Are you still searching?

Fiction
"Damy, you're joking right? You are still searching for a job. Seriously?"

I stared at Damy with disbelief in my eyes. What he told me was far too odd to believe. I have seen people make mistakes before, but this one was more than a mistake. This was utter foolishness.

I pressed the remote lock button for my car in my hand and sat down beside him. He was sitting in front of a supermarket obviously whiling away time. This was Damy-the Damy- the guy that everyone talked about. Damy had a wealthy dad, a really wealthy dad with loads of connections. We always joked that his father could snap his fingers and make Damy the president if he wanted to. We joked, nut somehow we knew it was possible. When all resources are at your beck and call, you can make anybody president.

So why was Damy still job hunting? How come the son of the wealthiest person we could think of was still knocking from office to office and writing online assessments evey month? I needed to understand so I let him speak. "He told me of how his neighbor convinced him to be his own man.

"You can't be Daddy's boy forever", he said. "You need to get a taste of life, explore your abilities, break this endless restraint you have put on yourself.  Wake up. Forget that old man and move on". He took the advice and here he was. Confused, empty and unfulfilled.

I felt his pain, because here I was, just a random employee of his dad, enjoying the fine things of life, with all the perks attached. But here was my boss' son, living below his potential. I tried my best to encourage him with soft words, but at the end of the day, before I left, I knew I had to be firm.

"Bro, don't take this the wrong way, but this is all your making", I said as we rounded up. "You know that your father offered you a chance to work under him. As if that was not enough, he even offered you training, if I decided not to work for him. He was ready to teach you the ropes in the business world, link you up with awesome internships, everything we dreamed of was available to you. I don't know what drove you away, but seriously, reconsider. You are my guy, I have to tell you the truth. Use your head bros".

I got into my car and left. As I drove I prayed for him that he would understand and realise his mistake. I stared at him before I drove off and even with the earpiece firmly plugged in his ears, I could see he was contemplating all I had said.

This is a fictional tale, but I hope you understand the hidden message.
I pray you would understand that the Almighty God has sent his son Jesus and has provided all you need to enjoy life on earth and life in heaven. All you need to do is accept this free gift. I pray you would realise that it pays to hand over control of your life to the King.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
NKJV Exodus 23:25,27
“So you shall serve the Lord your God, and He will bless your bread and your water. And I will take sickness away from the midst of you".

Awaiting Tomorrow

Poetry
One day we'd be grown up
With children and protégés
With schedules and deadlines
Responsibilities and details

We beckon on that day to come
Anxiously awaiting it's arrival
Working towards it's fulfillment
Claiming the promises that speak of it\

But until then, we'd laugh
Dance and shout with bubbling glee
Gather in circles and cherish conversation
Pause the clock and hug our youth

So when we're all grown up
With children and protégés
May the wrinkles that line our face
Remind us of the awesome life we tasted.

Dear Rachel

Fiction
Dear Racheal, 

Funny right?  I still have to call you Rachel, after seven freaking years!  Seven years,  Rachel.  I could think of a thousand million sweetened chocolate flavoured words to call you. I could write a thousand billion letters to describe how beautiful your eyes are. I could... but I can't. I won't, for you are not mine. Not yet. So you'd remain just Rachel to me,  till my service for you is fulfilled. 

So Rachel,  my Rachel,  you need to know, it hurts.  Like everywhere in me and every part of me,  hurts. My back hurts, real bad. As I lay here in this Arab wilderness that sings of my loneliness,  penning this epistle of my innermost frustrations, I hurt bad. I have a stone as a pillow, grass edges as my blanket, thornbushes as my fences and the sheep as my gate; your father's flock is all that lies between me and the ravenous wolves. Oh how they love to terrorise me. The moon is out tonight,  full and bright reminding me of the beaming glow of your tender face,  it's the twelfth hour bae...oh sorry... Rachel!  God! How long shall I stay in this pain? When can I call you bae? When Rachel? When? 

Well, here I am Rachel, still here, in the middle of this wilderness. Toiling, waiting, sweating blood for the now.  Rachel, I hope you know this, you'd better know this: you keep me going. That sweetness you threw my way by the water trough that day. Rachel,  I need that sweetness everyday. Yeah it hurts,  but it's  worthwhile. I would serve your father for eternity just to be with you.

So Rachel, promise me this. While the desert sand flies sting me,  please keep yourself and wait for me. While the wolves salivate for my head,  you have to stay focused; become a better woman than the lady I met. Save me the stress,  would you not? This is my part,  I'm getting ready for you,  for us; repay me and play your part. Prepare for our kids and learn to care for them. Learn a skill,  get yourself busy,  keep your mind off the "others" wooing mindlessly. They see you as a prize, I need you in my journey. You had better tell them off, because I let Leah go, and many-a-Leah would come and I would let them go all the more.  They need to know that though I need a girl,  I really do,  but not a Leah. Not a lady that just wants to be married. Not a trophy that just wants to be carried. 

I only want Rachel, Rachel. I only want you. I'm somewhere around waiting for the perfect moment.  You have to trust that your father would keep his word and hand you over to me.  Please, Rachel,  as I slave away for seven more years,  grant me this one wish, I pray thee. Make yourself worth the wait. 

Love (though delayed), 
Jacob. 


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