50 Shards of Broken Glass

As I walked to my car this morning this is what I saw. As is any driver's nightmare, my heart skipped a beat as I inched ever so slowly towards my vehicle unsure what I would find. For those who are not familiar, the shards of glass on the ground is evidence of a burglar breaking the window of a vehicle and taking something valuable. This has happened to me once before, a few years ago and what the thief stole (an iPod of immense sentimental value given to me by a group of brothers on my 25th birthday) was no where near as horrible as the inconvenience and expense of replacing the  glass windows of my car. Needless to say my stomach was in knots as I walked. I was in a good mood walking out of the house. I had just found out that I had somehow managed to make this months budget despite all the financial curve balls I had been thrown so walking along the street and seeing broken glass purported to screw up my great mood. When I got to my car I honestly was looking for the broken window, the shards, the loss but to my utmost surprise, there was no such thing, the car was intact with no scratch at all. I checked again, walked the whole perimeter of the car and there was no sign of an attempted break in. In disbelief, I checked a second time before taking the pictures posted.

To better understand my surprise, you will need to know how immensely close I was to the cars burgled. It appears as though two cars had been broken into and I was the third car in line next to the cars involved. Luck, you might say, coincidence, perhaps but for me there is a God and through such things he speaks to me.

Yesterday I was having one of those tough days. It was one of those days that I woke up got dresses, sat on the bed and picked up a photo of my mother held it and began to cry and talk to her and to God in prayer. It was more like complaining about why she had to die so young. I was complaining to God so much about how all I have tried to do in life was to try to serve him and how he had deprived me of one thing that would have given me so much joy; taking care of my mother and grandmother. I cried that I didn't say that I loved them enough, that I didn't get to say a proper goodbye and my heart was heavy.

As usual it was all silence until I had to wipe away my tears, pick myself up and head to work.  As I drove to work I already felt extremely exhausted. It was if I had been doing manual labor all morning or that perhaps I had been carrying several 50kg bags of cement and loading them unto a big cargo truck. Realizing my exhaustion and knowing the number of patients I was scheduled to see for the day I prayed a prayer for strength. The sun was out and the day was beautiful, usually that is enough to cheer me up, but not this day.  After the prayer I started thinking of things that could help cheer me up and put some bounce in my mood before my work day began. I remembered the previous day I had stumbled serendipitously on a Ghanaian worship medley on YouTube.  The second song in the series had gripped me and the words reminded me of a prayer I erstwhile prayed but don't pray anymore because I have been so saddled with the many cares of life and its speed. The words of the song and the prayer so simple, "redeemer, I commit myself to thee, hold me, watch over my going out and my coming in for I'm losing my way." I opened the song on my phone connected it to the sound system in my car and began to listen to it.

I played the song several times over and I started to feel a lot better as I began to feel like I was surrendering. The song continued to reverberate in my heart throughout the day and I found myself  humming it at different points of the day. I texted my little sister about how I was feeling and my youngest aunt about the same and they both did what they could to be encouraging and supportive but deep down the person I really wanted to hear from was my creator and it felt like he was being silent about the whole thing. When the work day ended, rather later than I had wanted it to, I found myself again in my car listening to the song enroute home. Then I heard a voice, a clear voice, "My son, there is no need for you to be troubled your grandmother and mother's lives were a gift to you for a time, just like your life is also a gift to someone else for a time, I am well aware of the intimate, deep details of your life and although you may never fully understand I will cradle you in the palms of my hand."

Hearing this brought a calming peace over my heart I could no longer complain at least not in the moment. Does this mean that I will never have one of those days, NO! and rightly so because the kind voice intimated that I may never understand. However, what is sure is that I will be cradled and the details of the events of this morning only confirmed this truth that indeed I am not alone and that the fine details of my life matter to the divine. Does that mean that the details of the other two car owners do not matter, not at all, but in this case God is choosing to speak to me in this point in my life this particular way. Our lives are gifts both to ourselves and to others selected by the maker to enjoy such gifts.

Some people may not understand why I share such thoughts, pictures and musings. They may think that perhaps I have nothing better to do than to post things about my seemingly fabulous life but my reasons are far from it.  I share not to gloat but in hopes that by sharing someone may be elevated. I am convinced that my gifts are not completely mine but they are to be used for the common good.