For God and Country...

Today is memorial day and there's this story that wont give me rest until I write it. It was inspired by a 19 year old boy who wanted to become an army surgeon and died on his first assignment, the summer before he was to start college. Here goes...

Scott Smith Snr. shoveled the first bit of earth onto Scott Smith Jnr.'s coffin as the minister continued to recite a passage from the book of prayer. He wiped his sleeve over his brow as if to get rid of sweat but everybody saw it for the camouflage it was, for it was barely 30 degrees Fahrenheit and many who had been deceived by the early morning sun and had not dressed warmly were visibly shivering.

Everybody pretended not to notice, though. When an ex-marine, who had forgotten more gruesome deaths than the most ardent horror movie aficionado can see in a lifetime, cries at death, you let him be because it is a pain you can never begin to imagine.

So we all watched in deafening silence as his 6 ft 5 inches brawny frame heaved with the racking sobs he was trying rather unsuccessfully to suppress. After an uncomfortably long minute, he gave up all semblance of being in control and sat on the edge of the dug grave, thanking his stars he had not opted to be in uniform that day. 

He picked up the high school diploma that had been placed on the coffin and said... "Class valedictorian, 4.0 GPA, so many dreams, bright future ahead, today, I bury my son. And as saddened as I am that I have lost a son, what is choking my words with sobs is pride. I'm proud of the young man who did not look at all the promises and possibilities of a life spent pursuing personal gain, but was prepared to, and indeed gave it all up, for God and country. God bless you, son. And God bless America"

I promise you couldn't have picked my jaw from the ground with a heavy duty crane. To say I was stunned is the understatement of understatements. Patriotism and duty took on new meaning for me. And as someone broke into the American National anthem, I closed my eyes and began to pray... thanking God for the men and women who risk it all for God and country; so that the rest of us could have the freedom to pursue whatever dream we desire... in freedom.

My mind came home to Ghana and I thought how I never really valued the armed forces, especially since the most exposed I got to them was on my television set during the Independence Day Parade. Oh, and during UN peace keeping missions. However, the fact that today (God forbid), should our country be attacked by land, air or sea, they would place themselves in a position to die to protect the rest of us, is commendable.

So as the US remembers it's valiant fallen heroes, I'm thinking of patriotism and duty. I remember this famous quote "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country" (Nathan Hale) and the anecdote about a woman who lost a husband and both sons to the war and yet when interviewed said she only regretted she did not have more sons to give to the cause of the war.  

Can you make that sacrifice, can you give up yourself or loved ones up, or God and country?

We run to fight another day...

You can run fast, run far, jump hurdles and leap over holes. However, when a fight is yours, you run to fight another day. No matter how fast you can run, life is a marathon and so you're bound to get tired along the way. And then whatever you were running from in the first place, will catch up with you, stronger and wiser from that boot camp training you took it through, running away from it. 

photo credit: www.dalje.com

My own don turn Usain Bolt o (or Dayron Robles, the guy in the picture) ! and there couldn't have been a wronger time... God dey though... Watch this place for a testimony. How is everyone's summer going?

Tough love (Saying it like it is... or not)

"My friends are my "estate." Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them"  Emily Dickinson

I love my family and friends. I have a well-diversified portfolio of them. They range from those who pamper and support when necessary to those whose names can be written in the dictionary as a definition for brutal honesty, or as a synonym for tough love. I wouldn't trade any of them for all the tea in China nor all the rubies in India. And yes, one of them taught me that.

I know who to go to when I need the truth served with love, when I need love because the truth is glaring and when I just need cold, hard facts and difficult-to-give advice. There are some I love because I love the me I am when I'm with them and others I adore because they appreciate the me I am but wont settle for that and push me to become the me I could be if I gave it my all.Yes, I am blessed and hope they are too :) 

Take my little younger brother, I was talking to my mum one time and she was giving me the usual be careful of boys because they can break your heart and destroy your life talk. He walks in on us and says 'Nah, this is not fair! My sister doesn't need this unfair advantage. It's rather the boys out there who need to be warned 'Beware!'  I asked why and he said, 'look at you, who can break your heart?'  I knew he wasn't talking looks. So I said, 'I'm human o, Kwabena.' 'Nah, you're my sister' he said.

