Our first task that Sunday morning was getting IdaraAbasi to welcome Pastor Nathaniel Bassey with flowers, upon his arrival as one of the guest ministers at The Outpouring, Canada. She delivered excitedly and excellently on the job; till date, she has not quite gotten over the experience. She keeps asking, “Mum, did I really give flowers to the real Nathaniel Bassey in real life?” When I respond in the affirmative, she goes like, “Wow!”, and I get it. She finds it hard to believe that a person that hitherto existed only on her TV screen was now in fact a reality that she had met, hugged and exchanged light banter with. These little things here and there are the building blocks that create unforgettable memories and reference points for her as a growing child.

The Outpouring Canada meeting itself happened in the evening and it was such a joy to be in a beautiful atmosphere of worship; attending with my dear sister and friend, Anwuli, further heightened my entire experience. Thinking about it now, I don’t know how I would have coped without her, considering the dimensions of ‘premium drama’ that the children served me that evening. She brought the calm and the charm required to hold IdaraAbasi and ‘Keima down when they started to make a fuss, a few minutes after we settled into our seats. They scrambled for cookies, squabbled over who should sit next to mummy and squealed loudly for no real reason at all. In the midst of everything else going on in the room, I was forced to be a mum and attend to them patiently. Somewhere along the line, they both fell asleep and this was the ‘visa’ I needed to fully press into the meeting in the way my Spirit yearned.

Beyond the actual event that we travelled for, there was a  need to engrave the trip and reinforce the experience in the children’s minds with activities that they would love, enjoy and never forget. To this end, Monday was designated ‘fun-day’. Since we had one more day to play around before travelling back home, I decided to take the children and my niece, Boluwatife, to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) in Toronto. We woke up bright and early, had breakfast and headed out to the train station; we met up with Ibiwunmi and her family at the Union station and caught the connecting train to the Exhibition GO Station.

As we arrived at the venue and began to take everything in, we knew we had made a brilliant decision. So many games, rides and activities, all up in bright and breathtakingly beautiful colours and it was a chore to decide where to start from. First things first, we had to find the ticket booth so we could buy our tickets and get in the groove immediately; I had already spotted a ride that seemed like the perfect way to start our adventure laden day.

Tickets in hand, we headed out as a group to get on our first ride for the day, the Sky Ride. If I were told to describe the ride, I would call it a safe, toned-down version of a zipline. The concept of the ride was basically rows of chairs suspended midair on a taut rope that would glide slowly across a predefined circumference of an oval stretch and give a decent aerial view of the entire fair and its immediate environs. “A smooth, and chilled type of ride”, I thought, until I got on it with my 3-year old son, ‘Keima.

As I write this, I still don’t know what disarmed my sensitivities so much that I thought it a good idea to go on this particular ride, with young children. While I got on the ride with ‘Keima, Idara went on the ride with my 17 yr old niece, Boluwatife.  The first thing I noticed as we got on board was that beyond the safety lap bars, there were no seatbelts in place. Before I got a chance to complain to the attendant or even jump off, the ride had lifted off the ground and ‘Keima was there, dangling loosely in his seat. Prayers went up immediately in my heart as I got the sense that I had entered ‘one chance’.

In fairness to him, he didn’t panic; he actually loved the ride. He was thrilled to be up in the air, “far above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky” perhaps. He began to laugh and point things out excitedly, I was glad and quite relieved as I engaged with him. However, in a short while, his excitement became unguided and began to tip over. His gesticulations and movements became more spirited as he tried to lean over to see more and reach for things that were totally out of reach. I thought it was all fun and games initially and I tried to talk him out of it, but he was not having it; he wanted to explore the world as he deemed best. I explained carefully and gently to him why he needed to be calm, but the more I spoke to him and pleaded with him to stay safe for us, the more agitated he got. 

