Have you ever wondered why you’re alive till this very moment? Have you ever sat down to think about this? As we all know, several thousands of people leave the world by the minute; either by glorious exit or not. In fact, over 150,000 people die worldwide everyday.
By simple comparison, it is just similar to saying that almost twice the full capacity of the Wembley stadium (London) die everyday.
The breath we take in is in a way someone’s very last. Now the questions: Why aren’t we among the many? What’s so different about us that makes us qualified to be among the living?
I know you probably have an answer on your mind right now. Answers perhaps. Permit me to take you through a part of my childhood so we can answer the questions together. Try and hold the thought please, let’s digress a bit.
Truth be told, I happen to be a very playful boy back in the days (still with the remnants though). Jumping around was my thing; illegal escapades, my thing…the list goes on. Among all, street soccer was more of a favourite (pretty good at it…then). Harassing peers and elders on the field (I mean anywhere with enough space for two posts) with embarrassing dribbles was the core of my favourites. It however stopped being one when I was dealt with by an embarrassed elder one fateful day; I broke my arm in the process.
I ended up at a general hospital that very day and my unplanned excursion began. My day just started. Can’t pretty remember the events at the moment but the ones after I was fixed were vivid. I remember going to various other sections and wards, totally disturbed.
My young innocent mind couldn’t accommodate the things I saw. Suspended appendages, missing body parts, people on supports, cries from fire victims and several others. I even took the same elevator with a fresh cadaver. I heard the nurses say; “He just packed.” Packed?! I won’t bore you with the gory details.
The huge urge to leave heightened and I was successful at it eventually. I need not tell you what my thoughts were throughout. Over time I told my peers about my experience, only to be shocked by a pal who has been in my shoes (he trekked with the shoe on a rougher path as a matter of fact). I then realised the emergency unit of the hospital (where the fresh accident victims are rushed to) is far worse. Don’t even try the morgue.
Back to the cause of my digression. I began to ask myself, why am I not in the other wards? Why am I not in the morgue? Couldn’t answer the questions till I grew a little bit older. I’m sorry for making you hold your thought(s) till this moment, apologies.
It occurred to me later in life that it is just by God’s grace. Yes… Grace! Is that what is on your mind too? It’s not your righteousness (some cadavers were more righteous). Not your steadfastness (there are many steadfast fire victims). The maxim suddenly made sense; we are pencils in the hand of the creator.
The fact that I’m hale and hearty to write this is by virtue of His grace. The same goes for you. You’re alive to read this — and maybe correct grammar — only by His grace.
Let’s make the point together. The C.E.O of the abundant grace sure needs us to acknowledge the fact. Appreciate the privilege and say thanks. True, we hardly appreciate living till we are near death. We don’t appreciate good health till sickness crawls in.
Don’t wait till you experience the other side. Pay your dues as at when due.
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Adewoyin Joseph || @Jossef69