Empowering Through Training, Mentoring & Coaching


June 28, 2011 Uncategorized 8

Hi. I will try to do a summary of the many thoughts in my mind.

  1. Faces: it is great to talk with people who have subscribed to my blog and consistently receive my emails. Now, when I write some more, I will be writing with these individuals in mind, not just to express myself, but to talk with them too. It’s great, it’s also “wow-ing” when someone says they couldn’t reply to my email because the message was “too deep” or hit them real hard. I can only hope that that is in a positive way, and that it was both inspiring and blessing in a comforting and assuring way.
  2. Dumped: This Mr. Smart, allow me to call him so, decided that he wouldn’t text me anymore. Or at least not that evening, yet we had decided to finish conversing about a certain issue. But my Mr. Smart decided to play smart, me to outsmart, and thus broke my heart. But why break a heart, which was to him given as a gift? Because he wanted to spend time with his family, and all I got was “oops family time bye.” And I thought, and I wished, I wondered, and I hoped. I prayed. I almost cried. But I was in a mat, and had to act like an adult. So I swallowed hard. And thought, wishing that I was someone’s priority. That someone could put me on their priority list and lock out “the rest.” And now, I was part of “the rest” in my dad-search escapades. It hurt, my stomach turned, twisted as if in sixteen knots. My neck went with it as I swallowed even harder. God, why??? Then a still small voice began to talk to me. That I indeed was a prime person to some people. I am the only mother my daughter has, the only wife my husband has, the only second born to my mum, the only Anngladys in my family….and whether or not they said it daily, or at all, I was still important, prime. And no one could replace me. Or at least I encouraged myself again. And so I decided to encourage myself that way, and decided to make my family prime, not just in fact, but in reality and special treatment. That having been said, I still felt bad and tried to call…but his phone was off….these, are the struggles of a girl who misses a dad.
  3. Angry at God: Yes, sometimes it gets sour and bitter; it wounds both sharply and deeply, and makes me ask why. The Bible says that God is the father of the fatherless, and that’s cool by all standards….wait, did I say all standards? I could have meant many standards. Because you see, sometimes you want an sms, a phone call, an encouraging pat on your back, or a hug from a dad to say that he’s proud of you, he loves you. And much as I try to imagine God as big, fat, huge, huge guy, walking besides me and holding my hand or my shoulder…the best I can do is imagine. And only a physical, human, flesh-and-blood dad can do that. And so yes, there have been gaps, gaping vacuums, big, mighty big holes, which have gone unfilled. Sometimes they are filled with denial; sometimes they are filled with pain, sometimes with excitement…short lasting excitement that leaves me high and dry. And sometimes they are filled by faith, a little faith that helps me make it day by day, step by step, just knowing that today I’m okay, tomorrow will take care of itself.
  4. And then I meet his family: Yes, many times I have gotten to meet the families of my potential dads, or at least the people I admire in that way. And it is both a wonderful and sobering moment. Did I say sobering? I could have meant “sombering”. See, it’s great to see him in action with his family, with his wife and kids, and it is such a very, mushy moment. It is great to know that he’s a real deal inside and out, in public and with his family. It gives good credibility. But that’s about it. When you listen to them talk, their stories, their experiences, their hopes and memories, the dreams they share, the things they laugh about….it dawns on me afresh, that they are complete. They are knit together, unified. They are one. And nothing can come between them; nothing can be added to them.  Even if I wanted a dad in him, it could never possibly be like that with me. I wouldn’t share the brotherhood or sisterhood. I couldn’t share the mum-dad experiences. I’m just an outsider, I’m just “the rest.” And much as I enjoy those moments, sometimes I want to run away and hide, and cry to God and ask, why did you deny me that? I was a good girl, I was disciplined, I got my straight A’s why didn’t you give me a dad???? But then again I remember, I come back to my senses and realize that I have to be strong. For my family, for the girls looking up to me, expecting answers from me. For the girls who may not get an occasional sms from someone they admire, let alone get to see such a situation. And I remind myself, that for these, I have to be strong. I have to be an example of a God who works, a God who delivers, a God who cares and meets his girls’ needs.
  5. And so I need to be honest: it would be great to have a dad figure, and granted, I’d jump at the opportunity and grab it so fast, and so hard. But then again I may not, because I’ve done the cycle one too many times. So I have to have a meeting with myself and tell me the following, “AG, you are okay the way you are. God loves and cares about you. He is your father. And he does do for you things that no earthly father can do. Like understand your deepest secrets and share your deepest fears. And yes, you may want such a situation, but is it sustainable? Is it practicable? So what if you missed a few moments when you were growing up, are you going to go back to that age, create and enjoy those moments? You have to take the life you have now, and live it strong. You are an example. Encourage girls in the Lord. Not all of them can find what you found, even briefly. For those of them who have only faith to believe, for them at the very least, develop your relationship with God to a deep, personal level, so you can hear it from his heart what He wants to tell them. The needs are there, but they may not all be met. At least not in the way we envision. Okay? Cheer up now, and let’s go home.”
  6. Going home: I decide that I have encouraged myself enough, and continue to walk the streets of Nairobi, a bit faster now, thanks to the surge of energy resulting from my self-given pep talk. Until I look up at the heavens to thank God for the insight, and discover that the tall buildings around me make me feel so much smaller and tinier and frailer that I had felt before. Alone, in a big big world. No dad to hold my hand, no dad to calm my fears. I butt my eyelids to clear the mist, and walk towards my matatu. I have to get a car, I think. I’ve got to get home earlier than this, when the sun can still see me. I change my line of thought. I thank God for the alone time. I thank Him that He is always with me, and does not shut him out. And reluctantly, I thank Him for being a father to me.
  7. And oh yes: here’s the other thing. If the dad need was a program, I would search for it in the computer of my life, go to the control panel, and click “uninstall”, and when the machine would ask if I was sure about my decision, I would click yes and emphasize that with control+alt+shift+enter +++++++ everything else!!! Not that I haven’t tried, I’ve prayed it away, I’ve gritted my teeth, grinned and borne it, (you know, the grin and bear it thing), I’ve made vows, commitments…but I can’t keep them. I guess it’s beyond me, the dad need is something I cannot fight. It lingers no matter what I do. Maybe God has a purpose for it to be this way, perhaps for me, perhaps for me to help  other girls. I won’t fight God. I’ve told  him my heart’s desires, I’ll wait and see what He does, knowing that He has good plans for me, plans of good and not of evil, plans to give me a future and a hope.

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