More from Ogwiji Blessing

LET GO OF THE PAST

I have lived the last few years of my life as a sad person. I think that might have stemmed from the fact that I seem to pursue my dreams at a rather slow pace or maybe I feel that my achievements do not commensurate my tireless efforts, geared towards success. Wedged between gloom and pessimism; I murmur and grumble endlessly about everything, from school work to doing my chores in my small closet.

I soon found out that I have been very impatient with myself — setting rather unrealizable goals, expecting too much from others, and hanging on the thin rope of validation which snaps frequently, leaving me with shattered self esteem.

As I look back now, I can’t quantify the hurt I have done my mind by enlarging my flaws and overlookable mistakes as if with a microscope. I owe much of my lagging behind to my constant dwelling on past errors and how they have made my life a lot more difficult. Adherence to the scripture that requires a Christian to “forget the former things . . .” (Isaiah 43:18, NIV) was much of what I needed. Because, truth is, no man goes far, who has tethered his foot to a tree behind him.

One Saturday morning, a couple of weeks ago, I woke up feeling empty and severely dissatisfied. Overwhelmed with the ill feeling, I crawled to and perched on the edge of my bed. I let my mind wander to the early days of this year. For me, 2017 was born into the arms of optimism and wrapped with new and fresh dreams.

I dreamed about becoming a more versatile writer and poet. I dreamed about walking more miles in the shoes of the marginalized, vulnerable and voiceless citizens of my country and speaking up for them. I dreamed of becoming a more simplified human gospel, scribbled in legible fonts and translated into the universal language of love, which everyone understands, regardless of race, ethnic group and personality differences.

Seeing that the year had broken into two halves and each day drew me to the end of the year, I felt terrible and sometimes useless. “Ehi, what have you been doing?” I muttered into my pillow as I took stock of all the unused opportunities and the scanty yields I had gotten from the seemingly viable seeds of hard work that I sowed into my school work.

As it is with most poets, I broke into lines and verses and announced to my friends and small audience on social media that I was done writing poems. A few of my friends insisted that I hang on and see how I could turn my writing weaknesses into strengths. They bathed my mind with compliments, scrubbed my heart with what seemed like flatteries but my hard-headedness would not let me budge. I told them that my mind was made up.

The next day was a Sunday, I went to church, and the pastor’s sermon (on the many parts of Christ’s body, functioning as a unit) spoke to me personally. The Holy Spirit seemed to say to me “Ehi, I care about you and your passion for writing. You are a part of the literary body; just because you are a toe in the body of literature does not invalidate your status as a poet. Be patient with yourself.”

Ever since, I have had a calmness in my spirit. Truly, God cares about the minutest details of our lives; we just must learn to trust God completely.