THE STRANGE PROPOSAL
Part 23
©Franca Uwuigiaren
I woke up and sat on the bed, yawning. It was a cold January morning, and I could hear my neighbors playing music in celebration of the new year. I stood up from the bed and stared at my sleeping Oroma for a moment before leaving
the room to check on my children. They were still sleeping.
I sat on the chair, looking at my broken television and the pieces of glass scattered on the floor. I shook my head sadly, then did a little prayer. I encouraged myself, telling myself that January 1st was not a day to be sad.
I soon shook off that feeling of sadness. I carried the rice I brought from the church to the kitchen, then swept the sitting room. Later, I untied the half bag of rice, and brought out other nylons inside. One after the other, I untied the nylons and brought out tin tomatoes, onions, and Maggie, then another nylon was full of fried meat.
I decided to prepare jollof rice for my family. I went to work immediately, bringing out all I needed to use. Before I finished cooking, two of my neighbours brought cooked food and drinks. I was grateful and told them so.
When I finished cooking, I woke the kids to take their bath, then I went to the bedroom but refused to wake Oroma up. I just left her still sleeping and went to take my bath. After I and the children had bathed, I served them food. I noticed how the three of them were quiet. Once in a while, their glances went to the television.
I explained how I got home and met the door open. I told them how I saw a hand with a big hammer hit the television. In fact, I explained everything that happened right in the sitting room before I heard their mother crying. The kids were quiet, and Alabo soon dropped his spoon. He explained how his mother’s cries affected him.
“I’m so angry,” he said.
“Eat! Your mother will be fine.” He picked his spoon and started eating slowly.
No one spoke again. Immediately after the meal, they entered their room and didn’t come out. I went to the bedroom and slept off again. I woke up only when my phone started ringing. It was my father, calling to pray for us.
My wife received calls from some members of her family who wanted to wish her well in the new year.
When i later carried my wife to the bathroom, I noticed that her legs were so swollen, like someone with elephantiasis, but I tried not to acknowledge that I saw it, and Oroma understood because she didn’t say anything about her observation. I fed her because her hands were swollen too.
Anyway, we sat together on the bed, talking. She told me her elder brother promised to send her some money the following day.
“Whatever he sends will hold us for a few days,” she said.
Then I remembered that I collected two envelopes from Pastor Moses. I went to my trouser and brought out the envelopes. I emptied the content on the bed.
“Where did you get this from?” she asked, surprised.
I explained in detail how I was blessed by the pastor and the anonymous giver.
“Aah! God will bless them.”
“The rice and meat were from the pastor and his family.”
Oroma was surprised. She prayed for them, and I kept saying Amen. We counted the money, and it was twenty-three thousand put together. Later, when we were all in the bedroom, she looked at her boys’ faces and smiled.
“Alabo, Dokubo, and Boma, what happened last night should not make you guys gloomy. Today is a new year, and we must be happy and not open our hearts to sadness. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, and I am already at the end of the tunnel, seeing the light. You know what? The devil cannot stop my breakthrough. I’m certain of that.”
The kids nodded their heads.
“So cheer up. This year is going to be remarkable for us all, in Jesus’ name.”
“Amen!” We all chorused.
When the children left, Oroma told me she wanted me to carry her on my legs.
“Don’t worry, I will try not to shout when you want to help me,” she said softly.
I did as she wanted. I carried her on my legs and told her she’s beautiful and the best in the world. I told her many beautiful things that made her blush.
“When I finally start walking, you must back me,” she said with mischief.
“You said what? My back will break.”
She laughed hilariously.
“It won’t break. I will massage it for you.”
That’s my Oroma for you. When she wants to be mischievous, she would.
“Our anniversary is in February. On that day, you will carry me like this and feed me… even if you’re taking me out, you will still carry me there and feed me. But I will handle the meat myself,” she said laughing.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am!”
“People will start looking at us at the restaurant, nah!”
She laughed.
“My Obiama, your excuse is not sustainable. February is just next month. Know that I will sit on your legs when we walk hand in hand to my choice restaurant.”
“Yes, ma,” I said.
My Oroma was on my legs, laughing. She told me her plans for the new year. We also made plans for our children and ourselves, and we prayed concerning it.
