A cliché for some but a miracle for most, a miracle that is mentioned, in all four gospels. Jesus always alleviated hunger, be it spiritual hunger or physical . As it is said, in John chapter one, the Word became Flesh ! It is thus, that when Jesus broke bread, He first broke the Spiritual Bread – The Word and then the physical bread.

No one who comes to Him, to His table, will leave un-satiated . After the sermon on the mount, though there were 5000 or more, He did not send them away hungry, but filled them with hope, of deliverance from the fetters, of the peace enjoyed by those who embraced the Word, the coming Kingdom of God. He also gave them food for the stomach, multiplied by the five loaves of bread and two fish, offered by a little boy .

Today, it was interesting, that the focus of the message, was shifted to the little boy . As instructed by his parents, he was upfront, to listen to the great teacher . He carried with him, nothing but a meal for himself, which he was not afraid to share, maybe a consequence of his right upbringing. When the crowd was asked, if anyone had food to offer, none rose but this little boy., who gave up all his food. Only because of his offering, was Jesus able to perform, such a great miracle .

When Jesus asks, what do you bring to the table of the feast? What do we say ? What do we have to offer, in a relationship that we need, with the Lord ? It is not bread or fish, not wine or cheese but our brokenness, which He can mend, our faith, which He can grow, our weakness, which He can strengthen. Humbling ourselves, let us lay at His feet, our joys, our sorrows, our failures our success, our worries, our disappointments, our sickness and our health, let us give to Him our all, so He can work His miracle.

Gratitude, not a simple, attribute, not one that comes easy, to us living in a society of entitlement and instant gratification Appreciation, a difficult task, a burden mostly and a thankful heart is scant and hard to find .

Rising in the morning, feeling low, faced with endless chores and responsibilities. Prisoner to thoughts and worries, with no exit path, and engulfed by a feeling of hopelessness, I stop not to think of any blessings, or be grateful.

Looking around, only disorder, I see, with no relief in sight. The dark clouds, adding to the gloom, I am beset by a sense of doom, for nature it seems, is weeping alongside my soul within. The peeping rays of sunlight, nor the chirping birds, can lift my spirit, and gratitude is no where in sight.

The cup of coffee that should cheer, is just a cup of dregs and a murky despondence, takes over . The unfulfilled objectives, the carefully planned future, an empty shell, dreams dreamt, that remained just dreams, some lost beyond memory. The haunting past, swamped by regrets, the weight of futility, heavy on my heart, life is not favourable, to induce a grateful heart.

All around, pain and suffering , current affairs not encouraging either. With no occasion for celebration, and frequently made travel plans shelved, there is not much to look forward to. Each passing moment, dwelling on misfortune, there is only a complaining heart. How can I ever be thankful, I wonder, if all I do is weep about my adversities?

It is then I see a message, on a WhatsApp group, a message from a friend, with an update on her ailing family. It has been several weeks, since the day her dear husband was taken seriously ill, but with determination, and faithfulness she daily posts an encouraging update. There is no thread of resentment, no hint of rancour or angst, only thankfulness, as she accepts God’s will .

Trials and tribulations, she faced daily, some heavy enough to break her but resolute she is to see only God’s provision and His grace. Day after day, week after week, watching her fight against defeat, we who find mundane problems challenging, are soon heartened. The regular update of healing, of gradual improvement, is uplifting and fills each one of us with hope .

Suddenly , the half full cup, is no longer depressing. Stirring it up with a grin, I found joy jumping in . Not to be left out, happiness swirled and in a twinkle, there was a creamy froth, my cup was overflowing. My heart no longer complaining, but thankful, for inspite of the troubles, my blessings are immeasurable and more than enough !

Recently, it was that a friend of ours, visited from afar. Crossing the seas, travelling on land, she arrived, excited about meeting her childhood mates.

From weeks before, we in the city, planned for a fun get together, but a lunch is all we could manage. After much deliberation, though we said the food don’t matter, we finally arrived at a consensus, the eatery and time established.

All looking forward to the meet and greet, we gathered to welcome our schoolmate, the one and only PL, the founder of our WhatsApp group. It was her initiative, that re connected friends, some who we had not seen, since leaving school .

An afternoon of enjoyable company, speaking at the top of our voice, sharing the food, was like old times again. Catching up on one another’s life, laughter flowing, along with the iced tea. When it came to the desserts, it was the dividing of the sweets equally, down to the very last spoon, that displayed our bond of friendship.

