If you’re ever on Facebook or any other social media platform and have your phone’s microphone on, you’ll always see ads tailored specifically to your wants and desires. For me, it’s always backpacks, notebooks, pencils, and saxophones. It’s a love/hate thing.

Every time I go on Facebook (love Marketplace by the way), I always see some company I’ve never heard of selling genuine leather notebooks, the best journal carrying system, or the newest electronic gadget that supposedly helps you write with few distractions. The Shiny Object Syndrome (SOS) always rears its ugly head and takes your precious time and hard earned money.

Influencers praise these products and services and offer their discount codes to make sure you enjoy them as much as they do (until they move onto the next best thing). What ever happened to grabbing a simple notebook and pen/pencil and just write? Why is writing getting more complicated?

Do we really need devices with e-ink screens to help us write? Or an expensive journaling system forcing us to buy more replacement notebooks and accessories to make us look cool while we write? And do we really need an app just to time us when to start and stop writing?

I know I sound like the old man yelling at the clouds. So let’s just focus on the simple act of writing itself: paper and pen/pencil. And let’s deal with the more complicated stuff, such as publishing your manuscript and the online posts, later when the time comes.

#writing #simple #shinyobjectsyndrome

Gratitude

Manifesting and gratitude are not as simple as they sound. Many of us are living in the storm season of our lives, and when you are in it, it can be hard to see the sunshine at all.

I want to briefly share my 2025 the year manifesting finally clicked for me and I learned how to flow with the universe instead of fighting it.

Due to my disability, I rely on a van service to get to and from destinations. For several years, I spent 2–6 hours a day just commuting because it is a ride-share system. All of that time and energy was simply to get to work and rebuild my life.

At the same time, I had real concerns about healthcare costs. I made good money in my career, but not enough to comfortably cover nursing expenses.

Moving back closer to my job in the city a place I had already claimed as home despite the cost...it felt necessary. Still, money was a real concern.

But I knew the move had to happen. The long rides were exhausting me, and I was not getting enough rest to function properly.

So I made a decision: I was moving, and my needs would be met.

I focused my energy on exactly how I wanted my life to feel. I did not just think about it—I felt it. I lived as if doors were already opening and I was simply walking through them. I did not obsessively check outcomes. I only took action where it was required of me.

Here is what happened.

I was connected with an advocate who helped me secure full healthcare coverage. There was no lying, exaggerating, or manipulating the system. I stayed honest and transparent, and accommodations were made. She still jokes about invoicing me and never sent one, which tells you everything about her heart.

Over ten years ago, I said I would live where I live now because it spoke to my spirit. I would have preferred not to be wheelchair-bound, yet I was still able to secure the apartment. Management ensures my needs are met, and I have never had a complaint.

My nurses and caregivers slowly but surely fell into place. Issues are rare. One even buys groceries and cooks for me, which saves me a significant amount of money.

I also needed new medical equipment and searched everywhere for suppliers willing to help. Nothing worked until I finally found one. My insurance covered everything in full, even though other suppliers could not make it happen. I do not know what occurred behind the scenes, and honestly, I do not care.

Everything worked out because I aligned myself with the abundance already present in my life. Doors open for me because I believe they will.

You may be someone, like I once was, who overthinks this process and fixates on variables such as timing, location, or practical limitations.

Here is another perspective.

A friend of mine, who was previously my nurse, wanted to leave nursing to pursue her passion for music and transition into music therapy. She was struggling financially and has a special-needs child. She aligned herself with purpose and trust.

When we last spoke, she had quit nursing and was working in music full-time. Her external circumstances had not magically changed, yet she had not experienced a single financial crisis. More importantly, she felt fulfilled and aligned with her reason for being here.

Here is what I want you to do.

Something tells me some of you reading this do not need to start small. You need something to shift.

Let us use getting a job as an example.

You know you do not want to remain unemployed. What you do want is a career that pays the bills, allows you to live comfortably, and maybe even take time off to rest.

Close your eyes. Do not focus on desperation. Do not replay how hard life feels right now. Instead, feel what it would be like to already have the job.

Close your eyes. Imagine this.

You enjoy getting up in the morning and going to work. You feel accomplished when you complete your tasks. You are surrounded by coworkers who respect you. You made a difference today. You feel at ease when your paycheck comes in. You are grateful for the person who opened the door for you. You feel valued by your supervisor and respected for your ideas.

Notice the difference. There is no focus on what you do not want. The universe responds to frequency, not resistance.

Allow the opportunity to come to you, but still do your part. Update your résumé. Apply for jobs. Attend conferences if you can. Take advantage of free events. Meet people.

Do not dwell on rejection. You do not know what you were being protected from.

Stay aligned. Trust the timing. The doors will open, and the signs will be clear.

Lastly, be grateful. Being where you are right now is a privilege not granted to everyone.

This is just the beginning..

Prov

Acts 13 is one of those chapters that quietly changes everything. Not because of a miracle that makes headlines or a confrontation that grabs attention, but because something subtle and irreversible happens beneath the surface. This is the moment when the church stops orbiting around its own center and begins to move outward with intention. It is the chapter where Christianity becomes decisively outward-facing, not as an idea, but as a lived mission that will not be contained by geography, culture, or comfort.

Up until this point in Acts, the story has been unfolding in expanding circles, but still largely reactive. Persecution scatters believers. Circumstances push the gospel forward. God uses disruption to advance His purposes. But Acts 13 marks a shift from reaction to obedience. The church in Antioch does not move because it is forced to. It moves because it listens. That distinction matters more than we often realize.

Antioch itself is already a signal that something new is happening. This is not Jerusalem, with its deep religious roots and sacred memory. Antioch is diverse, busy, Roman, multilingual, and unapologetically Gentile. It is a city built on trade routes and cultural collision. The gospel has taken root here not as an extension of Jewish identity but as a living, breathing message that speaks across boundaries. The church in Antioch is a picture of what happens when faith grows in the middle of the real world rather than the safety of religious tradition.

Luke is careful to name the leaders of this church, and their diversity is impossible to miss. Barnabas, the encourager from Cyprus. Simeon called Niger, likely a Black African believer. Lucius of Cyrene, from North Africa. Manaen, who grew up in proximity to political power alongside Herod the tetrarch. And Saul, the former persecutor turned relentless witness. This is not a uniform leadership team. It is a mosaic. Different backgrounds, different life stories, different social locations, all worshiping together and listening for the same Spirit.

That detail alone deserves lingering reflection. Before the Spirit speaks about mission, Luke tells us what the church is doing. They are worshiping and fasting. Not strategizing. Not planning expansion. Not arguing theology. They are seeking God together. Their unity is not based on sameness but on shared surrender. This is one of the quiet truths of Acts 13: mission clarity grows best in communities that prioritize God’s presence over their own agendas.

The Spirit’s instruction is strikingly simple and deeply disruptive. “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” The Spirit does not explain the full plan. There is no map, no timeline, no guarantee of safety or success. The calling is clear, but the outcome is not. And the church responds not with hesitation, but with obedience. They fast again. They pray. They lay hands on them. And then they let them go.

