Three consecutive evenings this week between 6 & 9 PM we've had power interruptions. That's often the time we have supper cooking, showers/baths and bonding time. Its thrown us off guard but we've made the best of candlelight evenings and take out or sandwiches.
Bed time has been moved much earlier and there's real bonding as all electronics are dead. Phones, tablets included. We have just us. Little Fadhili found my lap and plonked his lovely self there. I had little option but to rock him to sleep in absolute silence. I can absorb his smell and hear his breathing. He can hear my heart beat he knows intimately.
God in all His splendour and power and holiness sits in His throne. Hes not dashing madly about clucking about dishes and planting and missing socks and fleas on the dog. He's seated o His throne.
His lap is available 24/7 for us
His loving arms ready to wrap us
His heart beats for us
We are His own
He is our Father
In the silence, in the darkness, in the stillness He awaits us
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Strength To Soar
We were packed tightly on the back seat of the minivan. It was quite a feat given we are well endowed. Three women, absolutely new to each other connected in 20 minutes on the bus ride; our common denominator; to not quit.
We didn't have time to exchange names nor contacts but we weren't the same after we parted ways after the short ride from Kencom and Community.
The lady on my left was 65 and looked 48. The lady on my right was 55 and had endured 2 back surgeries, burying her husband and carrying on the mantle.
We were all together at the exact moment in time today clutching onto hope for a solid future for our children and we were doing our best in our capacity, knowledge and strength to see it through. No coincidence if I was asked. If we don't who will.
I was reminded of women who taught me what strength is. In the flower farms of Naivasha, tales akin to horror stories landed in my lap for the reason they were my ward in the capacity of my job.
At the crack of dawn, some of the women workers would leave their one month old babies at baby care because that's what they could afford. The law had not been changed to extend maternity leave to 3 months then. The attendants at baby care, to cope with the numbers, sedated the children. Many were malnourished, some died.
Miscarriages in the over 40 degree centigrade multi million dollars green houses, working on highly toxic flowers of which they had no idea that they ended up sitting pretty on table tops several kilometres away.
Tears are beginning to well up as I remember the smiles and humility these women worked with. How they laughed at my poor kiswahili, yet were far from their real families living in squalid conditions with little to eat just to earn a living and send some money home.
Their strength fires me up again, is the wind beneath my wings to soar. A tribute to all the strong women who don't whine about a chipped nail or air conditioning or a slipped disc or a mastectomy that saw her husband leave while in hospital.
We behind you will be strong and complete the journey you taught us well to finish strong with joy and peace and above all on our knees in prayer.
We didn't have time to exchange names nor contacts but we weren't the same after we parted ways after the short ride from Kencom and Community.
The lady on my left was 65 and looked 48. The lady on my right was 55 and had endured 2 back surgeries, burying her husband and carrying on the mantle.
We were all together at the exact moment in time today clutching onto hope for a solid future for our children and we were doing our best in our capacity, knowledge and strength to see it through. No coincidence if I was asked. If we don't who will.
I was reminded of women who taught me what strength is. In the flower farms of Naivasha, tales akin to horror stories landed in my lap for the reason they were my ward in the capacity of my job.
At the crack of dawn, some of the women workers would leave their one month old babies at baby care because that's what they could afford. The law had not been changed to extend maternity leave to 3 months then. The attendants at baby care, to cope with the numbers, sedated the children. Many were malnourished, some died.
Miscarriages in the over 40 degree centigrade multi million dollars green houses, working on highly toxic flowers of which they had no idea that they ended up sitting pretty on table tops several kilometres away.
Tears are beginning to well up as I remember the smiles and humility these women worked with. How they laughed at my poor kiswahili, yet were far from their real families living in squalid conditions with little to eat just to earn a living and send some money home.
Their strength fires me up again, is the wind beneath my wings to soar. A tribute to all the strong women who don't whine about a chipped nail or air conditioning or a slipped disc or a mastectomy that saw her husband leave while in hospital.
We behind you will be strong and complete the journey you taught us well to finish strong with joy and peace and above all on our knees in prayer.
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