Total Reading Time: 15 minutes
Tehillah’s resolve to run this morning was defeated by a biting, head-spinning hunger. Warming a bowl of cold pepper soup and yam, she hummed and did a happy dance as the spicy aroma of good food wafted from the microwave, around the kitchen, making her tummy rumble in defiant triumph.
After weeks of having only sandwich and crisps for lunch at work, in a bid to maintain her size twelve, her mother was to be blamed for how she relentlessly thwarted her weight-loss goals.
“This woman will never allow me maintain my steeze.” Tehillah muttered, reaching into the fridge for some orange juice. She could as well just have a proper meal, washing it down with something nice. She stifled a chuckle, recalling how her mother, though not biological, would sing of how Tehillah was just skin and bones and ensured she shoved soups of all sorts down her.
Mrs. Ezeugwu was love personified.
Carrying her tray laden generously with her meal in one hand, and reaching for the TV remote control in another hand, Tehillah settled onto the couch, careful to not rouse her sleeping parents. Many years ago, she had been cynical of the genuine kindness of the Ezeugwus but was now relishing in their affection. Like an arrogant fool, she had refused all acts of care, and had gone to extremes in search of what could never satisfy.
A Bethel music worship session played on the TV, its deep lyrics and rich medley, reflective of God’s goodness to Tehillah. God had been mindful of her even when she was an obstinate child refusing His mercy. Like a father’s unwavering love, His kindness transcended her demerits. An awareness of God’s protective wings enveloped her, evident like the blanket of darkness cast over this autumn day. God had been patient, loving and true. Although she had been a foolish child, could He restore her, making her brand-new? Tehillah recalled those wasted teenage years – years spent doing the unthinkable. A whimper escaped her lips and regret lodged within her, heavy like the discomfort of a sore tummy. The once-satisfying taste of her meal became a bitterness that reminded her of her past recklessness – of what Scripture said about stolen waters.
Would she ever be rid of this shame that plagued her every waking moment? Tehillah knew God had forgiven her but she could never forgive herself.
A knock on the door interrupted Tehillah’s meal and boisterous Judah, her nephew of nine ran into her, grabbing her for a smothering hug, before she could even let the door ajar.
“We bought you something, Aunty Tehil!” Judah announced, his vibrant chatter reverberating through their thin-walled Southeast London house. Tehillah knew it was futile trying to spare her father and mother any more sleep. “We got something for grandpa and grandma as well.” Judah seemed to have grown an inch since three months ago when Tehillah last saw him and another missing front tooth now made him sound like he spoke with a lisp. He pulled her into the living room, talking now about a painting he had done in school. “My friends said it was so cool. Please bear with me, Aunty. Let me go get it from my backpack.” Judah scuttled off to the car parked in the driveway. Temi, Judah’s father, still sitting in the car, made a phone call.
Judah’s younger sister, Beulah, five years old, who had been lodged on her mum’s hip, wriggled to her feet, her lower lip curled in obvious displeasure for Tehillah’s not noticing her first. The child resembled her mother, Amanda, Tehillah’s adopted sister in too many ways. Tehillah lifted Beulah, brushing her full, natural hair sectioned into four voluptuous twists with decorative ribbons.
“You’re missing a tooth as well!” Tehillah exclaimed in animated shock, making Beulah chuckle
“These two could as well let us into the house before the greetings.” Amanda said, giving a curt sigh, her eyebrows pinched in frustration. She pounced on a couch and kicked off the varicolored crocs she wore. “How is life over here? Good to see that you’re now paying attention to your looks.” She commented, directing a disparaging gaze to Tehillah’s round middle. Curling within from shame, Tehillah felt like her inadequacies had been brandished on a billboard for all to see. She bit her lip to keep from saying something nasty. All these years Amanda remained the entitled seventeen year old who couldn’t stand another child in her space. She had Mrs Ezeugwu’s slim face and body, finely sculpted nose and cheekbones, set like some excellent piece of artwork, but lacked her warmth. Tehillah recalled how Amanda’s hostility had been one of her many reasons she had found it difficult calling the Ezeugwu’s family home.
Shuffling feet atop the living room told them their parents had woken up. Tehillah tried ignoring Amanda’s belligerent comment about her apron belly, warmed some pepper soup for Amanda and Temi who had now joined them inside the house, whilst listening to Judah’s endless chatter about an election coming up in their school. It was a relief that the child took after both his mother’s ambitious spirit and his father’s good nature. Tehilllah knew someday he would be doing something great for God’s kingdom.