Letting go is often the most costly act of faith. Barnabas and Saul are not expendable leaders. They are central figures. Sending them means the church will feel their absence. It means releasing control. It means trusting that God’s work does not depend on proximity or familiarity. Acts 13 teaches us that a church that refuses to send will eventually stop growing, even if it continues gathering.

Barnabas and Saul do not go alone in spirit, even though they physically depart. The church sends them, and in doing so, participates in their mission. This is not a story about lone heroes. It is about shared obedience. The Spirit sends, the church affirms, and the mission unfolds through human steps taken in trust.

Their journey begins in Cyprus, Barnabas’s home region, which already hints at God’s redemptive pattern. God often begins new chapters in familiar places, but never stays there. In Salamis, they proclaim the word of God in synagogues, starting where there is at least some shared framework. This has been Paul’s pattern and will continue to be. He does not reject Jewish heritage; he builds upon it. Yet Acts 13 will make clear that the gospel cannot be confined to any single audience.

As they move across the island to Paphos, the narrative introduces a confrontation that is more than personal conflict. Sergius Paulus, a Roman proconsul, is described as an intelligent man who wants to hear the word of God. This detail matters. He is not hostile. He is curious. He is open. But standing in the way is Elymas, also called Bar-Jesus, a sorcerer and false prophet. The irony of that name is not accidental. A man whose name means “son of Jesus” actively opposes the message of Jesus.

This is one of the recurring tensions in Acts: opposition does not always come from open enemies. Sometimes it comes from those who trade in spiritual language but resist truth. Elymas attempts to turn the proconsul away from the faith, and for the first time in Acts, Saul is explicitly called Paul. The shift in name aligns with a shift in role. Paul steps forward with authority, not his own, but Spirit-filled.

Paul’s rebuke is sharp, direct, and unsettling to modern ears. He calls Elymas a child of the devil, an enemy of righteousness, one who distorts the straight paths of the Lord. Then, under the Spirit’s power, Elymas is struck temporarily blind. This moment forces us to wrestle with a dimension of God we sometimes prefer to avoid. Grace does not eliminate judgment. Mercy does not negate truth. Acts 13 shows that the same Spirit who comforts also confronts.

The result is not fear but belief. Sergius Paulus comes to faith, astonished not merely by the miracle but by the teaching about the Lord. That phrase is important. The miracle points to the message, not the other way around. Power serves truth. Signs serve substance. The gospel does not rely on spectacle but on the revelation of who Jesus is.

From this point on, the narrative momentum accelerates. Paul emerges as the primary voice. The mission expands beyond Cyprus into Asia Minor. But not everyone who begins the journey finishes it. John Mark, who had accompanied them, leaves and returns to Jerusalem. Luke does not give us his reasons, and that ambiguity is intentional. Faith journeys include moments of withdrawal, confusion, and unmet expectations. Acts does not hide this reality. It records it without commentary, trusting readers to understand that not all calling looks the same at the same time.

When Paul and Barnabas arrive in Pisidian Antioch, Paul delivers one of the most significant sermons in Acts. It is a sweeping retelling of Israel’s history, not as nostalgia, but as revelation. Paul does not discard the story of Israel. He reframes it. God chose the ancestors. God delivered them from Egypt. God sustained them in the wilderness. God gave them judges and kings. And then, from David’s line, God brought Jesus.

This sermon is not a history lesson for its own sake. It is a theological argument rooted in continuity. Paul is saying, in effect, this is not a new religion. This is the fulfillment of an old promise. Jesus is not an interruption of God’s plan but its culmination. Forgiveness of sins and justification, Paul proclaims, come through Jesus in a way the law of Moses could never fully accomplish.

This is one of the most radical claims in the New Testament, and it is delivered inside a synagogue. Paul is not attacking Judaism; he is announcing completion. The law pointed forward. Jesus finishes the story. The warning Paul issues at the end of his sermon is sobering. Do not scoff. Do not dismiss what God is doing now. Familiarity with Scripture does not guarantee openness to fulfillment.

The response is mixed, as it often is. Some are intrigued and want to hear more. The following Sabbath, nearly the whole city gathers to hear the word of the Lord. This is where tension rises. The Jewish leaders see the crowds and become jealous. Opposition intensifies. The same message that draws outsiders unsettles insiders. Acts 13 does not sugarcoat this dynamic. When God’s grace expands, it often threatens existing power structures.

Paul and Barnabas respond with clarity and courage. They state plainly that the word of God had to be spoken first to the Jews. But since it is rejected, they turn to the Gentiles. This is not retaliation. It is obedience. They quote Scripture to justify this shift, declaring that God has made them a light to the Gentiles, bringing salvation to the ends of the earth.

The Gentiles rejoice. They glorify the word of the Lord. And Luke records one of the most hope-filled lines in Acts: all who were appointed for eternal life believed. The gospel spreads throughout the region, not because it is fashionable, but because it is true. Yet persecution follows. Paul and Barnabas are expelled from the region, and they respond not with bitterness, but by shaking the dust from their feet and moving on.

This action is not petty. It is prophetic. It signals accountability without hostility. It entrusts judgment to God and frees the messengers to continue their work. Acts 13 ends with the disciples filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit, even as opposition remains. That combination is one of the clearest signs of authentic faith. Joy that does not depend on comfort. Fulfillment that does not require acceptance.

Acts 13 teaches us that obedience is rarely safe, often misunderstood, and always transformative. It shows us a church that listens before it acts, leaders who submit before they speak, and a gospel that refuses to be contained by tradition or fear. This chapter is not merely historical. It is instructive. It asks uncomfortable questions of every generation of believers.

Are we willing to be a sending church, even when it costs us our best people? Are we willing to let the Spirit interrupt our routines? Are we willing to speak truth when it unsettles, and extend grace when it surprises? Acts 13 does not offer easy answers, but it does offer a clear invitation. Follow the Spirit. Trust the mission. Let go when God says send.

The story does not end here. It cannot. Once the church learns to release rather than retain, to obey rather than control, the gospel becomes unstoppable. Acts 13 is the moment when the church steps fully into that reality, and nothing is ever the same again.

Acts 13 does not simply describe the beginning of missionary journeys; it exposes the inner posture required to carry the gospel forward without distorting it. What emerges as the chapter continues is not a triumphalist narrative of unstoppable heroes, but a deeply human story of obedience marked by tension, rejection, resilience, and joy that does not depend on outcomes.

One of the most striking undercurrents in Acts 13 is how deliberately God disrupts expectations. The church in Antioch likely assumed that its future depended on keeping its strongest leaders close. Paul and Barnabas were teachers, anchors, stabilizers. Yet the Spirit insists on movement. This reveals a truth that challenges nearly every institutional instinct: God’s work expands through release, not retention. What feels like loss to us often becomes multiplication in God’s economy.

The sending of Paul and Barnabas also redefines what leadership looks like in the kingdom of God. They are not commissioned because they have mastered technique or strategy, but because they are already living lives of worship, fasting, and attentiveness. In Acts 13, calling does not precede faithfulness; it flows from it. The Spirit speaks into an already surrendered environment. That pattern has not changed. God still entrusts outward mission to those who have learned inward humility.

