01 Mar That it May be Well with You..
On the day I turned 25, I decided to get myself a nose ring – a nice little gold-plated one, right here on the side of my nose.
For some reason, nose rings were all the rage that year, and every young girl worth her batting eyelids, at least considered getting one.
So, I stepped into a sleek hair salon one afternoon, and selected a pretty little one, perfect for a budding fashionista like myself.
I was terrified of course, but the Executor, a suitably trendy damsel herself, assured me it would be almost completely painless. Just a little pinch. A very tiny, little fleeting one..
Anyone who’s had their nose pierced will tell you that this was a lie from the pit itself.
But I blinked back the pain, Brethren, and bravely minced into my bold new world.
But very soon, reality hit home.
I was still living under my parents’ roof, you see, and didn’t quite relish their disapproval, which of course was soon to come.
So that evening I crept into the house, like the bold young adult I was. Wished I could hide the thing, but there it was, smack in the middle of my face.
Mum naturally had a few things to say; but I steeled myself and stuck stubbornly to my guns.
Dad simply took one sidelong glance and silently went back to his supper.
And sure enough morning came, and with it, his stand;
“Mugure,” he began.
Bad sign. Dad rarely called me by name. Instead, he preferred Muthoni-wa, a traditional way of honoring my late grandma, my Mum’s Mum, after whom I am named.
“Mugure,” he continued, “I never thought a daughter of mine would ever wear that ring.”.
Because, he explained quietly, in his younger days, only ladies of a certain occupation dared wear such things.
In all my 25 years, Brethren, I had never heard my Dad mention that particular occupation, or anything remotely close to such matters.
So I knew this was huge for him.
But the thing was already there and had cost me a buck or two. Plus a nasty jab.
“Kaza mwendo,” I said to myself. “That was those days. Nobody thinks like that anymore.”
So I jikaza’d.
And for one full week I tried hard to ignore my father’s words and the pained look on his face.
But try as I might, I just couldn’t get rid of the heaviness in my spirit. So early Saturday morning I took the thing off and buried it deep in the dustbin.
Along with my new status as a fashion plate, I was sure.
But somehow, I just didn’t want that ring anymore.
Not because I believed there was anything wrong with it Brethren, but because I knew it was deeply displeasing to my father.
And that.. That, I just couldn’t bear.
“Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, that your days may be long, and that it may be well with you..” Deuteronomy 5:16
Caroline OdongoPosted at 12:46h, 02 March
That’s a very touching little story….yes… honor thy father and mother….
You could have easily stood your ground but the voice in your heart told you it’d be wrong… Nice!
PauliePosted at 16:07h, 02 March
Yes indeed! The onus is on us to honor them, that it may be well with us..