Hi all, it’s flashback Friday and I took a walk down memory lane. Just after completing secondary school, and around a time when my father had lost his job and my mother’s business collapsed.
I found myself surrounded by new friends, the chief of them was called poverty. I remember being sick and my parents couldn’t afford to buy malaria drugs. I knew they couldn’t afford it, I mean, they couldn’t afford a proper meal. Things were that bad.
I moved my sick body to the back of the house and laid on the sandy floor with my face towards the sun, then I prayed with tears in my eyes. The sun made frantic effort to cook my skin but I needed a healing and wanted God to touch me. I saw my father pull back the curtain in his room and he was almost consumed by tears, he watched helplessly as his sick son turned to the heavenly father. He was in pain and I knew it, he would have helped but things were that bad.
It wasn’t a long prayer or one filled with may gymnastics but I got up from that floor and left the sickness on the sand.
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