In the heat of exams, on one of the days when I had a somewhat technical course to write. It was the most feared and respected among my colleagues – Advanced Communication Research is its name. A course where PDFs were only dumped at us and we had to go search desperately and painstakingly for knowledge like the woman in the Bible who lost her coins and couldn’t give sleep to her eyes.

On that fateful day, after long-hours of intensive study, I prayed, had my bath and left the room. I heaved in a deep breath while walking down the bridge and swung the pen with an almost finished ink in my right hand. All thanks to Mass Communication where you have to write and fill up at least 8 pages for just one question. It sets you up for an A easily, so they said. Smiles…

My legs moved gently and slowly, as I walked down the bridge that morning trying to regurgitate the torrents of information that had settled somewhere in my brain. It was 10 minutes past 7 and the sun that day was still crawling out of bed when we needed it the most because the cold was piercing.

“God, please have mercy.” I prayed for fear of interference in my brain.

Sometimes, after pouring in a large amount of information all at once the human brain can suffer from interference and then this could be worse because of the nature of the course too. In order not to be a victim, I prayed over and again as I walked and regurgitated.

A little farther to my left were four ladies who seemed to be best of friends. Their noise was deafening and they gestured in a way that looked like a revision class. It was slightly annoying and distracting but somehow it became like an early morning drama series featuring catchy scenes.

It offered some sort of respite in the midst of the whole exam pressure that wrapped everyone like a fog. It made me smile at some points while others laughed hard.

Soon, they all came to a halt when one screamed, “I forgot my school fee receipt on the table. Oh my goodness!”

I felt slightly sad for her because they were almost at the end of the journey.

The bridge was like a connecting link to the school and they walked a good distance already. Her friends too felt pity for her but when it was time to go back, she had to return alone.

She turned back and hurriedly ran like she would outrun a cheetah and her friends moved on after shouting “Be fast, see you soon.”

****

Watching from a distance taught me a very big lesson. You may be in a company, it could be friends or even family but your journey is your own.

They were friends right? And she could have just used their receipt into the exam hall but the name on it wasn’t hers and that was the matter. Maybe you have forgotten yourself because of your new set of friends, maybe you have relinquished your values and principles just so you can fit into a class. Hey, it’s not too late to go back because this race is an individual one.

You may be in the middle of your journey already and maybe you just realized that you have been traveling without Jesus. Can you please go back now? He’s still there, waiting right where you left Him.

He’s got all you need, maybe you should chat with Him today.

Maybe yours is a toxic relationship, hey you can still go back today no matter how far you may have traveled. Late is better than never, please go back!

Don’t keep up with your life’s journey when you know that everything isn’t right inside? How’s Jesus doing in your heart? 

What is the legacy you want to leave behind? 

Please go back today and do the needful.

Jesus is waiting, don’t keep Him out for too long!

#Christian Story 

©IPA_writes

I decided to do something different on my journey back to school this time—I decided to trap the happenings during my trip from home to school into a tiny book. It was an amazing experience.

It made me appreciate memories, nature, people, events, and circumstances, whether good or bad.

At 5:30 a.m., I was up and ready for my journey back to Jos that fateful day.

One of the very first shocking events was that my younger brother had agreed to pack my foodstuffs neatly into a sack. He agreed to do it, but when I turned my back and returned minutes later, I found him asleep again. I stood there, stunned, with my left brow arched in annoyance.

I got to the park, and it was relieving to see notable changes—my village is growing.

The park was bustling with life just past 6 a.m., and passengers rushed out quickly. Maybe it was because of the festive season and families needing to return to their city bases after the celebrations. But to this day, I still can’t fathom why I stayed at the park until past 9 a.m. before we finally took off.

I don’t know why these days you pay heavily for your luggage too. It was overwhelming to hand over the little money I’d been trying to save as a student. After an overly stretched conversation, I reluctantly let them have it. My joy sapped away bit by bit, like a Christmas balloon accidentally punctured.

I deliberately chose a seat in the front, near the driver—a decision I would later be grateful for.

As the journey wore on, the driver and I struck up a conversation. Amazingly, he turned out to be my primary school classmate. He recognized me and mentioned striking details, but to this day, I still can’t remember a thing about him.

