Where Went Home?
On my return home after eight years
It was in the summer of 2015 I set foot on the shores of Lampedusa, south of Italy. It was also my first time in Europe – and being that far away from home.
The journey from Nigeria through the dry lands of Niger, into the lifelessness of the desert, and the unrest and war torn Libya, will forever be etched in my mind.
A friend once said to me, ‘a man does not rest until he is dead.’
This has been my reality for the past 8 years living in Italy as a Nigerian immigrant. To say it’s not been easy, is an understatement.
But the good LORD, whom I serve in Christ Jesus, had been with me through it all liked He promised. And in Him I have found grace in the difficulty times, and companionship in the lonely nights.
It was by His faithfulness and grace that I got my document after nearly either years last year.
And I quickly bought a flight ticket to Nigeria.
Expectations were high. It’s been a long eight years.
On one side, I was ecstatic. On the other, a bit numb. It dawned on me, perhaps, life’s blow all this years engendered injury I was yet to notice.
Nevertheless, the date came and I boarded that flight with joy.
