Oluwatomisin Anna

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/16/2025, 5:01:12 AM

_When lambs go astray, it’s rarely out of rebellion._ They wander because they’re small, scared, unsure of the way. They follow distractions, hunger, or fear. They move toward what looks safe, even if it leads them farther from the shepherd. And yet, the heart of the parable was not about the lamb’s mistake, but the Shepherd’s love and pursuit. _He leaves the ninety-nine for the one._ Because no matter why or how the lamb got lost, the Shepherd never stops searching. He never leaves or blames the lb for wandering. He simply searches. Till he finds it. So if you feel far, confused, ashamed, or too lost to be found, remember: it's not about how you strayed, but that Someone is already looking for you. He had been looking for you. Right from the moment you took the first step. And when He finds you, He carries you home, gently. You're not too far gone. The shepherd is definitely near you.

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/15/2025, 6:59:44 PM

*CHAPTER FIVE* The night was loud with city sounds. Cars honking, music thudding from clubs, laughter that felt like mockery. Tamar lit a cigarette she didn’t intend to finish. Just something to do with her hands. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement as she stood a few feet away from the hotel entrance, waiting. She didn’t know what for. Then she saw her. A girl. No older than fifteen, standing by the curb, trembling in a cheap dress and flats too big for her feet. Her fingers twisted around the strap of her tiny bag, eyes darting to the hotel door. Tamar knew that look. She approached slowly. “You waiting for someone?” The girl flinched. “No… yes… no… I mean…” She sighed. “I’m supposed to meet someone inside. My aunt said he… he paid for me.” Tamar’s breath caught in her throat. Paid. It wasn’t new. But it never stopped stinging. “What’s your name?” “Manda,” the girl said, voice small. “She said I just need to do it once and then he’ll help pay for school.” Tamar’s jaw tightened. “Come,” she said. “Take me to him.” Manda hesitated, but Tamar’s voice wasn’t asking. Inside the hotel, they rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Manda pointed to a door. And Tamar knocked. A man opened it. He looked like he was in his forties, maybe older. Wearing cologne and entitlement. He smiled, signaling Manda to come in. Tamar didn’t smile. “She’s not coming in.” He scoffed. “And who are you?” “Someone who knows what this is,” Tamar said, pulling out cash. “Take this. Double what you paid. And forget her name.” He looked between the girl and Tamar. “Unless you’re the one replacing her…” Tamar stared him down. “Then get on the bed.” Manda gasped. “No…wait—” Tamar touched her shoulder gently. “Go wait downstairs.” It didn’t take long. It never did. She didn’t cry. When it was over, she stood, got dressed, and left without a word. Outside, Manda waited with red eyes and a hundred questions. Tamar didn’t answer any. She took the girl’s hand and walked, till Manda couldn’t bear the silence again. “Why did you do that?” Her voice trembled. “Do what?” “That!” she pointed towards the direction of the hotel. “Would you have done it instead?” Manda said nothing. She continued walking. “What if my auntie sends me again?” Her voice broke, but Tamar’s heart broke even more. She stopped walking. She turned to look at the girl. She looked so small, so scared, so heartbreakingly familiar. “She won’t,” Tamar said. “How do you know?” Manda asked. “Because you’re not going back.” The words hung in the air, heavier than anything Tamar had said in months. But for once, she meant it. There would be no going back, not for this girl, not if Tamar had anything to do with it. They walked in silence after that. No more questions. Just the quiet hum of the night and the shared ache between two souls who had been robbed of too much, too soon. When they reached Tamar’s apartment, Manda hesitated at the door. “You can come in,” Tamar said. “You’re safe here.” Manda stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room. It looked simple and clean, with very little in it. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe. Tamar moved around, packing her clothes into a duffel bag, folding what she could, stuffing the rest. There was no hesitation in her movements. Manda watched her, puzzled. “You’re leaving?” Tamar nodded. “We’re leaving.” “Where?” “Anywhere but here.” “But… why?” Tamar zipped the bag. “Because if we stay, your auntie might find us. And then, this cycle continues. You’d become me.” Manda’s eyes welled up. “You don’t even know me.” Tamar looked at her. “I do. I was you.” Manda stared in confusion. Tamar grabbed her passport, a little cash, and tucked it deep into her coat. She didn’t know where exactly they were going, but she knew how to get there. She’d done this before. She could it again. For Manda. As they locked the door behind them, Tamar felt something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Hope. And maybe security. She didn’t know what tomorrow held. But for the first time, she wasn’t running alone, neither was she running for herself. And that, she was proud of. “What’s your name?” Manda asked, her eyes glassy. Tamar stared for a long while and answered. “To the world, Flora. But I’d rather have you call me, Tamar.” …

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/17/2025, 6:32:04 AM

Have you joined the bible plan on youversion?