With promises of more such meetings, we parted . A time well spent, filled with fun, why even the rain couldn’t play spoilsport. Our bodies nourished by good food, our souls nourished by the love of friendship, we left feeling renewed .

The last advice from PL, one that tugged at all our hearts, never mind what life holds for us, make time for friends, meet often and let the bond of friendship grow. For, it is said, friends are those who are better than us, not smarter, but more generous, more kind, more forgiving , more appreciative and more loving .

Second to none, a father to his daughter, the one she adores, more than anyone else. It is to him she turns, when in trouble, to fight all her battles, to wipe away her tears. In his arms she feels most secure and him alone she trusts, with her very life. It is to him, she swears her allegiance.

To a son a father is, the hero he worships. The one he looks up to, the one he fearlessly steps out with, the one whose shoes he tries to fill . It is to him he takes his problems, with him he explores and discusses, his plans for the future. A father is his son’s best friend, the one who guides him, through the labyrinth called life.

A constant comfort and strength to his wife, as he helps nurture their offspring. protecting them, watching over them from birth, their safety his prime concern. His love for them demonstrated, not with hugs and kisses, but by working and toiling tirelessly. A father will sacrifice his very life, to fulfil the needs of his children, to fulfill the promise he made to them.

Though a disciplinarian, he is kind and merciful to his children. Never hasty to reprimand or rebuke, he pardons their mistakes, however great or small, forgives their misdemeanours, committed knowingly or unknowingly . Providing for their every need, he holds them close and each time they stumble or fall, his arms are ready to catch them .

It’s not long, before the children grow and leave home, to seek their destiny. The father now old and weary, having given his all to raise them . His once strong hands, wizened and weak, his once tall frame , stooped and bent. The once confident, successful individual, now lost and lonely, reaches out to his children, for love and comfort.

Life then has come a full circle I say, when the one who nourished and cherished, becomes a dependent, on the one he nurtured . Blessed are they who honour their father and mother, holding no grudge against their fallacies , forgiving them their failings, for falling short at times . Accepting, that the hero they worshipped, is but human with clay feet, and caring for them when they are most vulnerable.

It is with deep sadness, that we bid goodbye, to a favourite teacher. Many a year later, all of forty five, we still remember her with great fondness. Her classes she made most interesting,, though a dry subject it was. Navigating through the world with us, she taught Geography .

The hemispheres we knew, the time zones she made simple. The winds that blow and the seasons that follow, she made known to us . Names of oceans, names of continents, names of countries and their capital cities, she drilled into us, until we knew it like the back of our hand. Considered strict, some even called her a harridan, she looked upon slackers, not too kindly.

Always neat and tidy, she abhorred untidiness, both in our work and our appearance . The maps we drew, not always the best, caused her immense distress. The outlines crooked, the places we marked were askew, but it was with patience, that she corrected our shoddy assignments. A woman of exceptional discipline she was, and our tardiness caused her much grief.

And yet, with diligence she chose to educate us who were insufferable, like all the educators we were honoured to have. With great tolerance, she taught us simple etiquette, to talk softly and still be heard, to be polite even when we are irked, to mind our language, to sit with our knees together. She turned us who were unmannerly, into perfect ladies and watched proudly, when we graduated.

Goodbye , Ms. Saldanha, rest in peace, you have carved a place in our hearts and will be remembered, for generations.

Posting songs from our childhood, we were asked by our classmate today, to name our favourite song . Listening to them, those old friends, revisiting those happy times, I wondered, do we have a favourite song or are we just slaves to those old melodies ?

The sweet songs of the seventies, Leo Sayer’s ‘ More than I can say ‘ , Lionel Ritchie’s ‘Hello’ , Boney M’s ‘Ma Baker and Rasputin’ The Eagles’ ‘ Hotel California’ ,Eruption’s ‘ One way ticket to the moon’, John Lennon’s ‘ Imagine’ all of them bringing back a tide of memories. Songs of our youth, songs that belonged to our carefree days.

Tunes to which we kicked our heels, danced to the rhythm, to the beat, and sang along. The crooning love songs,stirring in us emotions, yet unknown, songs that brought a tear to our eyes,. Songs of distant lands, daring us to explore, giving rise to soaring dreams, songs of enslaving temptations, that we chose to resist.