As Paul’s role becomes more prominent, Acts 13 subtly reframes authority. Paul does not seize leadership; it emerges as he responds faithfully to each situation. His confrontation with Elymas is not driven by ego or impatience but by discernment. His sermon in Pisidian Antioch is not rhetorical performance but theological clarity rooted in Scripture. His turning toward the Gentiles is not emotional retaliation but prophetic obedience. Authority in Acts is never self-generated. It is recognized through alignment with God’s purposes.

The sermon in Pisidian Antioch deserves further reflection because it reveals how Paul understands God’s story. Paul does not treat Israel’s history as a relic of the past or a burden to escape. He treats it as sacred groundwork. God chose. God led. God sustained. God promised. And God fulfilled. Jesus is not presented as an alternative to Israel’s story but as its climax. This approach honors God’s faithfulness across generations while refusing to freeze faith in a previous era.

Paul’s emphasis on forgiveness and justification is especially significant. He does not merely proclaim that sins are forgiven; he insists that through Jesus, believers are justified in a way the law could never accomplish. This is not an attack on the law but an honest assessment of its limits. The law reveals righteousness; it cannot create it. Acts 13 articulates one of the clearest transitions from covenantal obligation to covenantal grace, without dismissing either.

The mixed response to Paul’s message exposes another enduring reality: the gospel does not fail when it divides opinion. In fact, division often reveals where hearts truly stand. The jealousy of the religious leaders is not framed as theological disagreement but as resistance to losing control. The gospel threatens systems built on exclusivity. When grace expands beyond familiar boundaries, it unsettles those who have benefited from keeping it contained.

Paul and Barnabas respond to rejection with clarity rather than cruelty. Their declaration that they are turning to the Gentiles is not a rejection of Israel but an affirmation of God’s global promise. Scripture itself supports their move. God always intended His salvation to reach the nations. Acts 13 simply marks the moment when that intention becomes unmistakably central.

The joy of the Gentile believers stands in stark contrast to the hostility of those who oppose the message. Luke’s description is brief but powerful. They rejoice. They glorify the word of the Lord. Faith spreads. This joy is not shallow enthusiasm; it is the deep relief of people who finally hear that they are included in God’s story. Acts 13 reminds us that the gospel’s power is often most visible among those who never expected to be welcomed.

Persecution follows swiftly, as it often does when the gospel disrupts entrenched interests. Paul and Barnabas are expelled, not because they failed, but because their message succeeded. This inversion of success and rejection is one of the most challenging lessons in Acts. Faithfulness does not guarantee acceptance. Obedience does not ensure safety. But neither rejection nor suffering signals God’s absence.

The act of shaking the dust from their feet is a quiet act of trust. It releases resentment. It acknowledges responsibility without obsession. It leaves space for God to continue working beyond the missionaries’ presence. Acts 13 models a faith that knows when to stay and when to move on, when to speak and when to entrust the outcome to God.

The chapter ends with a phrase that deserves to linger in the soul: the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit. This joy exists alongside opposition, not after its removal. It is the joy of alignment, the peace of obedience, the quiet confidence that God’s purposes are advancing even when circumstances suggest otherwise.

Acts 13 reshapes how we understand success in the life of faith. Success is not measured by comfort, applause, or permanence. It is measured by obedience, clarity, and willingness to be sent. The church in Antioch succeeds not because it grows larger, but because it listens better. Paul and Barnabas succeed not because they avoid hardship, but because they follow the Spirit step by step.

This chapter also speaks directly to modern faith communities that wrestle with identity, relevance, and mission. Acts 13 does not call the church to chase culture or retreat from it. It calls the church to listen deeply, obey courageously, and trust that God is already at work beyond familiar boundaries. The gospel does not need protection; it needs witnesses who are willing to move.

At a personal level, Acts 13 confronts the question of surrender. What would it mean to let go of roles, routines, or relationships when the Spirit calls? What if faithfulness requires movement rather than stability? What if obedience means stepping into uncertainty without guarantees? Acts 13 does not promise clarity about outcomes, but it does promise the presence of the Holy Spirit along the way.

The courage to be sent is not reserved for apostles. It is a posture available to every believer. Sometimes being sent means crossing oceans. Sometimes it means crossing assumptions. Sometimes it means speaking truth in familiar spaces where it may no longer be welcomed. Acts 13 reminds us that God’s mission is not constrained by geography. It advances wherever obedience meets opportunity.

The story that begins in Antioch does not end there, and neither does its relevance. Acts 13 stands as a turning point not only in Scripture but in the ongoing life of the church. It marks the moment when faith decisively steps beyond its birthplace and into the world. That step required listening, releasing, confronting, enduring, and rejoicing all at once.

In every generation, the church must decide whether it will be a holding place or a sending place, a gatekeeper or a witness, a preserver of comfort or a participant in mission. Acts 13 offers no middle ground. The Spirit speaks. The church responds. The gospel moves. And the world is never the same.

That same invitation remains. Listen. Obey. Let go. And trust that God is already ahead of you.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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👋 👀👂✌️

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Hello hello

I have got a big heart and it’s not made of steel, like in this expertly written track by Manowar, named ”Heart of Steel“,

I listen to that one a lot, when facing hardships, I too feel like a comet. I too burn the bridge behind me, because there are things worse than death.

I think.

Always one more try!

And the falling snow, indeed will always melt, even though sometimes it takes a long time,

This song lyrics are very accessible for youth and adults alike, indeed the old sometimes forget that they have strayed from their paths somewhere long ago,

And sometimes some of them don’t remember who they once were meant to be.

But that’s not passing judgement, life can grind HARD! Sometimes a battery of circumstances can propel anyone into space or down into a very deep well, so much that the exit seems smaller than a star. And that’s not something I can judge people for, laying as I do, on the yellow sofa.

However, it’s never to late to do the right thing. Even Jesus says so.

Like in this text, it’s not about succeeding, it’s about perseverance. To not give up! It’s all we got?!

But yes! Staying true to the ideal is no easy task.

It requires a heart of steel

I think I have such a heart after all

I must believe I do

When the disciples finally asked Jesus to teach them how to pray, they were not asking out of curiosity. They were asking out of necessity. They had been with Him long enough to recognize a pattern that could not be ignored. Every time Jesus prayed, something shifted. Not just circumstances, but atmosphere. Not just outcomes, but people. There was a steadiness to Him that did not come from temperament or training. There was a clarity in Him that did not come from education alone. And the disciples, many of whom had spent their lives around religious activity, realized they were watching something altogether different. This was not prayer as performance. This was prayer as oxygen.

They did not ask Him how to preach. They did not ask Him how to heal or teach or draw crowds. They asked Him how to pray, because they understood instinctively that prayer was the source. Everything else flowed from that place. They had watched Him withdraw from noise and return with authority. They had watched Him step away from chaos and come back centered. They had watched Him pray before the hardest moments and endure them without losing Himself. And so they asked the most honest question a human being can ask another: how do You stay connected like that?

The Lord’s Prayer was His answer, but it was not a script meant to be memorized and repeated without thought. It was a window into how Jesus Himself related to God. To understand why Jesus taught prayer this way, we have to ask a deeper question first. Where did He learn to pray like this?

Jesus was born into a world already saturated with prayer. He grew up hearing Scripture read aloud. He learned the Psalms not as poetry but as survival language. He knew the ancient prayers of Israel, the blessings spoken over bread, the words whispered at sunrise and sunset. He knew the language of reverence, of awe, of dependence. But Jesus did not merely inherit a prayer tradition. He inhabited it. And then He transformed it.

