It’s 11pm and I’m lying on the floor in my bedroom, thinking of home. I remember a nice evening, about 15 years back in the living room with Mum and my siblings watching TV when my mum gets a call that her cousin was involved in a fatal car accident. My mum freaks out, and of course everyone else does. She reaches for her keys and dashes off to the hospital whilst instructing to stay indoors and not open the doors for anybody. I remember praying. He was our favourite uncle. He took us out every Christmas, while the parents hosted relatives. It was a ritual. So I prayed sincere prayers. My elder sister was pacing back and forth, I could hear her mutter words of prayer. My younger brothers, well they kept asking if my uncle was dead, which was very calming, 😩 in case you were wondering.
Five minutes into this chaos, there was a knock on the door. My mum perhaps forgot something, I rushed to the door and asked who’s there?! Tell me why, my uncle who was in a fatal car accident who I imagine was probably at the throne of judgement is at the door, asking to be let in? It all fades out here. I remember crawling out from under the bed a few minutes later, and my uncle was asking us to touch him, trying to prove he’s not a ghost. 😂 Jokes! I was giving him the side eye, thinking so I’ll touch you and we’ll both be facing judgement. I don’t remember who opened the door, that person’s head is not correct, but best believe when I tell this story to my kids I’m the courageous one. •
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of courage...” 2 Timothy 1:7