He saw the cause of my problem

Mrs Imose’s pov

I couldn’t imagine attending this prayer session alone while my husband stayed at home. The most heartbreaking part was when he called Solomon to ask when he was arriving, and Solomon said around 3 p.m., seven hours away. My husband didn’t even want to come and meet this man of God. Doesn’t that show he’s growing tired of this marriage?

I tried to keep a smile on my face while I was with him, but the moment I got into my car, the tears came pouring out.

On my way to the new church, I decided to call my closest friend, Esewe. We had been friends since college, and I was the first to get married. She had three children and had stopped having any more, but she had always been supportive and knew most of my secrets. Her words had a way of comforting me, even on my worst days. Halfway to the church, I dialed her number, even though I worried the call might make me late.

“Good morning, Mrs. Esewe. How are you?” I asked.

“I’m doing fine,” she replied.

“You didn’t even call to remind me about meeting this new man of God today,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, sorry! I’ve been so carried away with everything going on. Are you and your husband heading there now?”

“Hmm…” I sighed deeply, and before I could say anything, she spoke first.

“Does he have an appointment?” she asked.

“No, he just gave some flimsy excuses. I know my husband too well, he’s no longer interested in meeting these men of God. It’s bad, I know, but I’m still on my way. Whatever happens, I’ll keep you updated.”

“Mrs. Imose,” she said, her voice turning serious. “I can’t help but think about what I told you a few years ago. Whenever I visit, your husband doesn’t look like a happy man. How long are you going to hold him down with the idea that you got pregnant and then had a miscarriage?”

“But… but what you’re suggesting is against my faith, Esewe,” I said, lowering my voice. “I understood her point, but she needed to understand mine too.”

“I’m not trying to go against your beliefs,” she said firmly. “But think about it, this is a way to fix your home. You only have one life to live, so why live it in pain and distress? You’re wealthy, money isn’t the issue. Finding someone to help, even just once during your ovulation, wouldn’t ruin anything. Maybe you and your husband aren’t genetically compatible. I’ve told you this before, but you always treat me like I’m some worldly woman.”

“No, no, I’ve never called you a worldly woman,” I protested. “Do you even know what that means? Please, understand my point. I can’t bring myself to imagine another man touching me like that. It would traumatize me for life, especially after everything my husband has done for me. I know he’s looking for a way to tell me to let go of having kids altogether. He even suggested adoption, but I shut the idea down.” I paused, my voice soft but determined. “Esewe, relax. This man of God will change everything. I’ve heard he’s powerful and sees visions for people. My case won’t be an exception. There’s hope.”

“Just remember,” she said, her tone cautious, “your husband’s family might not be happy about your situation.”

"Why can't they just mind their own business? But, of course, no one has the courage to say anything to my face. They wouldn’t dare," I muttered, my anger rising as the topic of my husband's family came up. Why should they be angry? Every time any of them visits, I go out of my way to give them huge money, even in the absence of my husband. 

“I shouldn’t keep you,” Esewe said. “If you’d told me earlier, I would have gone with you to this new church. But I’m tied up right now.”

“I know. Thanks,” I replied, softening my tone. “I’ll definitely let you know how it goes.”

Glancing at my wristwatch, I realized I was running late. “Oh no, I have to go! We’ll talk later,” I added hurriedly before ending the call. With that, I pressed down on the accelerator and drove faster.

************************

As I sat in the waiting room, waiting for my turn to meet the pastor, a memory from the morning prayer session kept playing in my mind. This was something I could never forget. During the one-hour session, the man of God had declared, “The angel of God has brought ten babies. The person with the loudest ‘Amen’ will receive her baby.” I had screamed with everything in me. If I hadn’t come, I would have blamed myself forever.

If I had known back when I got married that my journey would take this turn, I would have built my faith long ago. Right before my eyes, I saw women holding newborn babies, testifying about how this pastor had laid hands on them and their husbands. The result of those prayers was now cradled in their arms. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel jealous. Instead, I felt hope.