The prayers of Israel were rich, expansive, and deeply reverent, but for many people they had also become distant. Formal. Carefully measured. Prayer could feel like something you offered upward rather than something you entered into. Jesus did not discard those prayers. He fulfilled them. He drew them inward. He stripped them down to their essential truth and rebuilt them around relationship.

That is why the Lord’s Prayer begins where it does. Not with demand. Not with confession. Not even with need. It begins with identity.

“Our Father.”

Those two words alone reveal more about the heart of Jesus than volumes of theology. Jesus does not begin prayer by reminding us how small we are. He begins by reminding us how held we are. He does not ask us to approach God as beggars hoping to be tolerated. He invites us to approach God as children who belong.

This was not common language. It was not casual or careless. It was intimate in a way that unsettled people. Jesus spoke to God with the closeness of a son who trusted completely, and He invited His followers into that same relationship. Prayer, He taught, begins not with fear but with trust. Not with distance but with closeness.

Jesus learned this posture not from books alone, but from lived communion. Again and again, the Gospels tell us that He withdrew to lonely places to pray. Not because He was weak, but because He understood that intimacy with God was not automatic. It was cultivated. Prayer was where He aligned Himself with the Father before He engaged the world.

When Jesus taught His disciples to pray “Our Father,” He was teaching them where to stand. He was giving them a starting place that would anchor them no matter what came next. Because if prayer does not begin with relationship, it quickly turns into transaction. And Jesus refused to teach prayer as a transaction.

He continues, “who is in heaven.” This is not about distance. It is about perspective. Jesus reminds us that God is not trapped inside our circumstances. Heaven is not a far-off place so much as a higher vantage point. Prayer begins when we lift our eyes beyond what is immediately visible and remember that God sees more than we do.

Then Jesus says, “Hallowed be Your name.”

This is not flattery. It is recalibration. To hallow something is to recognize its weight, its holiness, its significance. Jesus teaches us to pause before we ask for anything and remember who God is. In a world that constantly pulls our attention toward ourselves, this line gently but firmly reorients us. Prayer is not about enlarging our desires; it is about realigning them.

Jesus knew how quickly fear can take over when life feels uncertain. He knew how easily we reduce God to the size of our problems. So He teaches us to begin prayer by lifting God back to His rightful place. Not because God needs the reminder, but because we do.

Only after establishing identity and perspective does Jesus move into purpose. “Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

This is one of the most misunderstood lines in prayer. Many hear it as passive resignation, as though we are asking God to override our lives. But Jesus is doing something far more profound. He is inviting us to participate in God’s work. This is not about surrendering agency. It is about aligning it.

Jesus lived His entire life under this prayer. Every choice He made flowed from a desire to bring heaven’s values into earthly reality. Compassion where there was exclusion. Mercy where there was judgment. Truth where there was hypocrisy. When He teaches us to pray for God’s kingdom to come, He is teaching us to become people through whom that kingdom is expressed.

Prayer, in this sense, is not escape. It is engagement. It is not about withdrawing from the world; it is about being transformed so that we can live in it differently. Jesus chose this structure because He understood that prayer shapes vision before it shapes outcomes.

Then He brings the prayer into the most ordinary territory imaginable. “Give us this day our daily bread.”

This line is deceptively simple. It is also deeply challenging. Jesus does not teach us to pray for abundance or security or certainty. He teaches us to pray for enough. Enough for today. Enough to keep going. Enough to trust that tomorrow will also be met.

Jesus knew the human tendency to live either in regret over yesterday or fear of tomorrow. Daily bread pulls us back into the present. It teaches us that faith is lived one day at a time. Dependence is not a failure of spirituality; it is the foundation of it.

In teaching this line, Jesus echoes the story of manna in the wilderness, where God provided daily provision that could not be stored or controlled. The lesson was not about scarcity. It was about trust. Jesus chose this imagery because He knew that learning to rely on God daily reshapes the soul.

Prayer, He teaches, is not about securing guarantees. It is about cultivating trust.

As the prayer continues, Jesus turns toward the inner life. “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.”

This is not a casual addition. It is central. Jesus understood that unresolved guilt and unhealed resentment distort everything. They cloud our relationship with God and fracture our relationships with others. Forgiveness, in the teaching of Jesus, is not a spiritual add-on. It is a necessity.

By linking our reception of forgiveness with our extension of it, Jesus reveals a hard truth: grace is meant to move. When it stagnates, it becomes corrosive. Prayer is not only about being cleansed; it is about being released. Released from what we have done, and from what has been done to us.

Jesus knew that many people would try to pray while carrying bitterness. He knew how heavy that weight becomes over time. So He placed forgiveness at the heart of prayer, not to burden us, but to free us.

Then, finally, Jesus acknowledges what so many prayers avoid. “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

This is not pessimism. It is realism. Jesus does not pretend that life is safe or that faith removes struggle. He teaches us to ask for guidance before we wander, strength before we fall, and rescue before darkness overwhelms us.

Jesus Himself prayed this way. In moments of pressure and pain, He did not deny fear. He entrusted it to the Father. And in teaching His disciples to pray this line, He gives them permission to be honest. Honest about weakness. Honest about danger. Honest about their need for help.

The Lord’s Prayer, taken as a whole, is not a formula for religious success. It is a map for a grounded life. It moves from relationship to reverence, from alignment to dependence, from forgiveness to protection. It reflects the way Jesus Himself lived.

And that is why He taught it this way.

In the next part, we will step deeper into how this prayer reshapes the inner life over time, why it has endured across centuries, and what happens when we stop reciting it and begin living it.

If the Lord’s Prayer were only meant to be recited, it would not have survived the centuries the way it has. Words alone do not endure like this. What lasts is formation. What lasts is truth that reshapes the inner life slowly, quietly, faithfully. Jesus did not give His disciples a prayer to admire. He gave them a prayer to inhabit. And when this prayer is lived rather than rushed, it begins to do something subtle but profound to the person who prays it.

The Lord’s Prayer trains the soul to move in a certain direction. Over time, it teaches us how to stand in the world without being consumed by it. It reorders priorities. It softens hard places. It builds steadiness where anxiety once lived. This is why Jesus chose to teach prayer this way. He knew that what we repeat regularly does not just pass through us; it forms us.

One of the quiet powers of this prayer is its balance. It holds together both intimacy and awe. It reminds us that God is close enough to call Father, but holy enough to be revered. Many people lose one side or the other. Some approach God casually but lose reverence. Others approach God with reverence but lose closeness. Jesus refuses to let us choose. He teaches a prayer that holds both at once. Relationship without reverence becomes shallow. Reverence without relationship becomes cold. Prayer, Jesus teaches, must contain both if it is to sustain us.

Over time, praying this way retrains how we see ourselves. Beginning with “Our Father” slowly loosens the grip of isolation. You are reminded again and again that you are not alone. That your life is not carried by your own strength alone. That you belong to something larger than your fear or your failure. This is not emotional comfort; it is spiritual grounding. The world tells us we must earn belonging. Jesus teaches us to begin prayer from a place of already being claimed.