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/16/2025, 5:01:13 AM

Join me let's read the Bible Plan, *_The Shepherd and Me._* https://bible.com/p/74210692/56fe082eb7da3da9ac27593da66b1b01 Click on the link.👆 Note: you need to have the youversion Bible app for this. If you don't, download the app, sign in, and join through the link. 🫶

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/14/2025, 5:56:42 PM

*CHAPTER FOUR* Tamar couldn’t remember the last time she had felt truly alone. Not the kind where no one was physically present. She’d gotten used to that already. But the kind that lived inside you. That burrowed itself deep, like a thorn under the skin, festering. It growled at her in the silent moments, in the spaces between breaths, in the hush of rooms long after the men had left and the smell of their sweats still lingered in the sheets. But it wasn’t just loneliness that followed her like a shadow. No. It was something colder. Emptiness. That cruel, faithful companion. It curled itself around her ribcage and settled in her bones, showing up in her reflection, in the way her laugh no longer rose from her belly, in the way she no longer dreamed. It was always there, just out of reach, waiting for her to pause long enough to feel it. And so, she didn’t. Not anymore. She moved like a machine now. Wake, work, wait. A predictable cycle. One that made the days blur together. Names she didn’t remember. Faces she never wanted to see again. Rooms that all looked the same: cold lighting, stiff sheets, that faint smell of cologne mixed with desperation. She’d stopped caring. About them. About herself. It was easier that way. The men came and went, like the wave. In, out. Fast, forgettable. Some tried to reach her. Tried to break through the thick wall she had built brick by brutal brick. They whispered things: _You deserve better. You’re not like the others. There’s something different about you._ But Tamar had long since learned to tune them out. Their voices were just noise. They didn’t know her. Not at all. They didn’t see the pain that clawed behind her eyes when they turned off the lights. They didn’t hear the echo of her mother’s voice begging her to choose another path. They didn’t know what it felt like to bury the person you used to be beneath layers of survival. They didn’t know about the nights she curled up in the bathroom after they left, clutching her knees, trying to remember the last time someone touched her without wanting something in return. Some were cruel. Rough hands. Impatient breaths. They took, always took. Others were quiet, almost gentle. But their silence stung more. Indifference felt like abandonment when you already felt invisible. Tamar knew the script. She had perfected it. Smile. Tilt your head. Whisper his name. Pretend it feels good. Pretend you’re not dying inside. She moved from room to room like a ghost in high heels, looking for something she never found. Hope, maybe. Or herself. But the ache stayed. It clung to her skin, followed her footsteps, made a home with her and now staring through the mirror she now sat before. There she was, reflected back at herself. The girl in the mirror was a stranger in a red dress. Tight, short, unapologetically loud. It clung to her like an alarm, announcing her before she said a word. Her makeup was bold and seductive. A mask carved to hide the truth. But it didn’t work. Her eyes betrayed her. They were too tired, too sunken. She leaned forward, as if inspecting someone else. Her fingers trembled as she reached to fix her lipstick, and for