It was January 2015 and our youngest baby was 4 months. While nursing one day, I noticed something. I hoped I was wrong. I went into the hospital and it was confirmed. It was a lump in my breast.
2014 had been a really challenging year, I won’t go into details about that now but coming out of that, i don’t think I expected this.
I confess that I fretted. I cried, I prayed, I cried-prayed and vice versa. After some time, I told my Pastor about it.

If you know any 2 things about Prophet Kakra Baiden, one of them would be that thanks to God’s grace upon him, his ministry is froth with testimonies. I tapped into that for…we overcame…by the word of our testimony. I went to a midweek service and met him. He shook my hand and said a short prayer. I believed it. Not because I’m super spiritual but by the grace of God. When I went home that evening, I felt the lump again, but it felt smaller.
And each day it felt smaller..and smaller..till I couldn’t feel it anymore. I went back into the hospital and had a check. They told me I was good to go. I have checked fairly regularly since then…and the lump is gone.

You may wonder why I’m sharing this now. Well, it had actually never occurred to me to share here but in Pink October 2018, I went in on the last day for a check up and it turns out the lady just before me found a lump in her breast. I didn’t get to speak with her but maybe she’ll see this… Or someone else who may be in a similar or some kind of situation and needs to would see it and be reminded that our God is great…much greater than anything you’re going through, greater than any thing you may have seen or not seen in your body, greater than everything and everyone. And that He’s the same yesterday, today and forever.he’s still in the business of healing, providing, delivering and doing good. He can do this. Hand it over to Him, then breathe and confess, “I am healed, I am whole, I am an overcomer, more than a conqueror.” He took a stripe for this. Claim every healing in that stripe, every promise in His Word, every victory in His blood.
You can make it! In Jesus, you have made it!

I can’t wait to read your testimony!
Mii, SimplyIh


Tuesday 16th October : 70 days to 🎄 Christmas…

As at yesterday, Christmas was 70 days away.

I remember some of our Christmas traditions.

One of them was coming home.

It was an unwritten rule and so I think I can call it a tradition.

Dad and Mom insisted that I came home at Christmas.

The conversation on the phone from Warri, Nigeria to Kumasi, Ghana would go like, after all the other stuff…

With Daddy..December 5th

Ify Nwa-mma, I hope you’ll be home in time for your birthday?

Me: Yes Daddy. I’ll be in Lagos by the 21st and be home by the 22nd by God’s grace.

Daddy: Make sure you book your flight early and get there in good time so you don’t miss your flight.

(there’s a background to that; remind me to tell y’all that story!)

Me: Okay Daddy

Daddy: Ok. We’ll see you soon then.

With Mommy December 11th

Daddy says you’ll be home soon. So when are you coming? Tomorrow?

Me: Mommy I haven’t finished my exams yet.

Mommy: Ah! Since that time Daddy called, you haven’t finished your exams?

Me: 😶

Mommy: So when will you finish your exams?

Me: On the 16th

Mommy: OK, I’ll be in Lagos to pick you up on the 17th.

Me: I booked my flight to be in Lagos on the 21st.

Mommy: Why?

Me: 16th is a Friday. I’d like to be in church for the last Sunday Service on campus on the 18th and visit the church in Accra on the 20th for Tuesday Service before I leave.

Mommy: There’s a Church at home. Come home immediately. I’ll be in Lagos on the 17th.

Me: I’ve already booked my flight and with the Christmas rush, rebooking will be difficult.

A weighted pause then

Mommy: (after telling how much she doesn’t like these types of things) OK oh. I’ll see you when you get back.

I’ve grown to understand their different ways of saying “We miss you and look forward to your coming home. “

Well, I’m sure you get it. Coming home was a serious tradition for us at Christmas.

And we loved it. So many would come home. The house would be full again and noisy…(I think I’ll do another on Christmas noise).

We miss it.

What Christmas traditions did you have growing up?

Lots of love,


To Zinnie, on her birthday

“In the land of the blind, a one eyed man is King!”