As the prayer moves into “Your kingdom come, Your will be done,” something else begins to happen internally. We start to loosen our grip on control. This does not happen all at once. It happens through repetition, through daily surrender, through the quiet reorientation of the heart. Over time, the prayer teaches us to ask a different question. Instead of “How can I make this work?” we begin to ask, “What is God already doing here?” That shift changes how we face decisions, conflict, and uncertainty.

Living this prayer does not make life easier. It makes it clearer. It teaches us to recognize where we are resisting God’s work and where we are invited to participate in it. It forms humility, not as weakness, but as strength grounded in trust.

The daily bread portion of the prayer continues this reshaping. When prayed honestly, it confronts our obsession with security. It calls out our tendency to live five steps ahead of the present moment. Over time, it teaches us how to live within the limits of today without fear. This does not mean ignoring responsibility or planning. It means learning to trust that God meets us in the ordinary rhythms of life, not just in extraordinary moments.

Many people struggle with faith not because they lack belief, but because they are exhausted from trying to manage everything themselves. Daily bread prayer gently dismantles that burden. It reminds us that provision is relational, not transactional. That trust grows through consistency, not control.

Forgiveness, placed where it is in the prayer, continues the inner work. It exposes the places we hold onto resentment because letting go feels risky. Over time, praying forgiveness reshapes our understanding of justice and mercy. We begin to see how deeply connected our inner freedom is to our willingness to release others. Jesus did not include this line to shame us. He included it because He knew that unforgiveness chains us to the past.

Living this prayer teaches us that forgiveness is not denial of harm, but refusal to let harm define us. It becomes an ongoing practice rather than a one-time decision. And slowly, often without fanfare, the heart begins to lighten.

The final line about temptation and deliverance completes the formation. It teaches vigilance without paranoia. Dependence without fear. Honesty without despair. When we pray this regularly, we learn to recognize our limits without shame. We learn that asking for help is not spiritual failure. It is spiritual maturity.

Jesus chose to teach prayer this way because He knew that life would test His followers. They would face fear, confusion, persecution, disappointment, and doubt. He did not promise them an escape. He gave them a way to remain anchored. The Lord’s Prayer is not protection from hardship; it is preparation for it.

And perhaps most importantly, this prayer teaches us to pray together. The language is communal from beginning to end. Our Father. Give us. Forgive us. Lead us. Deliver us. Jesus never frames prayer as a solitary self-improvement exercise. Even when prayed alone, it reminds us that faith is lived in community. That our lives are intertwined. That what shapes us individually also shapes the people around us.

This is why the Lord’s Prayer has endured across cultures, languages, and centuries. It speaks to something universal in the human experience: the need for belonging, meaning, forgiveness, provision, guidance, and hope. It is not bound to a single moment in history because it addresses what it means to be human in every age.

When Jesus taught this prayer, He was not only responding to a question. He was passing on a way of life. He was inviting His disciples into the same rhythm that sustained Him. A rhythm of trust. Of surrender. Of daily return to God.

When we pray this prayer slowly, thoughtfully, honestly, we begin to notice something subtle. We become calmer. More patient. Less reactive. More aware of God’s presence in ordinary moments. This is not because the words are magical. It is because the prayer is formative. It trains us to live from a different center.

Jesus learned prayer through communion with the Father, through Scripture, through solitude, and through obedience. He taught it through simplicity, not because it was shallow, but because it was deep enough to carry a lifetime. The Lord’s Prayer does not give us everything we want. It gives us what we need to remain faithful.

And that is why Jesus chose this prayer. Not to impress us. Not to overwhelm us. But to steady us. To remind us who God is. To remind us who we are. And to teach us how to live between heaven and earth without losing our way.

When you pray the way Jesus taught, you are not merely repeating ancient words. You are stepping into a rhythm that has carried countless lives through joy and grief, certainty and doubt, peace and struggle. You are learning to live grounded in trust rather than fear.

This is why the prayer still works.

This is why it still speaks.

And this is why Jesus taught it—not as something to memorize, but as something to become.

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube

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Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

I thought I'd start a weekly post to try and get into a rhythm with putting stuff out there again. I only managed to write one post in 2025, even though at the end of 2024 I set a new year's resolution to share more. Let's pretend 2025 didn't happen, and I actually do manage to share more thoughts in 2026.

What I've been reading this week

I'm currently reading at least four books in parallel:

• How Life Works by Philip Ball
• Introduction to biotechnology by William J. Thieman
• The PARA Method by Tiago Forte
• Behemoth by Joshua B. Freeman

Reading the first two books in parallel is actually quite fun. How Life Works is a narrative of what we know about biology and DNA, and it's a nice contrast to the textbook style of Introduction to Biotechnology that just describes everything matter-of-factly. Philip Ball was an editor the journal Nature for over twenty years, so when he describes things like introns you get to learn how we came to know they exist and how much exactly we know about them, instead of just seeing them annotated in a figure with a short explanation. I even learned that there is a Star Trek TNG episode called Genesis (Season 7, Episode 19) where crew members have their introns activated at random, causing them to devolve.

The PARA Method is a way of organizing digital information by Tiago Forte, the same guy who wrote Building a Second Brain. It's a short read, and I hope to be able to apply the methods in the book successfully. Something from the book that I found insightful is that it takes time and effort to make private notes shareable. Without adding context and additional definitions, private notes won't make much sense for others. For that reason, it makes most sense to put it the time and effort to share your notes when they're about something you're working on collaboratively with others.

Behemoth is about manufacturing, and it's taking me a while to get through it. I've thought about just abandoning it a couple of times, but every time I read from it I do feel like I'm learning something.

Highlights from this week

And with that I don't necessarily mean personal highlights, but things I've highlighted in articles or books I've read.

From How I rebooted my social life:

If I wanted a community, then I could build it myself. I mean, in principle, it shouldn’t be too hard to do. Community has been the foundation of all of human society since the dawn of our species, so the playbook for how to build one had already been figured out. I think it boils down to a few key ingredients: a community needs a common connection or interest. It needs a place for people to interact informally. And it needs a mechanism for new people to join, to prevent it from decaying over time.

From The Punk Rock Good Life:

Reading books before bed serves me. Doomscrolling doesn’t. Cooking hearty, protein-rich, simple meals serves me. Doomscrolling doesn’t. Buying new stuff rarely serves me, while repurposing old stuff or making my own stuff generally does.

Thoughts

I don't know if anyone else would find these writings useful. I'm not really planning on starting a newsletter – I just want a place to record what I'm doing, and do so publicly so that I'm forced to make it somewhat coherent. If there's ways you think I can improve, let me know in the comments!

