Storm Warnings

By John Ogunjimi

Please permit me to take a break from my break for the sake of this very important post. And, please, find time to read it to the end. It’s very important.

I was in the middle of something I was writing when Harvey made landfall as a Category 4 storm in, in August. Shortly afterwards, it flooded Houston as it finally slowed down to a tropical storm after displacing thousands of people and wrecking havoc.

I took particular interest in following the news probably because it resonated with the tenor of what I was writing at that time. I was writing about my experience on one Sunday morning last year: an account of how the sermon I took that morning had to take an unplanned different course from what I had on the outline.

Just Come

Just Come

On the 28th of December last year, I found myself in the hospital.

Okay! It’s not as bad as it sounds; what I mean is that I didn’t plan to go there. I went to the campus that day to see someone, but he wasn’t at his office. When I called him, he said he was at the health centre, so I went there to see him.

He was checking his blood pressure when I got there. As he stood up to leave, I passed a comment like, “I don’t remember the last time I did this.” That’s how they–the nurses, the person I went to see, the man who drives the ambulance–persuaded me to take my sit and check too. I agreed.

As the nurse tightened the cuff of the sphygmomanometer around my arm, I distracted myself from what she was doing by focusing on what was written on the the oxygen tank siting opposite me, deliberately becoming absent minded. I was jolted back to reality when she announced the readings, saying my blood pressure was low. (Whatever that means!) 😐

Different questions and opinions started flowing from the people there: How old are you? You are a young man; You don’t have much to think about. You are not married yet, so you are not worrying about anything. (Actually, the way someone there said it, you would think having a wife was an automatic blood pressure raiser.) 😂

On a not-too-serious note.

​On a not-too-serious note. 

I don’t like mosquitoes. That is hardly news considering the fact that that is a common factor to most humans. Mosquitoes are dangerous and you should avoid them by all means–especially the girls among them. Personally, there’s a kind of irritation my skin develops whenever it smells them.

There are many things a normal person should never like about mosquitoes. Maybe the first would be the silly noise they make that sounds like an amateur fiddling the E string of an untuned violin. Very annoying something!

Next to that should be their modus operandi.

[Fiction] Here for You

Source: Internet

Here for You

By John Ogunjimi

I returned from the office exhausted from the day’s work and with files of unfinished business in my briefcase. My plan was to get home, have a shower, take a one-hour nap, and resume my office work, as I have had to do in the last two weeks.

However, something unusual happened when I arrived home. My wife was home earlier than usual, seated in the living room coiled up like a cat in a carton with her gaze fixed on the television.

“Hello, dearest,” I said, dropping my briefcase on a stool beside the couch.

“Welcome home,” she replied, sitting up but without really looking in my direction.

[Passion] Conclusions

Conclusions

Some years back, I had just moved to a new city and joined myself to the fellowship there. After attending some services there, a sister caught up with me after the service one Sunday and said she wanted to see me.

We stood outside and talked. She said she had a restitution to make. I was surprised because I was new there and couldn’t even remember ever having a discussion or disagreement with her or anyone there.

When I asked what it was about, she said I came up in a discussion with her friends, and they had said some things about me. She said her conscience pricked her afterwards and she felt the need to apologise.

I said I forgive her, but out of curiosity I wanted to know what was said about me. It turned out they had said I was proud because of the way I related — or did not relate — with people.