Writing: Everyday Inspiraton

Writing:Everyday Inspiration, Nineteen: Feature a Guest

My beloved, I take this opportunity to say Greetings to all my Friends in our Word Press Community, who have been reading my blogs. Also, I welcome all new Friends who have joined the Community on my blog page so far. You are an encouragement to me. I am encouraged. I thank you kindly for your moral support. May God bless you in your present and future endeavors. I love you.

Redeeming Luv

Below are five top Longreads for the week that I find to be interesting, and I am recommending them to you, with the hope that you will read and find them the same as I do. Enjoy.




Ardelia Ali was raped in 1995. Twenty years later, her rapist was convicted thanks to the tireless efforts of prosecutor Kym Worthy.



1 This post tells the story of an eighteen year old  young lady by the name of Ardelia Ali, an employee of Burger King, who was raped on Saturday evening, November 18, 1995. On that day she sold Woody and Buzz Light year puppets with Kids Club meals all afternoon. Unfortunately, after a hard day’s work she still in her uniform was returning home by a city bus which stopped on Detroit’s 7 Mile Road. She stepped out at that bus stop and into the chilly night, “turned up the hood of her coat, and hurried over the cracked sidewalk,” to go to her grandmother’s warm bungalow house which was a block away from the bus stop, in order to prevent the cold from sinking into her bones. But that did not happen so fast, someone had other plans: as “she turned the corner, she saw the yellow house lights shining, waiting for her:” There was this man whose loud footsteps were silenced by the traffic over on Gratiot Avenue, however, from the       streetlight she observed his shadow overtaking hers and as she stepped aside onto a patch of grass to allow him to pass by. But instead he grabbed her by the back of her coat, held a knife to her right temple, led her passed her grandmother’s house and into a vacant field filled with weeds and broken bottles, and raped the innocent virgin.

It was not until twenty years after when justice was served. To read more please click the link: http://www.elle.com/culture/a37255/forgotten-rape-kits-detroit/?src=longreads


Refugees Encounter a Foreign Word: Welcome

How Canadian hockey moms, poker buddies and neighbors are adopting Syrians, a family at a time.



2 This post tells a story of how on a cold day in February a cautious Canadian woman in Toronto, Kerry McLorg drove to an airport hotel there to pick up a family of Syrian refugees, whom she never met or spoken to before, but they were about to move into her basement. Abdullah Mohammad and his family were staying at the hotel, and they had all their family documents to hand. His room phone rang and the interpreter invited him downstairs because his sponsors had come for them.

I find this post interesting especially because it demonstrates how humanity is reaching out to man. I recommend this post for you to read. Here is the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/01/world/americas/canada-syrian-refugees.html?src=longreads&_r=0


All the Greedy Young Abigail Fishers and Me

Jia Tolentino

Tuesday 3:55pm



3 This post is about UT Austin an extraordinary school that emits both “capaciousness and prejudice.” But “it is the top choice for many Texas high school students, and its unique admissions policy carries a lot of weight.” It is interesting to find out more about this school, its story line and its policy.  Here is the Link:


 The Fugitive, His Dead Wife, and the 9/11 Conspiracy Theory That Explains Everything   BY



June 28, 2016

4 This post is about a murder in Denver on New Year’s Eveearly in the morning in 2002. After the police at Denver received the report about 1:40 A.M. officers went to the Victorian house on Clayton Street within minutes. They saw the caller through the glass in the front door and after he was not in a position to open it, they smashed a glass window next to the front door, enter the house and the disoriented, distressed and drunk called pointed them to the upper flat, where they saw a young woman in her early thirties “sitting on a dark blue chaise longue, her head resting against the wall. A .45-caliber semi-automatic handgun lay on a comforter on the floor in front of her. She was bleeding heavily from the head.”
Did Sonnenfeld get away with murder, or is he just an innocent abroad? To answer this question and to know more please click link:




Angels in America: The Complete Oral History


5The story is about Tony Kushner’s (playwright of Angels in America,): who died of AIDS around Novenber1985; and how his play became the defining work of American art of the past 25 years. By Isaac Butler and Dan Kois. To read more please click the link:


Writing: Everyday Inspiraton

Writing: Everyday Inspiration, Day 16: I Left her behind—and had to move on

I Left her behind—and had to move on
Over a decade ago I spent my vacation in a bordering country. I enjoyed three weeks time I there, but I left with mixed emotions. Next door to where I was staying was an aged woman who lived in a cottage all by herself. In a conversation she told me that she had given birth to three children, two girls and a boy, who were all grown adults, but her two daughters were living abroad, and the her son loved to travel and was seldom at home. So I started to look out for her for as long as I was there. And for the first week she would come at her window and would stay on the veranda of the house I was staying and talked with her. What was admirable about her was that she was very chatty, full of humor and had a good memory. So during her conversations with me would laugh at times, look sad at times and at other times she would cry a little bit and so on, but for the most part she was happy.

