Happy new month family. We are officially on chapter 8 !! Each time we are presented with the new , we are to make a conscious decision to let go of the old. God has brought us into a new season but He cannot force us to step in. Many people are still stuck in 2022 , “I wish it remained like that. I wish I could go back to the good old days,” hear what Solomon says,
“Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions.”
Ecclesiastes 7:10 NIV
Do not say July was much better because you do not know what God has in store for you in August. There is more! There is better! There are brighter days! It may seem like you aren’t really making progress from the vision board you created at the beginning of the year but stay aligned to the leading of the Holy Spirit. When Ruth lost her husband, Boaz was busy elsewhere minding his business but the bible is clear on this ; all Ruth had to do was follow Naomi and all Boaz had to do was to stay in Bethlehem. Our instructions for August may differ, don’t relocate when you’re supposed to stay, don’t give in to emotional distress, do not fear. I pray that your long awaited testimony will find its way to you this August. I love you.
Here’s todays chapter of:
THE SEER OF THE HILLS (3)
Nandi’s mind raced with conflicting emotions—fear for her son’s safety, pride in his extraordinary gift, and a gnawing ache of separation. She knew the priestess of the hills was revered for her wisdom and connection to the spirits, she was also , a witch, the thought of Malusi leaving their humble village filled her with a profound sorrow.
As dusk settled over the gathering, the decision was finalized. Malusi would be taken to the hills, accompanied by the elder and a few trusted villagers. Nandi clung to her son, whispering words of love and encouragement, trying to imprint every detail of his face in her memory.
The journey to the priestess’s sanctuary was arduous, winding through dense forests and up steep paths that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. Malusi walked with a quiet determination, his gaze fixed on the distant peaks where his future awaited.
At last, they reached the sanctuary—a clearing bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, nestled amidst towering trees. The priestess, a figure draped in robes adorned with symbols of ancient wisdom, welcomed Malusi with a serene smile. Her eyes held a depth of understanding that both comforted and unnerved Nandi.
“Welcome, young seer,” the priestess spoke, her voice carrying a melody that seemed to resonate with the very rhythms of the earth. “You have been chosen to walk the path of the spirits. Fear not, for you are in the hands of those who guide us all.”
Nandi embraced Malusi one last time, her tears mingling with the whispers of leaves overhead. She watched as he followed the priestess into the sanctuary, disappearing from her sight but never from her heart.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Nandi clung to the hope that Malusi was safe, that he was fulfilling his destiny as the elders had foreseen. She tended to their small hut, finding solace in the familiar rhythms of daily life yet haunted by the absence of her son’s laughter
And in the quiet of the nights, when the hills whispered secrets carried on the wind, Nandi whispered her own prayers. Prayers for Malusi’s protection, for his wisdom to grow, and for the day when he would return to her, a bearer of light and peace.
In the stillness of the night, when the village slept and the moon bathed the world in silver, Nandi slipped away from her humble hut. Her heart fluttered with a mix of apprehension and longing as she made her way toward the sanctuary hidden among the hills—the place where her son, Malusi, had been taken to commune with the spirits.
The path was familiar yet treacherous, winding through dense forests and steep inclines that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. Nandi’s steps were guided by a mother’s love and an unyielding determination to see her son once more, to reassure herself that he was safe amidst the mysteries that had engulfed their lives.
As she approached the sanctuary, the sacred grove greeted her with a hushed reverence. Shadows danced among the ancient trees, their whispers mingling with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Nandi’s breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed the flickering glow of the sacred fire, the heart of the sanctuary where rituals were performed and prayers ascended to the heavens.
There, beneath the canopy of stars that bore witness to the secrets of the night, Nandi saw him—Malusi, standing with the priestess amidst the quietude of the sanctuary. His form was illuminated by the soft light of the fire, his eyes reflecting the depths of a journey that had transformed him in ways she could scarcely imagine.
“Malusi,” Nandi whispered, her voice carrying across the clearing like a prayer uttered in the silence of the soul.
Malusi turned, his eyes widening in disbelief and joy as he beheld his mother standing before him.
What was she doing there? It was a crime!