“No condition is stock-still neither permanent,” so said a general proverb.
Condition turned me into a zealous and incessant prayer warrior who’d pray against my ignominious act and prey which was alleged to be spiritual. When one is being subdued by a titanic humiliation and a problem, the trivial ones will be topping it, and gaining more momentum.
“What a shame on devil and his woeful tools!” I would say to myself, in one corner of the home.
I’d never stopped bed wetting at the age of ten, stealing from Mama’s purse and pot. This humiliation to me and my parents was like Mt. Everest and a disgrace to my friends and family; I couldn’t utter mere a word among my friends, I was deprived of traveling alongside my parents and siblings—if luckily, I embarked on journey alongside any of my relatives, we would never spent a night there because of my “never-go-dry” enuresis.
This really ached my weary heart. At times, I did weep bitterly and somberly, whenever I discovered drenches of wet on my pyjamas. It’s a shame on me, though. But I’d never go relentless on prayer.
Mama, would never hesitate to attend any Christian revival, specially, tagged: breakthrough, deliverance, etc, be it in the den of lions. She would always attend in a view to finding a solution to my problem.
Then, I knew, mother is a female chi who would go at any lent merely to salvage me from the trap of evil spirit, as it was alleged.
As time went by, the usual became abnormal. I couldn’t bear this any longer.
“If it is battle, we must fight it out, if it should be prayer, we must pray—mostly to get rid of this insanity of mine. How shall I be almost eleven and continue to bedwet? That’s unfair and shameful to my personality. Something must really be done. I must find remedy to this malady. It’s a something I must do,” I said to myself, gesticulating.
Until a fateful day when Mama sent me on an errand. I then came across a lanky short man, who said that the excessive intake of water before going to bed at night could result to bed wetting. I shook my head, prodded my nose, and stared my eyes at the man disdainfully.
Later that night, I didn’t drink a lot of water like I used to do. I took little out of the water in the fridge, and went straight to my bed.
The following morning, I woke up from the bed to check as usual. Then Mama knocked on the door of my room with much strike like thunder. “Come in,” I said to her.
She walked into the room, looking at me, and sat on the bed with a long purse. “Hmm,” she sighed.
Mama continued, “Good morning, Moji. How was your night? Hope you didn’t bedwet overnight? Or what were you trying to look for before coming inside to your room? I know God will surely put stop to this shame one day,” she raised her eyebrow, facing the ceiling with her hands up a little.
While she was still making some inquiry from me, I noticed that, touching my pyjamas, there wasn’t any watery feeling on my body. I was overwhelmed with a slight bewilderment, checking my body all over again. Mama was also surprised, looking at my unusual drama.
“Mama! I didn’t bed wet today o, first in history. Thank you Lord!” I knelt down and raised my hands above my head in view to acknowledging God.
I sat back on the bed and explained the what happened the previous day she sent me on errand; how I met the lanky young man, and how I got home and experiment what he said. Though at the onset I disputed what he said, thinking that my problem was just mere coincidence, but the previous day was also a coincidence. The day I met my real breakthrough without any stress nor in exchange for money.
Mama was surprised, she looked at me and nodded. “So, what we’ve been in search of in Sokoto is here in our pocket? Wonders shall never cease to happen in this house.” She breathed in and bringing her discussion into conclusion.
Years passed, I never sensed any sign of wetness on my body again. I received
my total healing. I could travel to any part of the world. I could now boast among my friends. I became a beloved, person and could associate with anyone.