The child that I was

Dear God,
You know the end from the beginning. Honestly, I woke up this morning and couldn’t help but marvel at the tremendous love you have for me.
Who am I that You are mindful of me?
For some reason, I reflected on my childhood.
(Yes, I know. It’s okay to laugh. I laughed too)
Thank you, Lord, even then, you had my back.
You knew what you were moulding, You knew who you were moulding.
Thank you.
Back then, I was having a one-sided mind battle with you.
In my head, we were enemies.
(Fine, keep laughing. It’s laughable)
But Lord, that was within the period my dad died and oh Lord how I disliked you.
I didn’t believe you were good. How could you be good?
How can a God who will allow such a drastic accident that killed my father be good?
Nothing mattered, nothing made sense.
All I wanted to do was get back at you. Fight back in my way and avenge my father’s death.
In my head, you were responsible. Period.
(Oh my poor head. Imagine all the scheming it devised just to challenge you)
Hmmm.
I remember deliberately losing all my chaplets. My grandmother will buy and replace it and I lose it again. She will shout, punish me and replace it and I lose it again, all deliberately.
There was this particular one our favourite Reverend, Father Francis brought from Rome. They said the pope blessed it specifically.
Grandma knew I was struggling spiritually, so she gave it to me specifically and prayed for me with it. Begged me to always keep it with me.
The next day, I left it in church and came back home.
Grandma was livid, I thought she was going to kill me that day. She ordered me back to church to look for it and my friends and I spent hours looking for this chaplet without success. A few weeks later, My aunty and I came to morning mass together and there was my beautiful luminous chaplet, hanging at the door with my lost head scarf.
Aunty shouted in shock when she saw it.
It was still a bit dark and the luminary form of the chaplet was the only bright light in that space.
I stared at that chaplet in shock. It was so beautiful that anyone would have easily taken it yet…..there it was, staring right back at me as defiantly as I was from the doorpost.
Aunty made a sign of the cross quickly, picked it up and put it in her bag with a strange look.
I felt strange too.
There was also this book of catechism and prayers that my aunty bought for me.
And insisted that I write my name all over it so I don’t lose it.
I didn’t want to, so in a bid not to put my name on that book, I deliberately opened up the pen. I intended to empty the ink so that I could tell Grandma that the pen was not writing. Unfortunately, the ink poured all over the book, from the 1st page to almost the fourth, blotting out the words.
God, my aunty was so angry.
Grandma calmed her down and said reflectively…
“Leave her, the book has already identified itself with her. Everybody now knows that the blotted book belongs to her.”
And it was so.
Even in church, no matter where I left that book, one over-sabi person would trek back to my house and return it because I was the only one who had a 4-page blotted prayer book.
I remember the day I overheard Grandma and Father Francis discussing that I could go to a convent school. The Father sent all the study materials to me. I didn’t read a letter out of that materials. It was deliberate. I wanted to fail.
I walked into the exam hall that day and without even reading the instructions or reading the questions I was just ticking anything I wanted.
My mission? …..” fail that exam”.
The result came out and I got 75%…How?
Ojoro number 1. Whoever marked that script was blind.
I was so angry. The week Father Francis was supposed to come get me, I ran away.
Grandma took the clue and left me alone.
(God rest your soul, Granny. Even in your worst moments, your eyes said more than your words. Your kindness was in your eyes and you communicated it to me. Thank you)
The fiercest battles I had with you Lord were in my head. Yes, my head.
The defiance, the unbelief, the challenge, the double dare…..
When they say close your eyes let us pray….mine will be wide open.
When they say you are a very good God….my head will say…”That’s a lie”
When they say you can do all things….my head will say…” Really? Not that much!”
When they say you know all things….my head will say…..” Like a dumb cat”
When they say you see all things…..my head will say…..” blind as a bat”
When they say you hear all things….my head will say…..” deaf and dumb”
When they say you are Holy…..my head will say….” He killed his only son…..
Hmmm. I am so sorry Lord, I was but a child.
Backtrack to my 1st year in the university. I had just finished lunch and was heading to my hostel when I heard that song.
The soloist for that song was sent – for me. I heard her voice singing how much she loves you and I was enthralled. The depth of sincerity in her voice called out to me.
Like a zombie, I followed the voice and the song. I walked into that fellowship just to hear the song and never turned back again.
I gave my life to you that day, Lord. And gave it again another day, and gave it 20 times more afterwards.
There was something in me that kept feeling that I had not given myself enough. Because I will give, take it back, run away, come back and give again.
Hmmm.
And now…Lord, Here I am. I stopped running a long time ago.
You won.
You allowed me to vent my fill, and when you were ready, you caught me and took me in.
I am not angry anymore. And I apologize for all those naughty days.
I have a clear understanding that everything you do may not be to our liking, but we must trust that you love us enough as we go through the process.
Yes, I still have the mind battles. But I don’t ever doubt your love for me anymore.
Never. Ever.
So this is Your daughter Lord, moulded, shaped but still very elastic for you, and I am forever checking in with you.