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.

Grateful

I

am

Grateful
for…
…the little things.
Like presently not being ill
Or having to take a meal with a pill.
For having the choice of foods,
and the huge appetite to eat.
And when the air gets hot
that I can still feel the heat.

Grateful
for….
…Not writhing and moaning all night
From the pain of a sprained swollen ankle…
that on a sad day
when the sun’s not shining so bright
that I can still hear from dad and uncle.

Grateful
for…
…. the life that I was given
That is not my own
That even though things may seem pretty bad
They could have been pretty worse.
HE is the reason why even though I lost one
I did not lose all.


Grateful
for…
Being able to sit in a pharmacology class
Yet barely know the names of the most common drugs
Not from being overly dumb
But from a blessed healthy state
That has never lain on a hospital bed.

Grateful
for…
…being able to be grateful
For the joy in my heart
that sings a song that is thankful
the pleasant smiles of family and friends
that are wonderful, and beautiful.


Grateful
for
… Waking up this morning
to the coolness of the rain.
The comfort bed I lay
That makes me want
to go back to sleep again
To dream the sweet dreams
Where for a fleeting moment
I feel like I have attained.

Grateful…
That I have got you
That I met you, precious as you are…
For It’s in the little things you do
That show just how much you care
Whether near or far
You’ll always been my shining star.

Summer 2( late June-August)

Besides the fact that it was those months of the year- the ones that began with the letters J and A-this summer, you could hardly tell. It rained quite too frequently, I saw no beach and the girls in bikinis, and I had no crazy party that would have me under the influence doing wild things. It was just me, alone in the house, mostly chilled and sometimes sober.

It gives cause for worry when the friends you engage in daily conversations become the characters in a book, movie or TV sitcom. It is awkward because even though there may be talking from both ends; there is no communication in its truest meaning. However, they did make me laugh and smile, and occasionally sent some feelings of inspiration that propel me to want and become more. If only I could get back across the tube to return the gesture-- but especially for the silly clumsy comics who I think deserved a jabbing slap to the head, for lack of a much needed panache.

Most of this summer I lived in a four bedroom house by myself, helping the owner who is also my friend stay watch while he traveled on vacation. Though the house was big, I made sure the rooms weren’t always empty. They would have someone occupying them once I decided which one to sleep in next. They all got their turn, one night after another. I could throw a party, or invite friends for a sleep over. But my friends were all away. And all I had was me. And so I took me, and together we went on a path of reflection and self discovery. And discover we did.

Staying watch at the house also came with a car, lots of food, a bit of liquor, wireless internet and lots and lots of books that filled a mini-library in one of the rooms. So it wasn’t so dreadful after all. For the first time in a long while I drove myself around Mandeville where I live, turning and pedaling through the thin curves that paved Manchester roads. For the first time in a long time, I baked, and took some to share with my friend when I drove to visit. I drove to church and parked at the parking lot, striding off the car side in my typical chobi style. I read a few interesting books, and a few really boring ones I had a hard time wading through.

Most of the time, I spent downloading and watching movies. From the classics of the 50s and 60s, up to the newbies of 2010. I sat in front of my computer, a glass of rum and Pepsi in hand, or a cup of tea, relaxed and indulged myself in the pleasures of a thrilling and decent movie. Dinner would be at 7:30pm; movie would start at 8pm and end at about 2am - every day. Twitter closed the day before I went to bed. Oh and I blogged on 20sb, mostly at night time too.

But now the holiday is slowly inching away. Summer is leaving. And I’m afraid again it’s near that time when I’d have to say good bye. I’ve always hated goodbyes. But I have fall knocking right at the door loyally waiting to be welcomed in with all that it brings- the hard work, its joys and its throes. It is my fourth summer since I’ve been in Jamaica, and I know in no long time summer will be here again. But until it returns, I’m going to be enjoying a good time armored and riding on my experiences of this beautiful yet lonely summer, through the smooth and bumpy roads of fall, winter and spring. For who knows what even they might bring…