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Never Alone….

Last night, I went to bed late feeling sad, confused and alone. I have two write ups to submit in school and i am as confused as a a young maiden with a lot of cute suitable suitors. I think i know what i wanna write about, in fact i have some articles i wanna review, but i just don’t know why i am so confused. is it the thought of failing those who belief in me? the face of my mum kept coming up in my mind, i cannot let her down she has sacrificed so much. *sigh* i could feel the pressure mounting up. I have done so well contributing in class so far, i know the fundamentals, then what is it? why do i feel so lost and empty? why do i feel so alone and backwards?

I remember my days as an undergraduate and how hard i tried. I read, analyzed, linked pieces together, wrote essays i think should get me excellent marks, but at the end i get marks far below my expectations. I get so mad, angry, weak. I know i am smart brilliant, so what is it? why couldn’t i breakthrough? have i been jinxed? It was so frustrating!

Then it hits me. I have been depending on me. Believing in my own strength and capability. I have totally ignored the one who has given me the wisdom, and ability to do all things. I have sidelined the Holy spirit, made Him nothing more than a back up. silly child me! How could i leave the one that could make my learning experience like a piece of cake and slave it out on my own with my short-sighted ego and understanding. I repented and the Holy spirit helped me.

I have been desperate for the past six months, seeking and praying to God for a break. and when it came, i have unconsciously slipped back to old familiar territories. In my mind, i think i am committing my ways to Him, but it is nothing more than words i whisper then i try to analyze thing on my own. Agitation has slowly crept in, fear of failure mocks me, my mind is heavily burdened. I feel alone, with all the lead in the world enough to drown me.

Then the words of a song ‘enough’ by Jeremy Camp playing on my system reminds me of what/who should be my satisfaction. Jesus. He should be more than enough for me. I listened to more songs, prayed and slept off.

This morning, i woke up to a message from a friend. she said she remembers a dance ministration of me back from University days anytime she listens to this song ‘Never alone’ by Barlow girls. She said it was pretty touching and kept ringing in her head and added “always remember that you touched someone with that ministration”.

My friend may not know but she was an instrument sent to me this morning. Although i had ministered in dance to others, i needed to be reminded of it. The message felt like a reassurance from God that i am not alone in this. He has said he would not leave me nor forsake me. He said i should trust in Him with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding and He would direct my path. He promised that all who trust in him will not be put to shame. He has armed me with strength and made my way perfect. He has made me as sure footed as the deer enabling me to stand on mountains. Therefore with my complete trust in him no mountain can crush me. All i have to do is commit totally and not sideline Him.

We know these things, but then do we really know?



*longing, searching, alone, empty…..* Desole.

sometimes, i get into this dark room feeling, into a deep hole that i can’t see my way out of it. more often than none, this feeling comes when i have made wrong choices and  don’t think i can ever get out of the mess i have created for myself. i often bottle the issues hope cos i feel people expect more from me, i judge myself before others judge me. or maybe they do, indirectly, when they tell me what they feel, expect of me what they think i can do and can not do.

sometimes, most times when i get hurt, by people i feel should know better, their words are not enough to take away the pain….

I read this beautiful poem by jenim dibie (@scarville, ). i have so much to say about it but i think you should make your own personal inference and connection just as i did. it would be unfair for me to take or add to her word. so here it is, “DESOLE”

(your thoughts about it are  very welcomed)


Life led wrongly

Heart beating for all the wrong reasons

Eyes searching for all but one

One searching for none but all…

A soul whose retina has lost focus

With lenses focused on fame and glory

With nothing but bare thoughts you write your story

To the ones mulled down

Desole means nothing

Iris painted with shades of gray

Good is gone and bad to stay

Fences are true haven for cowards

In taking no side, all stand pleased

Life forgives this not

Desole means nothing

Born great, living inane

Born king, living slave

Gifted, normal

Genius, unleashed

History pardons not this

Desole means nothing

A thief, a liar, a whore, a cheat

A failure, a dope-head, a sociopath, an outcast

Naked thoughts born benign become malignant

You are what you think

Society forgives you not

Desole means nothing

Alone, lost, jaded

Regrets, a little too late

Emptiness, loneliness, memories

Trees seem only for hanging

Rivers seem only for drowning

Time the maze that prepares banquets

Feeds you at the table of consequences

Time reveals all

Desole means nothing

Love given

Love lost

Love hurt

Still love searches through dark alleys

For the one who got away

“Desole!” your soul screamed silently

Love hears it

Love forgives all

Desole means everything…



woke up this morning to see a message sent by my cousin T “Our Grandpa don die eeee oooo, Died dis morning @ 1 am”

