Wednesday In House News...

 Hailings......

WEDNESDAY MEMO

Hailings to you all..how una dey go the go?????I salute everyone

Have a nice and sunny day.........

You can discuss whatever you want but i will not answer any questions concerning Miss H, but her continued silence MIGHT make me post her number and photos.....

Until then make una relax and let her defenders defend her...Just watch!!

Meanwhile I am here thinking of what to cook.....I discarded the SDK Cookbook because it will be full of Nigerian dishes and i dont have a Nigerian kitchen......

Hugs and kisses ahd HAPPY WOMAN CRUSH WEDNESDAY!!!

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NOTORIOUS FOR JESUS

I went to my children’s school's open day program, and when it was time for parents to speak and dance, a woman seated beside me stood up. Since we were sitting next to each other, we had already introduced ourselves earlier, and she mentioned that she works as an Alaga / wedding MC. I also told her my occupation.
When the opportunity came for parents to speak, she confidently stepped forward. It was obvious she knew exactly what she was doing. She was articulate and prayed amazingly, handled the microphone naturally, and even used the short moment to subtly promote her work. You could immediately tell public speaking was part of her profession, especially because the teacher anchoring the event was struggling a bit with coordination.

A few other parents also stood up, but what caught my attention was another woman who suddenly turned it into an unspoken competition. She openly said that the more the first woman spoke, the more she too would collect the microphone to say her own part. The audience laughed and turned it into a joke.

I kept wondering the reason for that behavior because in actual sense this is not the place and time. I realize that jealousy is a deep rooted demon and people just compete and hate others for no reason even when they don't have any reason to.
The woman anchoring is in her line of business and she's exceptionally at it, why take that shine off from her? Why use that avenue to divert attention, create drama and display unnecessary pepper body? I was ashamed on her behalf because at some point, the whole thing began to look like a comic show and made everyone uncomfortable.
I now realized why her husband was seated at a distant table. He was making faces at her to be calm but she refused to budge. At that point, some women behind us started to whisper and hiss loudly.
It was then that her husband stood up and came to drag her from her location and they both headed outside. I bet he would scold the life out of her, if she doesn't turn it into a hot argument because women like that are usually a handful.
Her behavior reminded me of one lady who we had once lived on the same street together. I was the hottest girl then but she came and tried to upstage me. LoL.. well, she tried for a while and started failing at some point.
The truth is, not every admiration needs imitation, and not every moment needs silent rivalry. Sometimes, people are so busy watching what another person is doing that they forget to stay connected to their own choices.
Confidence speaks quietly, you never force it, but insecurity often announces itself through unhealthy, unnecessary competition.

I wonder why some parents are like this....I have seen a scenario like this in the aboard among Nigerians oh.....It was informal but also laced with jealousy and competition..I noted what was going on and also noted the spouses of the women were not on talking terms...Sometimes Nigerians can disgrace you and stain your white abroad....

Let meturn the last words into a motivational meme.

Thank you.

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WEIRD FACTS

-- The strongest competition you'll ever face is the battle against your own procrastination.

--- A breakup feels more extreme than other forms of social rejection because romance ties into more primal parts of the brain.

--- You are under no obligation to be the same person you were a year, month, or even 15 minutes ago. You have the right to grow. No apologies.

---- Titanic was the first movie to make more than $1 billion. Avatar was the second.

------Spirituality and religion thickens the brain cortex, reducing one's risk of depression.

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PRAYER FOR ANONYMOUS TROLLS

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A STORY TO LIFT YOUR MOOD

I was 34 years old, jobless, broke, and living in my married younger sister’s BQ.
One morning, I woke up and found the door to my room locked from the outside.
Yes, someone had locked me inside.
I thought it was a mistake.
I banged on the door. I called her number. No answer.

I texted her husband. Delivered. No reply.
Two hours later, a knock. It was my sister. She didn’t open the door. She just whispered through the wood.
“Broda, please manage inside today. My in-laws are around. They are big people. I no wan make dem ask who you be or why you never marry at your age.”

Then silence.
My heart tore into tiny, sharp pieces.
I had no bed. Just a mat on the floor. The fan was dead. The heat in that small room started to cook my skin.
I spent the whole day sweating, hungry, ashamed, and forgotten.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to break the door. But I sat down on that mat and wept.
Not because they locked me in. But because I realized that even poverty has a smell, and I had started to carry it.
Let me tell you how I got here.
I once worked in a bank. I had a car. I lived in an estate. I wasn't a billionaire, but I had dignity.
Until I trusted the wrong friend.
He convinced me to take a loan of ₦4 million for a "sure" oil and gas business. I signed the papers. He disappeared with the money.
The bank suspended me. Then they fired me. Then they blacklisted me.
Just like that, my phone stopped ringing. People who used to call me "Boss" suddenly couldn't remember my birthday.

When my rent expired, I begged everyone. My best friend told me, “You for marry na. At least your wife go fit support you.”
I laughed like it was funny. But when I dropped the call, I cried until my eyes turned red.
That’s how I moved into my sister’s BQ.
At first, they were nice. Then they stopped being nice. They started locking the fridge. They stopped greeting me in the morning. They told their children not to sit on my lap because my clothes were "dusty."

