you won't like this post...

I’m a bit of a lady, you know, with the many things on the shelf and the never ending quest for shoes and clothes. Most recently, bags have become a fad of mine. I’ve been thinking about closing down this blog. To start over.  A lot actually. Maybe once I do I might become a fashion blogger and showcase what’s in my closet. Or rather, the suitcase on the floor next to my bed.

I could do that, I have rather strange opinions about fashion and sensibility. But I don’t know much about makeup, or fads, or trends, or makeup, or makeup, or makeup. All those this-is-Ess-esque ladies who do this fashion blogging thing have a way with makeup. For me it ends with getting my eyebrows done once a month. I’d go for frequent mani-pedis, I love those, but I spend too much time in water and not enough in town. And chipped nail-lacquer just wouldn’t do.

So I guess I wouldn’t make the greatest fashion blogger. Unless we talk about bargain shopping. I love bargain shopping. I love shopping. Going into the market, spending endless hours leafing through weird looking things until you land that one awesome item and it’s Kshs. 30. My greatest achievement so far is this one dress I got for Kshs. 50. It’s so good it could do an interview.

If I were a fashion blogger, this would be the point at which I post three photos – front, back and side profiles. But really, all I’m doing now is keeping myself busy enough so that I don’t sleep before Colin gets here. He’s been gone two weeks, it’ll be nice to have him back in the house.

So, I can’t take three photos of my grey (gray?) dress to post and let you know that I got it from a guy in Kangemi who puts up a carton box stall in front of the mobile repair shop that’s next to the butchery that’s right where KMO Sacco javs simama to load passengers going to town. And cries out “Hamsini, hamsini!” in much the same way that sweet Molly Malone sold her “Cockles and mussels ‘alive, alive-oh!’ ”.

Were I a fashion blogger, once photos were up, I would go into excruciating detail about how I accessorized my dress, including where I found the three pairs of studs that stay in my ears permanently. It was that lady who has a tiny stall at the corner of Old Nation just before you get to the mats that go to Graffin’s College, BTW. Lovely lady, with cheap stuff. I mean that nicely.

Then I would say what should NOT be done while wearing a dress like the one I have on (the gray/grey dress worth Kshs. 50). How to dress it up, down, for the office, to a party, what shoes, what lipstick, what hair and maybe even underwear. Especially underwear. Somehow I am more peeved by bra prints – you know, how lacy bras’ textures show through someone’s clothes – than the all-annoying VPL.

I’d take a few pictures of coats and shoes that can be worn with the dress and write a post about “1 dress, 5 different ways”. But that usually only works if afterwards you add the name of a classy uptown boutique up on Mama Ngina Street (Avenue? Drive?) With a price tag that has a more than two zeroes after it.  You can’t go into those lengths only to talk about a carton box stall in Kangemi.

So maybe fashion blogging is not for me. But that cannot stop me from displaying my most recent and most awesomest bags ever. Which I got this weekend. Thanks to the generous contributions of the friends and partners of Let’s Make Joy Happy Ministries, aka my brother.

I’d been eyeing them for the better part of four months, I’d never imagined they could be mine, because you know, I could never spend that kind of money on bags. Even a set of five, royal blue, wet-look, classy, and all-round amazing handbags. And now they’re mine. Le sigh…

This is so not why I started writing today in the first place. The bags were supposed to be a by-the-way point – three lines tops. Now I’ve gone  and gone with it I have no idea what I wanted to say.

This is why I need to close this blog and start over. I started this blog in October 2010 after reading my brother’s blog. He’d been going at it for four years by then, he still writes occasionally. It’s still awesome as usual. Because I didn’t know jack about blogging, except that it was a web diary, I most wrote about my life.

Wrong move. My life is very boring. Those days I was in campus and at least there would be one or two exciting (stupid) things campus folk did that I could talk about. Now my life revolves around my editor Martin, my laptop, the kitchen, school and repeat. It’s easy to see why there’re so many gaps. The beautiful thing is that my posts don’t show dates, so that you can’t judge me.

I feel stuck, not in life, just in blogging. Okay, maybe a little in life, but that’s not what I mean. You know how the way you write sets the tone for your future writing? I started a certain way, and now I don’t like that way anymore and I feel like changing but I’m not sure to what. We’ve already seen fashion blogs are not the thing pour moi.

