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Memoirs from Toronto (2)

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.

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Memoirs From Toronto (1)

‘Summer was beautiful’ would be me putting it mildly and probably understating the richness of my experience in its entirety. Just being situated in the context of family was the brightness the landscape of my life needed, as it offered me the opportunity to reassess and appreciate the gift of the very people I am blessed with and surrounded by. We littered the timelines of our holidays with barbecues, camping activities, countless sleepovers, outings and other fun stuff. To cap the season up, I made a trip with my immediate family to Toronto and two very distinct experiences I had on this trip brought with it 2 huge lessons I would never forget in a hurry. 

Kamba had traveled ahead of us to attend to a few things and so I left home that Saturday with the children and my niece; for the sake of my niece who was visiting Toronto for the first time, I had made arrangements to explore downtown Toronto a bit before heading to Oshawa.  The plan was simple; my long-time sister-friend, Ibiwunmi was to pick us up at the airport upon arrival, take us off to her house to unwind and have breakfast and then we would head out for sight-seeing while the children stayed back at home to have a good time. After we all had our heart’s fill of play and fun, we would head out to Oshawa, where we would be camping for the entire 4-day duration of the trip. 

We arrived at the airport that morning in good time for all the check-in formalities required. The reason for choosing an early morning flight was very clear; we wanted to have ample time to explore and play. While we waited in the lounge to board the Aircraft, an announcement made by the airline’s passenger assistance personnel interrupted my thoughts. They needed some people to give up their seats on the 5.30 a.m flight and join a later one that would leave for Toronto by 4.30 pm that same day. They went further to offer a huge incentive as compensation for people who were willing to give up their seats. I heard this and my head did a quick calculation of the amount of money which could potentially be in my account if I responded to the call. I did a quick mental scan of the actual cost price of the tickets and saw that it was a ‘profitable exchange’. 

All the hard things had been done already; our bags had been checked in, boarding passes for the 4.30 pm would be issued to us immediately and all we needed to do was go home,rest a bit and come back later to catch the later flight to Toronto. ‘Easy-peasy’ , I thought and so I stood up and walked to the counter, I spoke with the attendant, and confidently declared my willingness to give up our seats and join the 4.30 pm flight. She responded in that ever-sweet manner, “Oh! I am sorry, we needed only 3 people and we already have that number. Thanks for offering.”

My goodness! What just happened? I walked back to my seat slowly, hoping nobody else heard or noticed the conversation that just ensued. Well, a small part of me felt slightly embarrassed by the awkwardness of everything that happened, but the bigger part of me was shocked. I tried to make sense of my feelings and determine exactly how I felt, but I could not.

Before I walked up to have the conversation with the lady at the counter, I thought I knew myself. I thought I knew the things I could do or not do. I thought I understood my motivations and was largely self-aware, but apparently, blind-spots do exist. My heart lay bare before me and I saw who I could be, given certain conditions. How else would I explain the speed with which it all happened – A quick and sweat-less monetary reward in exchange for weeks of careful planning, anticipation and sacrifice, all at the instance of a 45-second announcement; the trade-in was way too cheap and fast.

If you examine it through the eyes of being strategic, having business acumen or an exceptional ability to seize and maximize opportunities, what I did would seem very brilliant. But when weighed against the backdrop of running every decision, big or small by God, I scored low. I certainly did not check or even think deeply. Money called, Funmi answered. I didn’t even stop to think about the people waiting for me on the other side of my flight, and the implication of my actions on all the plans we had made. What else would I throw all else away in exchange for? Quite frankly, if anybody had painted that scenario and described my actions as how I would potentially react, I would have argued my head off. “That can never be me” I would have blurted out confidently.

What I found a bit worrisome was also the fact that if I did not experience a blatant rejection at the counter, I probably would not have reflected on my decision making process and observed the loopholes and shortcomings therein. I thank God for the mercy that prevented the transaction from going through, but also wondered how many other times I had acted on my own impulses. The experience showed me that how we arrive at a destination is as important as the destination itself and there is a need to carefully re-evaluate the yardsticks for decision making on every front. My first lesson from this particular trip gave me a strong resolve to consciously acknowledge God when making all my decisions and not lean on my own understanding.

Eventually, we boarded our 5.30 a.m flight to Toronto and landed in good time. We had the best time with family and friends and left for Oshawa later that evening; everybody was exhausted from the day’s activities, but grateful nonetheless for the experience.

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“Take a Walk with Me.”

For me, the next best thing to being physically present at the Lagos edition of UpperRoom on Friday, was being an undistracted and fully immersed virtual attendee. Having sorted out all ‘stakeholders’ at home and resolved all possible interruptions and hitches, I settled in my favourite corner of my bedroom with my laptop and arrived on YouTube, long before the livestream began. The plan was simple, I was going to have an “Upper Room & Chill” kinda morning and just enjoy my life in His presence. I’m thankful to God for the beautiful architecture of this current season of my life that gives me room to accommodate these things that make my Spirit sing for joy and truly cause my soul to prosper.

