Grace, Giggles, and Group Chats ( FOMO)

If God ever lined up His favourites for roll‑call, I’d probably be in the front row, hand raised, clapping frantically like my life depends on it. (high claps because- hands raised)I say that partly tongue-in-cheek but ONLY PARTLY. Because every time I step back and look at the people He’s placed around me, I’m floored. Hao si  saints, lakini, honestly, if you squint past the constant banter and endless roast sessions, you can’t miss the grace dripping off my family and friends. The Lord has been more than kind.

 Over the weekend we pulled a classic “us” move. Our resident Super Producer—aka mtoto wetu, stumbled on a reel and declared, “Guys, let’s each make a full‑blown presentation about who we are and what we do. Career, life missions, visions—kila kitu.”Sasa, sisi tunajua jokes kweli? ( I hope you said Nooooooo) 

Now, you’d think these my peoples would come to wing it. AH! Wapi! Everyone showed up armed with PowerPoints, Canva slides, even one PDF that looked suspiciously like a TED Talk deck. Imagine an Annual General Meeting but with people who genuinely care and are concerned about you and above all your well being! It was a re‑introduction to ourselves, by ourselves.

Slide after slide, revelation after revelation, the verdict was loud: my friends don’t play. Sure, they’re silly actually, borderline ridiculous 98% of the time, but when it comes to their craft, their side hustles, or the causes they champion, they turn into absolute beasts. Humble beasts, but beasts all the same.

One is out here turning complex, jargon-filled information into stuff even your cucu could get, and enjoy. Another is juggling the skies (yes, literal planes) and farming with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if they cloned themselves. There's one giving Hollywood line producers a proper run for their dollars, and another casually building tech businesses like it’s just another Tuesday on the calendar.

Then there’s the one healing minds and souls through the power of education, quietly restoring whole generations. Someone else sees the world through a creative lens so futuristic, the rest of us are still trying to catch up. One is a love warrior, tried, tested, and true, who sees human scars and somehow gives them language, and then there’s the one for whom distance is merely a suggestion. Their impact? Felt deeply, even from miles away! Dripping in generosity, thoughtfulness, and a kind of kindness that bleeds right into their work.

And all this? All this brilliance? Happening while still at 2% serious!  Seeing it all laid out like that was equal parts humbling and electrifying

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Standing too close to any mirror warps the view, you notice wrinkles but miss the spark in your eyes. Friday’s showcase zoomed the lens all the way out. It was a gentle reminder that God often hides miracles in plain sight, disguising them as “FOMO” When the curtain lifted, I saw how each gift, each hustle, each quirky personality thread together into a vibrant tapestry of purpose.

As I sat there, heart bursting with admiration (and a mild case of imposter syndrome), Proverbs 27:17 whispered: “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” That’s exactly what happened—each story, each slide, knocked a little dullness off the rest of us. We left sharper, braver, and oddly lighter, reminded that our talents aren’t trophies to hide on a shelf but tools to build up the whole crew. Aka To Wandia Them!

So here’s to friends who pull up with PowerPoints, to mirrors that show the bigger picture, and to a God who keeps seating us in the front row of His grace—front‑row seats where iron keeps sharpening iron, again and again.

Nothing/No experience is wasted!

Ok, to be more specific: Nothing in the hands of the Maker is ever wasted!

The first time I heard this, I was knee-deep in one of my darkest seasons. I mean giza giza! Mwaka 2016!
And my friend, bless her heart, said to me in one of our conversations:

"Ice, I pray that this pain is not wasted."
I froze!

Yes, the irony isn’t lost on me.

For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom how that kind of pain would ever be useful.

Ah! Ah! Ah!

Give time, time—it will surprise you!

Anyway—back to the “nothing is ever wasted” bit.

Over the weekend, I was out living my best Auntie duties (a.k.a bike riding), when a memory hit me like how these bills keep coming!
See, back in the day, we lived in a “gated community.”
(Ahem—gated in the sense that they were KNH staff quarters housing.)

Huku ndio trauma ya “haves” and “have-nots” ilianza.

Sasa, there were some cool kids who had bikes.
Not just any bikes—mountain bikes.
(Ahem, if you know, you know.)
Sisi? We weren’t among the cool kids.
Basically, we didn’t have bikes.

The cool kids behaved like they held the keys to the pearly gates!
The grounds they rode on were ‘holy grounds’.
Yaani, it was their world and we were just living in it!

Ah, the begging. The flattery. The psychological warfare just to get one ride.
Utter madness!

And the plot twist?
I didn’t even know how to ride a bike!

So now I had two problems:

1. Beg for a bike

2. Get someone to teach me how to ride it

Shida tu!

Now where would I begin?
Ni kubeg, gravel for the bike ama nikufunzwa how to ride?
I needed to choose a struggle.

I chose peace and living in my head.

I’d watch the ‘haves’ for hours as they rode their little hearts out,
the ‘have-nots’ worshipped the grounds the ‘haves’ rode on.

Bike riding? I learned that as a grown-up.
But that feeling of not having?
Myeeeen, it's unforgettable.

AND don’t get me started on swimming!

Woooiii!!!

I never had a swimsuit!
This wasn’t anywhere near the hierarchy of needs that Mother and Rev were trying to meet!
I didn’t even have the language to ask for a swimsuit!

Lakini, peer pressure had me in a chokehold.
An opportunity to go swimming with other kids in the estate presented itself.
In true Ice fashion, I decided to be my own savior.

I stitched up one of my cotton vests down the middle,
since I had seen how swimsuits looked like.

AKI, it was a cotton vest!

Like that’s not bad enough—it was one of those vests where the color would run.
Let that SINK.

Yooooo!!!

The stares, the subtle laughs, the whispers that followed—INSANE!

Then did I know how to swim?
If you answered “No”—you know me too well!!

Weeee!!!
Now I know why learning how to ride a bike and how to swim are two major activities that have stayed on my bucket list!

Inner child must be healed!

Go to therapy.
Imagine, ni muhimu.