And I don’t have a kid. I don’t mean to sound like that person, but you know, when you hang around a toddler, man, you can never run out of stories. And they are always funny. Just ask Bikozulu, or Jackson? Wasonga – the guy from Wednesday Nation with a wife called Tenderoni. I forget the girl’s name – Peaches? Cuddles? Munchkin? Imekataa kuja.

I dunno, in the meantime I’ll keep doing this in my foolish little ways, like I’ve always known. Soon I will write something I’m ready for the world to see. And then I’ll scream it on the rooftops.

lead me to the Rock that is higher than I

When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I...~The Bible~

Figures I would run to Thought Catalog. It makes sense, I read it like some sort of religion. Just as with forums open to public contribution, I am oftentimes disappointed, but every so often, every so often someone comes up with something genius, something brilliant and something just right for me, and that’s what keeps me going back for more fixes.

Today, I run to the arms of Meredith Gray, that girl with all the soulful monologues that make you want to sit back and narrate your life along with her. I figure I could come up with a soulful monologue or ten of my own. But Meredith’s are way cooler. Like this one:

People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their personal histories, diagrams of all of their old wounds. Most of our old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them don’t. Some wounds, we carry with us everywhere… and though the cut is long gone, the pain still lingers. What’s worse? New wounds, which are so horribly painful, or old wounds, which should have healed years ago, and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us where we’ve been, and what we’ve overcome. They teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That’s what we like to think. But that’s not the way it is, is it? Some things we just have to learn over and over and over… again.

Life has got its own way of shaping you, sometimes by throwing crap all over you, tying you down the back of a truck and driving around with you there at full speed. It’s amazing what people go through… I used to sit in a mat on my way to see dad every day, and I’d look around at people. I’d imagine asking the person next to me, “So, what’s your story?” Because at that time I too had ‘a story’. I guess until then I never saw life like that, i just thought about the surface of things. But people contend with so much crap every day, you’d be shocked.

But while one still stands there’s much to be grateful for. Because it means that until now, your survival rate for bad days remains 100%. Maybe that’s what they mean when they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Only I wonder at the wisdom of that. Michael Jordan says that you miss 100% of the chances you don’t take. He’s got a bagful of quotes about shots he took and shots he missed, and we must all believe him, he did take some pretty great shots after all. But just like Colin, who is actually a pretty great guy and amazing brother with a nice girlfriend who sends us nice things ;), I wonder, when you have just one shot to take, and you take it and miss, what’s the difference?

All logic will tell you it’s not worth that much sadness. It’s really not worth that much crying. It’s not that big of a deal. But sometimes, it isn’t mourning over the what was, sometimes, the greater loss is for what could have been. For the picture in your head that wouldn’t half match the reality once it got here. The finding out that all the things you thought were crap were real things. And while it shouldn’t, it still causes pain. Pain that emo-music and ice-cream can’t quite reach. I discovered that doesn’t work by the way.

Pain. You just have to ride it out. Hope it goes away on its own. Hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions. No easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time, pain can be managed. But sometimes, the pain gets you when you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn’t let up. Pain. You just have to fight through. Because the truth is, you can’t outrun it. And life always makes more.

It’s the end of June. June wasn’t the greatest of months this year. It started with the loss of a friend. And now it ends with the loss of a friend. That much more frustrating because there’s no one to take the fall, no one to be angry at, and even if I were, what good would that do?

But every so often, the tears come uninvited. Once in a while, I let them get the better of me. Once in a while, I forget the wisdom of knowing that all things are working together for good. That no good thing shall He withhold from those who walk uprightly. Once in a while, I just want to be human and ask why. And shut the door and let the pain seep through my being. Do that, by all means. And then get up and keep living life. Because life must go on. And no matter how far you run from it, there’s always another rough patch waiting for you a little ways down the road.

You just have to live through this one.

peace, I leave with you...

I am writing this post for two reasons: The first is that I want to (I mean, duh! Right?) No, not duh! I’ve found myself running towards this blog every time I am sad, or tired, or generally exasperated with the world. Or when I have a thousand articles to present before my boss tomorrow and I don’t know where to start. Incidentally today is one such day.

I had overcome this feeling of all-encompassing tiredness, because I was sure that finally things were moving in the right direction, and my set of variables was about to be altered. But it seems again as though we’re going back to the beginning. For a little while longer I shall have to contend with this uncertainty. So I feel tired. More in my mind through my body than vice versa. I promise in my head that makes sense.

