By Bolanle Olosunde
Pain is the single life’s reality that I could never tolerate, accept, or imagine. From the touch of a needle, to the ache on the head, to the throb of a wound or the painful monthly visitor for most ladies. I just hate them all. And somehow, like everyone else, I expect to be protected by my ever-loving God from as much pain as possible. And so, whenever a little hurt interrupts my schedule I look at God to say “Why me? And it felt okay, until I met Sharon.
Sharon was on a planning committee with me for a youth camp in Ilorin. She was in Abuja, I was in Lagos, and we had never met. She was not frequent in the WhatsApp meetings set up for us all to meet, but each time she attended she wanted us to pray, and she was always thankful. It was cool and refreshing, but I must confess that I didn’t really look forward to meeting her. She was pleasant, but there was nothing remarkable about her comments, and I didn’t know anything about her, so there was no love lost, nor expectations. Therefore, days to the camp, when the President of the committee kept saying that she was sick and needed our prayers, I would usually just say ‘it is well’, because as much as I hate pain, I take it for granted to pray about malaria, stomach upsets, or wounds to heal up, and I thought that was it for her too. She will get over it.
Fast forward to the second day of the camp, when I was told she had just flown into Ilorin from Abuja with her mum, and they needed airport pick up. Now, that got my attention. I mean, who comes to a youth camp with their mum on a VIP RIDE? I didn’t need to wait for long, I got my answer within an hour. My dearest Sharon has been travelling across countries, bonding with her mum, writing daily in her diary, building a closer relationship with her God, and visiting the best professionals in medicine because she was fighting cancer.
It shook me to the core, to see her try to stand, walk, and sit. It tore my heart to see how she picked her words, and tried so hard to do everything that came naturally to me. However, it was when she spoke to us all that the tears began to flow down my cheeks. I was lost in the stories of how she had continuously endured pain, but it shocked me more to hear the hope in her voice. She was so determined to win the fight against pain. She spoke about the future with so much confidence, and I melted, but what took me to my knees that night in my room was the way she worshipped God, the manner to which she expressed her undying gratitude and love for the lover of her soul who has preserved her.
That night, my life changed. And I realised very genuinely that my life does not belong to me. The only reason why I can dream, hope, and exist is because God gave me the permission.
We are not entitled to anything; not wealth, not fame, not health, and not even the joy of faith. We have this things because God chose to have mercy on us, and we must never take it for granted. Today, I am full of gratitude because God’s love is a gift, and Sharon, though not here in this world anymore, lives on in my heart, because the light that shined in her heart was bright enough to show me this truth.
This marks the end of #ItChangedMyLife as a series but I hope what you read during this month will continue to change your life.
I want to say a huge thanks to every writer, reader and people who took time to drop comments. God bless you guys.
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