My God, My Mother and Friend
Like many other persons, I have been raised to think of God and all of the heavenly creatures as male.
Maybe this was not a deliberate attempt but the indications and signals were there and strong too. I grew up reading scriptures that had God always described as a HE, that told of how manly and strong HE is in battle, of his fatherly love towards those who worshiped him.
I never had cause to ponder this deeply until a few years back when I had a life altering surgery.
I had just been willed out of the operating room heavily sedated. I had to remain in that state for days, the pain would be too much for me to endure on my own otherwise.
My mother was there with me; watching over me, nursing me back to health, singing to me, cleaning me, it was only natural that she was the first to notice I wasn't breathing well despite the sophisticated machines I was plugged to. She is my mother, she birthed me.
She heard my heart when it told her to stay with me in the room as she was been led out by the nurses, and she was the only one who heard the last words I said: "mummy, don't let me die" just before I lost consciousness.
It might interest you to know that during those days, the only way I could communicate was by writing on a pad or on my phone as I could not speak audibly.
Few hours later when I regained consciousness, I woke up to my mother holding me, holding on to life for me, breathing life into me, willing me to live. I felt her transferring her energy and life force into me, sharing her essence with me And in that moment, I shared a bond with her, like I had never experienced before. I felt whole, I felt complete. That was the first time I consciously encountered the divine working through me; my mother was my agency.
We are entitled to our beliefs and truths. And we must own it! Spirituality should be a personal journey and every humans experience ought not to be the same.
As I reflect on so many other encounters I have had with God, an african proverb about two blind men who touched an elephant but described it differently often comes to mind . The one who held the trunk described it as being small, while the one who touched the rear described it as being massive. Same animal, different encounter and different testimonies.
it is time that we all begin to question the narrative, open our minds to begin thinking of God in the feminine. At the very least, its a thought worth pondering.
Maybe I have only experienced the feminine side of God or maybe my experiences or peculiar needs necessitated God revealing that side of Hers to me. But whatever the case, I have seen the face of God and she is beautiful. She has been true to me all these years, she has stayed with me. She has silenced my fears. She has touched me and reached me in ways only a woman, a mother could.
There are those days when things get really tough for me, my mother would sit by me, very quiet, her eyes telling, asking a million questions; 'Do you hurt really bad? What can I do for you? Tell me exactly how you feel, how can I bear this burden for you?' At those times I cannot deny her strength and her threshold for endurance, most importantly, the energy she exudes envelopes me, because while they are my challenges and my pain, she has been challenged by proxy everyday for the last 10years that I have had to live with a protracted health condition, in a country where nothing works. She worries I am holding out on her when I tell her am fine, she fears I just say that to pacify her. And I know it must be torture for her, as it is for every mother who's had to watch her child suffer, not knowing exactly what is going on because there are some things that cannot be told no matter how hard one tries, they just have to be experienced; mothers know this more than anyone else. These mothers are the stronger ones. You have been Sheros before we coined the word.
Some days, all we can muster is a prayer said in our hearts, an embrace, these has always proved adequate for me.
I have experienced the love of a father and that of a mother, but in my moments of despair, of uncertainty, in those moments when I feel lost and spent, when all I can summon is a silent cry from the pit of my belly - too strong to be ignored, too weak to birth flood of tears. At those times when all I can do is call out to God in my spirit, the love I feel come over me is the love only a woman, a mother gives. I feel her so strong, holding the life in me, putting the pieces of my life together, reassuring me, stroking my hair, stilling my worries, just like my mother does.
I feel loved by my God, my Mother and Friend.