the first time in weeks, she hesitated. Who was she now? Who had she become? Once, she had dreamed of being something… someone. Someone who could make people feel something other than lust. Someone who could bring joy, healing, warmth. But that dream had withered, dried up, and fallen away like ash. Was it even worth pretending anymore? The doorbell rang, sharp and unexpected. She blinked. Not flinching. She rarely flinched anymore. Getting up slowly, she glided to the door, heels clicking against the tiled floor like a metronome counting down the seconds to another meaningless night. Her hand hovered on the knob before she opened it halfway. And there he was. _Him._ The man from before. The one whose eyes had lingered on hers too long. The one who had called her Leah, like it was her name. He stood there, hands shoved into his coat pockets, a soft expression on his face. Not pity. Something else. “Flora,” he said, his voice low, reverent, like the name was sacred instead of soiled. She stiffened. She didn’t respond. “I’ve been trying to reach you,” he added. Her gaze wavered. Something stirred in her chest, something she shoved down too quickly. “If you’re here for what they all come for,” she said flatly, her wall going up like a gate crashing shut, “come in.” He took a breath. “That’s not—” “If not, then leave,” she cut him off. “Leah—” He shut his eyes realizing his mistake. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, voice sharper than she intended. Her throat tightened, her fingers curled into her palm. “Stop mistaking me for her. I’m not Leah!” He looked down for a second, regret flashing across his face. “I don’t know whatever she did to you,” she continued bitterly, “but I am not her. I am Flora. A prostitute. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Silence. And it hurt more than if he had shouted. “You don’t have to do this,” he said softly. She laughed. A dry, humorless sound. “You think this is a choice? That I wake up every morning and choose to sell parts of myself? To be pawed at by strangers? This isn’t a fairytale gone wrong. This is survival. And I’ve made peace with it. Maybe you should too.” He stepped back slightly, but not out of anger, out of sorrow. A sorrow that made her ache in ways she hated. “If you ever decide to see yourself the way I see you,” he said quietly, “you’ll know where to find me.” She scoffed. “See myself as what? A broken fantasy? A hollow reflection of someone you once loved?” He said nothing. She stepped closer, bitterness on her breath. “I’d rather be Flora to a world that wants nothing from me but flesh, than Leah to a man who sees a ghost.” Still, he lingered. One last look. One last moment. Then he turned, each step away heavy with silence. She didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. When the door clicked shut, it was like something cracked inside her. She turned slowly and walked back to the mirror. Her reflection met her again. Same eyes. Same tired soul. “Tamar,” she whispered, voice shaking. Even that name now seemed foreign to her. She reached for the lipstick again, dragging it across her lips with trembling hands. “Flora suits me better,” she said to the broken girl in the mirror. She stared at herself and let the truth fall from her lips. “I’m a prostitute,” she whispered. “And I’m worth nothing more.” This time, the words didn’t sting. They simply _were._ And with them, she buried Tamar once more, under layers of makeup, pain, and red dresses. Because pretending was too heavy. And surviving, at least, made her feel real. ....

