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She knelt down to pray, the words formed on her mouth but they didn’t come out. She has been in this position for more than ten minutes.

Knees touching each other as they touched the ground. Hands clasped together in a firm grip. Eyes closed tight like their right was to remain shut. Beads of sweat danced atilogu on her forehead.  Her hair buried in a scarf, no extra strand was seen.

She mumbled the words but she wasn’t praying right. She didn’t feel it as she should. There was no ease in her words, she was an heavy weight boxer. The weight of the plight she carried made her one.

She could hear the low tune on the background. The timbre of the soothing soprano singing “I surrender….. I surrender all….” flanked by muffled strokes from the guitar. The sombreness of the atmosphere penetrated her heavy make up. The scarf on her head that covered her heavy hair was borrowed. Probably this is why she her heart is heavy.

“All to Jesus I surrender humbly at his feet I bow…” the soprano voice continued, an unfamiliar croaking adulterating its pitch.

Words continued to be formed in her heart but none made its way to her mouth. She magically shoved them back in before they fell. She had surrendered all, but these words just won’t surrender.

Then she felt the vibration rip through her laps like termites marching at night. The vibration continued as her hands moved to her pocket. They ceased being clasped together and the well polished nails that were once held bound became free.

In a few seconds the phone was out. Her eyes still close. But she peeped. It didn’t ring out because she had switched the profile to silent. She saw the green notification light of her BBM. There was a message to be read but she ignored. The phone slipped back to whence it came, buried in the pocket of her jean.

Her nails barely returned to the prison of her palms then another vibration followed. She knew it was a ping. Several pings there after and she went for the phone again.

“I surrender all …” took a pause. The soprano voice didn’t stop singing. It paused when she read the message.

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How long shall grace abide? Photocredits @Unknown

Off the scarf went like a flash,
puff she sprang to her feet and zoom she left the church.

Business calls and thus salvation must wait for another day. Her glassy stilettos tapped the terrazzo floor blending with the solemn guitar and sharp soprano voice. Her terribly low cleavage top slashed the air, the balloons on her chest barely constrain by the sling she called a bra. LV bag clutched in her left hand. Right hand keeping the balloons in check, assisting the slings that were to hold them bound.

She flipped her brazillian hair back  and forth. Whipping the wind with it, she was on her A-game already.

Moments ago she was at heaven’s gate, ready to surrender her all at the Saviour’s feet but now someone else was going to surrender all. Someone would confess she is lord after she is done riding him.

She can always come back; the Saviour can wait. The soprano voice might not be available to sing “…I surrender all…”  when she returns but she knows he would be waiting. He is a patient and loving God, ever gracious and mercies unending. That’s what they say he is.

PS; Your New Year Resolution, is it still new?

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