The Fruit Tree Theory

In my aunt's house, where I currently stay, there's an orchard in the backyard. In the middle of that orchard is a mango tree.

She tells me that the mango tree's first fruiting was abundant. She also says that her gardeners ate a lot of that abundant fruit and she wasn't too happy about it. 

This year, she says, the harvest is abysmal in comparison. She has deliberately refrained from calling in the gardeners just so she can have more of the fruit to herself and her family (myself included). 

This morning she was staring out at the mango tree from the kitchen and said, "you know, maybe the harvest is small this year because I haven't allowed anyone else near the tree. The old people used to say that the more people eat from a fruit tree, the more fruit it bears."

I looked out at the tree and pondered for a second. "How does the tree know a lot of people are eating from it?"

"It's a living thing; it knows."

Later that day, as I took a shower, looking out the window at the top of the mango tree, the conversation with my aunt replayed in my mind. And it occurred to me that that fruit trees do not eat of their own fruit. Their only concern is to produce fruit that other people can enjoy.

Galatians 5:22-23 is about living for others, not ourselves. Of making sure that our neighbours are fed, and the more neighbours we feed, the more fruit we bear. 

Spiritual stagnation is a result of selfishness. 

"If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself,' you are doing well". James 2:8.

And we know by ourselves, we're unable to love our neighbour - 

"They are corrupt, they do abominable deeds; there is none who does good." Psalm 14:1b. 

 But in Christ, we can love. 

Moral of the story, put on Christ so you can bear fruit for your neighbours. 

"... for the Lord is pleased with such sacrifices.“ Hebrews 13:16.

The importance of being mysterious

As a younger woman, I used to think there was merit in shock value. I thought the more out-of-pocket my words and actions, the more enamoured of me my love interests would be.

The part, I find, that convinced me of using shock value as a long term device was really my own impatience. 

As an older woman I am learning the importance of mystery and delayed gratification in building a solid bond with the man I want. 

Now as the Holy Spirit is teaching me patience, the more I understand that there is explosive power in the wait; the careful contemplation; the holding.

And that power, even though, revealed at the end, certainly provides benefits throughout the build-up. 

The in-between

My life is about to change again. In the month that I will turn 42, I will have to move back home to my parent's house.

Being unmarried and childless, it shouldn't be a problem. Less so also because both my parents are no longer with us and will not be expecting these from me. 

I am wont to think that I have accomplished very little in my 7 year expedition of living on my own. I say that because I had obscure dreams of returning back home to my mother alive and well with husband and at least 1 offspring in tow.

It was not to be.

But as life teaches those who are willing to learn, progress is progress whether it fails to live up to your warped vision or not. 

I left home an obstinate 34 year old who was essentially a practising atheist. I did think there must be a God but I lived my life unsure of Him and therefore, without him in my daily life. I barely thought about Him until I was in trouble and even then, I tried to bargain with him instead of fully surrendering. 

Living my life like there was no God showed in the way I treated myself and others. I was selfish and guarded and wanted to be liked but too proud to like people back. 

In my 7 years away I learned what it meant to be lonely, it got so bad sometimes that I'd be physically cold on a warm April day. This loneliness that drove me to one of the most shameful things I had ever done; date a married man. 

I learned what it was to be addicted; I was essentially a pothead, getting high of weed and the terrible decisions that came with it. 

I learnt what it meant to starve, during the COVID outbreak, I had to do with much less money than I was used to spending. I essentially starved for a whole month and lost so much weight, my friend was alarmed when she saw me and went shopping for food items to hold me over.

I learned what it meant to mourn like my heart was shattered to pieces when both my parents died in the same year and opened up a gaping hole of grief I didn't even know existed.

But in the midst of this painful life, I also learned something I had been running away from. I learned who I am; the crowning glory of the creation of God. 

Why I'm here; to bring glory and honour to the one who created me. 

Why I felt so wretched and did such wretched things; because I was created for God's glory but I am alienated and hostile in mind and heart to Him and therefore living for my own glory. Dissonance. 

So I may be moving back home single and childless, but I'm so much more than I use to be. 

I learned who I am and asked for forgiveness. I learned that treating people with respect and dignity and love covered a multitude of sins. I learned that I didn't have to be selfish because royalty has trust in abundance by virtue of their standing in life and I am standing in the bossom of The King. I learned that God gives and God takes away. 

God orders our steps and has a plan and if you give yourself up to him, he will be a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path. And because of this knowledge and trust, whether you think you achieved what you set out to or not, you will always find rest back home. 

Let the story begin. 

Flesh Wound/Skin Deep

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach; that fluttering sense of foreboding you get when you do something which could end in tears but you take a chance and do it anyway? Because in the moment, you are more focused on getting the thing you did off your chest? That feeling that threatens to break the bounds of your unsettled belly and explode through your chest & out of your lungs?

That’s what I’m feeling now. I’ve just sent a text to Richard, my boyfriend, telling him exactly what I think about his silent treatment.

The music I’m playing on high volume is not helping but I can’t focus enough to lower it or turn it off. I should turn it off. I should turn everything off. The music, the lights, my heart. Just fucking close down for living and be done with it all. 