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/16/2025, 5:30:37 PM

*CHAPTER SIX* The new city smelled different. Calmer, quieter and almost too clean for Tamar’s mess to belong there. But it was what she could afford - two rooms, a small kitchen, and just enough space between who she was and who Manda needed her to be. She let Manda take the bigger room. Put her in school within a week. Bought books, a uniform, and even new shoes with soles that didn’t flap when she walked. It wasn’t much. But it was a start. Tamar still worked nights. Disappearing with the moon and returning with the dawn. Her body ached constantly, her eyes rarely saw sleep. Some mornings, she’d drop to the floor by the door, unable to make it to the bed. Other mornings, she’d squat in the shower long enough for the water to numb everything. But she kept going. For Manda. She would wake the girl before leaving at midnight, and leave money for lunch for school, knowing she might not meet her the next morning. She’d also drop a kiss on her forehead some nights – when she could feel love and not shame. The cycle continued, till Manda chose to break it. Tamar dragged herself to the house, still wrapped in the heaviness of another long night. The sun was barely up, and she just wanted to put off her clothes and sleep. But something was off. The school shoes were by the door. Tamar frowned as she walked in. Manda stood in the kitchen in her pajamas, stirring tea she wasn’t going to drink. “Why are you still home?” Tamar asked, breathless, shoulders still heavy with exhaustion. Manda looked up. “I didn’t go.” “What do you mean, you didn’t go?” Tamar’s voice sharpened, not from anger. But fear. “I wanted to ask you something first.” Tamar leaned against the counter. “You could have asked after school.” “No,” Manda said quietly. “Because I might forget how I feel right now.” Tamar blinked. “Okay… what is it?” Manda hesitated, then looked her dead in the eyes. “Why did you choose this life?” The words landed like a slap. Not because they were harsh, but because they were true. In their innocent honesty, they tore through everything Tamar had buried. Without warning. She scoffed, almost laughed. But it sounded more like a cry. “I didn’t choose it,” she answered, her voice flat. “It chose me.” Manda frowned. “That’s not real. Life doesn't just drag people like that.” Tamar didn’t blink. “It does. When you’re desperate. When the person you love is dying, and the world stops listening.” Silence stretched between them. Manda didn’t know what to say. And Tamar couldn’t say more. She finally added, softer this time, “I didn’t have a plan, Manda. I just needed money… fast. And then it was too late to be anything else.” Manda’s stared. “But it’s still not who you are.” Tamar looked at her. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Because in that moment, she didn’t know who she was either. All she knew was that she had a girl in front of her who still had a chance. And she would do anything— anything—to make sure she never ended up like her. Neither spoke for a moment. Then, without looking up, Manda began softly, “My mother died when I was nine.” Tamar’s brow furrowed. “My auntie—” Manda hesitated, like the memory had claws. “She poisoned her. Just so she could marry my father.” Tamar blinked, stunned. “I saw it,” Manda added. “I saw the bottle. I saw her mix it into her tea.” She finally turned to face Tamar. “But I didn’t say anything. I was scared. And nobody would’ve believed me.” Tamar’s mouth was dry. She felt that familiar sting in her eyes, but she didn’t let it fall. “They got married two months later,” Manda continued, her voice eerily calm. “And from that day, she made my life miserable. Said I reminded her of everything she hated. Sold me off for money… like it was normal.” Tamar broke. “So, that wasn’t–” Manda slowly nodded. “It wasn’t the first time.” The tear escaped Tamar’s eyes as she swallowed. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Manda shrugged, but the weight of her pain hung visibly on her shoulders. “I don’t blame you, you know. For what you do. Life does make monsters out of the kindest people.” Tamar’s face twitched. She wanted to defend herself. To say “I’m not a monster”. But the words wouldn’t come. Manda stepped closer. “But I just hope… someday, you do something more. Something better. Because you can.” Tamar looked away, her jaw clenched. “I have nothing else to do,” she muttered. Manda tilted her head. “Or so you believe.” The words lingered, and before Tamar could respond, Manda turned and walked to her room. Slowly. Tamar just stood there. Still. Heavy. She didn’t cry. She just blinked. And then, she dragged herself to her room, collapsing on the bed. Clothes still on, face buried in the pillow, exhaustion swallowing her whole. Sleep came quickly. And so did nightmares.

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/17/2025, 9:59:51 AM

You can still join us...

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/17/2025, 6:32:39 AM

If no, join us through this link https://bible.com/p/74210692/56fe082eb7da3da9ac27593da66b1b01 We've already started.

