"The feeling remains that God is in the journey, too". (Saint Teresa of Avila)
When I was very small I used to take the early bus home. The school day ended at Lunch for young pupils in standard one and two. I would ride alone in the hour long Nairobi city bus and then alight at the white gates of the Seminary school where my parents worked and studied. There was a long red dusty road between the gates of the school and the living accommodation compounds, as the years went by and I got bigger I learned to brave the walk on the dusty long red road, but at five and six, the dread of missionary dogs in compounds that lined the road and aggressive cow herds that often shared the road and forced little children into the ditches was far to intimidating.
My mother was sensitive to my fears and always sent our live-in-care-giver that we knew and loved as our Auntee to meet me at the bus stop. In the heat of midday, I can still picture a uniformed smaller me, with a canvas knapsack hanging from both shoulders. I remember taking a rather high jump from the bus into a cloud of red dust that was created from the aggressive giant wheels of a bus starting off. The bus would soon disappear down toward Dagoretti Market, taking with it a heavy smell of metal and petrol.
Auntee leaning against a fence just beyond the white gates could always quicken my tired feet, she was home and Shalom, a sight of protection after being small and overlooked in the harsh bustle and push of the crowded city.
If we are blessed (and I hope most of us have to some extent been blessed in this way) we have known the magic persistence of a womanly kind of guardianship. You can feel it in the firm hold of a kanga that wraps a toddler to the chest of a mother or perhaps from the fingertips of an aggressive typist in some building uptown at 6pm on a weekday, mothering community change.
Chinua Achebe, the notable African (Nigerian) writer argues that "stories create people create stories". I would agree. My narrative has formed who I am becoming and that which I choose to invite the world to share in through story. My story has included the persistent guardianship of a Womanly Creator who has met me on this healing path, and She has held me.
Whom shall I fear?
|Matt Redman - You Never Let Go .mp3|
|Found at bee mp3 search engine|