I saw anger today. Something about it reminded me of the Ajah floods; unharnessed and powerful, bringing down anything and everything in its path. It had this beauty to it that caught my attention and kept it. I stared without really knowing what I was staring at yet I could not stop staring. The voice of the pastor became background music. “Why so angry?” I wondered.
It was a typical Sunday. Service started at 7am with praise and worship which gave way to prayers and then the choir ministered to us. Finally Pastor Felix mounted the podium. Everyone around me looked beautiful, dressed in their Sunday bests. There was this chubby cute baby that seemed to be having so much fun. She kept running up and down the aisle rather clumsily, her steps still unsteady. She fell down a couple of times and ran to her mother in tears and was back running after some minutes. I watched the baby run to the back of the church and that was when I saw her.
She stood and looked to her left then to her right. She wore a blue skirt and a white shirt that looked like it had seen better days. She was about 5.9ft, dark and slim. She had the kind of dark skin models rubbed “ororo” to get. She shone. Her eyes were so captivating. She had what we call “cat eyes”; tiny and tilted upwards. Most importantly her eyes held so much anger they flashed. The eyes are indeed the mirror to the soul. Her shoulders were squared like she was about to get into a fight. She walked towards me, her walk had me green with envy. I walk like each of my leg is going in a different direction. She had the walk. She glided. How can she be so graceful and so angry at the same time?
She took the vacant seat to my left, crossed her legs and folded her arms. I tried to look ahead but my neck seemed to have a will of its own. I turned and stared at her. I can imagine how silly I looked, just staring at the seventeen or eighteen year old to my left without trying to be subtle about it. I knew she knew I was staring but it did not matter, I was like a kid witnessing a magic trick for the first time. I paid rapt attention to her. She sat still, taking no heed to any of the pastor’s instructions. She did not shake five people and tell them ‘you are more than a conqueror’ like we were told to, she did not tell her neighbor ‘this is my bible, I hope you have yours’. She said and did nothing. Thirty minutes into the service she remained in the same position she took when she first entered. Having said that, I do not know how to explain to you that even as she sat still she moved. She emanated such energy. It seemed like she was surrounded by an electric field, ready to electrocute any intruder. As I sat and imagined, that little chubby baby ran past again. She ran towards the altar and was sent back by the usher in front. On her way back she stopped in front of my row, just by the angry girl. This baby saw what I saw too. She stared and smiled. You know that tentative smile babies give and then wait to see if you smile back. Then when you do, you are rewarded with the baby’s full voltage smile. This time the baby got no smile in response.
This little chubby toddler that had drooled all over the front of her sky blue Sunday dress would not give up. She kept on smiling and waiting. Then flapping her arms and smiling again. I wanted to pick her up and tell her to go meet her mum. Explain to her that there are no smiles to be gotten from here, except she wanted mine.
Little Miss determined had a plan. She took those famous bold steps forward and rested both her arms on the angry girl’s lap, looked up at her and gave her this beautiful dazzling smile, warm enough to melt ice. Angry girl pushed her aside, brushed her off like an offending mosquito. She fell on her pampers padded bum. Her mother materialized from where ever she had been sitting and picked up her little girl. I was not just staring now, my mouth was wide open.
All the little girl wanted was a smile – an acknowledgement and she would have gone on her way. I wanted to tap angry girl and ask her what happened to her that sucked out the joy from her soul. She wasn’t still anymore; she was tapping her left feet to her own rhythm and hissing at intervals. The service couldn’t end fast enough.
Written by @kimeclectic
Can one or rather should one ever get mad at God? Have you ever been mad at God? Today I’d like to hear from us, you don’t have to give full details (we won’t mind though) but please share your experience with us, when and how you came to get mad at God and how it all ended. Use the comment box to express you.