Chiggy and I have been best friends for 21 years now.
I was 10 years old when we first met. I just knew she was many years older than me at the time because she was also friends with my older sisters, and they went to the same university.
I told Chiggy everything. It was so easy to talk to her. She treated me like we were mates. Chiggy always reminded me how much she loved me, and cherished our friendship.
I was also in boarding school at the time, so Chiggy and I wrote letters to each other back and forth. I remember one letter I wrote to her, I had written the alphabet “a” a certain type of way- it was the new way the other kids had learned to write too, so I couldn’t be left out. Chiggy replied my letter a week after, criticizing my new style of writing the alphabet “a”, and reminded me to be true to myself. Only at those times, did I remember that Chiggy was a lot older than me.
One special gift Chiggy gave me was a wristwatch. It was a back to school gift, and it was so special to me. I was the only kid on school grounds, who had that kind of wristwatch. It was black and beautiful, and it sang every hour on the hour. It was easy to tell the time, as well as easy to get noticed. not that I enjoyed the attention or the sudden rouse it brought to a tranquil environment, but there was nothing I could do. I guess it was my destiny to be noticed. lol.
One day, my beautiful, black, singing wrist watch was stolen from me. I was distraught. it felt like life had passed me by, and my sense of identity was lost completely. No longer did all eyes look upon me per hour. I was no longer special… or so I thought.
In my next letter to Chiggy, I recounted my ordeal, and needless to say, Chiggy took pity on me. She got me another wristwatch, just like the old one. It was beautiful, more beautiful than the first. I was the happiest girl in the world.
Proudly adorned, my wrist wore my identity once again.
Back home during the holidays, Chiggy again reminded me to believe in myself, and told me that my identity was not in some wristwatch. “It does not define you,” she said. That made sense.
It took me many years after this reprimand to understand this.
21 years after, guided by this simple instruction, I sought, and I found that my life is hidden in Christ, and Christ is hidden in God. Christ has become my life. I was crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. the life I now live, I live by the faith of Him that loved me and gave Himself up for me. Colossians 3; Galatians 2:20.
I am identified with Christ. He is the head, and I am His body. Christ is my Life, He is my identity. Dazall.
Love's Voice 