View from a preachers kid

By Abigail Munyai

Preachers’ kids being born into the faith, are birthed into a pool of high expectations with ample room for failure, as these expectations are often times than not, almost impossible to live up to. They face life with a million eyes watching and even more fingers pointing out their short comings.

Abigail allows for a glimpse into all-things-life from the view a preacher’s kid, before and after true repentance that is being Christian by force vs by choice.

This novel is a first of a seven edition series, each deliberately consisting of seven chapters, where the number seven represents completeness.
Filled with poems, open letters and more, it will tickle the taste buds of any artistically centered individual!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Digital On Demand
• Release date: Jun 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9780620971522

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Copyright © 2020 by Abigail Ruth Mmabatho Munyai

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed, nor transmitted in any form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

Artwork by Kim Flynn

This novel is dedicated to the late Pastor A.M Munyai and Pastoress L.E.M Munyai.

For leading life in such a manner that you have proven that there are no limits, as nothing is indeed impossible with God.

Preface

(Past)

As morning dawned into day, mother earth was more beautiful than ever. The birds were singing and all else seemed to be exceptionally well. I, on the other hand, was still snoring away in my room. It had been a late night indeed, well for me at least.

My journey to dreamland was then cut short by my bedroom door being slammed right open. In rushed my brother bombarding me with questions of where my fathers’ toiletry bag was. I just shrugged my shoulders in shock waiting for him to explain to me why he was acting so rash. He then marched out of the room, straight down the passage, right through the kitchen and out the garage.

Was he kidding me? I’d never know what was going on until someone told me.

Dad’s sick, he can’t talk, that’s all he said, or should I say that’s all I heard. So, there I was, walking right behind him like a sheep following its shepherd. I was trying to keep up but at the same time I was blinded by the tears that were running down my face as though they were running a marathon. I was out of air and I could feel my whole body going numb, slowly but surely. With thanks to my instinct, I kept walking. I didn’t have a clue where I was headed but still, I kept walking, until I saw him.

His eyes looked so dim and it was as though they were narrating a story, although my mind could not capacitate the language spoken by his eyes, so all I could do at that very moment was keep wishing that he could speak again, even if it was just one word.

I looked at him strapped in the front passengers’ seat which was laid back for his comfort, with saliva uncontrollably dripping from his mouth, right then and there it just became even clearer to me that there was just no hope.

My father, my dearest father. One of the most powerful men I know was now looking like the weakest, couldn’t move, and couldn’t speak. I must still be dreaming because my father looked just fine yesterday. Yesterday!

Can’t the world’s clock be tuned back to yesterday?

Everything was perfect, the grass was green, the sun shone brightly, I was happy and my dad was talking. In fact, he was just fine till today.

(Present)

You see, that’s how ironic life is, one moment everything is as we think it should be and just as we’re getting comfortable, the next moment comes with a terrifying surprise. What is described to be perfect can go terribly wrong in just a blink of an eye. Well my dad passed on two days later. It was my mother’s birthday by the way, and until now the 23rd of January carries a shadow of sad memories for me personally.

It feels as though God was conveying a message to me in the only way he knew I would listen. Growing up in a Christian family, I somehow developed a crippled mentality that led me to believe that I understood God. He would never hurt me because He loves me, that being a naive manner of saying that my parents would not die before me, at least not this soon. See, I was convinced that I had God figured out, well I thought I did until he dropped this bombshell on me.

I hated God for letting me down this hard. What happened to ¹I know the plans I have for you? Are these the plans, huh, God?

For months I carried a subtle hatred for the Lord and I started to think to myself that maybe his not as powerful as he makes out to be. I mean, if He is, then why wasn’t

He able to save my father or didn’t He want to? Did God deliberately ignore my prayers? Of course not! Somewhere deep in the dark pit known as my heart, I knew God cared. In fact, this must’ve been a part of His greater plan. I received a sign of this round about a week after my father’s burial.

In my sleep, God gave me an opportunity to see my father again. It was so real. I remember it all so clearly that it’s as if it happened yesterday. This majestic meeting took place at our church. We were both driven in by separate cars. We spent the whole day together though I can’t really remember what exactly we were doing. At the end of the day we were escorted to our respective cars again. Throughout this meeting not once did we speak to one another, not even when we were about to be driven off to our different destinations. Our eyes did, however, remain fixed on each other until the cars were no longer in sight, and that was it. The last time I saw him.

Things began to change. The church was only two years old when he passed on, and in urgent need of a pastor, that’s where my mother comes in. God is indeed the author and the finisher of our lives. It’s truly amazing how every single detail of our individual lives intercepts to create a pattern in Gods ultimate design and His plan for mankind as a whole. He drafts each and every detail of our lives putting it all together creating a masterpiece at its best. You’ll have to pardon me but I don’t see how else I can describe what He has done for our church.

You see, the very night that my father passed on, my mother had a vision. A vision of herself preaching, which is pretty unexpected seeing that she herself had never preached before, she was only married to a preacher. It didn’t make sense at all but thanks be to God because