The second reason I’m writing is that I gave Mukiri the link to this blog last night, and I don’t want the last two unhappy posts to be the ones she sees first. She’s a luminescent ball of optimism in my life, still sounding gracious even when she’s bone tired. She’s also a brilliant writer, her blog is here.

I was trolling through Facebook while trying to convince myself to get started with the working, rather than blogging, when I saw her glowing tribute to our Flo, the one I have to thank for my friendship with Muki and Dinah and a bunch of other girls who mean a lot to me. And I finally found the photo I’ve been hoping someone would put up so you can finally attach a face to this Flo I’m piping about every two seconds.

I’m sharing Mukiri’s sentiments through this screenshot, because she so aptly describes it for us. I was the youngest at her wedding party meaning I wasn't quite close to the older girls,  I got a lot closer to Dinah and by some magical design Muki herself. By the time I got to campus Ng’eno and Mary were done. Flo was in the middle of us, so she was a lot closer to the older girls. I knew her from interaction with this fourth former Joy Mwende who had made a prayer group out of us. So when I got to campus, and behold a familiar face, I clung to Flo. And her arms were always wide open.

They are laying her body to rest tomorrow. Such finality. Today, I’m praying for my friends Muki and Ng’eno and Mary and Dee, for whom she was more like a sister. And who shared the bulk of Flo’s final journey. For them I pray comfort and peace, true peace. It is our Lord who heals, and it is our Lord who restores. He will do in perfect time too.

I recall the words of Cornelia Ten Boom, the lady whose family sheltered Jews during the Holocaust and got caught. They were taken to the same concentration camps preserved for the Jews, and there she watched her father slowly suffer to death. Later on, a soldier who was particularly cruel within the camp came to ask for her forgiveness, and this is when she confessed:

Even as the angry vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him....Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me your forgiveness....And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives along with the command, the love itself.” 
― Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place

He makes all things beautiful in His time. So simple, but so true. It is well…. It is well…

sleep with the angels Flo...

Death and grief are little things. They are transcient. Life must be before death and joy before grief, else there are no such things as death or grief. These are only negatives, life is positive. Death is only the absence of life, just as night is the absence of day…

~Frank Norris~

 

I was asleep, just a few minutes ago. It’s hard to believe that now, because I do not see any sleep before my eyes now. It’s funny how things work out. The first familiar face I met in campus was this girl who I had been in high school with, the girl in whose Bible study I landed, who helped me settle into campus and everything. I spoke of that here. It was through her that I met Dinah and Mukiri, and a bunch of other people who eventually ended up a lot closer to me. Sometimes life happens that way.

Oh, her name’s Flo. It’s funny how things work out. I woke up this morning and went through some of the things I mulled over earlier in this blog, including this post in which I paid tribute to Lasoi’s mother. I knew her, not in any warm chummy kind of way, but her passing hit home. Enough to write a post about it. And now I am in the same shoe. My friend and sister Flo rests in the Lord’s arms tonight, after a hard and spirited fight with illness.

She won’t be there when the next wedding comes up (I bet that’s gonna be Dinah’s), no singing the night before until morning, no hugs from heaven itself at the most opportune of moments… 

But she is with the Lord. And we remain here, torn between those questions we so desperately want answers to, and believing that indeed all things are working according to God’s perfect plan.

For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away… For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then (we shall see) face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I am known…

~The Bible~

I do not doubt it, not for a second I do not doubt it, but it’s just hard. It is the way of every human, it is my way too... she was so young… and so brave… it’s almost as though God was preparing me for Mukiri’s call… I almost didn’t answer, I was so tired… But the moment she began I saw it a mile away…

And so, even though I don’t know the grander plan, or you know, tomorrow, I choose to say blessed be His name… Florence Anyango Okoth, sleep with the angels… rest easy love… God knows we shall miss you, but you are in the best hands under the best care possible… You won’t be crying anymore, only praising eternally… until we meet…

Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the thing which are not seen are eternal.

~The Bible~

it's just another birthday, and i am fine...