I later helped her sit on the chair so I could change the bed sheet. I cleaned the poxes on her body. There were times she told me she’s hot inside and wanted cold water. Other times, she would ask me to clean her body with water from the fridge.
“It cools my body,” she says.
Throughout that first day of January, I tried my best to make her comfortable. I wanted her to be happy. In the evening, after dinner, we gathered together and prayed. Then everyone went to sleep.
In the bedroom, Oroma took my hand and kissed it.
“Thank you, Obiama. Thank you for not abandoning me. Thank you, thank you.”
I kissed her swollen lips and told her to go to bed. She didn’t want to go to bed immediately. She started listening to Pastor Christian preaching on Restoration. I too was listening until my mind drifted away.
In my heart, I began to tell God to give my wife sleep. I didn’t want what happened last night to repeat itself. I waited until I saw her dozing and the phone falling from her heart to the bed. I picked it up and turned it off. Then I told her she was dozing already and that she would continue later.
I wasn’t feeling sleepy, so I just relaxed on the bed. My mind was going here and there. I thought of my kids; in a few days’ time, school resumes, and I need money to settle their fees. My house rent expires in two months’ time too. Then feeding the family is another thing.
“Father, please come through for me. Don’t let people ask where is my God. Don’t let people mock and laugh at me. Please!” I whispered.
Jeremiah chapter 29:11 came to mind, and I began to meditate on the Bible verse.
“Father, bring this family to an expected end.” I began to pray, declaring God’s word.
Suddenly, I had a revelation. I saw myself coming out of the bathroom and began to hear commotion outside with people talking angrily.
“We will kill him and his wife today. We will end everything that concerns them,” the voices kept saying.
I peeped through the windows, but there was nobody standing there. Suddenly, I heard my sitting room door crashed open. For a moment, I stood on the spot, afraid, waiting for the next thing to happen, but I started hearing,
“You’re the Lord of Lords, you’re Lord.”
I tiptoed to the sitting room and saw the door already on the floor. What caught my attention was the two beings bowing down with their heads touching the floor, saying, “You’re Lord, you’re the Lord of Lords.”
Then I followed their gaze, and I saw Him sitting majestically on the chair.
“Aah! My Lord, you’re here,” I said, jumping up in joy and relief.
“Yes, I am here, son. I have come to put an end to all your sufferings. From this moment on, these powers you see here,” He said, pointing at the river goddess and the accuser of Brethren still bowing their heads. “These ones ceased to exist in your life.”
For a moment, we watched them confessing, “You’re the Lord of Lords,” then they disappeared.
His Majesty stood up and went ahead of me to the bedroom. He gazed at my wife lying there, then He said, “Son, the healing that this family seeks for Oroma has already been performed.” I fell on my knees and started crying.
“Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord.”
He placed His hands on my shoulders and said, “My son, you will never lack again. From this day hence, my blessing shall rest on you. As I honoured my covenant with David, and as the covenant of day and night exists, my covenant with you from today will I not break. As you have chosen to honour me, I will honour you in plenty, and your seed after you shall be forever blessed.”
“Thank you, Lord, thank you, Jesus,” I kept saying, then I opened my eyes.
I sat up crying and thanking the Lord. Oroma woke up and asked why I was crying. I explained what I saw. She turned the night into a praise night, thanking God for her healing and all the benefits she enjoys. We didn’t sleep again.
Oroma continued where she stopped from Pastor Chris’ teaching, and I just prostrated before God. His love for us is just unconditional.
In the following days, we began to notice changes in the condition of my wife. The boils began to dry up, and she was no longer feeling pains. I resumed carrying her to the bathroom to bathe then to the sitting room to eat together as a family. Her swollen legs and body had returned to normal.
Few days after the kids resumed school, I had escorted them to school and returned home only to meet Oroma in the sitting room. She was crying. I didn’t need to ask how she found herself in the sitting room because I knew she didn’t crawl there.
With a heart full of joy and amazement, I exclaimed, “Oh, my beloved Oroma, walk for me! Show me the miracle that God has done in your life! Let me behold the wonder of your healing, and let our hearts rejoice together in the victory that God has given us…I want to see the kingdom of darkness shaken because of this great victory. Walk for me”
Amidst tears and laughter, she stood up and began to walk around the sitting room, shouting praise to the Almighty God, who didn’t put her to shame.
She ended up walking into my arms.
To be continued…