Panic set in at my end as he pushed and threw his hands and feet up in the air. He wanted to break free from me and breaking free would mean falling from a height of ‘God knows how many feet’ to hard, concrete ground. I imagined the worst at that point and my heart screamed “God forbid!” The more I begged him to calm down, the more bent he seemed on proving to me through his actions that foolishness is bound in the heart of a child. At this point, I began to scream for help….. I started by shouting out to my friend who was in the seat ahead of us. I said, “Ibiwunmi, ‘Keima is trying to jump out.” She couldn’t hear me the first time, but she certainly heard the panic in  my voice. When she eventually figured out what I said, she pleaded with me to do my absolute best to keep him calm. 

I moved from screaming to Ibiwunmi to just being that helpless mother who would stop at nothing to save her child. I started shouting wildly to any and everyone that could hear me “HELP! PLEASE HELP! STOP THE RIDE! MY SON IS TRYING TO JUMP OUT! HEEEEELLLLLLPPP!”. Nobody heard me, and even if they did, they didn’t act like they did. I was in distress and everything was still going on normally. People were laughing all around me, engrossed in their own world; selfies were being taken, reels were being created and memories were still being documented. I was all alone in my pain, trying to manage a toddler’s full blown tantrum, mid-air, while watching others eat ice-cream, have fun and enjoy summer vibes.

I was genuinely confused and I thought all kinds of thoughts. I knew that if Keima jumped out, I instinctively would too. Would we survive it? I wondered to myself if that is how people’s lives end on short notice. I wondered about my daughter, who was sitting just behind us, and my husband whom we left back in the hotel room. How would the story be told? How would the news be broken? Why would tragedy be our reward for travelling all the way to attend a revival meeting? The moment I thought about The Outpouring Canada, my perspective shifted and I began to switch gears internally.

I remembered a testimony shared at The Outpouring the previous day about a young boy that had fallen off a storey building a while back and was supernaturally restored. As I recollected the details, I told God that I didn’t come all the way to Toronto to replicate that experience with ‘Keima and so I wasn’t interested in him falling or jumping out of the ride in the first place. I knew at this point that if God did not step in and help, we were gone….like gone. This was  when I consciously invited God into the experience with me through prayer. 

As I prayed, the panic subsided a bit and I was able to think clearly and take action. I don’t know how I comported myself well enough to move Keima successfully from my left hand side where he was initially seated to my right hand side, then I propped his side with my backpack which I had on the seat.  After that, I pressed my full weight on him against the corner of the ride to hem him in as I continued to pray. Initially, he tried hard to kick and break free from the discomfort of the confinement, then after a while, he relaxed and a sort of calm came upon him. A child that had been throwing tantrums suddenly became cooperative, and I just continued praying. 

Eventually, the ride ended, and we got off…..ALIVE! As far as I am concerned, that ride must have lasted a little over 10,000 minutes. As soon as we alighted, I burst into uncontrollable tears; of gratitude, joy and relief, of thanksgiving for deliverance from death and calamity, of a fresh appreciation for the Omnipresent God and so many other things that words cannot describe. I also woke up to a fresh realisation of the depths of love that a mother has for her child which is often concealed in the nuances of daily living and revealed in distinct experiences that show our hearts to us. 

Naturally, this ride altered the entire course of the outing as I was too shaken to get on any other ride or fun activity that day. I sat down quietly with ‘Keima in a corner while others continued to explore; I was content with just holding my ‘miracle’ tight in my hands as thanksgiving continued to flow from my heart, through my lips to God above.

As I reflected on the experience, I realised that oftentimes in our journey through life, we get to some spaces and situations where nobody but God can see us, hear us , reach us, understand us or help us, regardless of how much they love us or how noble their intentions towards us are. Based on this, I knew that the time and energy that I expended screaming out for help to people who could do absolutely nothing about my situation should have been directed at God who is our ever present help at all times. 

That day, I concluded therefore that it is best practice and a fail-proof life strategy to build a culture that actively seeks and looks to God first for answers, in any and every situation that we find ourselves in. This is the second big lesson that I learnt on this particular trip to Toronto which I would never forget.