“Was there a lot of people where you ate?”


“Okay, good because people are following you”.

“Don’t talk, people can hear you”.

Dad: “This is my house; I have the right to talk”.

“Why did you come? Leave.”

“You have to stay in the house. Do it for me. You have to stay in the living room. I’ll be back”.

So I stay.

My mom’s struggles have gotten worse. Even with more prayer from my friends and I, the devil is working that much harder to pursue the means to establish an end. To clarify, I think the devil has such a footing in every move that she makes; he has pinned her down with tacks on a bulletin board with the heading: “Slave”. Lord, don’t give up on her.

I’m not saying that I’ve lost hope. Oh, no. If anything, the devil’s vile agenda makes me shun him even more- that I need more of God’s grace – that I can’t lose the anointing that I’ve gained from worship; I need to intercede and ask the Holy Spirit to spread more fertilizer; there needs to be greener grass in my family.

As we’re eating our lasagna, my dad perpetuates an oily feeling inside of me; I don’t want to listen; I know there’s a resemblance, but I yearn for my God who is stronger. I paraphrase his story: “There is a grandma who I’ve helped move from different cities because she tells me ‘whenever I leave the house, items are missing. People are stealing my stuff.’ Although she has no true valuables, she insists that she will always stay in the house to watch over her belongings. She’s a grandma- that may explain her condition, but your mom isn’t different from her”. 

Lord, I wait upon you. Strengthen her.


One thought on “Mother

  1. Your profound observation is accurate.
    Your writing skill is surely hereditary.

    I believe that your mom will be recovered by your praying as same as
    Ji Sun’s recovery by your’s aunt praying.

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