#np: Just Another Birthday - Casting Crowns

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY. I turn, well sixteen(ish). I’m old enough. I have loved this birthday more than the last few birthdays because I was forced to sit down and not think about myself today. I had an exam. The paper was in the afternoon, so thankfully, there went my plans for a quiet dinner in town, granted, that’s still gonna happen like it or yes, but not today. Today was a calm day. In the past I’ve made such a fuss of the day, by evening I really didn’t know what being a year older meant. Today I came from my paper, and just sat in my room and thought. And decided to write.

This year has been about the craziest year I have had in my life ever. I suppose it gets crazier as one grows up. I’ve had days I wished could be thirty hours long, I’ve beaten deadlines in the true Kenyan fashion, at the last possible second. Why, just immediately after writing this I should set about writing this practical report for a trip we went on three weeks ago, because it is due tomorrow, and after the report read for the paper that I’m sitting for tomorrow. Like I said, najivunia kuwa Mkenya. Also I love the ease with which things get done when you’re at the now or never point. But I digress.

Within the year I have lost quite a few things I’d rather not have. I’ve lost a few people I wish I didn’t have to. I have come face to face with rock bottom, I have known what it must be like for things to get so bad sometimes death seems like a worthy reprieve. Perhaps not for me, but I know a little of what that is. My friend lost her brother because he took his own life, it was incredibly sad, also annoying, because he was fourteen and in that season suicides in Kenya were like flies, everyday in the news there were about two. And he became a statistic, just like that. 

I’m just about to finish campus, what a relief that is for me, it has been a hectic ride, it still is… Sometimes I wish someone would lend me six hours from their day, sometimes I wish I could bring back all that time I had idle in January, cause I need it now, and then some. But the Lord is faithful. I am here today because God kept me. I’m alive only because of His grace. And these are not just words; I mean alive in the literal sense of the word. Breathing.

There are just things that no one can ever teach you, there are lessons one must learn for themselves, mistakes one must make so that they can learn. There are thing only Time teaches, wounds only Time heals… I’ve learnt a few lessons this year...

I’ve learnt that being right is not nearly as important as we make it to be. And I wish I wasn’t right so many times, because when I got to be right, sometimes I lost someone I cared about, and I would sit on my bed and fume about how I was justified, but my justification wasn’t there for me when I needed a shoulder to lean on, someone was. Other times I was wrong, but I was too stubborn to make things right, so I made myself right. Some relationships actually did end, some got scarred and broken, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces thereof, and some I don’t even know where to begin. What's that they say about starting afresh, is that even possible? Say if I broke a cup’s handle, can I just put tea in cup and tell cup let’s start afresh, you were never broken? I have to learn how to hold cup again without a handle, where to place my hands so I don’t get burnt, or maybe use cup for a different thing altogether. But I can’t say let’s start over… And so somehow I’m still trying to figure out where to start mending those relationships. Cups are easy going, people, not so much…

I have learnt to hold my head up high, no matter how beat up I really feel... Everyone's fighting battles of their own, not just me. Everyone is struggling and dealing with baggage under the weight of which I could easily suffocate. But we faint not  hold our heads up high, we make ourselves available for our friends, because maybe even if we can't solve our own, we can help them work through their baggage. Even though we can't pray for ourselves, we can cry out to God for our friends, and maybe, maybe in searching for answers to someone else's problems, in being answers to someone else's prayers, we may find what we so desperately look for. And meanwhile we walk tall. I am not Atlas, I do not bear the weight of the world on my shoulders. So I treat myself kindly, I've learnt to say no to commitments I feel are too much for me. I've learnt the beauty of delegation, and with that the grace to accept less than perfection, and appreciate honest effort. I've learnt that people are not donkeys, they don't need to be pushed to live. And I've learnt to allow people to be who they are, to be with who they want, and do what they feel is right for them at the time. Many lessons I have learnt not by my friends' nagging,but by my choosing my own path. I have learnt that true  friendship involves mastery of the art of silence. But I also learnt not to get less than I deserve. I learnt to politely but firmly refuse to be pushed and walked all over. I have come to admire the quiet dignity and gumption I see in my older friends, the boldness that makes my mum walk into a bank and demand from the manager what is rightfully hers, on a matter of principle. And I want that...