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, Titi. This week's subjects: 2026 Trends to expect in West Africa. Part 2, Waist Beads: More Than Just Jewelry, HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus), and Breakfast to Breakfast (B2B)

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2026 Trends to expect in West Africa. Part 2. 2026 in West Africa is all about pride, innovation, and self-expression. Whether you're stepping into the boardroom in a neo-Ankara suit or strolling through Osu, Victoria Island, or Plateau in breezy resort wear, one thing is clear: West Africa is ready to serve looks that speak boldly, culturally, and globally. Ready to create the next trend? The year is yours. The “Sustainable but Stylish” Revolution Eco-conscious fashion is no longer niche. In 2026, expect: Upcycled denim with patchwork artistry. Jute and kenaf fabrics reimagined for chic tailoring. Plant-dyed textiles. Circular fashion markets expanding across Accra, Lagos, and Abidjan. West Africans are embracing sustainability — but still slaying. Metallic Moments & Futuristic Glam: Nightlife fashion is stepping into the future. Think liquid metallic dresses, chrome-detail agbadas, iridescent mesh overlays, and holographic mini-bags. When the sun sets, West Africa is turning up the shine. Afro-Minimalism Rising: After years of maximalism, a calm wave is coming. Expect clean silhouettes, earthy tones, simple gold jewellery, and architectural garments inspired by modern African art. Afro-minimalism is for the chic, subtle, well-curated dresser. Streetwear with Heritage: West African streetwear is absorbing cultural inspo like never before — adinkra symbols, Fulani shapes, Tuareg indigo traditions, northern embroidery motifs, Ga prints, Yoruba bead colour codes. Young creatives are blending heritage and hype to produce streetwear that’s cultural, cool, and ready for global runways. Beauty Trends: Soft Glow + Bold Statements 2026 beauty in West Africa brings: Glass-skin-inspired melanin glow Chrome eyelids Brown ombré lips Sculptural braids and Fulani-inspired cornrows Ultra-short natural cuts Henna artistry returns in mainstream fashion. Community-Driven Fashion: Expect more fashion pop-ups, mobile ateliers, and community design collectives. West Africa’s fashion scene is becoming more collaborative, accessible, and youth-driven — and 2026 will be its most exciting year yet.

Waist Beads: More Than Just Jewelry. Waist beads are more than decorative accessories; they carry deep cultural, emotional and personal meaning for many women. Rooted in African traditions, they symbolize femininity, sensuality, protection, and self-awareness. But in this generation, ladies like to expose the waist beads by wearing it on their tummy, under a cropped top for others to see. What is really the right way to wear a waist bead? The right way to wear waist beads is to allow them to rest naturally on the waist or hips without squeezing the body or causing discomfort. They are traditionally worn directly on bare skin, hidden under clothing, so they move freely with the posture and body changes. We were made to believe that these waist beads helps give nice body shapes. How true is that? For some yes, and for some no. Some women choose fitted waist bead to help track weight fluctuations, while others prefer loose styles for comfort and self-expression. However they are worn, waist beads serve as a quiet reminder to honor the female body, embrace confidence, and celebrate beauty in its natural form.

HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus) is a virus that attacks the immune system, the part of your body that fights sickness. If it's not treated, it can make your body very weak. HIV spreads through certain body fluids like blood, semen, vaginal fluids, rectal fluids and breast milk. This can happen through unprotected sex, sharing needles, or from a mother to her baby during pregnancy, birth or breastfeeding. At first, some people might feel like they have the flu, with fever, tiredness or body pain but many don't notice any symptoms for years. If HIV is not treated, it can turn into AIDS, which is when the immune system becomes very weak and serious infections can happen easily. There's no cure yet, but treatment called ART (antiretroviral therapy) can control the virus, keep people healthy and reduce the chance of passing it to others. You can protect yourself by using condoms, not sharing needles, getting tested regularly and taking PrEP (Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis) if you are at a high risk.

Breakfast to Breakfast (B2B), 6th Street off Osu Oxford Street, Accra. I recently ate at Breakfast to Breakfast at Osu and it was great. I had their Full English Breakfast with eggs, bacon, sausage, grilled tomatoes and toast. It was filling, tasty and cooked just right. They really blend breakfast with lunch and with snack options, so you can go there any time of day for different kinds of food, from pizza and wraps to wings and fresh juices. The menu is more diverse and good for breakfast, lunch or a casual dinner. The staff were friendly, the atmosphere was relaxed and the prices were fair. I'd definitely go back for another breakfast or late-night bite!

Lydia...

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Ignition in the darkness bleeds light.

There is a knowing that that cannot be spoken— only entered.

Quietly crossed rubicon. Impossible distance, Collapsed to acceptance.

In a fantasy, resistance faltered And heat pressed in soft places Want squeezing in, naming voids.

Now; this life feels bound, in stasis years held, Ache pressing ache, without pretense.

Upon a time, tomorrow was lived for glory deferred, Endings promised by heaven.

Sunrise 'pon sunrise hopes: Your breath, Your nearness, Your sight,

smallest of proofs of life.

I am undone by you, Fears fulfilled Pull named in earnest.

And still, I remain. I want.

So we have just celebrated the New Year and I'm now trying to get a great setup for work.

Last year I gradually moved away from Obsidian, which had been my primary solution for managing knowledge. The main reason was the difficulty of using it across multiple devices. Their sync service was inefficient to handle conflicts and missing files, which occurred due to a security strategy of keeping my vault inside a VeraCrypt encrypted volume. Git Plugin was a great syncing alternative and presented no problem to me since I'm a power user but I ran into a serious limitations when trying to replicate the same secure setup on Android. As I couldn't install and use git properly in my smartphone along with encrypted volumes, I concluded that my Personal Knowledge Manager (PKM) should run as a web service.

I tried running Obsidian in a container using unofficial web server deployments, but the setup was fragile. Logseq was another option I had known for some time but they switched their storage strategy from a file-based system to a database, which doesn't fit my preference of using git and IDE to manage my content.

At the end of December, while searching for info about web access on the Obsidian Forum, I discovered Silver Bullet through a user suggestion. At first it seemed incomplete compared to Obsidian, but after taking a deeper look I realized it currently aligns better with what I expect from a PKM.

Silver Bullet Strong Points:

• Built as a Web Service and Container-friendly, was very easy to run
• Handles authentication, providing a necessary layer of security for those who want to access their deployment through the Internet
• Native query language, opposed to Obsidian that needs plugins to do so
• Fully Open Souce Software (FOSS)

It shares other functionalities that Obsidian have:

• a file based storage layer, which is very friendly to manage the same way as we do with code
• Extensible through addons (called plugs by the Silver Bullet Community)
• WYSIWYG live preview page while editing

Some functionality that currently I couldn't find yet on Silver Bullet

• Publishing options and how they could be managed within the app.
• A Notion database strategy to handle tables was recently implemented in Obsidian as Bases, I‘m not sure whether Silver Bullet has something similar implemented or if it’s on their Roadmap.
• In Obsidian, I had to use a lot of scripting to achieve a native behavior in Logseq which is to automatically aggregate content related to a page inside the page (i.e., pages with dynamic content loading). This seems to be a tracked feature because of this ongoing discussion

Well.. regarding to publishing, Today I discovered Write.as service and it matches what I’m looking for: simpler, clean pages with less distraction or intrusion. This aligns with my core values.

So this new year begins with some new cool tools to test. And it's only January 2nd!

Let's see what more will be uncovered to us in the next chapter.

Bye! Best Regards!

Endurance is not the same as living.

Written in moments of existential crisis just before dawn on a cold winter Thursday while I am living the dream of a lifetime by rooting in Madrid for a month. Proof that our state of mind and our state of being are often disconnected.