instantly all drowsiness was drained, in its place a wave of heat. hormones both known and unknown took over my emotions, i couldn’t believe it, i spoke with him last week! He was fine, in perfect condition! asked my cousin if he had a heart attack but she said he was perfectly alright until around 12 am when he had a brief illness then died peacefully at 1 am.

Everyone around me says i should be grateful, celebrate his life ‘cos he went at the ripe age of about 85, yea i know i should and i am grateful to God for the life he lived but still, that does not prevent the shock, sadness and… i don’t know. My maternal grandpa died while i was a toddler so i never knew him, my paternal grandma died some years ago in London, met her only twice so i was never close to her.

But my paternal grandpa, spent the first 9 years of my life growing up around him. he lived upstairs the family house while my nuclear family stayed down stairs. I Remember him telling me to stop running and stamping my feet on the stairs and corridor, i remember he had a favorite spot close to the window in the sitting room upstairs so he could see those going in and out of the compound, i remember is big old ‘grandpa clock’.i remember thinking to myself “grandpa has such weird head, shiny until half way where he had little hair” (i later learn that’s because he was bald).

Recently, our relationship had been reduced to a Christmas and new year visit, of which sometimes i feel like cutting the time short ‘cos i know he would fill me up with stories about how our family came to be, history behind the family name and how all Tubi’s are connected. i can almost tell the history as he would. sometimes i loved to hear these stories, sometimes i just wanted to say hi and move on to do more youthful stuff. sigh, i wish i had giving him all my attention. He was always so happy to see me, or hear my voice on the phone. I wish i had called him more often.

Last week my mum called me on the phone that grandpa had asked of me, wanted to know if i had gotten to the UK safely, i was ashamed, 3 weeks of being here and i didn’t call him. called him instantly and he was so glad to hear my voice, prayed for me and gave me advice. He sounded so healthy, no hint of the event that would happen today at 1 am. he sounded like a man that would live another 10 years. He sounded like a person that had lived a full life, and was very satisfied. This goes to say no one knows the next second and whats in it.

we as humans we often take family relationships lightly and we value relationships with outsiders and strangers as supreme. we shower more affection on people who often us them as rags. we get too caught up with our self indulgence that we forget to give and take the little moments that make up our existence. we wanna have fun, we wanna live our own idea of whats important, but family IS important. we spend hours on the phone with outsiders but can’t spend 5 minutes with family. if we don’t value and understand the importance of our earthly family, how can we understand God’s family? how can we understand what is and whats not in God’s kingdom if we fail this earthly test? since i got here i haven’t called my maternal grandma, been caught up with  school, and settling in. God help me.

My condolences to the family of Pa oladipupo Tubi, may God receive him into His rest. Grandpa i love you and will miss you.

ungrateful child

Yesterday, after spending the whole day lounging, with Bruno Mars ‘lazy song’ playing in my head, i started to whine to a friend about how boredom had messed up my ability to write. He told me to chill, relax Ąπϑ write when i get inspired to. It wasn’t as if i didn’t know what to do, i guess i had become some what cocky. At that moment, i heard my uncle’s voice Ąπϑ my reaction was mumc must be close by. The thought of mumc seeing me in my lazy state (which included not bathing all day) brought the right amount of fear any sane child would have if you lived in my house. The thought also reminded me of evening service which was for 6.30 pm. The time was 6.21 pm. Not good. mumc would bring down the hammer if she finds me not prepared. So i locked the door, ran into the bathroom had a quick one, Got dressed Ąπϑ ran off to church. They say a guilty man runneth when no man chaseth. The guilty one was me ‘cos mumc was not with my uncle. She had gone visiting. Smh.

