Learning.

There is a room filled with little babies laying peacefully in slanting cots; babies in incubators with intravenous fluid access and oxygen therapy infused through a nasal cannula. Some call it the Nursery, but I call it the room with the babies that taught me patience. Even when they couldn’t speak, even when all they could do was cry from the pain of piercing a needle through their heels to obtain glucose tests, or scream from a simple response to hunger, these little ones showed me a new meaning of strength. They would soon return back to their state of peaceful sleep.

Being there for a week had an eerie way of making me want to be a dad so bad. And to think that yesterday, Friday, was my last day of rotations at the nursery, I’m going to miss them. I already do.

Today, I did church with my dear friend. But there, I made another friend who was kind with her words, sweet with her smell, and shared with me a kind of pleasant wisdom that comes with age. She let me seat on her usual spot because it was my first time. “Next time when you come, I will have to push you down the pew and take back my seat.”- She said. I smiled. “I will be back” – I said.

Sabbath school reminded me much of when I first arrived Jamaica and went to church on campus. When for the first time I met all of the pretty faces sitting at church, and thought everyone as innocent as they appeared; as strong and trouble free as they sounded, and felt a little out of place because I knew I had my weaknesses and troubles rumbling on the inside. But until I stayed for a while and saw that just like me, we were all vulnerable.

And somehow,now, I am not afraid anymore to let myself bare even in all of my weakness, or to be vulnerable in the dark. For just like learning patience from a baby in a cot or getting a smile from a sweet old lady at church, I learnt that we have all got something to give. However big, however small...and give, maybe even more than we really need to take. I am Learning.

Humble...

Sometimes I think that being humble has a way of making me feel like I’ve been a fraud… They say that first impressions are the ones that make the large imprints.

I was taught to be humble, to be abase like the apostle Paul would like to say. But then I thought, I would only know them for a day; say a slight hello and scurry my little self away…

They assumed. And in their assumptions, humble is little, and bears little or no significance.

But now I fear that someday soon they would get to know that I am prince, a son of The King. And in my presence exist His glory, grace and ambience which I cannot hide for too long a time. For this is the heritage of His children, the signs by which we are known.

And then I shall say, that I am not a fraud. But only I was taught... to first be humble, and be kind.

See through the eyes of God...

Silence, stillness stretches a long distance.
Thoughtless, breathlessly lost in a trance
Fluctuating emotions, mood swings
A mighty wind blows, head pinned on a pillow
His throes are lifted high in billows.

Virtual reality, Pseudo abilities
Man in a rat hole; running a rat race
Caught in mouse trap; doing a tap dance
Chases illusions, reaches no conclusions
See through the eyes of God, seek a solution.

Make that climb, reach high;
One step at a time, limbs in tandem;
On slippery slopes there's a loud cry for help,
But on a branch called hope, he hangs midway.
Heart is thumping; faith is not stopping

Silence, Silence, searching for his ambience;
Chasing for knowledge; reaching for wisdom
Journeying down the street; the bitter the sweet
To weary to be swift, yet stomping the feet
See through the eyes of God; victory over defeat.

Bus rides

I enjoy bus rides, in long buses with glass slides that view coming traffic from window seats; air conditioners, music from the radio, and of course the thrills of having a pleasant companion as a seat mate -my friend who lights up with a huge grin on her face when we converse about her forthcoming wedding. But that’s typically how I journey forth and back from work each week day. My new life in a new town… Kingston.

But I miss my other room. I miss Mandeville.

I actually cannot recall the last time I had to wake up as early as 5.am to begin the day. These days, it has become more of a daily norm. I miss the old days. I miss my dumbbells. I miss the country peace and quiet. In the midst of the hustle and bustle of this city, it becomes a bit difficult to create and bask in my moments of serene solitude. I miss walking the footpaths I paced so much we became really familiar friends. I miss walking the streets that knew my name and could smell my sweat from a night of hard basketballing. Yet this is only my first week.

This week, work slowly took on an interesting toll. I saw the birth of several babies. Actually, together with the midwife, I assisted in the birth of 4 beautiful babies this week. This I call amazing; to carry them even before their mothers did, to give them their first injection and hear their first cries. They were little and fragile, but also cute and beautiful. And now I know that the best things in life can be seen in the delivery room of a hospital.

And I still enjoy bus rides, especially the evening bus going home when I get really fatigued and reluctantly let a little snooze before I get off. Good thing I don’t have to worry about missing my stop, I go all the way to the terminus.

It got me thinking of totally letting go and letting God; to relax on cruise control and let Him autopilot through the rough roads. I wouldn’t have to worry about my stop, because I know He’s got me all the way.Ah! I really do enjoy bus rides!

I am strong.

I am strong and this I know…but there are those moments when I feel like my feet are feeble. And like a toddler still learning to walk, I am still learning hard at figuring life out.

There’s this road that is wide with waste that I must wade, so I take a couple steps in wobbling strides but I stumble… Then like moving one step forward yet two steps back, again and again it feels like I’m back at the start line. Is there ever a finish line? This I wonder…

But I am strong, and this I know. Only sometimes I cannot find this strength in the fractured places it chooses to hide. I search really hard, but it seems to lose its way the days when I would need it the most. If I pace in the woods or race up the hills, there’s a cold in the air that tortures with chills. I am sad, for this weakness of mine will cause me ill.

There was once a little boy with the mind of a grown man who grew into a grown man with the virtue and gleaming glow of a little child. He wakes up each morning with a smile on his face, and is never again afraid of the dark because now he constantly carries a light that shines strong from within to illumine all of the creepy shadows and brighten the gloomy clefts. Though he was weak, this light becomes his strength…

Could I be this little child?? Perhaps I should…

But the reality is that I am a grown man now… and truth is that I have become even strong...but strong, only through the strength of His light--His Light that shines from the inside of me.