I should do better at remembering people, I thought quietly.

Seated to my right was a chubby, handsome young man who said he had been my elder sister’s secondary schoolmate.

“Interesting,” I said, smiling wider this time.

His playlist was different from mine—mainly Idoma songs—which gave the ride an indigenous feel. I appreciated it differently this time. I shared in his experience and enjoyed the music for the moment because I’ve learned that what matters to others can, for a short while, be allowed to take dominance, regardless of my preferences and tastes.

I sat quietly, listening to their conversations about life, school, and the inevitable migration of young people from the village to the city.

Though they didn’t appear “churchy” at first, I admired the principles they upheld. It was encouraging to hear them talk about life with so much hope, enthusiasm, and vision. The driver was currently studying at a federal university but chose to use his break to help his father with the transportation business.

That made me slightly emotional.

It showed a thoughtful and responsible young man—a quality not all young people possess when it comes to helping their parents. For me, that was a good spirit.

I’ve always believed that regardless of your status or achievements, your parents deserve your respect. Just thought it was worth adding.

We parted ways when we reached Keffi.

I enjoyed the ride. It was smooth despite the dilapidated state of Nigerian roads. I wished the driver a safe journey to Abuja, their destination, waving a friendly farewell as I continued on to Jos.

My heart raced with worry when I spent close to 30 minutes waiting without seeing other passengers. I felt bad, knowing I’d arrive late—a situation I’d tried to avoid.

Soon, I smiled again when Aminatu showed up with her beautiful daughter. They were a welcome relief from one Alhaji, who seemed intent on engaging me in a conversation.

I quickly joined Aminatu in the vehicle. Her daughter’s innocent smile made me feel more welcome, though her mother seemed quietly skeptical. Perhaps it was due to cultural and religious differences—I could understand her fears. After all, I was just a stranger.

Soon, our prayers were answered, and we finally proceeded to Jos.

I heaved a sigh of relief, thinking I’d found respite after minutes on the road. My eyes even closed for a short nap, but my sleep was abruptly cut short by the chagrin of the passengers.

Oh no—the vehicle had broken down! My hands hugged my chest in frustration. Darkness would stretch her canopy by the time I arrived, and the mere thought of that was a nightmare.

“Into your hands, Lord, I commit my spirit,” I whispered, squeezed into my corner.

Scanning the vehicle, I noticed Aminatu’s daughter still resting peacefully, her smiles comforting. She seemed to reassure me in her own way, silently telling me everything would be fine. I nodded quietly, feeling strangely comforted.

The car broke down again—repeatedly.

The driver’s frustration was evident, but he kept apologizing, his hands firmly resting on the wheel.

“I’m sorry,” he kept saying, his face folded with stress.

Despite the situation, I admired his efforts to get us down safely. He seemed composed, gentle, and mature—like a father and husband. His repeated apologies felt like a healing balm for the fresh wound of our delays.

Finally, I arrived in Jos at 9 p.m.

There were no tricycles nearby, and I needed help moving my luggage across the road to attract a rider.

In the midst of my frustration, a kind young man offered to help. He searched for someone with a wheelbarrow but returned empty-handed. Then, like a scene from a movie, he carried my luggage piece by piece to the other side.

I was full of gratitude. His kindness meant the world to me at that moment, especially since he was a complete stranger.

I got home that night, slipped into bed, and hurried off to the wonderland of sweet dreams.

Taking these notes was a beautiful experience. It made me active, not passive, during my journey.

I didn’t even include the beautiful scenery of Jos, the soft breeze at certain points, or the vibrant colors of flowers dancing in the wind. These little wonders reminded me of the artistic brilliance of God’s creation—a perfect picturesque of life’s vicissitudes.

But as my friend says, “In the end, we’ll smile.”

Thank you for reading.

Until I travel again—maybe to some beautiful part of the world and, hopefully, not on Nigerian roads.  

©IPA

Igbe had just checked into the Kaduna metropolis after a long, boring trip on a cold Wednesday evening. The sky was page blank and the chill breeze raised her weightless, dark, curly hair and it danced behind, snaking down from her shoulders to her back. Her plans went south because she had to journey all the way without her friends.

