life on equal footin' and that our successes are ours to boast about.

This seems responsible for the tension in the air. The sins and efforts of the father, the abuse and wealth and crookedness and goodness, all commingled into history. We wake up into life profitin' by, or disadvantaged by, the events of our ancestors. We're proud of some of the things, we ignore others. We stand on the shoulders of great humans and the backs of the enslaved or cheated and yet, here we are, responsible for our own lives, takin' credit for our hard work and our careers, blamin' the junky for his weakness, praisin' the entrepreneur for his work ethic. Ignorin' the puppeteer of history and consequence.

You see, someone once said: when you are born, you look like your parents. When you are old, you really only look like your decisions. Make the right decisions if you wanna bloom.

SAME CALL, DIFFERENT ROUTES

Last week, I got stuck in terrible traffic – traffic so bad it took me almost 30 minutes to go less than ¼ of a mile.

I was on my way for an appointment. Since plyin' that route, traffic has been almost non-existent, so it wasn’t somethin’ I had planned for. I left home with what would have been plenty of time to spare, but due to a messy accident down the road, I found I was cuttin' it close.  And to make matters worse, I absent-mindedly left my phone at home, so I could neither look up a faster route on google map nor contact the person on the other end to let her know I was runnin' late.

At that point, I had to make a decision. I could either sit in that traffic, which would have resulted in me missin' out on my commitment, or I could take the only other route I knew of - a much longer, less direct route. With about 15 minutes to spare, I decided to turn around and go the longer, less convenient way. My flustered, frustrated self, made it there - and right on time too.

Sometimes, I think we find ourselves in similar situations when it comes to followin’ God. God may call us to something, and we commit to answerin' that call. We think we know what we are gettin' into - what the journey will look like. And then, just when we think we have it all together, God makes it clear that our ideal route is not His route. And it’s in those moments that we have a decision to make: we can either miss out on what God ultimately has in store, or we can buckle up and take the longer, harder, holy route.

God can change our course without changin' our call. Let’s be faithful and choose the route He has for us. Even when it’s puzzling. Even when it’s challenging. Even when it’s untimely. Even when it isn’t ours. Don’t miss out on God’s plan if you wish to bloom.

WHEN I SAY IT, I MEAN IT

For most of my life, I was reserved with words like the ones above. not just those, endearin' words too. I wanted it to really mean something, didn’t want to give it away too easily (really gotta make people work for it, you know? LOL) and I certainly didn’t want to waste it on anyone who didn’t love me back. Selfish, not so?

What did such carefulness get me? Only a whole host of habits and practices that kept me “safe” but also blocked almost all of the love that was possible in my life. I was “doing everythin’ right”, but I was trapped in my own little world. It wasn’t until a few years back that I began to tell people how I feel about them. 

When I feel it, I say it. When I say it, I mean it. And when I mean it, I don’t need you to say it or mean it back either. Hearin’ it back feels good, don’t get me wrong. But love isn’t a bargainin’ chip. I don’t need people to love me back in order to love them. Love is its own reward.

Most of us do not need to be more careful with love. We’ve been careful enough. We need to unlock the well of love buried deep within us, the one we left untapped because people told us love was dangerous and wicked and that it would get us into trouble and get our hearts broken.

No doubt, it may get you into trouble. Welcome to life! And yes, it may get your heart broken. That's part of it, that's what love does. It breaks us open. But keepin’ it locked up down is keepin’ you stuck in a tiny little life you don’t even want to be living, trust me. You’ll only come to realize that you’re trapped in a cage you don’t even remember gettin’ in. So, speak the words as often as you mean it. Splash it on that person, just like I'm doin' on this post.

In the perfect words of one of my favourite artists Audrey Assad, "love given freely becomes what it ought to be." I'm not waitin’ around anymore for love to happen to me. I am love and I am happenin’ to me, so much so that I bloom.

EACH OF US IS LAYERED, COMPLEX AND MANY

Who you are can shift with who you're with. Different people bring out different aspects of your personality. You can probably see this in your friendships. Hang with one friend and you're hilarious. A different friend and you're deep and calm. Another and you're sinister and a prankster. We all contain multitudes, and only by the unique mixology of each person with another do we really get to know ourselves.

I notice this mostly when my friends start datin' someone who doesn't quite fit the mold. The added energy or lack thereof from the new person throws me off, confuses me about the unspoken desires of my friend, and can affect even how I see my compadre. I might see the hole in my friend's identity that they're fillin’ with this new person, and be surprised by their inner life, one I never knew.

On the flip side, some relationships I know are fire and fuel, in the best way. They ignite what is wonderful in each other, and I love to hang out with them together as much as I do apart. For me, that's the end goal.

Sometimes I wish I could just decide, based on reason, who I am and who I get attracted to. I've tried, trust me. But the cruel beauty of the heart is that it speaks in an ancient language, as deep as instinct, and can hardly be reasoned with. You do not know your heart. The head and the heart bicker. And I pray that one day, in one person... they'll both, finally, agree.

In the meantime, I'll be mixin’ my spirit with all the ingredients around me, the personalities and idiosyncrasies, and meeting myself in them and them in me. That way, I may also bloom!