Overwhelmed by nostalgia , we listened to those old songs . What is it that makes those memories, indelible, why do we cling wistfully, to the past ? Is it that we remember only the good times of old, or was there never a moment, when we were sad ? Seldom with any negative thoughts, of times gone by, we dwell on the joyous, longing sentimentally, for ‘those days‘.

What of today, then I ask ? Will it not be the yesterday of tomorrow, will it not soon be the past, the good old days ? And I say, let us embrace our present, along with it’s good, bad, and ugly, for tomorrow may not be ours, to reminisce about today. Let us add value to our days, let us revel in the present, make it worth a mention, in the memories of our tomorrows and for those who remember us .

A day full of trauma, watching her beloved suffer, a night filled with confusion and uncertainty, for the healers had informed, he may not last to see another day. With tears in her words, she informed near and dear ones, the possible imminent demise of her loved one .

The day stretched long, the night anguishing, besieged by doubts and fears, yet she stood brave, not giving up . On bent knees, and with folded hands, she sought relief, from the Lord above. She requested, friends and relatives, to join in prayer, to save her suffering partner, a request all complied.

She saw death, waiting in the wings, but refused to accept this is the end . She saw the doctor’s reports, heard their bleak prognosis, but her faith in her God overrode, all that was negative. She believed, death could reach out its cold fingers, snap at her husband’s heels but could never snatch him, from her God’s everlasting arms.

She prayed on..When morning dawned they came, rolled him out for various tests and treatment. It was with a heavy heart she kissed him, not knowing whether he would return. But undaunted, she rallied on, praying constantly,her faith unshaken. Giving updates,with a courage hitherto unknown, she mustered ardent prayers from family and friends, from all who cared .

Up above, God smiled. Much pleased with her undying faith and of all those praying with her, He spared her love, from the jaws of death. Today, with joy, with great relief, she proclaim, that God in His mercy, has answered her prayers and worked a miracle. It is with thanksgiving, that all who heard, received this wonderful news.

A great learning, for each one of us. No matter how impossible our situation, no matter the giant we face, with faith and prayer, we can overcome every hardship. The answer may not always be as we desire, may not always be the miracle we seek, but His Grace will always abound, which is sufficient for us.

Fifty days the Lord’s resurrection, from Easter Sunday, is the day of Pentecost, the day when God’s spirit is poured out, on all the disciples waiting, as instructed in the upper room, for the Helper. On receiving the Holy Spirit, Jesus’ followers lost their fear, had a better understanding, of the teachings, and their faith was renewed. They were impassioned and ready to go out and preach the Good News.

Penta, meaning, having five, it dawned on me, that Pentecost maybe a derivation from this word, as it falls on the fiftieth day from Easter or seven weeks after the resurrection, the seventh Sunday . In the Jewish culture, the Feast of the first fruits comes first and seven weeks later, the Feast of the Harvest. The first coinciding with Easter and the latter with the Pentecost day .

Pentecost Day for us Christians, is an important day. The essence of our faith is based on the Holy Spirit dwelling within each one of us ,without which we are damned, lost, sure to fall into darkness and sin . The Holy Spirit, opens our mind and gives us a better insight and understanding , of the Word .

It is the light that guides, that shines, helping us to walk the path that is aligned to God’s plans, strengthening us against all temptation. Our daily prayers to God, should include, a plea for mercy, forgiveness, healing, protection against evil attacks, and above all, for the Holy Spirit, to remain with us always .

Awarded the prestigious title of a Senior, not a promotion in the corporate world, nor a senior in the professional field, not a senior doctor, or a senior lawyer, not a senior banker, either. Not earned for a commendable tenure, nor for any useful accomplishment, but Senior, a title rewarded, for merely crossing the revered age of sixty.

An August age, when we expect respect to be accorded naturally, concessions to be allowed, easily, compensations to be granted, unquestionably. When life is less stressful, less complicated, when discipline and time, have little control over our routine. An age in life, when we feel entitled, to live as we deem. But lo, it is a rude awakening to the contrary, as we are painfully introduced to tennis elbow, frozen shoulder, tinnitus, cataract , incontinence, and of course, the embarrassing flatulence, at the most inopportune moment.

Rising in the morning to aches and pains, is it the knee that protests, the back that twinges, or the neck that is stiff ? Walking with an air of the aggrieved, wearing an expression of disgruntlement, we start the day with that infernal, empty time on our hands. Breakfast, hitherto hurried , takes forever, though it is just toast and eggs . Tasks that seemed easy, now stretch on unendingly.

