My Journey to Heaven and Back

While growing up, I had no idea what Christianity was all about. I knew God was up there and I worshipped him but I never “knew” him or “loved” him. I remember the first time I joined a friend of mine to the chapel. She asked that I tell God my problems and He’ll solve them. I responded that I didn’t have any problems to tell God about. She said okay but I should just pray regardless. I recited a few prayers and left. Years later I look back at that incident and laugh.

A year after, things gradually became tough for my parents. And coincidentally, a friend of mine introduced me to a devotion in the Catholic church that revealed to me who God is. As a result of that devotion, I fell so in love with Jesus that nothing else mattered. This was in my second year at university (mid 2011). The coordinator of the devotion in my school back then taught that it was a sin to put on trousers, short sleeved clothes, or dresses above the knee. According to her, these clothes were too indecent to even dash out, they should be discarded or burnt. I took that teaching very personally. I threw out all my “indecent” clothing, large earrings, etc. The porter who cleaned that day was so excited. She eagerly packed all my trousers and tops from the dustbin into her poly bag, while my neighbours wondered in astonishment who the foolish person was that discarded these nice clothes. I threw them out because I believed that if Jesus hated such things, then I didn’t want to have anything to do with them. In addition to wearing overly modest dresses, I also started wearing a veil. I gradually felt uncomfortable about showing my hair in public. For the veil to fit, I had to go on low cut as well (I’m not sure why I didn’t just weave my hair back then).

After discarding my supposedly indecent clothes, I now had only about five clothes left. And I proudly managed them. Eventually though, a few people dashed me clothes when they noticed I had very few (my dad couldn’t afford to buy me any at this point because he was broke). Over the following months, my love for God grew so much and I was so filled with the holy spirit that nothing else mattered. God also filled me with His wisdom. I always had the right things to say when people approached me with questions or reservations, or when I was called out to give talks. God used me back then to inspire lots of people. I looked forward to visiting the chapel, looked forward to mass, looked forward to saying the rosary. It was like I was in a whirlwind romance with Jesus. Although things were really tough for me most times, it hardly got to me because I had so much trust in God and he always came through for me at the last minute. My life during that time was filled with lots or miracles that my trust in Jesus was solid. There was nothing anyone could tell me. And like Jesus, I fell in love with poor people as well. I helped them with the little I could. Sometimes with gifts and other times with friendship. It was all Gods grace.

My relationship with Jesus boomed so much that in my third year in university (2012) I called my father telling him I wanted to drop out of school and become a nun. I wamted to spend all my time with Jesus. My father was confused. He asked me if I had ran mad. He said “Your mates are still writing jamb and praying and fasting for admission into the university and you’re talking like this, are you sure you’re okay?” I responded “what’s the point of all this? Someone will still die and leave all these behind. So why am I wasting my time?” My father was so worried. He kept asking me whether I was okay. Whether something was wrong. He asked if I had malaria. He just couldn’t understand. When I kept insisting he agreed with me. Though he said I should graduate first before we can talk about it. I agreed. I started counting down to my graduation so that I could finally join the convent or nunnery. In my final year (2013)when my father couldn’t afford my fees, the school asked me to come back the following year, when he may have saved up enough for my fees. My father begged and begged but the chancellor was not budging. There was nothing he could do, he said. At that point I told my dad that he shouldn’t be so sad. Maybe it was high time I joined the Covent after all I wasn’t going to use the degree eventually. My father hissed and said “this is a serious matter and you’re talking rubbish”. Before we left the Chancellor’s office he gave us prayers to say. I said those prayers and that night, help came. A friend of mine gave me a loan for my fees.

My romance with Jesus lasted for two years (2010-2012) until boom! It became difficult. I’m not sure whether its right to say that the grace that sustained me then was no longer there. Because it felt like it was no longer there. Jesus who seemed like a lover back then gradually began to feel like an acquaintance. My confessions which used to be about how I missed saying the rosary, or went late to mass, or failed to give alms etc, was now filled with proper mortal sins. Being chaste and pure became so difficult. I began to miss morning masses because I was too lazy to wake up that early. I began to miss devotions. It became such a chore to do the very things I used to be so excited about. But I carried on with my overly modest (big and drab) clothes, with my veil and my plain face. The good thing about this phase was that I was filled with so much guilt. And each week, regardless of how much I sinned, I always hurried to a priest to ask for guidance/confession. A monk then was my spiritual father and he never got tired of listening.

After university (October 2013), I went to do a live-in experience with a convent in Asaba, Delta State. It was an amazing experience and my love for Jesus was re-kindled. After the two weeks was over, one of the members offered to drop me at the park. On our way, the brake stopped working. A trailer coming towards us seemed to have failed brake too. So a collision between both vehicles was expected. The brother kept shouting “Jesus!” “Blood of Jesus” “save us Lord Jesus” he prayed so hard. And me, selfish as I was, was calm and silently telling Jesus that I was so excited to finally meet him. God heard the brother’s prayers and ignored mine of course. The brake suddenly worked. It was a miracle.
I went home and a few days later I got a letter of admission into the convent at Asaba. I was so excited. My father was indifferent. He asked if I wanted to go and I excitedly told him yes. He said I’ll have to go after returns from his trip to the east. As it’s only after he returns that he’ll have money for the things they asked me to buy. I agreed. And so my dad travelled.

In all of these my mom thought I was being an extremist. Especially with the ugly clothes and veil. She just couldn’t understand it. Gradually, she’ll dash me clothes. I had very few clothes so I eagerly took them. Some of these clothes were above knee level, some had short sleeves, etc. And gradually I got comfortable with those kinds of clothings. At some point too, I got tired of the veil. So gradually I adjusted to being at home, I adjusted to living in reality. My father remained on his trip for quite a while. I’m not sure if it was deliberate or not, but I gradually became uninterested in joining the convent. I was home doing nothing for three months. And in that three months, I had joined social media(Facebook), met friends, gotten exposed to the lifestyle of a variety of other people and boom, the fiery passion I used to have for Jesus died. And once again, he became the God that I feared and couldn’t relate with. The one I prayed to because I was asked to, the one I struggled to obey because I was afraid of hell.

In February the following year, I got a job as a secretary. By this time, I had readjusted. I wore normal clothings and wondered how I survived wearing those really ugly clothes. I also wore wigs till my hair grew. I also wondered how I went about with a veil for 2+ years. I just couldn’t understand. I also gradually got into relationships. Because I was so out of touch with the world during my years at the university, I gave my all in those relationships, I also sometimes overdid things. Some relationships turned out well, and some others didn’t. Regardless, it didn’t stop me from loving. Because I eventually was able to find someone who appreciated all the love I had to give.

Although, I sometimes wonder whether I lost my actual vocation to sisterhood, regardless I am happy about the way things turned out. I can acheive right here in my home, and in the world, the very things I would have achieved as a reverend sister or nun. And it would have been a huge loss for me if I didn’t get to meet my amazing son and husband. My devotion to God back then in uni has also been a very firm foundation for me till date. It has helped me, and still helps me especially when difficulties arise and faith in God becomes hard. In all I thank God for His love. My experience taught me that God has each and every one of His children in mind, and everything happens for a reason.