I just came back from an evening stroll.
Nothing special. Nowhere special. Just around where I live. And where I live is surrounded by a slum, with dusty roads, rundown houses, open canals, and mud where the rains fell more than a day ago.
There was no view, no greenery, no finery.
Just me, the dust, and the people going about their business.
But almost at the end of it, as I suddenly looked up at evening breaking slowly over me, the sun going down, the noise leveling out, and the dust settling in, all of these modulated by my worship playlist of Mercy Chinwo, Steve Crown and Paul Chisom, it suddenly occurred to me: this is an incredible gift.
That a simple evening stroll in an unremarkable part of a chaotic city can be such a soul-lifting experience that makes my gratitude journal?
I don’t at all take it for granted.