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Sandra Mbanefo Obiago

@mbanefoobiago

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One of my college friends told me his grandmother always said, finishing is better than starting. Anyone and everyone can start something, but the test of character comes in actually finishing. It is in finishing that we discover a rare blessing.

So the other day my family was having a conversation about squeezing the last drop of milk out of a carton of evaporated milk . My husband commented that before discarding it, he always crushed the carton to ensure he had squeezed the last drop of milk into his morning coffee. My Swiss grandmother, who lived through two world wars, told us something very similar when we were kids. She always reminded us that when we finished a carton of milk, we should always check again. If you were patient, there was usually one last drop of milk to be won. My brother and I often tested her theory, and would laugh in glee when we patiently held the milk carton upside down, and inevitably, after a few seconds, a tiny drop of milk would splash out.

Finishing is better than starting. But the act of finishing often takes our very last strength. The discipline of completing an assignment or being true to our original vision, takes huge personal effort, emotion, grit, heart, passion, dedication, unrelenting faith and pain. If we really stretched beyond our ability, we are crushed and exhausted, drained and finished at the end. So often the gratitude and grace rises later. Slowly we pick ourselves up at the finish line and realize that we actually completed the race, the project, the assignment. Most often, there is no applause or recognition. Just the quiet deep hum of arrival, accompanied by an ache of personal emptiness and depletion.
In the Igbo language, the last drop of palm wine is called the “ụgẹ nkwu”. The last drop usually has some sediment and residue, and is the most potent part of the wine. It is offered to the oldest person in the room, as a sign of honor and distinction. The last drop. A precious sign of closure, of recognition, power and privilege. And that is where legacy, fulfillment and gratitude sits. When our faith, effort, sacrifice focus, and time is distilled into that last drop.

-Video by pixabay by @mbanefoobiago

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5 months ago

“However, the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands. As the prophet says:

49 “‘Heaven is my throne,
and the earth is my footstool.
What kind of house will you build for me?
says the Lord.
Or where will my resting place be?
50 Has not my hand made all these things?’

Luke 7:48-50 by @mbanefoobiago

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6 months ago

The gift of the rustling trees welcoming the weekend... by @mbanefoobiago

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8 months ago

I recently came across a post (@tearsofthe.soul) about Japanese words for complex nostalgic emotions we experience in the spaces and pauses of our lives, when we remember beautiful things which don’t last.

And I was overcome with a deep “Sensucht”, a yearning for past joy. A feeling of nostalgia, soaking into my thoughts about the seasons of life which are fleeting. Savouring precious memories like a sweet dish that is almost finished, and every last spoon needs to be cherished. Like listening to a musical performance enthralled with the hush of fleeting musical magic.

I am told that the Japanese call this “Mono no aware”
The gentle sadness of knowing everything beautiful is temporary, and loving it more because it will not last... the pathos of impermanent things"

It made me think of a magnificent magnolia tree which sits in a small flower bed near my parking space. It blooms gloriously once a year. I have parked my car next to this tree for almost thirty years. And each time that Grand Dame awakes and shakes her locks releasing hundreds of striking blossoms, it touches my heart and moves my soul. The perfect blooms are absolutely enthralling. I feel sad because I know their lifespan is so short. They takes my breath away. Trying to capture the flutter, the dance, the colors and fresh breezy personality of that tree with my phone camera is impossible. Her majesty in full bloom can only be captured with the soul. She comes silently, like a pink angelic presence. She has her own timing, her own source of energy, and her own season. I feel grateful to be alive to experience this miracle. And next time I have the honor of her spring, I will not rush into the house. I will take time to sit quietly in her presence, however strange it might appear to my neighbours, and deliberately enjoy this fleeting Divine gift more fully.

