Some days we forget to look around us,
Some days we can't see the joy that surrounds us,
So caught up inside ourselves,
We take when we should give. --Josh Groban from the song, Thankful
Sometimes, more often than we could realize, I believe God intersects people for us in our daily, ordinary lives. Often, we do not understand it until some time has passed for God to prove His point. And then again, sometimes, the same person keeps returning into our lives (like my husband, but that is another story), to teach, mentor, serve and love us. Because I have now lived many seasons, I am beginning to see the tapestry that is being crafted by The Master Weaver. Minika often says we are "sisters from different mothers."
Almost seven years ago, I met Minika in Doha, Qatar where we were living at the time. She is originally from Nigeria, but went to England as a young mother and later went to school there and received her Master's degree in Civil Engineering. When I met her, she had been working very successfully as an engineer for eight years in Doha. She was widely known for her attentive eye for detail (something she attributes to her tailoring skills as a teenager). It was not uncommon for her to climb high ladders and planks to investigate the construction quality of the buildings she was responsible for. And if you know Minika, she was never afraid to tell someone how to do it better. 😀
When I met her the first time, I immediately loved her. She has a very loud laugh like me, and I was entranced by her stories growing up in Nigeria. Once when she was six, her family was escaping from a civil war in the jungles, and she remembers also being close to a lion as they ran. I could listen to her for hours telling her stories of starting a Saturday School for the children of the area to help them (and her own children) to gain good test scores to enter private high schools. Or, she would relate to me stories of being a single mom to three bright, rambunctious boys. Sometimes she faced outright prejudice with a school or neighbor, but she successfully helped navigate her sons' careers and lives. As my eighteen-year-old son with autism matter of factly states, "No one messes with Minika."
In these pandemic times, I hope we can see the long parade of people who have marched before and with us in this life. For all of us, the line is long of others who have supported us when we needed it. I have learned a simple truth: some of these beloved people who have locked arms and embraced us later come to encircle our loved ones. When we cannot be there, people come to fill in our gaps--compensating for our absence. It happens more often than I think we see or understand. Indeed, there are angels on earth all around us. Thanks for swooping in, Minika! We love you!