Mr and Mrs Ezegwu, Tehillah’s adopted parents, soon joined them in the living room and were catching up with Amanda and Temi on the new home they had bought around the midlands. After getting married, Amanda joined Temi in his property investment business, utilizing her expertise as a finance analyst to ensure they closed good deals. The two – childhood friends, having attended the same church growing up, made a good pair. Temi’s bubbly and welcoming self made up for Tehillah’s standoffishness. Years had gone by and Tehillah was stunned by how Amanda had remained her constant, unloving self despite the positive influence of her husband and constant caution from Mrs. Ezegwu.
“We intend working on getting some properties up north, Dad.” Amanda commented and Mr Ezegwu who now had Beulah nestled on his lap, gave a grunt of fatherly pride. “The profit margin should be a lot higher – of course adjusting for inflation and the current base rate by the Bank of England.”
A light-hearted chatter passed amongst the Ezegwus, the atmosphere of their home both playful and warm, a compensation for the icey draft that heralded the emerging winter season. Tehillah remembered her own three-bed home in the heart of Lagos, Nigeria – the moonlight tales that filled their evenings and the enticing smell of boiled corn that enveloped their home nearly every rainy day. She remembered her carefree dance in the rain as a child, earning her biological mother’s rebuke. She knew she would never be as smart, beautiful or successful as Amanda and would never really be family to the Ezegwus. A single mum, her life was too messy to belong to such perfect people.
Tehillah was jolted to the moment by Judah who was asking if he had her full attention. Bless the adorable child. She stroked his hair and reassured him that she was only thinking of ways he could win his upcoming school elections. However, deep within, Tehillah wished the circumstances of her life hadn’t forced her out of her own home in the first instance. Her place would never be here with the Ezegwus.
Having parents serving in ministry meant being part of kingdom work oneself. As such, Tehillah found herself floating between the children’s church department, set-up, choir, media – all in a bid to ensure the smooth run of church activities. Cleaning the auditorium in preparation for the worship night, Tehillah was grateful that what she had once considered an unbearing chore now became a core part of her being. She had left home much earlier, not wanting to drive through the tiring traffic typical of London evenings.
“Who would have the one and only Tehillah arrange chairs when a servant like me sits idle?” Jesse, Tehillah’s Ghanian brother and friend, who had been away in Wales for work, evaded her awareness, hence startling her. Jesse snatched the chair Tehillah had been holding and sat on it.
“When did the pest come back?” Tehillah rolled her eyes in mock aggravation. The boy was just so annoying. He had had a thing for winding her up since teens church. “There are other things to do before the service starts. Leave the chairs with me. The media unit needs some help with the screens.”
A scowl played up on Jesse’s chocolate-velvety face – a pleasant contrast to his crude personality, and Tehillah feared she had offended him. But Jesse soon started to laugh. “You should see how you look.” He smirked, chuckling even harder.
Tehillah hissed, smacking Jesse’s hand and continued with preparing for the service due to start in the next hour. “Quit playing and make yourself useful.”
“Hey, calm down, Tehil,” Jesse gave a playful reprimand before joining in to clean the chairs. “You didn’t even ask how my trip went, ma’am.”
Although Tehillah enjoyed Jesse’s company, she hated how Jesse forced her into getting to know all about his life. Even while they had been several miles apart because of his uni, Jesse had persevered with checking on her and informing her about the growth of the campus ministry he served in. “Chioma is the only person I care about. How is my sister doing?” Tehillah dusted the last set of plastic chairs Jesse arranged. “How’s her thesis coming along?” Chioma, Jesse’s girlfriend who was doing a PhD programme in Wales was also one of the reasons Jesse frequented the nation.
“Her project defense is sometime next month. She has really tried. Can’t wait for her to be done so she is back to London.”
“And then you both will get married and finally allow us breathe.” Tehillah laughed, recalling how Jesse had been all over Chioma when they first met. She had thought her friend was only concerned about the things of heaven or business prior.
“How about you? What’s going on?” Jesse’s concerned gaze warmed Tehillah’s heart and within, she blessed him and prayed that God would always meet His needs. He as well as Jordan, his younger brother, had seen her through her wilderness years and had been constant through them all – praying for her and encouraging her to stick with God. “How is work and everything in between been?”