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/15/2025, 5:39:43 AM

Youversion Bible App

Oluwatomisin Anna

5/13/2025, 8:01:52 PM

*CHAPTER THREE* Tamar didn’t leave her bed that morning. The sun filtered softly through the curtains, filling her small apartment with a warm glow, but she didn’t feel any of it. She lay there still, eyes open, chest heavy. Her world felt muted. She hadn’t worked the night before. She couldn’t. The dreams had returned. Her mother’s voice, her soft singing, the prayers whispered over Tamar when she was still a little girl clutching a Bible and wearing mismatched socks to church. In the dream, her mother had touched her cheek and said, “Sleep, baby. Sleep.” She woke up gasping. And now here she was, wrapped in a silk robe, curled into herself on the couch, flipping through an old photo album she didn’t even remember packing. Her fingers trembled as she traced the edges of a picture of her younger self, beaming with joy, standing beside her mother outside their old church. Back then, Tamar had believed in things: hope, goodness, even God. She had wanted to become a nurse. She had laughed easily. She had worn her heart on her sleeve. Where was that girl now? The doorbell startled her. She considered ignoring it, but curiosity didn’t let her. She barely knew anyone in the neighborhood, so who could that be? When she opened it, her breath stopped. It was him. The man from the hotel. Same tailored suit. Same calm demeanor. But this time, he wasn’t holding a drink or standing in some expensive suite. He was just… there. Before her. Real and present. “Mind if I come in?” he asked. She hesitated. “How do you know where I live?.” “I have my way.” His voice was gentle. She stepped aside. He walked in slowly, looking around. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” “Every time is a bad time,” she said, sitting back down on the couch. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sat across from her, watching her closely, like he could see the storm behind her eyes. “You look different,” he said after a moment. Tamar looked away. “I’m not working today.” “I didn’t come for that.” She met his gaze then. “Then why are you here?” “I couldn’t get my mind off you.” His words hung in the air like smoke. Soft, curling, suffocating. Tamar blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time a man had said that. But somehow, coming from him, it didn’t sound like a line. It felt… inconveniently real. She leaned back into the couch, clutching a throw pillow to her chest. “That’s dangerous,” she muttered. He chuckled lightly, but his gaze stayed on her. “Maybe. But I meant it.” Silence settled again, but not the heavy kind. Just thick enough to make her heart feel things she didn’t want to name. “I was going to ask if you’d like to grab dinner,” he said. “Nothing formal. Just… something to eat. You look like you haven’t in a while.” Tamar narrowed her eyes, unsure if it was concern or pity that colored his tone. “Are you asking me out? On a date?” “Not a date,” he replied. “Just two people sharing a meal. No pressure. No roles.” She let out a breath. A sharp, humorless laugh followed. “That’s rich.” But then she looked at him. Really looked. His eyes weren’t wandering. He wasn’t scanning her legs or imagining how fast he could undress her. He was… waiting. For something deeper. For a yes she hadn’t planned to give. “I have nothing to offer,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “You don’t have to offer anything,” he said. “You just have to show up.” Tamar hesitated. Everything in her screamed to say no. To shut the door. To go back to the silence, the numbness, the nothingness she understood. But something else wouldn’t let her… Maybe it was hunger. Maybe it was loneliness. Or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion of running from herself. She stood up. “Give me ten minutes.” He smiled, rising from the chair. “Take your time.” _ Dinner was quiet. He took her to a rooftop bistro that overlooked the city. Candlelight. Soft jazz. A view that made the world seem slower. Tamar barely ate, but she drank. Red wine that burned her throat and dulled her fear. She listened as he spoke, but didn’t say much in return. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t ask questions that dug too deep. Didn’t try to fix her. He just… stayed. Afterward, he drove her home, walked her up the stairs, and stood at her door like he didn’t want to leave. She should’ve said goodnight. She should’ve walked inside and shut him out. But instead, she turned the key, opened the door, and stepped aside. He followed. They didn’t speak. Not until his hand brushed hers. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached for the sash of her robe. His fingers brushed her skin as he pulled it loose, the silk falling down her shoulders, pooling silently to the floor. Tamar didn’t flinch. She didn’t tremble. She didn’t feel. He was gentle. Almost careful. But it didn’t matter. Her body moved with his out of habit, not desire. Out of numbness, not need. She responded, not because she wanted to, but because it was what she knew how to do. It was easier than silence. Easier than remembering. Easier than crying. He whispered a name, unclear at first. But not the second time. It wasn’t her name. “Leah…” Tamar heard it. Felt it. And yet, she didn’t stop. She didn’t ask who Leah was. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes tighter and let herself disappear into the moment. Into the weight of his body. Into the ache that dulled everything else. She was repaying him for dinner. That was all. A transaction. Her default. She had nothing else to give, anyway. When it was over, he lay beside her, eyes closed, breathing steady. Tamar turned away from him, pulling the sheets to her chest, her gaze locked on the empty wall ahead. She wasn’t sure how much time passed before the tears came. Slow, silent and stubborn. She wiped them quickly, angrily. But they kept coming. Because now… she wasn’t just far gone. She was farther. She thought he was here to draw her back. To help her, to love her. But he had called her by someone else’s name. She was used to being mistaken. Forgotten. Used. Bold of her to hope she could be loved u chosen. A girl who had once believed in God and herself… now reduced to quiet moans in strangers’ arms and red wine to dull the ache of memory. She had nothing left. Not even her name. *_I apologize for the late post. Had a very long meeting this evening._*