But there’s a coward that lives somewhere inside my conscience who won’t let me. Coward or prophet? I’ll let the future decide. 

So instead I pick up my phone and dial Ayitey’s number. But before it can ring, I end it. I can’t randomly call a married man in the middle of the night to talk about my problems, even if he was my best friend years before he met his wife. 

I put the phone down and try to think of someone else to call. Not Mansa. She has become an early sleeper since she had her first child. Motherhood is draining, apparently. 

Shit, I need to get some new friends! 

After 5 minutes of sitting in despair I give up and turn off the music. I love you Labrinth, but you’re not helping.

I turn off the light, turn on the fan and turn to social media. Surely there’s a meme there that understands what I’m going through. The internet doesn’t disappoint. What the internet also doesn’t do is give you peace of mind. Because for every 3rd meme that makes me giggle, I find 5 random couples dancing in a video or a picture of a proposal or wedding. 

Fuck it, I guess I’m turning the phone off too. I toy with the idea of turning life off again, but I shake it off, turn to lay on my back and stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep. 

I wake up the next morning and for a split second I forget everything; from the underwhelming text exchange with Richard the night before, the ensuing feeling of fear and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Just for a split second though, because my phone pings and I scramble for it. It’s a text from Richard. My spirits lift for a second until I read it.

“I think we should take a break,” it says.

And that’s when I break. 

Down.

***

But as I wash my face in my tiny bathroom, I wash away tears that I can’t control. I pat my face dry, and for several minutes, I lose my thoughts in my hands as they reach for the jar of cotton balls, and grab the bottle of natural skin toner I purchased the day before from a Saturday market. I am completely lost in wiping my face with the mildly stinging liquid; in fanning my face to help it dry quickly and finally in massaging my face with the toner’s accompanying oil.   

It is as I leave the bathroom to get dressed that I am hit by the thought of being single again but I don’t cry. I have no more tears to shed, but my heart is still heavy. I dress up and stare at my reflection in the mirror to see if my eyes are puffy from crying. 

What stares back at me is nothing short of glorious. The morning sun beaming through the window dances on my skin, glistening on minimized pores and coconut oil. In a moment of pure vanity, I am taken aback by my own beauty. He’s going to let all this go? Ha! Fine.

If he doesn’t want to be with me, I sure as heck don’t want to be with him. Not when I’ve got that fresh skin glow just giving me life. I make a mental note to order more of the skin care set at the end of the month.

Superpowers

Brimah pulls up a chair close to Kojo's desk and sits down next to him. He doesn't say anything.
Kojo pauses his typing to look up at his work bestie, waiting patiently for him to form the words.
Brimah finally pipes up, "I think I have super powers."
"You don't say!" Kojo rolls his eyes and goes back to typing.
"No, seriously. You remember Trish had a date 3 weeks ago?"
"Yeah... "
"But..."
"But she didn't go because the guy called to cancel."
"And you remember last week, her date?"
"Yeah, the thunder stor..." Kojo's eyes widen in mockery, "no!"
Brimah nods with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Kojo's face turns serious again, "Brimah! Pure coincidence. Let it happen a 3rd time, then we can talk. Also, why don't you just tell her you like her?"
Brimah clutches his imaginary pearls, aghast.
"Oh no no no, my other superpower is fucking up potential relationships. I'll love from afar, thank you very much."
With that he dramatically coasts his chair back to his desk. 

His Eye Is On Me

Growing up, I struggled with the notion of a heavenly father who was caring and had my best interest at heart so I wasn't able to truly appreciate Christianity or men in general for that matter. I thought, "how great could he be?" 

Then as I grew older I realised that my idea of a heavenly father and men in general was based on the way my father showed up in my life;  the way he treated my mother; the way he treated us. So for a long time I couldn't get myself to trust God. I didn't even want to get married. That is until 2021.

It was a strange year for me. I was having anxiety attacks by day and panic attacks by night. Some so severe, I couldn't sleep because everytime I tried, I felt that I would be sucked into darkness and never return. They would start with a tightness in my chest that would spread all over my body until I was shaking and hyper ventilating. 

It got so bad that I had to turn to God. I got into the habit of calling a devoted Christian friend every night just so we could read scriptures and pray and that was the only way I could fall asleep. And then one afternoon after I almost drowned (I'm being a tad dramatic here, I really just lost my balance and swallowed some pool water but it felt nearly catastrophic to me in the moment.)

I came home thinking about fear and being absolutely convinced that it was the opposite of love. While I cooked, I felt a familiar tightness in my chest and I thought "oh goodness, not again". 

But then something was different about this attack. It didn't feel like my chest was caving in, it felt like my heart was filling up and would explode at any minute. 

I thought about my father and suddenly started thinking of him as a man, just a man with fears and insecurities who really just did the best with what he knew. And most of his actions were probably governed by fear. And I knew fear and I felt love for him like I hadn't felt since I was a little girl still looking at him through rose coloured glasses. And I forgave him. 