And I’ve learnt that it’s not that serious. If it is not about my God, then it just is not that serious. I’ve learnt not to break my back for things that will never truly satisfy. I’ve learnt not to worry about things I have no control over. I’ve learnt not to borrow from tomorrow its evil to mule over today. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. In less than one month I am going to be a Kenyan. My folks have this thing about how I should start making the transition from bread-eater to bread-earner, about sooner rather than later. So I thought about it, and about how I don’t see myself in a lab for the rest of my life, and how I don’t know where I’ll end up, and what if I don’t like it there, and why did I do biochemistry anyway… I thought about many things without answers, I talked to people who could only smile because they don’t know either, eventually it was too much. And the worries wouldn't stop piling on. I couldn’t focus on now worrying about tomorrow. A tomorrow I don’t even know I have, and you know what, it just is not that serious. When the time comes for me to sit and work through that, then I will. But I won’t borrow trouble from tomorrow as if I’ve got all of today’s sorted out. Give it Time, you never know what’s coming. Half of the things I worried about getting into campus never happened, and the ones that could have happened already did, and I’m still here. Nothing is ever that serious. Nothing is ever forever and thank the Lord that it’s not.

So I thank God for last year, I thank God for this new year. I’m 23 now, who knows what that holds... all I know is that I cannot wait to find out!!!.

some time later

I forgot how to write. So much happening, so much change, not enough time to process. It’s a new morning, I’m listening to Rigga's album - The Awakening, he sings that stuff I hate – hip-hop, rap – but I’m listening to him because of the depth of the message he preaches. I’d love for it to be uhmm… much much less noisy, but his stuff is deep.

My woes began six months ago (it’s been that long already?), and as it has been from times past, it began with a boy. Unlike my brother, ours wasn’t a match made in heaven, but he made me laugh, and then he made me cry, and I cried for the rest of the year last year. For my truth all I got were lies, for my kindness all I received was manipulation. I know I’m too idealistic, I believe in the goodness of mankind too much. I also know the world is a cruel place where each one looks out for themselves, but the church too? Isn’t church the place we go to escape all that treachery? Isn’t church the place we go to lay ourselves bare before our peers, and try to walk the walk together? But the church too has become a stage, a place where they go to get the good ones. A place where you get the right profile for yourself, so that no one will doubt your story, you’re the perfect person. You’re born again. You’re even an official. You’re beyond reproach, your weaknesses are covered. No one can say anything against you. If they do, a thousand more will defend you. It’s a good place to be. Until the walls fall, and sooner or later, all walls fall.

Through all this I struggled with going to church, any church. How can do this to a God I love so much? How do I go back and fix what cannot be fixed? How do I stand before people and raise my hands to a God whose grace and mercy I find impossible to understand, hence accept? That just like that that, I confess my sin before Him, leave my sin, and just like that He forgets my sin. How? How can He say He forgets my sin, when as David says, my sin is ever before me? And I mean ever. How can He love me, after I spat on His face, took His blood for granted and destroyed the body that He paid the ultimate price for? So I went to church because it was easier not to have that discussion with anyone, and I looked around at those people who I knew since I was like zero, those people who taught me in Sunday school. Would they understand? Would their arms still be open when they realized she was not so perfect?

 And all the growing up I hadn’t done in the last since I reached puberty, I did in less than two months. The first thing I wanted to do was run to my blog and post Ntozake Shange’s poem here, “One thing I don’t need is sorry”. At the New Year I thought about a happy New Year post, but I had nothing to report, it was just another year to live, far as I was concerned. I shut everyone out; I sat in my room, cried all night and slept all day. I was only too relieved to come back to school, here I didn’t have to make small talk and pretend it was all right. Because it wasn’t all right. It wasn’t right at all.

I’d love to say there was a turning point, there was a moment of truth when it all got better, or I got angry and decided to let all the anger and guilt go, when I decided I won’t be captive to all that fear and helplessness. Maybe it was the diligent prayers of people like Dinah, and my mother. But the truth is, every day I wake up, it’s grace. Every time I lift my hands up to worship it’s grace. When I pray, when I go to church, all grace. Because I still don’t understand it, I still don’t understand what all that love is like, why it’s being poured out on a wretch like me. But if my father still loves me, if after everything he still said, “You are my daughter”, then how much more my heavenly Father? So I’m still here, I still try, and thank you Lord, by His grace, it gets easier.