The worship meeting started and my entire experience from start to finish was an answered prayer; I responded with reckless abandon, caring only for the precious exchange between my maker and I. The atmosphere was electric, fully charged with the finest worship, prayers and spontaneous interjections of exhortations and word expositions; all carefully interwoven and skillfully delivered with the aim of redirecting the gaze of everyone to the Sovereign God.

As the meeting was rounding off, we moved into a session of testimonies; this is the part when people like me typically forget our manners and just lose every form of decorum. Personally, I find that testimonies inspire me with the ability to trust God for any and everything, so I always listen with rapt attention. You will hear testimonies and faith stories like this ehn, your dreadlocks (or wig, as the case may be) will scatter involuntarily. Minister Dunsin doesn’t even help matters with the way he layers each faith report with an apt song of adulation to God. Omo, if you still had your shoes on or Ruby woo lipstick in place all along, this is the point where you will “scatter” as you erupt in shouts of praise or just dance undignified before the maker. 

After listening to diverse testimonies of restoration, deliverance and healings, A lady who was on crutches came to testify about how God had helped and kept her so far, since she survived an accident about 7 months prior to that time. Something about her story just marked my heart in a very different way. She started by saying how she hesitated to give her testimony, because she felt the perfect time to do so would be when she is fully recovered and has dropped her crutches. God corrected her on this and encouraged her to publicly declare His goodness to her since the accident.

I listened to her story intently and was moved as she spoke. I loved her courage, I loved her faith, I loved her joy, I loved her convictions – she certainly knew that she would drop her crutches some day. As she spoke, the empathetic side of me came alive and I got somewhat distracted by thoughts of the possibility of the excruciating pain she was going through as she stood on stage to share her testimony. I thought so much about her ‘discomfort’ that I desperately wanted her to round off so she could get back to her seat and rest her legs. 

Clearly, we were not on the same frequency on this pain-matter because she even got to a point in relaying her testimony when she dropped the crutches and lay on the floor to physically demonstrate a dimension of healing that she had received. When she got off the floor, a part of me unconsciously waited for her to be handed her crutches back, so she could head back to her seat and rest her aching legs. This didn’t happen. Instead, Minister Dunsin Oyekan asked that the congregation stretch forth their hands towards her and pray for her. After prayers,  he looked at her, offered her his hands and said to her ‘Take a walk with me’. Honestly, my heart almost fell out. “Sir, she has been on her feet long enough, please let her go and rest, abeg.” I thought to myself.

They began to walk hand in hand from one end of the stage to the other, singing and praying as they journeyed. With each step they took, my heart skipped a beat. She didn’t fall, she didn’t break down; slowly and surely, with one foot in front of the other, she made her way across the stage. Ordinarily, she would have been tired after taking a few steps, but here she was, pushing beyond her limits and just gliding in strength. I believe that with each step she took without her crutches, she was publicly affirming her faith in God and the endless possibilities that exist in Him.

In that moment, I realised that my empathy for her had pushed me into a framework of survival and magnification of her pain that didn’t make it possible for me to take sides with God to insist on her portion of complete healing and wholeness in Him. Gosh! I felt ‘caught and exposed’. Like, wait a minute, Funmz! You believe that God can make her drop her crutches forever, but you just don’t think it can be NOW? Wow!

What I experienced as a result of listening to and watching the testimony unfold was a mental miracle; God showing me limiting mindsets and postures that I hold unconsciously that are unhealthy. I received an invitation into larger spaces in God where all things are possible and my mind can accommodate God-sized possibilities, so that I don’t stand in my own way.  The line is drawn and I am reclaiming the territories of my mind where unbelief and small-stinky thinking had taken up residence. 

Layering further on that, Minister Dunsin’s invitation to the lady seemed like an echo of God’s desires for us in 2024 and beyond; to “Take a walk with Him”. God is inviting us to release our crutches – whatever systems we have built or relied on to get by – and really just take His hands and walk with Him. He wants us to come with the pain, come with the limp, come with the questions, come with the brokenness, the emptiness, the fatigue, the confusion, the betrayals, the disappointments.

Come with the anger, come with the struggles, come with the little foxes, come with the addictions. Come in whatever shape or colour. Come with the tears, come with the achievements , come with the bleak economic outlook. Come with the health scare, the negative reports, the lumps, the drama. Come as an accomplished professional, a mature single, a discouraged graduate, a ministry gift, a budding entrepreneur, a tired mum, a struggling student, an aspiring change agent. Don’t overthink it, just come on in.

Come with a firm resolve to put your crutches away and never pick them up again once you lock your hands in His. This possibility exists, and can be our reality if we truly believe; to appear before Him and still insist on leaving with the crutches we came with is a direct result of an absolute ignorance of who He is or a gross undermining of the truth we claim to know about Him.

Come, fully persuaded that HE IS, and that He is a Rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. Come into the security of a love story that transcends the foundations of the world and runs into an ageless eternity.

Leave all the excuses and just come on in. May 2024 be the year we say YES to the Lord, on every front. Amen!