Mono no aware! by @mbanefoobiago

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9 months ago

We're almost at the end of January, and this new year has been very hard for many of us. There have been tragedies. Losses. Painful beginnings and heart breaking endings. Sometimes all we can do is just keep walking. Putting one step in front of the other. The path is often lonely. The journey takes us through roads covered in ice. But if we keep moving. Keep hoping. Keep engaging and believing, despite the fog and cold, we eventually come to a break, where the vista is even more breathtaking, because we know where we have come from. Jesus tells us that, "he who believes in me, out of his heart will flow rivers of water." Most of the times, those rivers and quiet waters are experienced at the end of long, icey and lonely roads. When we finally stop to take a breath and look up, we realise that God truly gives us peace that passes understanding. It does not make sense. There are no easy answers. The pain is there, but in the hush our hearts are stilled and comforted. Lets just keep walking. Despite the winter hardship. The path will eventually lead us to quiet waters that restore our souls. by @mbanefoobiago

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9 months ago

Today is Thanksgiving and my father, Frank Akunne Mbanefo' s post-humous birthday. He would have been 98 today. When I remember him I am grateful for his elegant and energetic dance through life. His ability to laugh and express true joy. His regular reminder that we should not worry...to leave things in God's hands, and to "cross that bridge when we get to it."
I am grateful for his passion and dedication to his profession, to excellence, and his commitment to teaching and mentoring the younger generation, one architect, one student at a time. I remember his exuberant fascination and passion for the great architects who inspired him. He spoke about Frank Lloyd Wright, and took us to see his buildings. He was connected to the ideas and courageous dreams of his heroes.
I am grateful that he inspired us with his deep love for community and quiet leadership from behind. Gathering, encouraging, giving, forgiving, guiding, gifting, providing, and being there for us, without fuss or ego. His was a determined leadership which was inspired by his deep conversations with God.
The mark of his great soul, was the love and compassion he had for my mother. His respect and deep admiration for her was legendary. I will never forget the day she lost three thousand Swiss franks. She had already started loosing her eyesight with degenerative macula in both eyes, and went to collect money from the ATM to pay their monthly bills. When she got home, the envelope was gone. It was a massive crushing loss for an older retired couple. Mom was emotional, devastated, could not stop crying, and blaming herself. My Dad sat on his chair, stunned and contemplative. After some time, he consoled her and said, "I think God wanted you to loose that money because someone else needed it more than us." That was it. A simple pronouncement of quiet faith, that a crushing loss was actually meant as a blessing for someone who had been praying desperately to God for answers....and came upon a miraculous envelope with three thousand francs, lying on the side walk.
Thank you Dad for teaching me to give thanks for the losses and finds in my life. To see them all as blessings! by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago

La Dolce Vita! Early morning truffle hunting in Piemonte! Sweet Life! by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago

Sometimes it really is the journey and not the destination that makes life sweet. It was my daughter’s thirtieth birthday and she asked us to accompany her on a small bucket-list dream – to go truffle hunting in the Piemonte region of north-western Italy.
We met our experienced and weather-beaten 70-plus-year-old truffle hunter, Ricardo, with his son Frederico, who spoke fluent English, early that morning. We drove a short distance and then parked by the side of the road, next to an open field. We began a long trek through the open countryside, stopping frequently at clusters of trees with our two energetic hounds, three year old Nelly, who was the chief sniffer, and her nine year old mother, Alba, who was frequently put on a leash, so as not to distract her daughter’s concentrated sniffing for the beloved and elusive truffles. Within the first hour, Nelly dug up a tiny truffle, about the size of an acorn or large groundnut. We kept walking through the tall grass as the mist slowly evaporated and the sun rose. Then we got to a large forested enclosure, where we met another group hunting truffles with their dog, Pesto. The three animals went charging through the forest, and eventually had to be separated as they were now having way too much fun chasing each other, rather than concentrating on the hunt. I was told that the earliest written account of truffles dates back to an Egyptian pharaoh in Africa. I really enjoyed the fresh air, wonderful scenery, and the great conversations with my three kids. After four hours, we found no more truffles and returned to our cars, tired and a bit disappointed, but full of wonderful memories. What I gained was a new respect for the "dogged" patience, skill and luck involved in truffle hunting. I appreciated the unique challenges, terrain, partners, and situational opportunities and difficulties in a hunt. The beauty of the experience is appreciating the hunters and their wonderful relationship with their dogs who they consider family, and the stories they share. And was reminded that “winning” a "truffle trophy" is really not what makes life memorable, rather it is the deep and intense experiences learned along the way. by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago

Almost imperceptible glimmers of brilliant reflections catch my eye. As i look at the mighty mountains, my gaze settles on an exquisite glistening spider's web, which dances softly in the wind. It is such a tender perfect design, as fragile and sweet as a baby's breath. This complex construction sways in the gentle morning sun, and i realize that just as You created the awesome backdrop of these mighty mountains, you also created the spider which wove this light, breezy web of life. Its fragility and perfect symmetry is surprising because i have never truly appreciated this beauty. What a comfort, that the I AM is a towering mighty force, and also rests on the lightest breeze. I muse on this simple paradox of the coexistence of strength and frailty, wrapped in a whisper of tenacity and the lightness of perfect transparency. Only when i adjust my focus from background to foreground, am i able to perceive these caledoscopic patterns floating brilliantly before me. You remind me that your infinite Love creates and sustains the endless diversity of your Divine tender mercies. I wonder and praise your almost imperceptible nuances, your fathomless shades of subtlety and your perfectly harmonious, balanced Divinity; they exist within me, as they surround me.

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
Psalm 46.10 by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago

My mother often told us an old Swiss saying, that we must celebrate our special days as they land. Not put off our celebrations for a convenient time on our social calendar. Enjoy the birthdays, anniversaries, graduations and milestones on the dates they happen. I think there is a lot of wisdom in this saying. We celebrated a number of milestones this week. On a Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday night! In the middle of the work week. And who cares? We had such a wonderful, happy time. Every day is a perfect day for a celebration. Nobody knows tomorrow. Let's celebrate today as it arrives. By God's amazing timing and grace. Let's not put off anything. Let's bring out the best crystal and decorate the table for royalty. Let's not delay. Let's go watch that movie or play, even if it's mid-week. Let's make that effort to show up, even if tomorrow is work. There is no time like today. No moment like right now. Today is a great day for a great day!

Photo credit: Chantal Mbanefo by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago

One of my most profound and deeply fulfilling rituals is listening to falling rain. The sound of a thunder-roar as it advances across the sky excites and revitalizes me. The full and all encompassing rush of the advancing downpour surrounding me, is like advancing into a tunnel, and feeling the strength and majesty of God’s power engulf me. Silently it arrives and thunders around me. Nature’s orchestra of falling rain blocks out every other sound. It roars with an intensity that drowns out everything that is non-consequential. And then it moves on as suddenly as it arrived. All that is left are brilliantly glistening, lush green, bejeweled leaves, showing off their rejuvenated color, studded with drops of diamonds. The birds begin their chorus again. The storm has passed and all is calm. I sit here and am awe struck. How did our God create this spectacular symphony, this awesome miracle of regeneration? What a joy! May the storms in our lives also regenerate our faith in Divine miracles! by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago

At the right time.
I recently bought a bouquet of lilies with tightly closed buds. I do this from time to time. These flowers are usually marked down at the end of the week, and most of the times these cheaper flowers, end up blooming gloriously. But sometimes the buds don’t open. Rarely, but it does happen at times. I have learned that there is nothing I can do in my power to open a bud. Nothing. I place the flowers lovingly in water, and cut their stems regularly, and wait, day after day, until they open their hearts to the universe. The first day, nothing happens, neither the second nor the third. I start praying more earnestly. All of a sudden, on the fourth day, one of the buds develops a slight kink of an attitude. It looks like an elbow of a petal is beginning to stir, and gently, silently, one petal at a time breaks out of its cocoon, and explodes into life. It is magical and so tender. To my greatest joy, I watch as one bud at time unfurls, revealing its inner beauty. By the end of the week, there is just one bud left. It holds out. I wonder if that will be the one which stubbornly refuses to let go, despite all the life exploding around it. But no, it also eventually breaks forth, as if encouraged by all the awesome color popping like silent fireworks all around it. It takes over a week for all my closed buds to embrace their purpose, releasing their unique fragrance and glory into my days. Isn’t that the same with life? Sometimes we embrace an opportunity and invest in it. We place our relationships, work, aspirations, hopes and dreams in to the water of life. We create an enabling environment, work and fuss and worry. Soon we realize there is nothing else we can do, but shower these closed buds with love and prayers, and just wait. God’s divine gentle pull will bring them into their purpose and glory, one bud at a time. The magnificent Creator opens what we can’t. At the appointed hour, they silently unfurl; the awesome mystery of Divine grace. God’s time is the best. And when it finally blooms, we can laugh and embrace the fullness of Divine joy. And it will happen. Silently. Perfectly. At the right time. by @mbanefoobiago

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a year ago