I remember my lil sister replying me with that when I told her someone in campus church told me she wanted to dress like me. Still trying to master that, I think I’m a bit better than I used to be though. 😂
It took me quite a while to become interested in certain things that I suppose are usual for many females.
I’m still learning makeup and to count my steps. When my mates were probably tying their ribbons and bows, I was servicing my parents’ bedroom air conditioning unit. When they were perfecting their beauty queen gait, I was climbing walls with Victor Kissi 😂.
God knew it might take me some time to pass on “ladylikeness” and sent this lovely lady with her own well endowed starter kit.
Already pinksmart, she already knows what kind of creams should go on her face and will tell you as much. She has started to match bags and shoes. She’s overcome one of her mane issues and now enjoys fixing her hair. As for batting eyelashes, she’s got that down to a T.
As she turns 4 today, we’re excited about who she is already and even more at who she’s becoming.
Ezinne as called by your Grandpa, a.k.a. “Zinnie” somewhere in my mind (ssshhh…), you’re a great gift. You both are but today’s your birthday so… We’re so glad the Lord “snuck” you in and you really sneaked. Your bubbly personality and how nicely you’re able to “putted” things are just sweet.
Happen! Be…everything God made you to be! There shall no evil befall you, nor harm come near your dwelling place. You are blessed, kept and protected. You shall be greater than you already are and make marks for the Lord in time and eternity. May heaven testify in glowing terms about you…both(can’t leave Bishop out of such blessings!) …about us all.
Happy birthday our love. You’re a blessing that is more than a commonplace miracle.

#SurpriseShoutOut 4

She will probably never see this, or ever know I did this…but I’m going to do it anyway.
When we heard she was coming, I remember being a bit apprehensive. She was older than us and very unknown to us. Thoughts of how to send someone who was older than us on errands plagued us and well, how we would correct her if ever the need arose; now that was a hard nut to crack. When we met her though, we realised we had gotten way ahead of ourselves.
She walked in unobtrusively and it took us a short time living with her to realize that we had nothing to worry about at all.
From the day she came, till she left, I don’t recall ever having any real issues with her…except that she cleaned too much. She would mop the whole house at the slightest provocation. I will not even start with the laundry.
As far as we could all see, she loved her ward, my nephew, almost to a fault. I don’t think she ever lost her temper with him.
In an era fraught with examples of bad domestic help and videos of well nigh evil babysitters, her example is worth recounting to encourage someone that such people as can be trusted with your child or ward still exist and can be found.
Her name is Theresa.
She came to us and cared for my nephew for a big part of 2010. She extended her stay by a number of months trying to make sure she left at a time that was convenient enough for us.
She was hardworking, caring and, i cannot end this without saying, humble. She submitted herself to the authority of people younger than she was and was willing to learn. She was someone we coups talk to and was quite easy to tease. She wanted to be a nurse. She told us when she came and left when the time was right to pursue that. After she left, she would call from time to time to check on us and her ward.
I hope this also lets someone in her shoes know that you will not be there forever. Are you presently a domestic help, serve well. It’s a season that will soon pass.
If you are looking for domestic help, may God send you a Theresa, in whatever shape or form you may need help.
And to Theresa herself, i cannot find your surname presently however we appreciate you for your help and care. Your humility, openness and willingness to learn remain with us as since if your outstanding features. Your patience with Jordan and care for him are praise worthy and not easily forgotten. God bless you abundantly for all you did and prosper mightily the works of your hands.

