And here we are.
I must say, I’ve both impressed and bested myself. How, you ask. Well, it so is no small feat, proving myself to myself! But that’s a tale for another post, come Thursday. At this point, you’re probably expecting a proper introductory post with what’s to get out of this here blog site, huh? Well, sadly, I must disappoint you to attend to what’s surely priority: honouring my mum.
Expect my introduction (complete with weekly lineup information) before the day wraps up tomorrow.
I, thus, kick this off with an imagined account of the last few living moments of my mum Juliana Folake Aworinde. Yes, you read that right. Imagined. But that’s not to say that these are not based on true events. The roller coaster ride of events leading up to the moment Mum got “caught up” are no less than true-life. But this isn’t a lamentation. On the contrary, it’s a testimony of sorts, maybe even a chance at closure. So, I’m sitting here, recalling Shirley Caesar’s soul-lifting rendition of “Caught Up,” trying to fit Mum into that context. And as it plays in my head, I feel the need to consult my Bible. Well, the experience has gotta be more phenomenal, is all I’m saying. But I digress.
Today is the 17th anniversary of Mum’s passing. At 7 years, she remains the one person with whom I spent time the littlest, yet love the most. What’s more, her physicality — her exceptional gentleness, generosity, foresight, wisdom, spirituality, hospitality, loving tenderness, companionship and motherhood — is reinforced in the words and minds of all the women and men with whom she came in contact. (What else aptly defines Legacy?)
Wouldn’t you agree that’s unrivalled inspiration for life? If you do, then this piece is dedicated also to you. So here, read, re-read and indeed feed on the palpable love syrup that’s helped make quite a fine young man out of me. Enjoy.
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A MUMLY MEMOIR
Mum is tired. Her body, that is. Her soul, however, remains strong as ever. Stronger now, even. Maybe because her soul is just a little distance away from Heaven’s dazzling Gates. No, that’s not it. Ah yes, it’s because her soul’s been washed in the blood of the Lamb. Squeaky clean of all human impediment. She’s perfect, her real self. Not that fleshy encasement subject to temptation and disease. She is reminded:
“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”
(2 Corinthians 4:16)
Here, Mum is totally consumed by an overwhelming urge to jump and kneel and dance and cry out and sing heavenly oriki, all at the same time. Every emotion felt is larger-than-life, but tingly-sweet. She now understands why the celestial sounds of voice and string could never quite rightly be expressed in humanly adjectives. As Mum starts to release herself to new songs of worship coming forth from behind the Gates, a familiar awareness sets in. She looks down and, somehow, simultaneously finds herself lying in the bed she remembers herself in a few minutes ago, still with ill. And still, Mum finds that she’s, in some way, also at that quasi avenue leading up to the Pearly Gates! Right then, the awesomeness of the moment grows a hundred-fold. His Majesty the King of All Heaven and Earth approaches, revealing Himself to her.
“Just call me Father,” He whispers.
He has no form, voice, or mannerisms, at least not in a manner accrued to human reasoning, but His physicality there resonates with purity and self-explanation. He takes her by the hand.
“It’s time,” God says. A warm smile from the lips that earlier struck the first ever spark of light. Then, when its existence and naming occurred all at once. To Mum, it feels like just some minutes ago that that was, like she was there, even.
Though Mum has no doubt the time has come, still she asks, “Are you sure?”
“My daughter, you know this.”
“I do.” Then, a pondering pause. “What I mean is, there’s so much left undone. The church needs us now, Sola and me.”
“Daughter, it is My church. I think I know who it needs and who it can afford to part with.”
“What about my brother and sisters? How much have I done to show them my deep appreciation for all they’ve done. For their support, their prayers, their love, everything they ever gave Sola and me? We haven’t done enough now, have we?”
“My child, if only you knew where I was
taking them. Indeed, they are your family, but I was first your Father. I’m theirs just as much. And as I’ve given you such an insatiable heart of care and love, so can I single-handedly meet all their needs. I have legions of angels, remember? Even better, I have many with hearts like yours who I’ve appointed to bless them in ways even you couldn’t. Worry not, Folake.”
“Iya mi nko? What about my Mama? She couldn’t survive the news of her youngest child gone for good.”
God smirks, “That’s sorted.” A knowing wink.
They are now a few paces away from the Gates. Mum has so many other questions to ask. So many things to sort out, so many people to be sure are catered for. Her TLC hormones are at full throttle.
Mum draws closer. The softness in her eyes melts God’s heart. “My love Sola, how will he survive? I know we’ve prayerfully prepared for this moment for so long. But how would he cope with the children and the ministry?” Anxious, she forces a chuckle. “He hasn’t even finished taking care of his own self.”
“O Folake! My dear Folake, I know how much you love him; how much he loves you! And I know that the testimonies you have together are so great, they couldn’t be simply simulated in a marriage counselling session. You both have made a model couple. Together, you will be remembered with great regard. You showed Me and the world that when I’m let into a union, only then am I the super glue that makes two become one. But if there’s anything you have learnt, it is that Love does not die. And when Death separates loved ones, Love stays sustaining, persevering, patient and kind. Agape. You know all about this; about my Son, the First-born. Sola knows this too. Don’t fret for him, Child, for my grace is sufficient.”
“And the children? O Lord, the children! Pelumi hasn’t even made it out of university. He’s been such a wonderful big brother, how could I betray him by leaving him like this? Ola is barely a teenager. All that talent and exuberance, can Sola handle all that Sola-ness by himself? And my babies, Funto and Tobi, they are still so little. They need me. My God, what will happen to our children?” Mum is teary-eyed now.
“I would tell you that my ways are not your ways, but that isn’t what you want to hear. Okay, you want to know why I am calling you away now? Remember that first time you sang ‘Father Abraham’? That day, I saw in your eyes the same assured twinkle that I saw in the eyes of a childless, aged Abram when I promised him the impossible, thousands of years before you. You’ll see, Folake. Sometime from now, when your little one, the one you fear won’t remember you in adulthood, reminds you just how boundless Love is, you’ll see why I don’t hesitate to call you home now. Your children, they will all love you much more, then, than they possibly could, had I not called you home. I promise you, you will be amazed and will find pleasure in the abundance of souls that I reclaim through the Love you wisely and lavishly invested in a multitude. I am the Beginning and the End; trust me. The adopted children whom I gave to you are looking out for the ones you bore, even looking out for your Adam.”
“Your ways are not our ways,” she sighs, letting in the sudden rush of reassurance.
“It’s time,” again, God says. He wipes the tears away from her eyes, and smiles a wide smile that somehow brings Mum into the moment. She feels the binding force of humanity gradually being torn away. Escaping gravity and the space-time continuum, Mum checks into eternity, never to suffer again. Wow! She never looked so good, so radiant; nothing like the intricately sculpted, delicate, clay mould she leaves behind.
Each and every one of her other questions and anxieties are now quickly being replaced with deep satisfaction. Something like, but much better than, that refreshing feeling of downing ice-cold glasses of fruit juice, after a marathon. Soothing finality.
And now she enters. But rather than fling open, the Gates simply engulf Mum in an expansive, blinding white halo. Right then, the Son appears before her and Who He is is no mystery. He embraces her. Mum looks around with amazing wonder. This place, Paradise, draws little to no comparison to earth. And doubtless as the air in here, Mum knows now, nowhere is more like home.
The Son smiles, “Well done, Folake. Welcome home!”
Who Be Tobi? 