The Wooden Iron

Today I have been throwing out Clatter from my bedroom, mostly my study table, handbags, and the bedside table. I have filled a black garbage bag and what seemed like busy tables have been left with just some few items - only those that I need - essentials. My tables look much more inviting, I can access with ease those things that I need to attend to immediately. 

During the same exercise, I have come across this writing that I had written on a book back when I was in India. I was suffering - I can recall - and it is also evident from it's length, depth and suspense. When I saw this I broke do

wn, I sat on my bed, then knelt on the floor, as images flushed through my head, images of worried Kenyans next to my ICU bed back in India during the one time I was conscious. Images of my difficult diagnosis (plural), images of my scared mother, images of my confused daughter. Images of a pale mother when I bid goodbye at the airport for India (I went alone). Images of my inflamed arms out of needle pricks and IV line tissues, Images of eighteen tablets on my arm, Images Images Images. 

I probably have learnt how to move on but not how to forget - It is not easy out of experience. 

Then an image of Janet Kanini Ikua passed through my eyes, I heard I her talk in my head, and I got weak, weak because while we call her strong, I can almost draw the kind of suffering she was in. She talked of Faith in one of her interviews and I imagined how hard it may have been for her to talk of something so hard to walk in. She talked of praying and believing, and while am sure she walked the talk, I know she did not skate the talk, run the talk or slide the talk, I know it was maybe a limp, or a supported walk the talk kind of thing - by pillars such as her husband, mother, prayer partner or a non giving-up friend. What she preached is not easy to walk, I saw her talk of her remission - I saw the tears and I knew she was just heaven sent to teach us how to hold in there even when our bodies tell us otherwise. 

As Janet told us, let us love more and actually tell those we love that we love them. Let us spend more time with our loved ones other than with work, bars or other less priority things. Let us clear out the clatter out of our brains and lives, let us leave just the few important items and people in our lives - that way we are able to see them more and attend to them more. 

For George Ikua, what will keep him going is the love they shared with Janet, it is the fight she put up with so much love towards him, it is the memory that when Janet had nothing more to give him, the only thing she gave him was love. I sure know he is suffering - in Faith - am sure he learnt this from Janet - but I hope he will learn how to breath peace. I will be praying for George because I know he needs our prayers more than our sympathy.  

The other day my daughter started recounting an encounter where she saw me pass out and then she saw a video of me undergo a BPPV Rehabilitation exercise two years ago. I had thought she was too young to remember leave alone understand and I was worried up until she said 'but I am happy you got better mum, God healed you'. I pray that Our Lord visits Janet's babies in their subconscious minds that we humans may not access and just speak to them. God is gracious to children and am sure He will visit their hearts - Janet's Babies - and they will grow in peace, and I pray that God comforts their dad so that they do not miss both parents at any one point, physically or emotionally. 

I will always be inspired by Janet Kanini Ikua. 

May she rest well.