—

We all live with something. None are whole. It is the great tragedy of our times that we can only see the outside, while the whole of existence generates in the unseen. Everyone hides somewhere. Under the rock of achievement, or in the cave of inebriation, wrapped in the blanket of transitory relationships, possibly under the rug of a creative life—or worst of all, tenacious progress through accepting things that should change. That need to.

Wolf? A lifetime lived in pain, punctuated by moments of anesthesia—brief mercies that soothe the scared little boy pulling strings from inside this aging hulk. The body greys, wrinkles, loosens its grip. It breaks down honestly. But the masters of fear do not age. Infinite creatures, they who refine—grow sharper, more intimate, more convincing.

The scared boy in me never stopped working. He learned early that survival meant vigilance, that relief came only in flashes: desire, touch, meaning, feeling useful. Not healing—just enough quiet to keep breathing. Keep spinning the wheel. So he stayed at the controls long past the point of reason, long past the point of strength.

Now the fears, honed to a razors edge, speak softly. They sound like wisdom. They say this is what a life amounts to: endurance, longing, small anesthetics against a vast ache. They insist there was never another way.

We cannot avoid this. Only go through it. How we hold ourselves is the only power we have against the scared marionette. I don't know if we can cut the strings and set the boy free—that feels like an impossible effort. Some lucky few, find the right key to their own lock. A soul who can open them, see us objectively and, honestly, tell us that we're okay.

If you find that rareness, and it is exceedingly rare, hold on. Trust it. Reciprocate. We are too hurried in our lives to take the time we need to find the keys to our locks and so we quickly align with the wrong key, or even other locks. Injustice of the worst kind: chosen and abided because that is the way.

But, do not despair, little bird. If you shroud your darkness, your fear under the comfort of little anesthesia's, life is not over. Just more difficult than it need be.

Sometimes—rarely—there is a moment of seeing. The strings. The hands that pull them. The difference between pain and identity. In that moment, the boy pauses. The body breathes. And the future, for just an instant, is not foreclosed—only unnamed.

Remember those moments. Our futures are not what we fear, what we carry. They are what we shape. Work to shape them in the light.

---

Thirty long winters tilling the fields— blackrime hands, raw and crooked, eyes set in hoarfrost, mouth grim: one more row.

Bent, elbow-deep, blind to the ebonblack sun slipping upward into a charcoal sky, a darker shadow, a blinding light: one more row.

Dove-grey soil under hand, warmed, releases a long sigh and up rises one palegreen sprout: ah.

Thirty more winters for the black sun to rise, melt eyefrost, and bring her flower to bear.

One more row.

Another year, but not like those of the past. This one was focused on my present, and future.

Admittedly, I sometimes feel a weird pressure when it comes to these “year end” posts. On one hand, I don't want to write just a few paragraphs, otherwise my life seems pretty boring, right? On the other hand, I don't want it to feel like a forced homework assignment.

But, in the end, I do like reflecting on some of the bigger things that have happened in the year. So with that, here are some highlights from my year.

Professional Break

At the beginning of the year, I had a very active coaching practice. There were many parts that I enjoyed, mostly, the people. It was also fun to think creatively and help them with some big wins.

Some of my achievements from coaching include doubling the revenue of several clients in just one year, coaching a client to $20K in a single day with a simple tactic, and helping another to a 7-figure buyout.

But in the end, I sort of burnt myself out from coaching, and I wanted to focus on my personal health and well-being without the pressures that come with a service-oriented business. So, I closed up shop to take an entrepreneurial sabbatical.

Adjusting to My New Reality

On the surface, not doing anything seems like it would be easy. However, it's quite the opposite. Initially, I struggled with the idle time. It took a little while for me to finally quiet and control my mind and to not feel a constant sense of urgency.

Today, I enjoy this new pace of life. I'm focusing on my health with sustainable exercise and physical therapy for nagging injuries.

One of the things I've started to do is post regularly on LinkedIn. I've enjoyed that, as it has given me a chance to explore my original entrepreneurial passion: elearning.

I get sometimes asked if I'm planning a “return” to that space. I don't know if I'm honest, but I'm open to it. And to clarify, it would be in elearning, not WordPress.

Personal Side of Things

The beginning of 2025 was front-loaded with trips, but even after those were over, we still managed to stay busy with visits from family during the second half of the year. In addition to coming and going, there were other little noteworthy events in my personal life as well.

• I started the year by mostly abandoning my Twitter account. Twitter was a big part of my past, but I decided it best to move on. I've pivoted mostly to LinkedIn for business and Mastodon for occasional personal posts.

• In February, I turned 40. I'm so grateful that I have made it this far, as many aren't so lucky.

• We finally sold our home after 10 long (and stressful) months.

• We moved to a new area and into our new home. It took a year, but we finally finished all the initial design projects.

• We took a trip to Sedona which turned out to be quite enlightening. I reflect upon this trip often.

• Shortly after Sedona, we went to Mexico for a week. It was nice, but unfortunately we came back with a awful bout of COVID (our first time getting it).

• We celebrated four years of marriage.

• I made the adult decision to end my time with BJJ after constantly battling injuries. That was harder than I thought. I never could get going with it, if I'm honest.

• We went to Hawaii for two-weeks. It was absolutely incredible. We embraced nature and each other. It was probably the best vacation we have taken as a couple. We plan to make a return.

• I wrote the most important blog post I've ever written regarding the relationship between alcohol and entrepreneurship.

• I was a guest lecturer at my alma mater.

• Over the summer and fall, we hosted a lot of family. My sister-in-law and her boyfriend came for a summer trip, my parents and in-laws each came twice, and Lorena's entire family came for the holidays.

Overall, there were plenty of laughs and intimate memories that I cherished the past year. Of course, I enjoy the big events, but I really appreciate the life that happens in small moments, because that is where life is lived the most.

2026 Will Be Life Changing

I'm not big on making predictions, and I've sort of gotten away from making formal resolutions, but I know that this year will be a monumental year for us.

I was bad at documenting everything from this year, especially in the second half of the year. I took a step back from everything and focused inward.

But that will change a bit in 2026, I'm sure of it!

#personal

Le petit cabaret des morts est le septième roman appartenant au cycle romanesque Le Rêve du Démiurge de Francis Berthelot.

Eté 1988. À Viervy, petite ville des Alpes, Yorenn et Romain Algeiba, sœur et frère acrobates, se vouent une passion excessive ... À Viervy, lieu de heurt du monde réel et de l’au-delà, vit Alvar Cuervos, fils d’un démon et d’une bohémienne, assistant du secret docteur Malejour. À Viervy, l’amour qui naît entre Alvar et Yorenn, opposés à tout point de vue, engendre le drame : la jalousie destructrice de Romain, le délire de Malejour aveuglé par science et pouvoir, la duplicité d’Alvar, les violences de Yorenn déchirée entre des idéaux contraires, tout se ligue contre eux — et d’abord eux-mêmes. À Viervy, les âmes des morts sont l’enjeu du conflit qui divise les vivants. La guerre s’installe, tributaire des passions des uns et des autres. À Viervy, le merveilleux spectacle qu’Alvar monte dans son Petit Cabaret ne livre rien au public du drame qui se joue en coulisse. Combat des vivants contre les vivants, des vivants contre les morts, des morts contre les morts, l’affrontement finit par s’étendre aux forces telluriques ...