Anyway, i was glad i went to church ‘cos that was were my inspiration to write this began. Well it was partial inspiration. For some days now, i have been thinking about my childhood Ąπϑ how God protected us during a fire outbreak, and saw us through armed robbery attacks at the two houses we used to live in. i wanted to write about these incidents earlier not mainly as a thanksgiving to God, but mostly because i had been racking my head for things to share. Selfish of me i know. i realised that the more i put pen to paper, the more empty i felt. It was like drawing water from a dry desert well. So i gave in to my friend’s advise.

After service, i got information that one of our youth pastors had lost his dad. Also, a church member’s house had been razed down by fire. Now i don’t know what was going through the minds of the others there, but mine was filled with shame Ąπϑ remorse. Here i was thinking of things to write, Ąπϑ being very myopic of the very testimonies some people wish they had right now.

I was so overwhelmed that as i took the prayers at our family altar, i was led to forget all the usual prayer points Ąπϑ the spirit took over. Words can’t describe how much i was in awe of God’s faithfulness over my life. It was like watching a movie of my life, me acting as the spoilt brat who keeps asking, taking Ąπϑ never appreciating. Who Sometimes throw tantrums over things she didn’t receive. While God remained the loving, faithful Ąπϑ caring father.

At the age of five, the doctors diagnosed me of asthma. My mum could not believe it. She had taken me to the hospital on the presumption that i had severe cough. She was not aware that asthma ran in my paternal side. Ąπϑ so my romance with the hospital began. Looking back at all those years of been bed ridden, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep (either by kneeling down or sitting) ‘cos i couldn’t breathe, graduating from the use of ventoline tablets to ventoline inhaler ‘cos tablets were no longer potent to relax my tense bronchial muscles, Ąπϑ always putting my mum in constant fear, i genuinely felt the urge to give him all the glory. So many times i do things that could trigger an attack like drinking cold water, soaking garri, sleeping in an air-conditioned room with the fan on, bathing with cold water, eating fried food, inhaling dust Ąπϑ smoke… The list goes on. But God in his infinite mercies has kept me alive.

i remember walking home while in secondary school, taking all the short cuts, God protected me from kidnapping. My WAEC result came out instead of being grateful each time i remember the grades i get angry that i didn’t get more As forgetting the fact that i didn’t get any D, P or F. I had gotten so full of my ability.

When i remember the course i studied at the university Ąπϑ the CGPA i finished with, i regret ever accepting the course saying to myself ‘i would have done better with another course’. i forget that some young people are wishing to be a graduate like myself even if it means they would finish with a pass. Ungrateful me got into the higher institution immediately after secondary school Ąπϑ finished at the right time.

I look at my service year sometimes Ąπϑ i complain about the state i was posted to, my place of primary assignment, the boredom Ąπϑ stress i went through. i ignore the fact that God protected me each day i boarded a bus, climbed ‘okada’ Ąπϑ entered ‘cabu cabu’. i was not part of the statistics of corpers killed during the voters’ registration Ąπϑ voting period.

Most of my time now instead of channelling it into helping mumc’s business boom, i complain i do not have a 9/5 job. Forgetting some people don’t have a means of lively hood.

God restored my mum when she was sick. God kept us from being killed in a fire outbreak dat killed our next door neighbour. The fire didn’t even affect us. It got to the kitchen window of our flat Ąπϑ stopped. We didn’t lose so much as a pin. Yet i complain sometimes about sharing a room with my cousins not appreciating God for the house he eventually blessed us with.

Twice we have been robbed. First time i was in Jss3. It was early in the morning Ąπϑ our neighbour led them to our flat. She said she wanted to get the key to the bore hole Ąπϑ somehow the thieves got in. God being the faithful God, protected me from rape ‘cos i was on towel, He didn’t allow my mumc’s room door to give in to their kicks. They went away with few changes from my cousin Ąπϑ aunty after God sent confusion into their midst.

The second robbery was in another flat. This time mumc wasn’t home Ąπϑ they followed my uncle in. I had opened mumc’s room earlier Ąπϑ forgot to lock it so they got in, took all her jewellery Ąπϑ locked us in her toilet. The fact that no one was shot is enough to be thankful for.

i can go on Ąπϑ on writing about God’s faithfulness, kindness, mercies over me Ąπϑ my family, but this page will never contain it.

In my bid to share stories about my life, i forgot the Life-giver, my Source. i cannot fully explain the atmosphere during prayers but one thing i know for certain is that we were all grateful. Most especially me the Ungrateful child.