Juggling thoughts

THE FORGOTTEN _an ancient tale retold. A Story by  lichanbeni   An oral traditional story I once heard.   Every evening the young son comes back home from the Morung (Chumpo) shouting grumpily to his father and tells him that the men-folks at the morung were gossip mongering of him and were criticizing him.  The son gets peeved to hear his father as the "talk of the village".  Days passed through but for his father was still the talk.  Each day he comes back and narrates the "whole-hog" to his father who calmly listens with a smile.  Gradually, the squeaky-wheel began to squeak lesser than yester- week.  The father began to wait for his son's return and inquired if he was apart of any discussion. And the son almost contentedly answers back that nothing much of him was picked.  Days passed through and little was heard and less complains and lesser to no more .  One day he asked his son, " was my name picked by a...

Every bit of what I am  began from her. I recall everything of her and the way she nurtured me as a girl to grow into who and what I am today. If am a woman today, am what she shaped and molded  me. I vividly recall the first teacher of my life. My mother, the greatest inspiration of my life. My first written alphabet before pre- school, her hand shaped beautifully. My initial education began at home with her home schooling every day. My first school with her as I attended every class she took. Every word I write is how and what she effortlessly taught me, owe to my great mentor. Closer to God she brought me with and in prayers. Life and relation value she instilled in me. My first best friend, my best mentor, my love and life. Of all she is my greatest inspiration in the whole wide world. The daughter who always epitomize her mother with love and will always. I love you, Mom!

Once upon a time there was a father, in any case if you can’t figure that out, it’s me. I always prayed for a beautiful baby girl. So I prayed, “Lord, if its your will make her a little girl” and He did. I was the first person to hold her in my arms. I looked at her and said, “make her like her mother “ and He did. She was loving, giving, kind and so beautiful like her mother. But then I felt I was going to be left out so I prayed, “Lord make her be like me” and He did. She could drive cars, load heavy works and handle any rainy day without any help. Do you realize what you are going to get? But at times she seemed to be too strong headed, stubborn, too emotional and adamant so I said, “Lord that’s enough of that, make her like You” and He did. He gave her the desire to serve people and love others, gave her a heart for missions no matter what and how she was doing. So that she could tell of Jesus in her works and life. But something was still missing and so I p...