“Same. same.” Tehillah raised her shoulders in indifference, taking off her jacket as the auditorium got warmer with the central heating system now turned on. There was really nothing pleasant to talk about a single mum like her who was finally making the decision to go to school in order to make ends meet whilst her mates held good jobs. “School is okay. Same as work.”
Jesse placed brotherly hands over Tehillah’s shoulder and squeezed them briefly before letting go. “You still owe the gang fish and chips.” He laughed when Tehillah realised that he was talking about the promise she had been forced to make after losing a race many years ago at a church summer-beach outing.
“That’s a long time. What does the Bible teach about old things?” Tehillah asked, sitting on a chair, Jesse by her side, the auditorium now set.
“Unfortunately, I have no idea what part of Scripture you’re referring to.” Jesse teased, nudging Tehillah with his elbow. “How’s my little man, Richie?”
Tehillah sighed, remembering her blessing from God – the one with whom God restored sobriety in her and had pulled her from the dungeons of hell. Richie. Her blessing. Although he had been a product of her recklessness, she had made up her mind to never consider him a mistake. Mrs Ezegwu had gently drilled that reality into her soul. “There are never errors with God. Even when we make mistakes, He works them together for His glory.” Tehillah recalled the singsong cadence of Mrs Ezegwu’s voice – the empathy that coloured every word she spoke and the plea in her eyes to never let go of God. Despite Amanda’s attitude and persistence to ensure that Tehillah never felt like a part of their family, Tehillah could never discredit her mother. Tehillah remembered the mockful gossip she had heard Amanda spread when Tehillah was discovered with child and she shut her eyes to prevent a sob. Richie. Tehillah drew in a deep breath, Jesse’s attention drawn away by a notification on his phone. With his birth defects, it was a miracle how her boy still survived. “He is learning to play the keyboard. He is doing really well.”
Jesse returned his focus to Tehillah and gave a reassuring smile. “Let’s catch up when Chioma comes home for Christmas. Let’s go bowling or something. Jordan should be back home as well. He’d want to tag along.” Tehillah nodded and Jesse gave her shoulder another quick squeeze before going to speak to other church members who were arriving for the evening service.
The auditorium was soon filled with families and friends joining in as the choir led in a simple worship. Tehillah searched the auditorium for Mrs Ezegwu and found her emerging from the rear entrance with Richie in a pram. The woman had insisted that she took care of Richie’s school runs whilst Tehillah focused on trying to build a career. Tehillah walked up to her mother, curtseyed, African-style to greet and then placed a kiss on Richie’s forehead. She carried Richie from the stroller, gave him an orange juice and took him down to the seat in front where she had been sat earlier. As the worship team sang about the Lord’s faithfulness, rebellious tears emerged and in her mind’s eyes, saw snapshots of her life appear in a postcard of the present – all with God at the centre. Why was God still so mindful of her? Why did He still want to make a meaning out of her life?
Tehillah remembered the Sunday, the devastating bomb blast that had changed the trajectory of her life – the rumble, the stampede that took all she had. She fell to the floor in unabashed surrender. Why didn’t God make her life perfect like Amanda’s? Why did He keep pulling at her heart, reminding her that he loved her? “Why, Lord Jesus?”
No response.
“Why, Lord? Do you love me as much as Mrs Ezegwu, Jesse and Jordan say you do? Did you have in mind when you sent Jesus at such a time as this – the Christmas season?” Tehillah whispered, waiting, listening like she would to a friend sat by her. “Do you love me? Do you still have me written on your palm? Please reassure this frail heart of mine.” Tehillah clasped wet hands at the base of her braided hair. She remembered her foolish infatuations resulting in her son, Richie, but then also remembered how God had sent the Ezegwus to adopt her after been made an orphan from the bomb blast. She remembered how though Mrs Ezegwu hadn’t known much about her she had loved her as her child.
A peace overwhelmed Tehillah and she stopped to sob.
Like the drizzle and filter of darkness overshadowing an otherwise beautiful winter day, Tehillah knew that her life might not be perfect but she was loved by God. And she would brighten up her life as she did her room with lights, trees and baubles and multicoloured Christmas-themed decorations. But more still, she would well up in gratitude for the mercy and love that the Christmas time reminded her of – Jesus.
Thank God for the love of Christ.
He’s a kind father ready to accept the way we are,even when we fall so many times.
Thank you Rume for this God bless
I pray the holy spirit continues to inspire you to write more beautiful stories like this.
So so relatable.🌹
Amen. Thank you so much for reading, siss. God bless you