#SurpriseShoutOut no. 3

He was probably the first Ghanaian person I ever really came in contact with. I remember his Afro, graying at the temple, like Wole Soyinka or so I thought in my childhood mind. He would sometimes stick his pen into his hair while in the middle of something, and then search for it ardently when he needed to use it. Very resourceful with discipline, hiding his cane did not help much: he could inflict the punishment with anything, albeit harmlessly, you would know you had been disciplined.
As part of the package, he taught us to pray before we studied. He added his voice to teach us that committing Bible verses to memory were important and could be done in song.
He was the one non-related person who would come wherever we were hiding, as much as possible; he would get us out and put us to work.
I heard that the last time he came to visit and was told I was schooling in Ghana, he was very well pleased.
He believed in us and showed us clearly and repeatedly that he did…and got us to believe that he would push us as hard as was necessary to get us to that height he was sure we could achieve.
His name is Mr. MacDonald Quarcopone and he was our home tutor. I hear he’s back in Ghana but have no idea how to reach him. If you perhaps know someone by that name, who lived in Delta State and was a teacher in DCC, please hook us up. I’d like to say to him in person, Thank you for being a great teacher, for believing him us, and being patient with us…and so much more. Thank you…for everything.

Y’all better sing…or else

I honestly don’t remember my Daddy beating me. He may or may not have… I don’t know but I don’t remember receiving any “strokes”.
I don’t know how it worked out though because we all somehow knew not to do certain things, or talk a certain way. I knew what tone of voice meant I had done something wrong or not done something right.
I remember how at some point, when we would go in for our pocket monies, Mom would call out to him to tell him that his “tax collectors” had come for their taxes.
I remember how we, often my sisters and I – quite a trio – sometimes with our little brother, would sing while preparing meals in the kitchen.
I remember how we would stand before the congregation to sing and our eldest and lead vocal who was supposed to kick-start our song with a brief introduction would, believe it or not, forget what song we were supposed to be singing.
And today, I would like to share this particular memory with you.
There was going to be a program at Church and my younger brother and two of us had earlier discussed ministering in song at the Sunday program. We had mentioned it to Daddy at some point. It was now the Saturday before the event and we were considering not doing it as we thought we were unprepared. Besides, we had not quite made it concrete so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Or so we thought.
Our lead vocal was back at this time(she had been away at school for a while). We told her about it and about our decision to let it slide. As was often the case at that time of the day, we were in the kitchen. She went out of the kitchen for a bit and on her return, told us we had better rehearse as we had to sing. She’d heard Daddy when she stepped out saying that our group name was on the program lineup for the Sunday event and if we did not sing, our pocket monies would be reviewed. That definitely meant downwards 👇 . Apparently he had been listening for us and had not heard us rehearsing. Maybe he also heard the conversation we had about cancelling.
Of course with our lead vocal back in town, we were able to rehearse and minister at the event.
We had a good laugh. I had and still have never heard of anyone’s finances being threatened by their parents because they did not sing at Church.
I promised to never forget this episode.
Thank you Daddy for teaching us not to shirk from keeping our word. If we say we will do it, we must do it.
I love my Daddy.

He called me beautiful…

Now about Father’s Day…

By God’s grace, I’ve been blessed with a great father and Daddy. (I’m referring to one man by the way 😂). As we approach Father’s Day, to celebrate him and all you great fathers, I’ll write a few things.

Where to start… 🤔…

Growing up where we did was interesting, a blessing. We grew up in a very civil community which was quite unlike the average African society. Long story, maybe I’ll tell it another day.
Anyway when I was much younger, in primary school, I was skinny. At a point though, in Junior Secondary School, I became heavy.
I have very few pictures from that era to show because I did all I could to avoid taking them. I felt unpretty. Someone actually told me I did not walk; I rolled.
Shout out to all in FGC Warri and some in my age grade in the Complex who exhibited great adeptness in taxonomy and a broad feel of creative nomenclature. If I took out time to write the names you called me, it would be quite a volume. But this is not about you.
It’s about the man who continually told me I was beautiful. He never, not ever, not even once, complained about my weight. He told me that I was proof to the world that he was working and taking care of his family. I remember the compliments he gave me from time to time which well-nigh made me float.
This is about the man who knew what a girl, with her self-esteem quite low but all the time chivalrous about it, needed to hear.
This is about my Daddy.

Shout out to you fathers who build your children’s confidence, through your words and actions. It does count, maybe more than you will know on this side of eternity. Every child should feel special at some point. Thank you for making that happen for your son, for your daughter.
Thank you, my 1-in-7.6-billion Daddy.