The same man who brought these miracles was still alive, right here, and I was about to meet him. If only my husband had come with me! This pastor must truly be filled with the Holy Spirit, look at the crowd booking appointments with him. Who wouldn’t want good things? If there were no results, these people wouldn’t be here. The money I paid for my private booking seemed insignificant compared to the blessing I believed I was about to receive from God.

Finally, it was my turn to meet him. I had expected the waiting to be brief, but it ended up lasting longer than the prayer session itself.

As I walked into his office and sat down, I greeted him politely. He looked at me intently for a moment and then said, “The Lord has already revealed to me why you are here. But the blessings you seek are too big for you to take home alone. Where is your husband? You need a baby.”

Goosebumps covered my skin. I hadn’t met this man before, and during the prayer session, the only instruction he gave was to write our requests, along with our names, and place them in an envelope and place them on the altar. If he wasn’t truly a man of God, how could he know my problem? I couldn’t say a word; instead, tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Madam, take it easy,” he said gently. “There’s no need to cry when you are on the verge of receiving what you’ve been praying for. I tell people, faith in God is the only key to unlocking His blessings.”

As I looked into his eyes, it felt like the weight on my shoulders was lifting.

“I will package your blessings in a way that you’ll be able to carry them home,” he assured me.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, almost kneeling in gratitude.

“No, no, all glory belongs to God. But how can the blessing manifest fully when there is something hindering it in your house?”

“What is it?” I interrupted eagerly. I was desperate to know what had been blocking my miracle.

“You are a fertile woman,” he began, “but you are barren in the spirit. This is the work of an enemy. I need to pray specifically for you. The problem is not from your husband’s family; they want the best for you. The issue lies in your father’s and mother’s house. We need to break a curse that was placed on you. Tell me, have you ever had a serious quarrel with your mother while growing up?”

“But it’s been such a long time, sir,” I said hesitantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” he replied. “An evil force will continue its mission unless it is destroyed by the Holy Ghost.”

I instinctively raised my hands, trying to absorb the power of his words. He had instructed us to raise our hands whenever something he said resonated with us.

“Your mother is responsible for your barrenness,” he continued. “This is a secret you must never share with anyone, not even your husband, since he has missed out on this divine revelation. For the next nine months, you must not visit your mother…”

His words shocked me. My mother? How could that be possible? I wanted to tell him the truth, that my mom had already passed away. But a conflict raged within me. Should I speak up now, or remain silent? I couldn’t leave without clarifying.

“But, man of God…” I stammered. “My mother is dead.”

“Dead?” He stood abruptly, muttering something under his breath. After a moment, he looked at me and said, “That makes it even worse. The vision about you will unfold in phases, and I’m glad you told me before it reached me. If your mother is dead, this battle becomes even more intense. It’s now a spiritual war between the living and the dead. You must fast and pray fervently. And listen carefully, you must not tell your husband. Furthermore, you must remove every picture of your mother from your home, especially if there’s one in your bedroom, where you make love with your husband.”

I drove home in a daze, unable to fully comprehend his instructions. This man had spiritual insight, far beyond what I could see. But my mother? She had cried with me during my struggles to conceive. She had even suggested taking herbal remedies when the doctors’ prescriptions didn’t work. Could she really have been the cause of my pain?

Being her only child, it made no sense for her to prevent me from having children. Yet, the pastor’s words filled my mind. He had said that if I truly wanted a solution, I must destroy all her pictures. But what about the large, beautiful framed photo of her in our living room? How could I bring myself to do that without my husband noticing?

My heart pounded as I approached my house. What should I do?

When the gatekeeper opened the gate for me to drive in, I asked him immediately, “Has my husband gone out?”

“No, madam,” he replied.

For once, I appreciated my husband’s demanding schedule that often kept him away from home. But as I entered the sitting room, to my surprise, he wasn’t there.

I turned to the large framed photo of my late mother on the wall. Her eyes seemed to pierce through me, unmoving and haunting. An overwhelming surge of resentment bubbled up within me. I couldn’t hesitate any longer.

I walked straight to the frame, ready to take it down. But just as my hands reached for it, I froze as a familiar voice rang out behind me.

“Honey, where are you taking that picture….?”