Sitting alone looking into the dark of night, with streaks of light speeding down Thika Road, and I’m overwhelmed. God had given me my mission and I understand I clearly. Not that I’m the perfect man for the mission, but I understand that it’s through my ridiculously massive flaws that His work can truly be seen to be His.

But I’m still overwhelmed. My heart is heavy. I hear the symphony of breaking hearts all around the city, I hear the cries of desperation, and I want to abandon post. Leave the mission. I talk to the people I love and I wonder whether I can truly make an impact – for them, and for the generations to come. I talk to friends that I care about and I want to take their pain away from them so that they may be happy. I talk to women and I want them to understand and believe that they are worth a lot more than the men in their lives have made them believe they are worth. I speak to men and I want them to know that they are not defined by the content of their wallets, but rather, by the abundance of their hearts and minds. I talk to daughters and I want them to know that mommy and daddy breaking up had nothing to do with them or anything they did or didn’t do. I talk to sons and I want them to know that it’s not their fault that daddy hits mommy and makes her cry at night. I look at a man and see exactly how his father let him down by never being there for him. I see how this man yearns for someone to simply tell him, “Good job, son. I am proud of you.” I look at a woman and I see exactly how the little girl in her yearns for her parents to appreciate her beauty of mind and body.

I sit here, with the face of a beaming Colonel Sanders looming in front of me, and I weep. I literally weep. I see the pain. I see the hurt. I see the invisible streaks that the tears left on many a cheek as they stream down my own. I hear the symphony all too clearly: Weep – Scream – Cry – Whimper – Sniffle – Groan – Sigh – Gasp… And feel my own breath shortening. I hear each silent cry a little too clearly, and it unsettles me. I ask myself why I have to have such understanding of human nature. I feel my chest getting tight, I bite my lip. I’m in too public a space. I can’t be seen weeping this openly.

I wonder whether I am enough, and my answer immediately arrives: I am not enough. But I shall not abandon post. The mission must be completed. My flaws are in their droves, but the mission must be completed in spite of my shortcomings. The heart must not lead the man; the man must lead the heart.

Still, my heart is heavy. If you spot a man at a corner, the glow of the computer screen before him, with tears in his eyes, just lay your hand on his shoulder. That may be all he needs right now.

My heart is heavy.

 

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