Then I thought about my mother and how she let her disappointment at the failings of my father dictate the way she treated us sometimes. About how she felt she couldn't trust us because she thought we were on our father's side and of how lonely she must have felt all those years and how afraid she must have been. And it occurred to me that she also was doing the best she could with what she thought she knew and I felt her fear and I felt love for her. 

This went on all afternoon, me thinking about everyone I thought had wronged me and walking in their shoes and realising how selfish I myself had been and how I was also acting on fear and my heart finally did explode and I loved them all. And forgave them all. 

It was after that day that I started reading the bible daily and praying fervently for a change of heart for myself and for the people I love. For months after that day I felt lighter on my feet, stopped having panic and anxiety attacks and just worked on becoming a better woman. 

Then my father took ill in February 2022. When it looked like he wouldn't make it, I thought at the time that perhaps that's why I found God the previous October. Perhaps to pray for him and help him live long enough to get some peace of mind. But he didn't make it. 

In the next few months following his death I think I may have come to terms with it. He always said it is given man but 70 years to live so when he hit 76, he used to say he was playing extra time. And he died at 83. I figured it wasn't so bad. He'd certainly had a full life. 

So I made a list of promises to myself, that I would hunker down and make the best of what I had (business family and all) and part of that list was that I'd meet the man I was going to marry at the end of 2022.

And then shortly after that, my mother took ill. There was a particular episode with her at the hospital when she had a pulmonary embolism and couldn't breathe and I prayed with all my might and she got through it and I thought, "she must be the reason that I found God in October" because despite her failings she was really a good person and God must want to keep her alive. 

But then she also died and I was at a loss. I was angry, sad, disappointed. I was lost. I didn't get it. I didn't understand why God would pluck me from not knowing him and drop me into longing for him only to plague me with adversity.   

A little while ago, as I sat in an uber on my way home thinking about my life, about the year I had and how calm and unafraid I felt about the whole thing, I realised something. 

My encounter in October didn't happen because God wanted me to save my parents from death. It happened because the great Yehowa, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the creator of all things wanted to save me! 

Me! Little old me with my insecurities and doubt and selfishness. Yehowah wanted to replace my fear with love. He wanted me to know him on a personal level. He came for me. 

That thought brought tears to my eyes and wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket on a cold night. 

He loves me. 

 

And because He loves me, I am not afraid. 

365 minus 1

 

Yesterday my world fell apart. Again.

Like it has every year since we ended. I kept rebuilding it on promises that were never made, signs that aren’t there but I want so much to see them that I imagine they are. And then I stay floating in my castle, looking down at the prince walking away but believing he’s walking my way; a trick of the glaring warning light. Until he huffs and puffs and blows down my monument of lies. And yet I reprise my castle in the skies.

In the trick of the soft lighting at the bar, it seemed like my castle might hold this time. He sat there looking shy, good looking and shy but I never saw that part of him before. It made me want to throw my drunken arms around him. And then I thought about wrapping my drunken legs around him. I got excited for a second. Just before Maria stood up and started dancing. I took out my phone to document it for posterity. Maria drunk and dancing.

He smiled at her dancing. Then I wished I was as care-free as Maria. He clearly appreciates that. But if I got up then, I would have just looked like a me-too. And there it is. The reason I feel like I don’t deserve him; my constant self-doubt.

Alcohol doesn’t do for me what it used to anymore; I was drunk but I still couldn’t let loose.

I turned to him and took a photo of him watching her. The lighting was good. He looked good. So good.

The night wore on. We sang along to the too loud music and danced in our chairs. Bathroom breaks and more drinks. Then someone said we ought to go. I thought he’d go back to my place with me but then he looked down at his phone and typed something. Then he looked up at me.

“my friend is coming here. She lives in my area so she’ll give me a ride home.”

Crack! The castle walls split unexpectedly on the side. A gaping crevice. I opened the uber app on my phone and hailed one. It was 3 minutes away. Suddenly, I noticed Maria and Adwoa weren’t there anymore. Bathroom break maybe, because their bags were sitting next to Adwoa’s boyfriend.

“Ok, my uber is here. Bye”

I walked out just as his friend walked in. “Hi. Bye”

On the curb I couldn’t wait for the cab to get to me but I also wished he’d chase me. But he and her came out and they walked towards her car. I stepped away and turned my head so no one would see the disappointment on my face. They probably couldn’t anyway with the mask and the night.

Then he was behind me.

“Are you upset?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“Talk to me.”

“there’s no point.”

“Ok, I gotta go then. Give me a hug?”

He holds me to him. My chin rested on his shoulder, my chest pressed up against his. I was breathing hard and he held on.

Crack! A gaping crevice on the other side.

He held it together with his hand pressing hard against my back. But the castle came tumbling down into a moat of tears.

“I can’t be what you need me to be.”

I sobbed harder. “I know that.”

“Then let go.”

“I’ve tried!”

“No.”

“I tried. So many times. I just need you to not talk to me anymore.”

“No.”

“Don’t talk to me anymore. It’s the only way.”

The uber had been waiting. So I got in.

Well, it’s safe to say that the first day of the year was wasted in la la land. So starting on the second day of the new year, here’s to seeing things as they are and accepting them.