I took it to be a really sweet 'brotherly' compliment until some time later when I was caught crying by my mum. She asked me what was wrong and I said' you'll insult me if I told you' She then gave me this heartwarming speech about how as my mother anything I care about enough to make me cry was important to her to and... 'I have a broken heart' I said. She stopped in mid-sentence, shook her head and walked out of the room, resuming her search for whatever she was looking for when she discovered me weeping. I looked after her, stunned, about to ask if she no longer cared about my tears; but the tears had been shocked into stopping. Apparently, she had taken notes from my brother

When my brother came in, she told him I was crying of a broken heart in the room and that I appeared to have nothing better to do. He came in, and said 'You have a broken what?' 'It's true, Kwabena...' I started. He nodded and I took a deep breath, tears welling in my eyes at the story I was about to recount. I started to speak and realized he had his earphones in. He had been nodding to the music, not my words. 

The tears disappeared and suffice it to say that I never had a broken heart at home again. Whenever I was hurt, I'd remember my mum and brother in whose opinions no one was worth my tears and be strong. It's worked 80% of the time. After all, that saying that no one is worth your tears because anyone truly worthy of them wouldn't make you cry has some truth in it, 80% of the time in my case.

When it comes to friends, I remember telling a friend how worried I was about a project I was going to travel for and how I feared a lose-lose situation because I felt the project was going to flop and the time I was going to lose whilst at the project site would also cost me in my upcoming exam. He looked at me, seemingly unconcerned and I asked if he wasn't going to say anything. He mentioned my name and asked 'Who sent you to sign up for this project? Did you ask my opinion before taking on the responsibility? You got involved because you liked it. You've made your bed, lie in it!' All true... What could I say? I lay in my bed and enjoyed it. I was given no choice, remember?

The latest such experience with a friend was just last two weeks when I was telling one of my best female friends about one of my regrets that haunt me. I had run away from someone because I was scared  and never stopped asking myself what if... I told her about it and she asked how far back it was, etc.; all the right questions. 

She then pointed out how silly I was being. How many relationships that began then that I knew about were still going strong? We've both evolved with time and even if I hadn't run and we'd been together? For how long would we have been together? I had to defer to her wisdom. I was pretty young then. I had no idea what I wanted back then. I guess it's a classic case of the 'cheri raté' syndrome. So I took an objective look at the two of us and that regret has all but disappeared. We probably wouldn't have lasted anyway.

So yeah, surrounded by such people, I understand and agree that sometimes, the best helping hand you can give a loved one, is a firm kick in the backside. However, to qualify as tough love and not verbal/emotional abuse, revenge, malice, etc. Such gestures have to be motivated by the sincerest of loves.

Lately, though, I have heard some things being said and wondered if there was any love behind the 'toughness'. Friends don't enjoy tearing each other down in the name of love and there are somethings you should not be able to say or do to someone if you truly loved the person, no matter the context. There are some things 'I'm telling you this for your own good' wont make okay.

  

As Mignon McLaughlin said; 'Nobody wants constructive criticism. It's all we can do to put up with constructive praise'. So before you launch 'so-called' constructive criticism at your loved one (or at least someone who you are supposed to love), question your motive, and check your excitement level. If you're enjoying it and it's more about showing how right and smart you are than helping the person, please, do us all a favour and keep it to yourself. And no, it's not your fault how sensitive the person is to what you say because they care more about you than you ever did or will about them*yes, sarcasm*; just remember that sticks and stones may break bones, but words will never hurt them (only crush their dreams).

