Be Ready to be Ambushed

Dear God,

You know that end-of-year moment when everybody is pretending to “slow down,” but somehow work is still galloping like a horse that saw a snake? That was me, peacefully minding my business, trying to wrap up 2025 with dignity, when my mentor decided to ambush me.

We usually have this end-of-year personal reviews, so, I walked into his office glowing with pride, ready to present my well-rehearsed list of achievements. I had checked on many programs we agreed to pursue for 2025 and in my mind, I was about to receive the “Mentee of the Year” award.

But, Lord, you know that man. He doesn’t run on the same software as the rest of us.

The moment I sat down (seat had not even warmed) he leaned forward and said:

“So, what’s the plan for 2027?”

I blinked. Then blinked again.

In my head, I said, “Aha! I’ve caught him. Thank You Lord, finally, my mentor has made one tiny mistake. History will record this!”

So, very sweetly, I asked, “Pardon me, Sir?”

He didn’t even pretend.

“You heard me. What are your priorities for 2027?”

Just like that, my brain packed its load and started walking toward the exit.

I came to discuss 2025. With side thoughts about 2026.

But 2027? God, even the angels (Goodness and Mercy) following me were confused. I haven’t even finished this year’s battles; why is this man dragging me into the future like I’m a Marvel superhero?

For a split second, I could feel the pressure, should I play dumb and let him sweat into lectures or should I indulge him? But You know me, Lord, (the girl you raised on courage, stubbornness, and the Holy Spirit mixed with a smile) if he says 2027, we will talk 2027. I opened my mouth and began to speak dreams I’d never rehearsed. Big ones. Wild ones. Ones that just jumped out of my spirit like they’d been waiting behind the door for someone to ask. Unplanned. Unrehearsed. Unfiltered.

He smiled the whole time.

I left the office dazed but inspired, realising I had just been strategically ambushed into wild dreams.

And immediately, Lord, it reminded me of something You taught me long ago, in the University of Benin, under the hot sun and kinetic chemistry stressful class.

Back in those days, there was one boy in our class, one certified “effico.”

Always reading. Always calculating. Even his shadow knew formulas.

One day in kinetic chemistry lecture, the boy fell asleep. By the time he woke up, the professor had written two problems on the board. Thinking they were homework, he copied them. Meanwhile, the rest of us (responsible citizens who didn’t sleep) copied nothing because no assignment was given. We were enjoying the mercy of God and the goodwill of the professor.

The boy went home and started fighting with the problems. He spent hours in the library.

Sweat. Tears and pure stubbornness. He struggled and struggled and finally solved one.

Next class, our dear effico raised his hand: “Sir, when is the homework due?”

The rest of us gasped. Homework?? In kinetic chemistry? Which day? From where?

My spirit left my body for a second. Assignments counted heavily for exams. How could I miss one when I didn’t even sneeze last class?

The professor frowned and said, “What homework?”

Before we could all jump in, the boy marched forward and handed him the solutions. The professor looked… stunned. Then excited. Then confused. Then excited again.

“These weren’t assignments! These are examples of scientific kinetic reaction problems that haven’t been solved yet!”

And the boy said, “Oh… but I solved one.”

God. The whole class was agog. Even my legs clapped.

That incident changed his life (As much as it changed mine). The professor partnered with the boy, and they published many papers globally on that solution. Today, that boy is an accomplished scholar, celebrated across the world.

All because nobody told him the problems were impossible.

Lord, as I left my mentor’s office the other day, still catching my breath from the 2027 ambush, I was reminded that:

The problem is never the problem. The problem is the limit we place before we even try. My mentor didn’t ask about 2027 because he wanted to stress me.

He wanted to see what I would say if I stopped thinking within the boundaries of the present and go wild. Just like the UNIBEN boy didn’t solve that problem because he was a genius, he solved it because he was not informed/aware that he wasn’t supposed to.

When nobody tells you something is impossible, your spirit moves freely.

Your mind doesn’t shrink. Your confidence doesn’t apologise. Your dreams don’t beg for permission. Those “impossible” questions, those unexpected challenges, those intimidating demands… They are simply invitations to manifest who you really are.

My mentor threw 2027 at me, and for a split second, I panicked, I was not ready. But then something ancient woke up in me, that same “just try” spirit from UNIBEN.

And the minute I switched from fear to dare, the conversation became magic.

Ideas flowed. Dreams expanded. My future opened. And I left the room taller than I entered.

Dad, herein are my real lessons: Most limits are learned. Most fears are borrowed.

Most impossibilities are lies.

The world is full of people who specialise in discouraging others. People who believe their fear should be your ceiling. People who think small and want you to shrink to match their comfort zone.

My advice? Ignore them. Dream loudly. Attempt boldly. Jump headfirst. Even when the water looks deep. Especially when the water looks deep. Drown every noise. Neutralise every negativity. Block all distractions. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is impossible.

If a problem scares you, try it. If a question confuses you, speak. If a year feels too far, plan anyway. Because sometimes greatness is hiding inside the very thing that scares you.

One of my secret recipes for courage and confidence is: If You (Lord) created us in Your image, then why should we fear anything? We were designed to rise. So, rise we must.

This is Your

daughter, riding the ambush and checking in.