Finding love

My exceptionally awesome MSB readers, what’s up????? How was the church service at your church if you went? It was quite a powerful ministration at my church today. It was about prayer and the importance of prayers came to the forefront of my mind more than it had in a while. I’m going to please ask that you pray for Nigeria especially with the terrorism going on. Also, pray for Christians all over the world especially in countries where Christians are persecuted for their faith. This is a time that we all need to stand together in unity and raise our voices to God. God always hears his own. I WAS MEANT TO POST THIS STORY YESTERDAY BUT I WAS HAVING SERIOUS INTERNET ISSUES. For the next days or weeks, you will be seeing articles that you might have probably read before. This is because i’m moving stuff from the old site to this one.
Alright! This -really nice story was written by my younger sister, Oyindamola. If you are not a stranger to  this blog, you must have read stuff that she has written. Enjoy reading this and caringly share just as you enjoyed reading the other ones. And if you are new to this blog, I’m welcoming you with all the hugs and kisses I can squeeze out of me. we hope you become a part of this community and you can easily subscribe for free by putting your email in the subscribe icon. Alright lovies! Have a weekend as awesome as you and I’m not even washing you. You are awesome so you better start believing it :*


I always wanted to be loved. My parents never loved me. In fact, they detested me. I did not want to be given off into marriage to the filthy rich boy that would spare my parents from their acute poverty. It was not that I didn’t care for my parents but I didn’t want to marry someone I didn’t love especially at 18 years old. I wanted to be educated and find someone that would truly love me and not just my womanly curves so that I wouldn’t regret it later. My parents said it was their fault for taking me to school. ‘Educated people never use their heads any way.’ My father would say. They only took me to school because that was all that I was good at. I was the only scholar in my family. My uncles had insisted that they enrolled me in a school. They reluctantly did. They hated the fact that I wasn’t good in the farm, I didn’t help with our yam plantation like all my other female cousins did. ‘Kike, you are not sharp.Book. Book. Book. Book cannot do anything for you.’ My dad would say. They treated me like a bad apple. I didn’t belong and I knew. My father swore to me that I wouldn’t go to university. I would sit at home and help in the farm. Unfortunately for him, I got a scholarship at the University of Ibadan. I graduated at the top of my class and then I got posted to Abuja to serve.

I was so happy there. It meant I was far from the village, far from Baba. After I finished my youth service, I was able to acquire a job quickly. It was a very well-paid one and so I decided to pay them a visit in the village after two and a half years. I got them a lot of food-stuff, a v-boot Mercedes Benz and some money. My mother who hardly spoke and smiled embraced me cheerfully. I saw her laugh for the first time in over a decade. She said she knew I would do good good tins and then nothing else. She didn’t ask me of how I acquired the money or where I was working or what job position I assumed but I knew that she wouldn’t understand anyway so I wasn’t bothered. My father wasn’t pleased; he could never be pleased with me. ‘Have you found the love yet? You bring us car and food and owo and you think that settles us. That man could have given us more. He would have taken us away from this village. I don’t want to die here, Kike. So ti gbo?’ he said then added. ‘No one will ever love a horrible being like you.’ I didn’t stay long in the village and I decided not to ever visit again. My mother’s laugh would not be enough to bring me back. I would only send them money from then.

My parents died and nobody even called to tell me when they did. My uncles only asked for money. I sent it to them not knowing it was for the burial. I went back home to discover that they were dead. I wasn’t emotionally wrecked or anything. I was just a bit surprised. Anyway, I was still on my search for love. I found it with one of my colleagues. We were deeply enthralled by each other. Every moment we spent together was cherished and most precious. I finally knew what it felt like to be loved. We had a great physical relationship too, the sex was so good. I wondered why he hadn’t asked for my hand in marriage after three years of being together. We were of age. He was rich. There was no reason why he shouldn’t have married me. Besides, we were in love. I later found out. It struck me like lightning when his wife and kids showed up at the living room of his house. Luckily for me, he wasn’t there with me. I was dressed properly and I was waiting for him so we could go out while he was still upstairs. I told them I was just his colleague from work and I came to give a report. His wife believed me. She went upstairs to call him so I could give him the ‘report’. I was gone by the time she came downstairs with him.