For five months now, Igbe had explored 10 different states. Her star shone beautifully in the North like Jesus’ own did in the East and her wise men kept calling from all over the world for her event anchoring services. She had anchored nearly a hundred of events spreading across corporate, weddings, dinners and award night events.

“Oh, my goodness, is this what the spotlight means.” Her thoughts raced as she finally journeyed back home. Back to respite, calm and away from the blinding light of the stage and the prestige of popularity that has engulfed her destiny without a prior notice of arrival.

When she got home, she dropped dead into the bed after rummaging through her bag. Her Bible and a journal was considered most important and so she left the bag pregnant with the other items until their day of delivery was reached.

Days later, Igbe unpacked her bag and couldn’t find her golden bracelet. “I knew I came home with this…why can’t I find it?” Her chagrin and frustration simmered hot like the growing fierceness of the tide.
This bracelet was special to her and she wouldn’t lose it so soon not after the love of her life offered the gift.

Days flew by at lightning speed and all Igbe could do was to sigh in frustration because her bracelet has chosen to hide from the glare of her eyes and the clutch of her hands.

“Oh, I can see how frustrated you’ve become dear daughter. But I could only watch from my base because you didn’t invite me to help with the search.” The soft whispers of the Holy spirit reached Igbes ears one morning and she jolted from where she sat getting ready to say her morning prayers.

She recognized how she had actually been on the bracelet search journey without the assistance of the Holy spirit.
She repented and when He came in, the bracelet could no longer hide because when He comes all things shall be brought to light.

---

Yes, the scripture was not wrong to say that He’s our present help in time of need but He can be there and watch you struggle with your every need because you didn’t invite Him.

God loves to be acknowledged and recognized. He also observes the rule of decorum and He’s not a domineering father. He only goes to those who seeks and offers help to those who calls.

Don’t be like Igbe who went days in her misery before reaching out to the one before whose eyes nothing is hidden.

He’s your father and He’s interested even in the tiniest details of your life. Don’t leave anything out.

Invite Him in today and you’ll see how glorious and beautiful the wonders He’d wrought!

©IPA

Fiction

LetHimInToday

Permit me to share some snippets of my daily gleanings with you today.

It’s been a while and I trust you are holding up strong.

Lately, I’ve been filled with unspeakable joy.

Previously, whenever the semester begins and the pressure brews hot I give in to it. My relationship with family, friends, and even acquaintances slumps.

There’s so much to do and the time seems to fly away at the speed of light leaving no ounce behind.

At other times, even my relationship with God would be pegged on the line.
“Dear Abba, you know I have assignments to do, right? We’ll talk later, just give me a minute, and till dawn hands over the baton to the dusk, I’ll leave Abba waiting…” Oh, how bad He must have felt.

It’s a beautiful thing to grow and embrace change.

Now, that’s all in the past.

I’m learning to also brew hot as the pressure of my responsibilities.
I’m learning to keep showing up and remaining committed to what matters to my destiny. I’m learning to be best friends with Abba, waking up at dawn and paying attention to His every word, allowing Him to correct my wrongs and help me grow out of every limitation. I’m learning to keep the fiber of friendships and relationships alive; that’s the best thing to invest in. I’m learning to be optimistic and take one day at a time as the future unfolds.

I’m learning to love and to give, sharing the little I have with everyone who crosses paths with me. You may never know if you’ll have another chance to love.

I hope this blessed your heart.
Responsibilities won’t stop coming especially when you are made for the top.

It’s a hard truth that I’ve chosen to embrace.

The only way out is to face reality; take one day at a time. Plan well. Break it down into tiny bits. Practice discipline and be accountable. You must not frustrate the grace of God.

Never forget, heavy is the head that wears the crown!

May your week be beautiful!

I am IPA…

Don’t forget to reach to the sky
Because up there every blessing hide
Make every moment count
Relish both the good and bad
You won’t be small forever
Embrace every chance to learn
Don’t be afraid to lead
Only the courageous wins
You never know where life’s road would take you
Pay attention to your journey.



PS: the workload at school is brewing hot but I’m committed to showing up here and I’ll try to keep up as much as I can.


See you again on Monday.
Have a beautiful week ahead

©IPA