Every Saturday, by 4pm sharp, I sow my husband as a seed. For the next twenty-four hours, I will be home alone with our nine-month old daughter. He returns Sunday evening, tired, probably dirty and in dire need of ten straight hours of sleep.
We settled into this routine nineteen months ago when we were newly married. At that time, the baby had yet to arrive on the scene so I stayed all by my lonesome one night a week. It was said that such an arrangement would put a hideous strain on our new home, but time has proven people wrong.
Miracles are what we’ve been reaping from Emem’s sacrificed Saturday nights/Sunday mornings.
Jedidiah was born very early on February 5, a Sunday morning. I was all alone at home and my cell phone wasn’t working. I’d been more than confident because the doctors had put my EDD at mid-March, a proof that medical science can be very wrong because Jedidiah was born full-term. Labor hit me hard and there was no way I could reach anybody. But God made provisions when Emem wasn’t there. He sent someone who drove me to the hospital. The midwife was a family friend. He supplied all the needs. Emem came home to me and his baby.
What about the miracle of God’s cleansing word? Every Sunday, my husband returns from a spiritual shower, one that is more effective because he’s laid himself down in sacrifice before our maker. Because of this, he is more considerate of me. And because he is more considerate of me, I accord him more respect. And because I accord him more respect, we love each other more fiercely. Just as God intended.
A short absence makes the heart grow fonder. When he comes back on Sunday, I am more than pleased to see him. Little Jedidiah claps her hands together in delight and wants to crawl all over her father.
All these miracles and more because Emem is a volunteer pilot.
We attend a large church, reputed to be the world’s largest sitting auditorium. Living Faith Church was originally built to contain 50,000 worshippers, but more than 60,000 troop in every Sunday for the worship service. Because of this, there is a need for a properly organized transportation system. To this effect, the church has about 400 70-seater buses and this is where Emem comes in.
Every Saturday, he joins hundreds of other men and women at the camp house in church. These are the people that put these buses on the road by 4am on Sunday mornings so that worshippers can get to church as early as possible for the 7am service. They are the volunteer drivers that we fondly call pilots.
It is a privilege to be married to a man who loves God more than he loves me. The knowledge that my husband will not sin against me because he doesn’t want to sin against God is a very comforting one.
And I will forever be grateful to God for the day Emem decided to give his Saturday evenings/Sunday mornings to God.
A true story
For information on Living Faith Church (A.K.A. Winners Chapel), log on to www.winnerscanaanland.org
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