They said I was “too spiritual” because I prayed aloud at night. I apologized and started whispering my prayers.
But they still treated me like a ghost.
By 4:00 PM, my tummy was making sounds like a beaten drum. I hadn't eaten since yesterday.
I stood by the window, watching freedom through the rusty burglar bars.

And I did something I hadn’t done in months. I prayed.
But not the kind of prayer you say when you want a miracle. This was the kind of prayer you say when you are finished, empty, and ready to die.

I said, “God, I don’t even know if You still see me. But if You do… I am tired.”
No shouting. No "falling under the anointing." Just hot tears on a cold floor.
I eventually slept off on that mat.
Around 6:30 PM, my phone rang.
It was a number I didn’t know. I almost didn’t pick. But a voice in my head said, “Answer it.”
“Hello, is this Mr. Emmanuel?” the woman asked.
I said yes.
She started screaming on the phone. “Thank You, Jesus! I’ve been searching for you for five years!”
I sat up.
She said, “My name is Mrs. Ifeoma. You used to work at the branch in Victoria Island, right?”
I said yes.
She began to sob. “Twelve years ago, I came to your desk. I was a widow. I had no collateral, but my children were out of school. You used your own money to help me start my small poultry. Today, I own three of the biggest farms in the South-East.”
I couldn't breathe.
She said, “I don’t know where you are or what you are doing, but God told me I won't sleep until I find the man who saved my life when I was nothing.”
She paused.
“Please, text me your account number. I want to send you a small token for transport so you can come and see me tomorrow.”
I sent it with shaking hands.
Five minutes later, my phone buzzed.
I looked at the screen. I rubbed my eyes. I looked again.
My sister’s husband had locked the door, but God had just opened a portal.

The alert was ₦10,000,000.
I fell on my knees and let out a scream that shook the whole house.
The door suddenly flew open. My sister and her husband rushed in, thinking I had gone mad or died.
When they saw the screen of my phone, their faces turned white.
The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop.
My sister’s husband tried to touch my shoulder. “Emma, wetin happen? Why you dey scream?”

I didn't answer him. I just showed them the phone.
When they saw the zeros, my sister started shaking. She tried to hug me, but I stepped back.
“Broda, I... I was just trying to protect you from my in-laws,” she stammered.
I didn't say a word. I didn't curse them. I didn't even pack my bags, there was nothing in them anyway but rags.
I walked out of that BQ barefooted. I walked past her rich in-laws in the sitting room. They stared at me like I was a madman.

I stepped outside and looked at the stars. They looked different.
That night, I slept in a hotel. I took a bath with hot water. I ate a meal that cost more than my sister’s monthly feeding allowance.
But I didn't sleep on the bed. I slept on the floor.
I wanted to remind myself that 24 hours ago, I was a prisoner.
On Monday morning, I went to see Mrs. Ifeoma.
She didn't just give me money. She handed me a set of keys.

“This is a 4-bedroom bungalow,” she said. “And my company needs a Chief Operating Officer. I know your record. I know your heart. Will you help me?”
I went from a mat in a BQ to a boardroom in a week.
I bought 10 suits. I bought a car. I changed my number.
But I didn't forget the mat.
I went back to my sister’s house two months later. I drove a car that made the neighbors come out of their houses.
I walked in. My sister saw me and started crying. She thought I came for revenge.
I sat her down and her husband down. I brought out an envelope.
Inside was ₦2 million and a key to a shop.
“This is for you,” I said.
She froze. “After what I did to you?”
I smiled. “If you didn't lock that door, I wouldn't have been forced to pray that kind of prayer. You didn't lock me in; you locked the world out so I could hear God.”

We hugged and cried. I forgave them, but I never moved back.
Today, I run a foundation called "The Mat Testimony."
We find people who have been discarded by their families. We find men who have lost their dignity to poverty.
Because I realized something: God doesn't need your family to agree before He blesses you.
Sometimes, God allows people to reject you so that when the blessing comes, they will know it wasn't by their power.
If you are reading this and you feel like you are behind a locked door…
If your family has turned their back on you…
If you are eating the bread of sorrow…

Listen to me: The door isn't locked to keep you in. It’s locked to keep the distractions out because your miracle is about to land.
Your ₦10 million alert is coming. Your Mrs. Ifeoma is searching for you.
Don't give up on that mat. God is still on the throne.
If you believe God is turning your story around this month, SHARE this to bless someone!
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May your story Change like this mans own...Cry to God if you are in a financially bad situation instead of spending time trying to scam people...

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FOR MEN
A man who truly values his wife doesn't wait to be asked…
He observes, understands, and provides without reminders.
Don't wait for your wife to start begging before you give her what she deserves.
By the time she stops asking… she has already started adjusting emotionally.
And when a woman starts adjusting…
She also starts disconnecting.
Real men don't wait for complaints…
They move before the silence begins.
Because the truth is —
A woman who feels valued at home has no reason to look outside for attention.
Take care of her before someone else notices her worth.
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