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African

Advent Week 1 – Hope (Liturgy)

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

God of all hope
Greatest promise maker
Greatest promise keeper
It is to you we come this morning

We as your children
We as your precious creation
We in whose lungs your very breathe flows
We come to you

As we reflect on your promises of ages past
As we reflect on the hope of your people in ages past
As we reflect on the fulfillment of those promises
We come to you

And we ask that you would draw us to yourself
Draw each and everyone of us into communion with you
That in that communion we would hear your promises
And on those promises our hope would be anchored

God of all hope
God who longs for us
God who loves us dearly
God who draws us to yourself
It is to you that we pray.

Ase

Advent Week 1 – Hope (Liturgy) was last modified: December 1st, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
December 1, 2021 0 comment
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AfricanDaughter

My mothers eyes

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
I looked into my mothers eyes in passing,
Then I took a second look,
My grandmother was looking at me through those eyes,
She was smiling,
I smiled back,
Precious eyes,
Windows for my ancestors.
My mothers eyes was last modified: November 26th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
November 26, 2021 0 comment
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Mother

My living son is 6

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

I have a 6 year old son.

My only living son Thayu is 6 today.
His name means peace and life.
Every time I look at this child, I never cease to be in wonder.
He should not be here but he is.
When he arrived he had one foot on the blue planet and another foot in eternity.
My doctor looked at her, my doctor the woman of faith, and she lost hope.
When I saw him after I came to be, I was stunned.
He was so tiny, so frail inside the incubator.
He could not breathe on his own.

But God!

In His tender mercies and sheer Providence.
This son is the epitome of good health.
He breathes well.
He can scream out loud.
He loves loudly.
He hugs tightly.
He hates chores.
He is the most handsome, flawless skin boy I know.
His secret is that he eats chocolate on a regular to maintain his skin tone (those are his words not mine)
I am grateful to have him with me.
I love him dearly and I tell him so.

I am certain his namesake brother is thriving with the ancestors 🦋

Happy Birthday Thayu.
May you live
May you have peace
May your thrive
May you love and be loved
May you be kept safe and provided for
May you smile and break into laughter
May you rest
May you flourish
May all your wildest dreams and much much more come true.
I am so blessed to call you my son.

#Beloved 💚🌻💚
#Providence
#ThisIsPriviledge

My living son is 6 was last modified: November 16th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
November 16, 2021 0 comment
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Friend

Hello there, my name is grief

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

Hello there
My name is grief
I am here for a while
Actually for a long while
I will be taking different forms on our journey together
Please don’t fight me
Sit with me
I am your friend
I am here for the journey.

Hello there, my name is grief was last modified: November 9th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
November 9, 2021 0 comment
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AfricanFriend

Life And Death

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

“… Death reveals the utter vanity of all our misplaced worship and all our feebly invested hopes …”
(Douglas Kaine McKelvey – Every Moment Holy II: Volume II: Death, Grief, and Hope)

What is death
If not a a doorway to the afterlife
To that life we long for yet are hesitant to enter into
What is death if not a welcoming hand
A welcoming hand into our wildest dreams
The wildest dreams we have not formulated language to express

What is life
If not a present reality
A reality that at times overwhelms us with its demands and motions
Demands and motions that seem endless
Endless in a way that suffocates and drains at times
Time with which we measure life in days, months and years

Life and Death
Two sides of the same coin
Two fluid realities meshing into each other
Realities that overlap while life goes on
Until physical death happens and everything changes
Until the breathe leaves the body and the dance stops

We are continuously dying
As we are living
But for some reason the continuous death can and does go unnoticed
Until the breathe stops
What if the continuous dying is to welcoming us into the transitional dying?
What if we paid closer attention to the daily death in us and all around us?

What would we change?
Would we live different?
Would life and death dance to a different beat in us?
Would we live and die daily differently?
Would our transition death journey be different?
For us and those around us, I wonder.

Life And Death was last modified: November 9th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
November 9, 2021 0 comment
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Daughter

Rev. Dr. James K. Kuria (1956 – 2021)

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

On 31st August 2021, at 9:30pm, Rev. Dr. James Kiarie Kuria breathed his last this side of eternity.

James was the husband of Rev. Margaret Wangari, the father of Cate, Wanjiku, Nungari and Ngoiri. He was the father in-law of Dr. Steve Ndegwa. James was the beloved grandfather of Hadassah, Wendo, Thayu, Utugi, Hinya, Wega, Riri and Caleb.

