If you know me, you probably think I don’t care what people think. A lie I have managed to sell for a long time. You see, I do care, more than I would want to, especially when I want that person to like me. My latest circumspection has been over my dressing.
I would describe my dressing as neither conservative nor provocative. It is simply dressing. I like style. I like looking good. And if that means donning that gorgeous black dress that is a little above the knee or that fancy top that shows a little bit of my back, then so be it.
Recently, I made some conservative friends. The kind that put on only long skirts and dresses. Since I wanted them to like me, I started worrying about the length of my dresses and skirts. I was worried that they think I am not conservative and decent enough. As a result, I made a habit of seeing them only and only when I was dressed ‘conservative enough’. On top of that, I made a couple of purchases of dresses that are past the knee long.
The tango between the desire to change my mode of dressing, which in my mind equaled being liked by my conservative friends and the desire to maintain my normal dressing, which equals being myself, started taking a toll on me. I would wake up, choose something to wear and change about 4 times because so and so would not approve of it. And if it happened that I was in my normal outfits, I would do absolutely everything to avoid them. This has been going on for a while.
Yesterday, I was reading an article (There is no formula to keep your family from sin-https://kindredgrace.com/no-formula-to-keep-from-sin/ ) on a Christian blog called Kindred Grace that completely opened my eyes. It dawned on me that what I was doing was idolatry because I was putting what I thought my conservative friends would think above my Savior Jesus Christ.
I learnt that Jesus is my identity. His dying on the cross set me free from death, sin and slavery (and I am counting being too concerned about what people think as slavery). Going back to what he set me free from is a disregard to the cross that set me free 2000 years ago.
In the light of this and the fact that salvation is not an outward sign but an inward personal relationship with my God, I decided I would not change on anyone’s account. I embrace my imperfections and acknowledge that I am a work in progress in the hands of the author and finisher of my faith; The great I AM!
I am a planner. Not just in the sense of planning for my next meal or break. I am literally a planner since I have been training as an Economic planner. As a planner, we do projections for up to the end of the century, plan for 1, 5, 10, 22 years from now. In short, we worry for everybody. We like getting ahead of time.
It is not surprising that I carry this same quality to my life by worrying a lot. I worry about what I will put on tomorrow at work, on Saturday when going out, on Sunday at church, what I will eat for dinner or breakfast tomorrow, what I will be doing 5 years from now. What about 30 years from now? I worry about everything and I tell you, it is exhausting. Both mentally and physically.
Today, while I was walking to work, I was worrying about the town service I will board or I think the amount of airtime I had on my phone, what I would tell so and so…..well it was about a lot of things. As usual, I was exhausting my brain even before getting to work. I started watching my steps, how I was putting one foot forward at a time. I challenged myself to just focus on my next step and nothing else. I did exactly that for the next two minutes. I felt the tension on my muscles subsiding, my shoulders relaxing, my mind freed, a smile on my face. I felt so good.
It is then that I made up my mind to adopt “crossing that bridge when I get there” type of mindset.
After all, Jesus asked His disciples in Mattew 6:27
Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?
I am not a big fan of the Swahili proverb “lisemwalo lipo, kama halipo laja” translated to “Whatever is being said is true and if it is not yet true it’s about to be true,” especially when it comes to rumors. But unfortunately, that makes me just one among the minority of the population. Even more so women.
A lady friend told me that someone bad mouthing a girl and spreading malicious rumors about her is either a man who can’t have her or a girl who can’t be her. Which I fully agree with.
What is even sadder is that no matter who started the rumors, whether it’s from the mouth of a boy who can’t have her or a girl who can’t be her, it’s always us girls who do the spreading. And we say it with so much conviction that anybody around us, even the victim herself might start believing it.
We rarely stop to think what if I was her? How would I feel if this was going around about me? What if she was my sister? What if she was my mother? What if she was my daughter? Would I want this to go around about her? How would I feel?
Words are powerful. It takes someone who has been a victim of malicious rumors to know just how powerful and destructive they are. And it takes a really strong person to rise above them. Therefore, the next time you open your mouth to bad mouth someone, stop and think!
Let us stop giving meaning to the common misconception that women are their own worst enemies!
Recently, I felt the urge to talk to a certain beggar I usually see on the main street of my home town. On a hot Saturday morning, after stepping out of the supermarket, I walked over to him and sat next to him. I had it all planned out in my head but once we exchanged greetings, I found myself speechless.
I started fidgeting with my bag before blurting out “why do you sit here?”
“Because I have to get food or because I am poor.” Something similar to that.
In my young mind, I thought asking him about his family was the appropriate next question. So I did exactly that. In a piteous voice, he told me all his family depended on him. I had nothing else to ask or say so I made my apologies for the intrusion, lots of them, deposited some money on his hand and left.
Even though deep down I knew it was no fault of his to be a beggar, I found myself quiet annoyed with him for feeling sorry for himself.
It hit me then that the couple of times I have used self-pity (lost mother card) to get what I want (discounts), I must have annoyed the salespersons . I made a mental note to never do it again.
With that, I am leaving you with:
Today, I saw this dog lying by her dead pup. At first I thought the pup was sleeping but when I took a closer look, I saw blood and I immediately knew he was dead. Probably run over by a car or a motorcycle.
The mother was mourning and paying her respects. It was such a heart wrenching scene.
PS.. I am sorry I have been away for too long. I have been having crazy writer’s block. I guess you ain’t a writer if you havent suffered from it😁😁.
Heart ample with a yearning
Flowing like a river
Her mind churning
Whether the clouds are lined with silver.
Anticipating with zeal
For when her mind will be blown
But unable to conceal
The fear of the unknown.
Baskets and drinks on the boat
Spread out on the ancient capote
Looking in to the eyes of the dote
Thoughts of what could go wrong away float.
A fleeting moment
Hearts and minds in sync with contentment Ignoring the potent
Of the green smile from the opponent.
Dazzling with panache
Hips and feet moving with swash
Left, right, smile flashed
Silent prayer of the enemy squashed.