time to say goodbye

'Friends are nature's way of apologizing for our family'. it's been said quite a few times. so i found out a friend of mine's gonna be going away, too soon if you ask me. i was just getting used to having you around, you know... Sometimes as you walk life's road there are just places you can't walk alone, and thank God for people like you who just make it all easier. I've never written a whole blog post thing to one person before, its weird telling you all this here, but this way unless the Internet crashes my words will stay forever.
I can't begin to say how much your absence will be felt, but I'm grateful for what few moments the Lord gave us to share. i don't know what people do in situations like this, usually I'm the one leaving, but I figure it would be a nice gesture to give you something to remember me by. Something thought out and honest, something you'd never lose. It was a tall order. i thought of all my prized possessions, but there wasn't anything wonderful enough, nothing that would tell you everything I think.
So then dear friend, I give you my most prized possession: I give you Jesus. I pray that He shall watch over you, and bear you up in His arms. I pray for you with every word in the 20th Psalm. I give you the Friend who sticks closer than a brother, the One whom no ocean can keep away. i place you in the hands of Him who loves you more than I ever could. So long my friend, we shall meet again I know, should it so please the King.
One of my favourite rock bands are the Sidewalk Prophets, and they  sang a song just for a time like this. i pray over you the words of this song

Three in the morning,
And I'm still awake,
So I picked up a pen and a page,
And I started writing,
Just what I'd say,
If we were face to face,
I'd tell you just what you mean to me,
I'd tell you these simple truths,

Be strong in the Lord and,
Never give up hope,
You're going to do great things,
I already know,
God's got His hand on you so,
Don't live life in fear,
Forgive and forget,
But don't forget why you're here,
Take your time and pray,
These are the words I would say,


From one simple life to another,
I will say,
Come find peace in the Father,

Five years from now, hope you'll still remember me ;))))))))))

a tribute to Faith Nancy, aka Sweetie, gone too soon

Death and grief are little things. They are transient. Life must be before death and joy before grief, else there are no such things as death or grief. These are only negatives, life is positive. Death is only the absence of life, just as night is the absence of day, and if this is so, there is no such thing as death. 

Frank Norris - The Octopus: A Story of California

I don't know exactly who that Frank fella is, I'd like to know where he was coming from when he said those things, if he was just speaking theory or if he really did know true grief, that caused by the loss of someone close. An old school mate, Faith Nancy, passed away on Saturday in a car accident, they lay her to rest on Friday. Death is not something I have met often, thank God, but every time it comes around I find myself asking the very basic questions.

In a copy of True Love, about three years ago I read Carole Mandi's story. She was the then editor of True Love, now she's a publisher of that group of magazines: True Love, Adam and a few others i don't know. So anyway, Carole's daughter died when she was five, after some long complicated illness, I even remember her name, Misuka (and was she pretty!!!). I still remember Carole's words as she spoke of her, "A mother should never have to bury her child". If ever there was a scale of pain, I think this ranks way up there. And I don't think it matters how old they were, even if they were just a few months old, even if it was a miscarriage. One of my aunts lost her daughter when she was three years old, more than thirty years ago, and even to-date, whenever she speaks of her she says that not a day goes by that she does not think of her daughter: how old she'd be now, what she'd be like, who she'd be married to... No mother should ever have to bury their daughter.

As I think of Sweetie, I feel sad, for her mother greater than anyone else. I love how Mary Morand 'Sofine', puts it in her Motherhood - It will change your life. See, I have known the Lord, I know that God is love, and that in all things He is working for our good, everything He does is driven by His love. It doesn't make processing this any easier. She had a two year old chubby angel called Lasoi, and Faith's passing is supposed to be for her good. It's for her mother's good as well... I really want to question, I really want to ask why, I really want to know how it could possibly be for Lasoi's good, this her mum's passing. Frank Norris isn't helping. And if I feel this way, how must her mother feel? How will Lasoi feel when she's old enough to understand?

We make all our plans as though we hold the future, can we do anything but? But when all out of nowhere death calls, when the Lord calls home someone we thought would live forever, what does that say about our mortality?

...and you learn to build all your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight

...and you learn that you really can endure-

that you really are strong

and you really do have worth

and you learn and learn...

With every goodbye you learn.

Veronica Shoffstall - After a While

Farewell Sweetie, I believe there is a plan bigger than all of us. I don't know the plan, but I do know the Planner, and I may not understand His ways, but I trust Him to do the best for all of us. I trust the love that He commended toward us, Christ dying for us while we were yet sinners. In His time, He shall cause all these things to be beautiful...

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom

Psalms 90:12