“To those who question their birth and decry this life and its troubles, and say that it might have been better not to have been born: Well, this life isn’t much, taken on its own merit, but what about eternity? Narrow-mindedness is a dangerous affliction; If you’re not born to this life, you have no chance at eternity. Is it worth it? This life might not be, but eternity is definitely worth it.” – Makafui.
According to my Mom, when I was born, I was weak to the point that the doctors thought I hadn’t made it. They later found out that I had a congenital heart defect (hole in heart, with an enlarged heart), and announced to my Mom that I wouldn’t make it past two months. That was twenty-nine years and a few months ago. This report came from doctors in the best hospital in the country (KBTH-Ghana), but at a time when not much could be done about it realistically. Long story short, she was devastated, but she brought me home, put my medical files with the diagnosis and prognosis to flames, prayed, and put her faith in God.
“The worst kind of scars are those that cover unhealed wounds; Scars that are still painful to touch, reacting to even the gentlest of caresses with reflexive responses that spit in the faces of good-will and love. But there’s hope for tomorrow and today; Scars must tell their stories, but they should not control destiny.” – Makafui.
“Peace calls out each morning for my attention, promising comfort and strength for the day on the breath of dawn; Sometimes I respond, sometimes I choose to sleep just a little bit more. One too many times I missed the call. The more I missed, the fainter the call became; The more I slept, the harder I became of hearing; Till the morning was silent – silent, but not peaceful. Then Peace thundered and broke the silence when I was on the verge of forgetting what Peace was. May my mornings never be silent, but always peaceful.” – Makafui.
“How it saddens Me to watch you sow seeds in darkness,
That grow and bloom with much toil, only to bring forth rotten fruits.
I watch with chagrin, held back by a covenant I swore by Myself
Because of a sweet-smelling sacrifice offered by a choice servant,
From judging in wrath with a deluge – suffocating every eyesore
And completely removing the stubborn root of my heartaches.
“Alas, the choice was made –
Irrevocable by the edicts of free-will.
Though it broke My heart many times over,
I watched as you left, dejected yet prideful;
Such pride as is borne of ignorance and presumptuousness.
I witnessed the corruption of perfections once more;
Took in at a glance the full extent of the cracks and flaws
Skillfully injected into My impeccable design.
“We’ve come full circle, haven’t we?
In the beginning you were Mine, and I loved you.
I adored and pampered you; you had My presence,
Saw My face, heard My voice. I spoke to you
Among the trees like one to his beloved,
With whispers, and caresses, and warnings;
You were lovely, and innocent and glorious;
You made Me smile, because I looked at what I had made,
And knew it was good; Without blemish, not lacking
In purpose or power, in beauty or wisdom, in love or grace.
You were My delight, My treasure, My pleasure.