He later called me to tell me that he did love me. That he didn’t love his wife anymore. That’s why he kept them abroad and they didn’t live with him. Like I said, I was really looking for love and that consumed me. We continued the affair and it was even more passionate and exciting than ever. We had to arrange the time wisely. He was more charming than ever and the sex was better. It was great until I found out there were other girls and I was just a common whore. I felt betrayed. How could I? A smart girl like me was yet so foolish just like my dad said I was. I was beginning to believe most of the things he said about me anyway. I ended the affair and resigned. I found a better job elsewhere away from him. I was happy there. I was still looking for love but I decided to be smart this time.

I met someone while I was in Ceddi Plaza shopping. He was charming, handsome and sweet. We got married after a year of dating. We loved each other so much. One day, about a month into our marriage, he came back from work raging. I had come back from work not too long ago and I was preparing something for him in the kitchen. He went upstairs then came into the kitchen like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. He hit me with a pan then started to hit me repeatedly. ‘So, you are just preparing my food now. You this wicked woman. You left the room in disarray. Am I meant to arrange it?’ ‘You are a wicked woman.’ He said with every blow. He got tired and finally stood up. I struggled to stand and continued to cook his food. I served it to him quickly on the dining table. ‘I’m sorry.’ He said and nothing else. He ate his food slowly making sure every bit was chewed well. He said the food was delicious. That night, he rocked me far from gently and brought me to frenzy. Many more days like that followed but I couldn’t get out. I was glad to be his punching bag if it meant I was loved. He later decided that I should quit my job and become a full time housewife. I begged him for a child then to keep me company. He said no. I was dumb once again.

One night, I got him drunk, dead drunk. I had already been off the pills for a while and he wasn’t in the right senses to wear a condom. I got pregnant and when I told him, he was furious. He beat me up and I miscarried. I ran away to live in my friend’s house. I didn’t think I was loved anymore. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I avoided any means of contact with him and thank God, he didn’t know my friend. I moved into a new house. I had given up on love at this time and focused on work. I resumed and I was more dedicated and productive than ever. I was quickly promoted.

I was having my bath one morning ready to go to work and I found lumps in my breast. I didn’t deem it serious. I didn’t want to think it was serious. I wanted to continue working. That was the only thing that gave me pleasure. I continued living like that for about a year. And then it got worse, I looked pale and sick and sometimes the pain was incredible. My friends and colleagues insisted I went to a doctor. They diagnosed me with Stage 4 breast cancer but the cancers had already begun to spread to my lungs. I had limited time to live and had to be put on bed rest.

finding God 3I found love, genuine love in the hospital. One of the oncologists treated me like a precious jewel not just because I was sick. He looked at me with sincere admiration not pity like every other person. He introduced me to Jesus Christ. Now, I lay on this bed paler than ever, my hair scanty and I have two lovers. They love me even at my worst and I am lucky to find this type of love. Dr. Charles holds my fingers now. His palms warm and mine cold. ‘I love you. God loves you.’ He says and I believe him. ‘I love you too.’ I struggle to say through the pain. He kisses my palms and starts crying. I can’t cry. I’ve found what I wanted; love even though, I’m going to die. I know what it feels like to be loved nding love 2

Oyindamola Depo-Oyedokun

  • frances
    August 28, 2014

    Mayowa, this struck the strings of my heart.
    Indeed, the love we seek can only be gotten from God, we don’t have to even seek it, it’s there already, we just have to receive it.

    • Oluwamayowa Depo Oyedokun
      August 28, 2014

      Thanks Frances. And yes, God’s love is already there. He gave us on a platter on Gold when he gave his only begotten son for us. All we have to do is tap into that love and accept it. Unfortunately, most of us are not accepting the best gift ever.
      It was written by my Junior sister

  • oyinda
    August 28, 2014

    His unwavering love heals the heart. 🙂

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