The next week she looked forward to chatting with me, so she looked through her window to see if I was anywhere around, and when she did not see me she called out, “Hello stranger! Hello foreigner! Good Morning! But I did not hear her when she made the first call because I was way down at the back of the house. Fortunately, for her I was returning to the front of the house when I heard a strong voice saying, “Hello stranger! Hello foreigner! Good Morning. I recognized her voice and hastened to the front and opened the door to the veranda just in time to save her the third shout out. She stopped at “Hel” when she saw me, and started to laugh “till her belly almost burst.” I couldn’t help doing the say, for all I knew I was laughing because she was laughing heartily and I could not help but doing so. After a good minute of laughter, the so called “Medicine;” still giggling she said, “Wait man for a moment I thought you had gone back already,” and she laughed out a while longer, dried her tears, and was silent for a while, i.e. almost a minute. I keep looking at her from the veranda as I tried to figure out what she was really thinking about. I wanted to turn her attention away to something that would take her out of that gloomy mood. So I said, “It seems that today is going to be a lovely day.” Pointing to the sun I said, “Look there the sun is rising already.” Then she look around and said, “Oh, yes.”

I said: “Well I just feel like making my own Cook-up rice today for a change.”

She asked, “Can you cook?” with a broad smile.

I said, “You will tell me about that when I offer you some.”

She said, “Do you mean what you just said.”

I said, “Sure, and I am going to start the ball rolling right now.”

So I asked her for an excuse, went into the kitchen and started my preparation.

First I soaked three quarters of a pint of red pea before I started to prepare and seasoned up about one and a half pound of chicken. After an hour I lit the stove and fried the cut up seasoned chicken. Subsequently, I added the red peas and a pint of clean rice (which I washed thoroughly) to the fried chicken in the pressure pot. I fried them properly with added seasoning, for example, salt, garlic, onion, ginger, celery, thyme, pepper and chicken seasoning. Finally, I added coconut milk and adequate water and I closed the pot.

My final preparation was the fish. They were already cleaned so I did minimal cleaning, used a towel to dry out excessive water from them, season them up, and fry them until they got a brown color. And by- the-way, the cook-up was actually finished and I turned down the heat, added three big pieces of fried fish in it and left it to simmer for five minutes more. I did that because I wanted to leave just enough moisture in the food, instead of allowing it to dry down.

Lunch having finished, I told her and she asked me to take it over for her. So I decorated her food with two pieces of fried fish and salads plenty etc., and when she put the first spoon in her mouth, she nodded and smiled. I stood looking on. And after she ate the next spoon’s full, she asked, “Did you cook this? Yes, I replied. She said, “It tastes very good you know”. ‘Thank you,” I replied. Then I left and had a ball with mine. And, of course, I chased it down with a large glass of swank (natural lime drink). If you know Ms. Talkative well enough, she talked about the Cook-up all the time.

But my three weeks stay was coming to an end. I just had three more days to stay in her beautiful country, but that was not the problem. The real problem was how to leave her behind in the happy frame of mind she was in? Conscious of the fact that earlier when in the midst of her laughter she stopped, and slump into a melancholy frame of mind, I had to find a way (put it this way) to tell her up front that I had to go back to work in my country. So I started to tell her that truth a little bit at a time, for example, from my veranda I said, “I have to return to work in three days time, you know.” “O, yes” was her reply. The next day after we talked, talked, talked, and talked,—a long talk with no little laughter, I said to her, I am going to do some packing.

But the final day had come for me to leave, and I went over to pray with her, and no sooner had we prayed than she started to talk about the Cook-up. And she said something else that was very interesting, and that was, “I have two daughters, who live abroad, and a son, who lives here, but loves to travel and is never home. My daughters support me every month and I am thankful for that, but they are not here in person when I am sick. Sometimes when I cannot go to the grocery store, I would ask someone I know to buy a few items for me, but they do not always bring back my change.”  Then in a bold but sad tone of voice she asked, “Are you going to come back?”  I gave her a nod, since I couldn’t speak at that moment. And she said to me, “Maybe by the time you come back, I will have died.” And I said to her, “Don’t say so, God is in charge.


—Redeeming Luv




Writing: Everyday Inspiraton

Writing:Every Day Inspiration, Day One! I write because

I write because I love the skill and I am using it to share my thoughts with all interesting. Through it I hope to connect with others with similar ideas, and with some others who may find it to be a source of inspiration and guidance, and willingly make radical changes in their lifestyle for the better.

I write because I am a positive thinker in Christ, with a vision i.e. to bring people of all nations to the knowledge of the truth of God’s Word to the point where whosoever believes may see the need to repent and return to God Almighty their creator through Christ. And I believe that this can be accomplished comfortably through the written page among other options.

I write because I believe that what I share from the Word with my readers will give faith to the fainthearted, hope to the hopeless, life to the dying, wholeness to the sick, confidence to those who lack, power to the powerless, strength to the weak, and bring peace, love and joy to all, even to the unlovable. The Word will  brng about a big turnaround in the lives of those who believe it from the heart.

I write because though not known, if given the means to travel worldwide, it would still be impossible for me to meet everyone that might want to meet me, because we are separated by air, vast land and sea. But my writings may go to places where I may not reach, and get in the hands of millions who want to read them.

I write because it keeps me occupied, alert, prayerful, and always doing my research … to share fresh knowledge with my readers to affect change and open doors to new blessings, new joys and new beginning, in Christ, for all of us who believe. To Yahweh is the Glory.

Redeeming Luv