Daily ablutions, once perfunctory, is now performed slowly. After a shower we emerge, exhausted, ready to rest our feet. As the day stretches ahead, with not much to do, we eagerly fall upon the crossword. Solving the wordle , nerdle , quordle, in record time. We then share it with family and friends, to establish who is first. Lunch is light, like most of our meals, except for the evening tea, which is a ceremonious affair.

Outings are few and far between, each one planned, a day in advance, to work out the complexity of the simple logistics. The roads that we once navigated with prowess, we now find chaotic, a challenge, and drive, hesitantly. Contending with blaring horns, racing cars, unruly drivers, we find it an absolute menace. Not to mention the frustration, of watching, most everyone overtaking us, as we drive along at a safe speed.

Being punctual for occasions, is now a rarity. Those last minute preps, known only to seniors, take up most of our time. The clothes we wear, are not trendy, but practical, our shoes are sensible, and we are sometimes viewed as oddities. Though emancipated and liberated, yet conventional at heart, we find modern ensembles, rather bizarre and scandalous, especially those that conceal not much, and make Eve look overdressed. Because of our age and experience, we always offer an opinion, on most everything, which is seldom received well.

Dinner is done by 6 pm. The choice of entertainment on TV are many, yet they hold little interest for us. With nothing much to do, we are ready for bed, early. Though tired and worn out by the end of the day, sleep plays truant at night. With much difficulty, we drift off to sleep, to be transported to wakefulness, by every minute sound. To add to our problems, the frequent requirement to relieve ourselves, has equal claim to the state of our night vigilance .

Well, so much for the life of the venerated Senior, one who has crossed the hallowed age of sixty . Respect, comes not easily, concessions, a misconception, compensations don’t follow, indisputably. Our failing sight and hearing, a handicap at times and with amateurish skills in technology, we find online tasks quite demanding, but none of that does limit us, as undaunted we move onward .

Troubles and ailments we may have, yet our spirit is strong and cheerful, always brimming with fun. We find joy in each day, knowing these are the best years of our lives! For it is the time to learn, to love ourselves, to take pleasure in our own company, to discover our hidden talents, and rekindle forgotten passions. The time to rise, to transcend beyond our limiting circumstances, and live life to the fullest .

Where the earth ends, begins a place called eternity, a place of endless life and infinite bounty. Where the sun don’t set and the moon shines all day, where you can reach up and touch the stars, at will . A place where there is no twilight, only the glorious light of dawn.

Eternity, like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, is a place, far beyond our dreams and imagination. Where the verdant green never turns brown, where bright red poppies and yellow daisies are less radiant than the brilliant light of perfect love.. Where there is no hunter, where there is no hunger, where the lion and the lamb lie down together, in perfect harmony.

A place where there is none too noble, none less wise, where everyone is equal and the same. Where knowledge is not confined to a few but constantly imparted to our being. Where freedom is no longer an illusion and the clang of chains is unheard , where men walk where angels tread, and fly on wings of butterflies . A place filled with the resonating sound, of praise for the Holy One, and where joy reigns supreme.

A place where there is no pain, no sorrow, where there is no weeping, no tears. Where there is no fear, no gnashing of teeth, no oppression or treachery. Where penury has no meaning and squalor has no name, where trials and tribulations don’t come visiting. A place where evil is powerless and death,has no sting. Where we no longer live by faith, no longer believe in the Unknown, but live in the blissful presence of the Divine.

A place where hatred is alien and tenderness, like an ever flowing stream, engulfs. Where the demons of discord and division have no room , where betrayal is unknown, where relationships never turn sour and all emotions are governed by the One Supreme Being . Where there is no loss, no gain, no grief and loneliness has no grip over us. Where rejection is never experienced , for we are measured not by our deeds nor accomplishments, but accepted by the benevolence, of the Most High .

So what makes us worthy of this place, what makes us fix our eyes on the prize of Eternity ? When troubles come knocking, when temptations are too strong, when sickness overtakes and death shadows us, we rely on the hope of a hereafter. You may ask, what is it that we need to do , to reserve a place in Eternity? The answer my friend, is within each one of us, for the price is paid by the One Who laid down His Life for our sins, thus ensuring a home for each one of us, in Eternity.