James was the son of the late John Kuria Kiarie and the late Phyllis Wangu Kuria. He was a brother to Rev. George Gichamba, late Samuel Karanja, late Nungari, Joseph Nganga, Elizabeth Wangui, Peter Mukundi, Paul Kioi, Geoffrey Gaiku and Ben Kihiu. He was step brother to late William Kiarie, late Hannah Nungari, Stanley Kamau, henry Karanja, Jane Wanjiku and David Nganga. He was tje son-in-law to the late Sarah Wanjiku Kuria and the late John Kuria Gacanga. Brother-in-law to Grace Ngoiri, Rachel Nungari, Mary Njuguna, Wilson Kamanu, late Rose Wambui, Hannah Njeri and John Muigai.

My name is Wanjiku. James was my father.

Continue Reading
Rev. Dr. James K. Kuria (1956 – 2021) was last modified: October 19th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
October 19, 2021 0 comment
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Mother

For Yours and Mine

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

Dear God,

regarding these precious ones,
these that are yours and mine at the same time,
it is for these precious ones i pray today.

I ask that you not allow them to spend the rest of their lives:
healing from,
navigating around,
dealing with,
recovering from,
their childhood.

i am pleading with you,
i am imploring you,
i am urging you,
i am asking you,

let all this:
healing from,
navigating around,
dealing with,
recovering from,
childhood
end with me.

the scars, seen and unseen
the pain,
the fear,
the doubts,
the hesitations,
the unhealthy patterns,
the stuck,
the freezing,

let me be the cycle breaker of it all,
let it end with me.

Let wholeness break forth
Let wholeness become their daily and ongoing reality
Let freedom be their song
Let love be their anchor
Let them flourish
Let them be
Let them live!

As’e

For Yours and Mine was last modified: August 8th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
August 8, 2021 0 comment
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AfricanBelovedFriendMother

Still here, dearly Beloved

written by Wanjiku J. Mwangi

One year ago, me and mine lives took a turn
It was a huge turn
It was an unexpected turn
In the days that followed my physical body bore the blunt of it
My body was disintegrating before my eyes
When my body dragged itself up
My mind took over the spiraling

Continue Reading
Still here, dearly Beloved was last modified: July 12th, 2021 by Wanjiku J. Mwangi
July 12, 2021 0 comment
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Guest Blogger

Eyeball

written by Guest Blogger

Hello, I guess
It’s good to be here
Its fun to think that I am only seeing because you are here
I like the way my mouth moves when I say your name
I wonder how you feel about helping me see everyday
Do you see me?

Poem by Bentley Becker, an 8 year old precious brown eyed boy.

Eyeball was last modified: July 12th, 2021 by Guest Blogger
June 28, 2021 0 comment
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Guest Blogger

Guest of 5000

written by Guest Blogger

Did you ever wonder about the person sitting in the grass, partaking of fish and bread (perhaps gingerly biting into the small piece of fish and then more voraciously into the slightly larger piece of bread), avidly listening to the voice emanating from the man at the seashore? And the more the person listened, the less aware of eating they became, not realizing that the basket was coming around for the fourth time. The chewing was less urgent, the hunger was subsiding. And as the words soaked into their soul, the dry, parched places began to come back alive. After a time, the basket would come around again but they would pass on the offerings. Too full to think of more food. Too engrossed in words that were bringing life to thoughts once stifled. Answering questions long held captive through shame or unbelief.

The physical chewing had long stopped but the mental chewing had only just begun. Because for the first time, there was permission to believe in something different. To hope in something bigger.

But for this moment, in this time, at this place, a young man or woman sits and ponders. They are completely unaware that they will forever be etched in history as one of the multitude who experienced a miracle.

And here we thought it was only about loaves and fish.

 

Born in northern California, Michelle moved to the Rio Grande Valley in south Texas as a young child. She currently is working in grassroots organizing amongst rural and small town communities in the Midwest and leads a small diverse group of women deconstructing white supremacy and decolonizing faith.  She and her husband have been blessed with a daughter and, after years of infertility, surprised late in life with two sons.  (She looks forward to asking God about timing.)
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/michelle.higgs/
Twitter:  @mom9411
Guest of 5000 was last modified: June 16th, 2021 by Guest Blogger
June 16, 2021 0 comment
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