THE MYOPE

Chidi, my childhood friend and best friend, held my hand gently as we walked toward his room. It was my 25th birthday, and if there’s one thing Chidi had mastered over the years, it was giving me the most timely, uncanny, and precise gifts. Many times, I hadn’t even known what I needed—until he gave it.

This year, I was curious, expectant. What could top all the previous gifts?

Chidi: "Just a little bit more..."

Me: "I can't wait abeg. Where's the long-awaited gift?"

Chidi: "Yeahhhh... Here we go... Have it."

I took the small box from his hands, opening it with anticipation. Inside was… a pair of medicated eyeglasses.

Thick-lensed. Heavy. Possibly around -6.25OD.

Me: "I... I don't understand. Why are you gifting me this? Was this the surprise? How?"

Chidi: "Yes, Sandra. This is the gift I was setting up for you. The best gift for a MYOPE."

Me: "Me? Myope? But I never said I had problems with my eyes..."

I looked back at the box, then turned toward Chidi—but it wasn’t him anymore. The brilliance in the eyes I saw could not be mistaken. My Lord.

I froze.

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Being an undergraduate at 25 was pain in its purest form. More so, having spent 36 months in one class—and still counting. Not because I failed. Not because I didn’t pray enough. But because of a failed, frustrating system.

I had watched classmates in other universities advance through two full academic levels while I sat, waiting. Pleading. Hoping. Living through endless cancellations and idle semesters, wondering what new excuse my school would throw at us next.

I was tired.

I had wept. I had questioned God. I had second-guessed every decision—including whether I had truly heard Him when I chose this school. Everything felt like a dead end. Like delay had consumed me and left nothing behind.

25. Still in 400 level. I wanted to scream

Medicine no longer looked like purpose—it looked like a prison. One I wouldn’t have walked into if I’d known this would be my story.

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On this particular afternoon, Amarachi—my course mate and a trusted friend—stopped by to borrow some study materials.

As she flipped through the pages, she asked, “Sandra, what specialty will you go for after graduation?”

I scoffed. Me? Abeg, let me leave this school first.

She laughed. “Okay o. But how far with that teenage ministry you mentioned earlier? Or the book you said you’d started when we entered 400 level? It should be in the editing stage by now, right?”

I stared at her. “Are you seriously asking me these things? Amara, my life is on pause. All I want is to graduate. That’s the only prayer I pray.”

And that was the truth. Every day I marked my calendar with the same obsession: When will I finally become a doctor?

Everything else blurred- passion, love, assignments - my graduation from this frustration of a school might, maybe, kickstart my life and assignment but for now this life is on hold.

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Abba: “Sandra, wear those glasses.”

Me: “But... I don’t have any known eye condition.”

Abba: “Because you do not know doesn’t mean you do not have it. You’ve spent the last two years focusing only on what’s around you. Your vision has been restricted. You can’t see beyond it—your eyeballs can’t focus images on the retina.”

He paused, letting the weight of His words rest on me.

Then He continued:

“You recall the dreams I gave you. The Word I spoke to you before you gained admission. Yet you haven’t become the kind of person who can carry that Word to fullness. You are a gift, Sandra. And I, the Lord, know the people I’m sending you to.

“Imagine if you truly didn't have an eye condition and I gifted you this glasses. What did you think you'd do with it? It's obvious, throw it out. No matter how much you appreciate me for my generous gift you won't ever wear a -6.25OD lenses.

It becomes an expensive but useless gift

“I don’t just give gifts—I KNOW HOW TO GIVE GOOD GIFTS. And for the recipients' sake, I want to prepare this gift to truly become of eternal use to them.”

I broke. Sweat and tears rolled together. I had reduced purpose to a certificate. I had confused delay for denial. I just didn't think these delays were for any good. I couldn't trust the One who works all things in conformity with His purpose from the beginning 

Then, gently, the scripture rose in my heart—familiar, but this time, full of life:

“For our light and momentary afflictions are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary,

but what is unseen is eternal.”

—2 Corinthians 4:17-18

"I'm sorry, Lord," I whispered.

"Have mercy on me."

"I have truly become so myopic."

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My ringtone startled me awake.

It was morning. I was still in bed, tears fresh on my cheeks. It had been a dream—but it had also been more.

"Hello Fay. Good morning," I answered.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart..." Her voice fizzled as I stood up from the bed

_______________________________________________

The End