Valentine Special



Redeeming Love.

Note: This story was inspired by a book of the same name written by Francine Rivers.

He should have left her, she thought as she looked up at him sitting on the other end of the room, trying to study for his finals. He would have been within his rights to abandon her totally. Never speak to her again look at her again. Yet he came back…for her.

The first time they met had been innocuous enough. She was already used to her lifestyle, a hardened ‘runs’ girl and she was amused at his lame attempts to try to ‘toast’ her.

“Yes, I know I’m a pretty girl,” she had said laughing and handed him her number. Perhaps he had some money, she thought. Besides, he wasn’t so bad looking.

She didn’t know what to think when after they spent two evenings together, he made no move to touch her. Wasn’t he aware of her reputation on campus? Instead, he kept asking her questions.

“Where did she grow up? How was her childhood? What were her dreams and goals? It was a strange experience, being with him. It was as if he really wanted to know her. No one had taken the pains to do that before. All they wanted when they saw her was…a bed. She found herself suspicious off him. What were his true motives? What if he was a psychopath?

In spite of herself, she felt drawn to him. She laughed at his silly jokes and enjoyed his serious, intent, sometimes philosophical discussions. It didn’t take her long to open up to him. To tell him about the shadows that haunted her. She told him about her uncle and his nocturnal visits to her bedroom. She told him about her first love and his ingenious ways of humiliating her. She told him about her absentee father and her couldn’t-care-less mother. She told him everything. And she saw his eyes fill as she said it. He drew her close, but even then he didn’t touch her.

“You’ll get past all this. I’m here for you,” he had murmured against her hair.

He had become more than a friend then.

She wanted to show him her gratitude, so she tried to kiss him but he shook her off gently.

“No Frieda, it’s not time for that yet,” he had said firmly. On other occasions when she tried to be a little more demonstrative, she was met by a firm but gentle refusal.

And so she asked her friends for advice.

“He’s gay,” they said. “It’s not natural,” they agreed. “He’s dangerous,” someone else said.

What was scarier was what another girl had whispered into her ears; “He doesn’t love you.”

She froze when she heard that. Could it be true? He seemed to care for her…a lot. But then, maybe he was not in love with her. Any time she looked into his eyes she felt it could not be so. But how could she be so sure?

She met Steve a few days later. He was walking with her ‘more than friend’ along the hallway. Her eyes had lit up at the sight of Kunle.

“Frieda, meet my friend Steve,” Kunle had said.

They had shaken hands and exchanged pleasantries. When he left them, she had felt Steve’s eyes on her. No surprise there. She was used to intense scrutiny from the male species. She had gotten used to their leering gazes early on.

What surprised was how quickly Steve showed up beside her on her way back to the hostel.

“I’ve heard you are generous. You have to give me some of what you’ve been giving him,” he said suggestively putting an arm around her waist. She recoiled.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him, incensed.

“I want you,” he said huskily.

His words chilled her.  Those were the words she wanted Kunle to say. She wanted him to want her. And now someone did. Steve.  She desperately wanted to be wanted. It was all she had ever known. She let him lead her away wordlessly.

After it was over, he handed her some bills. She looked at it and crumpled it and spat on the floor.

“I don’t need your money,” she said her voice barely above a whisper.

“So I was that good eh?” he said sneering.

She went out of the room without a backward glance. When Kunle called her, she refused to speak to him. He didn’t deserve to be with someone like her. She was scum, filthy. He was everything she was not. She avoided him. She passed him in the hallway one day and saw him talking with Steve and quickly turned away before he could see her. But he caught her and ran after her.

He took her to a quiet spot and she couldn’t resist the look in his eyes. A while later, when the truth came out, he put his head in his hands thinking. She looked away, sure of what was coming. But then, suddenly he held out his arms.

“I love you Frieda,” he whispered against her hair. “You should know that by now. I forgive you for what you did. I want you to know that even though I have feelings for you, I respect you and I respect your body.”

She shuddered against him, and realized this was what she had been looking for all along. It was love, real love and respect.

Here they sat, on opposite sides of the room, both studying. From time to time, he looked up from his work and gave her a wink and a smile and she could not deny the joy that threatened to overwhelm her.


P.S: As Valentine day winds down, remember to treat your partner with love and respect. Let forgiveness come naturally to you. And don’t forget as was earlier preached on the blog, to practice ‘save sex.’




Critical Decision

Critical Decision.


He was just about to jump when you spotted him. You were supposed to be an innocent passerby on your way home after a long day at work. But now, you’ve been drawn in.

The bridge is nearly deserted because rush hour is over. He had climbed on top of the railings when you saw him and stopped. He was heavier than you but you were able to pull him off the bridge. All you expected was that he would cry a little and you would drive him home preventing him from making the disastrous mistake of taking his life that night. But that was before he told you his story. There seemed to be no way out. His was a hopeless situation. He had murdered his son in cold blood. He had always been addicted to drink, he said. He never knew it would lead to the death of his son.

His drinking problem had started over twelve years ago. His wife had left him three years earlier but he had fought for his son and won custody. He had filled his wife’s absence with a succession of girlfriends and life seemed to be going tolerably well. However his drinking habits began to worsen. His business was beginning to flounder. He borrowed money heavily and started losing clients. Then he started having longer periods of blackouts and amnesia. Sometimes for hours, he would not remember how he was. On numerous occasions, he forgot to pick his son up from school. Creditors started calling him incessantly.

The night before, he had come home more drunk than usual. The nany that he had hired to watch over his son had gone home hours earlier and his ten year old son was in the living room waiting for him.

“Dad, you promised me you wouldn’t drink anymore,” he had said his voice revealing his hurt. He had muttered swear words at the boy and tried to find his way to his room.

But Adeolu his son would not let him be. “Dad, if you continue drinking, I’m going to run away. I’m going to stay with mum,” he had said hands on his hips, his eyes flashing.

That had enraged him. “What did you say?” he had said. And in his rage, he shook the boy.

But Adeolu fought back. “I’m not afraid of you anymore dad,” he said hitting him with his puny fists.

That had enraged him further and amidst curse words he began to strangle him till he realized the boy was dead. Then he blacked out. When he came to, he knew what hw had to do. He had killed his son. He had lost his wife. He would have to declare bankruptcy. There was only one way out.

You listened to his story and could barely hide the mixture of sadness and anger you felt when you heard the story about his dead son. It was clear to you however that suicide was not the way out. He had to give himself up, face the full wrath of the law and get his life together. You tried to explain the gospel of salvation to him. But he did not agree with you. He would rather die than give himself up, he reasoned. When you tried to drag him away, he pulled out a knife.

“If you try to stop me, I’ll kill you first. I told you I’m going to kill myself and no one is going to stop me.” He went towards the bridge again.

Now, this was dangerous. You were only trying to be the Good Samaritan. You backed off, wondering what to do. If you left him alone, he would kill himself. If you tried to stop him, he had threatened to kill you. There was no 911.  By the time you ran to get help, he would have killed himself? What do you do? His life and maybe yours hangs in the balance.

Guest Post



Solace… relief from emotional distress

A source of comfort

Many things trouble the mind;

The ‘seemingly’ mistakes of the past

The challenges of the present

The fear of the (unknown) future

Ending one phase

Beginning another

Where can one’s soul find rest?

That quiet and calm confident inner strength to go on, in the midst of it all?

It lies in having faith in the power of the One who rules in the affairs of men

Whose promises are time-tested and have never failed

Finding solace lies in putting one’s hope in this God

Having the unshakable trust in the truth of His word

Bringing us to an expected end

Herein lies the much needed rest for our soul   


By Gloria Alli