To read the previous Episode: SANDRA’S DIARY, EPISODE 1


Hey there,  it’s me SANDRA. And I am back

Remember my diary is my world and in my world, my words are laws

The last time I wrote,  I was 14 years old but today I want to make a quick flashback to when I was 12. My mother, remember her? She forced me to attend a burial ceremony which initially I frowned at but in the long run; I became grateful to her. I knew I have my share of being troublesome, blame me not, it so happens that way since I was the only child in the family. I prayed for either a sister or a brother while I was ten years old but I suddenly grew tired of it when mother let the cat out of the bag, not really a secret though but her word was ‘Your dad and I only parented a single child, you are more than enough for us Sandra’

Beautiful and loving as her words may be, I wished they would allow themselves to go against their early marriage decision due to my desperate wish for a younger one. Well, diary I am not here to tell the story of having a sibling but…

I loved going to church right from an early age,  especially the church behind my father’s mansion,  we live in a petite house but I love to call it mansion like my father always said.  About my dad, he had traveled for a business trip and by the time I write again in my diary, he would be back with many gifts and goodies for me.

Sunday remains a blessed day for me, it has this peaceful, heart-lifting atmosphere unlike Monday when I am forced to go to school on time. On Sunday, my mother wakes me up by 5:00 am to have my quiet time; Sometimes I wonder why she was so dutiful to it but as I grow up,  I think I will understand.

It was time to go to church;  I was dressed in my blue color gown with black flat shoes. Mother had preached decency as a girl was the best thing to uphold and I will obey.  Be decent even in your dressing and never wear shabby shoes; the first thing people will notice about you is your shoes, don’t forget that dear. That was what my mother advised.

We had walked down the street to get to church that morning and I held onto my mother’s hand but only let go of her hand when we stepped into the church. Mother was one elder of the church, so she was always seated on the front porch of the church. I was with Lucy, my friend, I will tell you more about my friend when the time comes, but note this Lucy is the shy one but I was bold and outspoken unlike her.

What makes Sunday unique to me was the singing of the hymns, solemn prayers where hands are lifted up in heaven or clenched together in a bid to communicate with God. The sermon isn’t left out also, but this Sunday was special,  the pastor had asked the congregation to willingly appreciate God by giving testimony.

For about five minutes,  no one stood up not even my mother.  She was always giving testimony, so I wondered why today was different.  A man in his mid 30 was sitting beside me,  he was one of those who shares testimony always in the church but today he was unusually quiet.  I tapped him calling him to stand up, he shook his head smiling at me, he said “Child,  the testimony is still a work in progress”

‘Please testify’ I encouraged, but he was unwilling to stand up so I did something, I raised up my hand,  the congregation looked surprised to see my hand raised up,  I wondered why.

‘Pastor I have a testimony’

‘Oh child,  come forward’ he sounded pleased to see a hand finally up in the sky.

I stepped out,  my mother was unsure of what I wanted to say, so she watched as my tiny feet carried me towards the altar. She had a proud smile on her face while her hands along with others in the church hall gave a clap of encouragement.

I held onto the microphone handed over to me then spoke ‘You see everyone,  I have no tangible testimony ‘

‘Tangible or not dear, you can’t decide that’ the pastor said smiling to me

‘ Many know me to be the bold and outspoken girl,  so I thank God for giving me that gift’ I smiled then continued ‘Mr. Peter seated beside me…’ I pointed at him.  ‘ he has a testimony, but he told me it is a work in progress,  I came out to share it to all that glory to our creator for starting a work-in-progress in his life. I bless God for he will complete his work in Mr. Peter; Also, I thank God for my Mama and Papa,  they love me more than anyone else except God,  and for Lucy who God is helping to overcome being shy,  I thank God for our peaceful neighborhood who have bullies like John and Matthew,  I pray they change. Amen. I thank God for our small but mighty church and our handsome pastor who I pray finds a wife to marry on time. He is not getting any younger, right?’ the congregation laughed. ‘Well, this is the end of my testimony’

‘Before I go back to my seat,  I just want to add this knowledge as a little child that I am.  Nothing is too small to appreciate God for.  Whether it be little,  unfinished,  completed or big, we have to appreciate God always like my Papa always said, and we all know, we shouldn’t forget to always give thanks’ the congregation applauded at the end of my testimony even the pastor by my side.

As childish as my testimony in church that Sunday is, I penned this down in my diary lest I forget when I grow up to always give thanks to God. I know, busy as we are in the world; we sometimes forget to appreciate God for every minute thing we receive. Ever heard this, appreciate God in the little things and watch him do bigger things you can ever imagine or fathom.

Till we meet again,  Dear Diary.

I will write more about the present soon,

Yours, Sandra.

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