I'm not saying baby your friends. Many would not grow otherwise. I'm just saying what was best illustrated by Dr. Mensa Otabil with this picture; corn is food for chickens. It's good for them and it helps them grow. But if I walk into a chicken coop and start throwing corn at them, they will run away from it and will not venture to eat it, seeing it as something bad. (paraphrase mine). 

Letter to my Sister (2) :Naomi’s Response...

Dearest Eunice,

You’re right. The most important thing to remember is that it’s for God. I’m proud of you and glad you love God so much. I pray you remain steadfast in Him. About your prayer, the bible says;

‘Ask and it shall be given to you…’ Matthew 7:7a

‘The young lions suffer want and hunger; but those who seek the LORD lack no good thing.’ Psalms 34:10

‘For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him’ 2 Chronicles 16:9a

‘Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart’ Psalms 37:4

Hence, I do not believe God has a problem with giving you someone special to marry, or with you asking. Just remember that at the end of the day, it is His will not yours that you should seek to be established. So ask away and in the manner of our Lord, say ‘But Your will, not mine, Father.’ And mean it.

Whenever I think how unfair it seems when people wait on God and then end up marrying people who treat them so wrong, I remember that God never took your hand and placed it  in another’s. <We choose and our choices determine the outcomes of our lives and as Christians, it is our duty to learn how to make the right choices> (Mensah Otabil, paraphrase, mine). I pray we both do.

But if it appears God’s will was done and yet there is a mismatch, I remember Hosea who by all indications, God was pleased with and yet God made him marry a prostitute. Not a reformed one oh! This one continued prostituting herself even after she was married to the man of God. But it was all in God’s will, to illustrate His relationship between the church and Him. And I believe Hosea has the most striking portrait of that relationship between the church and God.

So if we are absolutely sure it was God’s leading, He will show us exactly why and how He intends to use it to His glory if we ask Him in prayer. But we must be careful not to attribute decisions of our flesh to God.

When I get home, we can search the scriptures more on this issue…

Your Sister,

Naomi

Letter to my Sister (1)

This letter was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend’s younger sister. It was written to encourage those who may need encouragement or know someone who does… 

Dearest Naomi,

O, how the tables have turned from yesterday! I hear them whispering behind my back; saying in hushed tones ‘Can you believe her!’  I see them point and laugh. They call me ‘relic’, ‘dinosaur’ and taunt me with their stares. But I am unfazed; I do not care. And it only makes them stare harder, wonder more. What is with her?

I went to school the other day to find scrawled on my locker; ‘Get with the program, girl! The definition changed from dignity to a lack of opportunity’ I smile and wipe it off. When will they get that I don’t care? That I have no desire to enroll in the so-called program?

I thank God for the little talk we had before you went off to college. It’s helped me understand them and respond in love. Animosity towards what’s different from you is probably as old as society. We tend to shun and ridicule what we do not understand. But I’d be all too willing to explain if only they’d ask!

I’m not doing this to feel special or to get attention for being different. This kind of attention, I can live without. It’s neither cos I was told in Sunday school nor cos I have ice running through my veins. I have the same desires they do. I’m doing this for one reason only, to honor God’s temple.

And even then, this is not all it takes. It’s the purity of body, mind and spirit and becoming more and more like Christ by consistently doing God’s will through Christ who strengthens me that honors God. So I do not feel any better than anyone for all sin is sin.

I have a question for you though, do you remember at youth fellowship when Auntie Mary said there were fringe benefits to remaining a virgin before marriage and she gave the example of your husband not having to wonder if any guy who greets you a little too familiarly once owned what is now his? You got up, nostrils flaring and said, ‘If it was for a man, I would have given up ages ago; these men who cheat and beat their wives?’

Everyone was surprised because you were always so quiet but it did drive a point home; it’s for God. And that is why sometimes I worry when I find myself praying; ‘God, I really hope you have someone special for me’, as if I deserve some reward for honoring Him. Do you feel that way sometimes?

Your Sister,

Eunice