Oh would I have tongues like fire
Burning with brimstone and sulphur
Acidic bullets coated with led innings
Never enough will it be enough
Never enough were the tears I shed
When I fell on the road to hell
Never enough were the help I got
On my sojourn back to heaven
Never enough will it be enough
There’s a reason why
Our pain is felt through our skins
There’s a reason why
Tears flow like stuffed bowels
There’s a reason why
Words from frenemies cut
There’s a reason why
Our war room is naked
We are humans
I wish to quickly talk about helping people.
There are three categories of people you can’t help.
1. Those who don’t know they have a problem.
2. Those who know they have a problem but don’t think they need help.
3. Those who believe you are part of the problem.
For each of these categories, there’s a distinct peculiarity.
During Tuesday Chapel, we’ve always had a preacher from the US. He is not necessarily the Pastor, hence the word, preacher. I’ll call him Pastor A. For most of us, he was our first contact with preaching to a mixed audience.
Interestingly, he caught our attention and we loved him. He was witty, sequential, very detailed and always, always, always tells a story. And of course, he spoke English so well and simply – his interpreters don’t have issues.
This letter is to all single mothers out there. I hope you find strength; and a good husband.
Dear single mother,
My name is Deji but I’m not a single father. Not because I’ve not had opportunities to birth babies nor for lack of available baby mamas. I am not a single father because I have not impregnated any lady and not be put in the position to abort nor deny my sperm.
So, you must understand how I greatly appreciate you. For one reason or the other, probably by a moment of weakness, you became pregnant outside wedlock but you chose not to kill that baby. You are my MVP.