Jusqu’ici, les premiers romans du cycle pouvaient quasiment se lire de façon indépendante. On retrouvait des personnages d’un livre à l’autre, tel personnage principal d’un roman pouvant apparaître dans un rôle secondaire dans un autre roman, ou inversement, mais chaque livre contenait un récit autonome, sans que l’on soit contraint de lire les précédents pour l’apprécier.

Avec ce septième roman du cycle, c’est moins vrai. Le petit cabaret des mots se présente plus clairement comme la continuité de Hadès Palace. On retrouve à la fois des personnages et des éléments d’intrigue du roman précédent, et il me parait difficile de profiter pleinement de celui-ci sans avoir lu son prédécesseur.

À mes yeux, ce roman entame une convergence entre les différents personnages et les diverses lignes narratives des romans précédents, comme si tout était plus ou moins lié d’une façon ou d’une autre. Je ne sais pas si mon impression est la bonne et si elle se confirmera dans les deux derniers romans du cycle, les prochains jours le diront.

Je dois tout de même dire que j’ai été un peu déçu par ce roman. Ce n’est pas mauvais, on retrouve tout de même le style à la fois onirique et puissant de Francis Berthelot, mais le récit m’a parfois semblé partir un peu dans tous les sens. Finalement, j’ai l’impression que c’est le roman dont j’ai le moins apprécié la lecture depuis le début du cycle. Je suis serein sur le fait que ce n’est qu’un petit passage à vide et que je vais retrouver mon enthousiasme dès que le prochain roman.

#gyushuahighschool

Ditinggalkan begitu saja tanpa penjelasan lebih, Mingyu sebagai si dewasa lah yang terpaksa mengambil alih. “Ah...sekarang kita ke kelas dulu aja ya?” meski dengan hati agak berat, dia tersenyum. Separuh kasihan, separuhnya masih ngang-ngong-ngang-ngong akan kejadian barusan. Bisa-bisanya kakaknya mendadak menaruh tanggung jawab begini besar ke pundak Mingyu di hari Senin yang cerah ini.

Anak bernama Joshua itu pun mengangguk. Bersamaan dengan rombongan guru lainnya, mereka melintasi koridor sekolah yang telah sepi. Para murid telah berada di kelas masing-masing dan menanti kedatangan guru mereka. Mingyu dan Joshua berjalan dalam diam. Lembut sinar mentari membanjiri lantai yang mereka pijak, ditemani bunyi sepatu menapak satu langkah demi satu langkah. Sebuah keheningan yang, secara absurd, bisa dibilang nyaman.

“Kamu di negara ini sendirian?”

Joshua mengangguk.

“Apa nggak apa-apa? Maksud saya, apa orangtuamu—”

“Orangtuaku udah nggak ada, Sen,” potong si anak. Intonasinya tetap tenang seperti sebelumnya. “Sen nggak usah cemas. Aku udah biasa sendirian. Kalo Sen keganggu dan mau aku tinggal di luar sebenernya nggak apa-apa sih. Tadi aku mikirin duitnya aja. Cuma kata Choi-sen sekolah mau bayarin, so...”

Kalimatnya terputus. Pas Joshua menoleh, dilihatnya Mingyu sudah memandanginya dengan ketidak setujuan terpampang jelas di mata. “Saya bukannya keganggu. Sama sekali bukan. Maaf sudah berasumsi seenaknya. Saya nggak ada maksud menyinggung atau apa,” tatapnya serius, menegaskan bahwa ucapannya tulus. Joshua rasanya pingin mendengus geli. “Kalo begitu keadaannya, oke, saya yang akan jadi keluarga kamu di sini.”

GREK!

Pintu geser terbuka. Mereka sudah sampai di ambang pintu kelas. Mingyu sontak melontarkan selayang pandang ke anak-anak muridnya yang buru-buru kembali ke tempat duduknya masing-masing. “Kwon Soonyoung! Balik ke meja kamu sekarang!” ancamnya sambil bercanda, yang dibalas anak itu dengan cengiran jahil. Dia melangkah masuk, sama sekali nggak sadar kalau Joshua masih memandanginya dengan bola mata melebar dan pipi bersemu.

...Sen tadi bilang apa? batin si anak. Meski begitu, dia segera menggeleng membuang pemikirannya barusan. Kim-sen pasti nggak ada maksud selain bantuin dirinya saja. Pasti. Dia pun ikut melangkah masuk.

Setelah menulis namanya di papan tulis menggunakan kapur—baik nama asli maupun nama panggilannya—Joshua tersenyum pada semua orang di situ. Auranya penuh dengan kepercayaan diri. “Hi, guys! Namaku Hong Jisoo, tapi panggil aja Joshua. Aku di negara ini nggak kenal siapa-siapa, jadi kalo kalian semua bisa jadi temen pertamaku, kayaknya aku bakal seneng banget,” cengirannya lebar. “Oh iya, jujur aku nggak begitu tau budaya ato kebiasaan di sini. Kalo aku ada salah ngomong ato berbuat yang nggak wajar menurut kalian, plis kasih tau ya. Jangan dibully juga akunya, hatiku rapuh hiks.” Sambil pura-pura mengusap air mata nggak kasat mata, dia memancing gelak tawa dari seisi kelas.

“Iya, tenang aja, Joshi, ntar kita bully kok!” lantang seseorang menyeloroh. Orang itu berpipi bulat dan bermata sipit. “Eh nggak apa kan gue panggil Joshi?”

Joshua, ikut terkekeh, menjawab, “ Santai. Asal nggak dipanggil 'Sayang' mah aman. But I can think about it after a dinner date and a forehead kiss.” Dikedipkannya satu mata dan anak lelaki itu tertawa makin kencang.

“Baik, baik,” Mingyu mencoba menenangkan keriuhan yang mulai meluas. “Tolong dibantu ya teman barunya, anak-anak. Untuk bangku, sepertinya sebelah Soonyoung...”

“Sini! Di sini aja, Sen!” anak yang sama mengangkat lengannya tinggi, dengan ceria menawarkan bangku sebelahnya. “Lam kenal, Joshi, gue Kwon Soonyoung. Panggil gue Hoshi juga boleh! Semuanya manggil gue kayak gitu.”

“Oh?” sambil berjalan menuju bangkunya, Joshua lanjut mengobrol. “Hoshi? That's cute. Joshi and Hoshi, huh?” Tawanya lepas saat dia duduk dan Soonyoung langsung menepuk pundaknya ringan. “Salam kenal juga, Hoshi. Mohon dibantu ya.”

“Beres~” cengir si anak. “Nanti makan siang ikut gue aja. Abis makan gue anterin keliling sekolah kalo lo mau.”

Joshua tersenyum, “Mau banget. Thanks.”

Mingyu memperhatikan interaksi tersebut dengan senyuman tipis, diam-diam menghela napas yang entah sejak kapan tertahan. Setiap ada perubahan terjadi di ruang kelasnya, sebagai seorang guru, adalah wajar baginya untuk memantau bagaimana muridnya menerima perubahan tersebut. Sepertinya dia nggak perlu cemas kali ini. “Nah, kita mulai aja ya pelajarannya,” diangkatnya buku teks bersamaaan dengan anak-anak yang juga mempersiapkan catatan mereka. “Buka halaman—”