Good morning, Gada.Chat great Members! Today is a new day, a fresh start, and an opportunity to make a difference. Let's draw inspiration from our collective strength, resilience, and passion for creating positive change. As we navigate our individual journeys, remember that every small act of kindness, every generous gesture, and every selfless act has the power to impact lives and shape the world around us. To our seasoned members, your dedication and leadership are the driving force behind our community's success. Your stories, experiences, and wisdom inspire us all to strive for more. To our new members, welcome! We're thrilled to have you join our community of Gada.Chat, which we help each other attend success. Your unique perspectives and talents will enrich our collective efforts. Let's continue to uplift, support, and empower one another. Let's celebrate our achievements, learn from our setbacks, and keep pushing boundaries. Together, we can achieve greatness, create lasting impact, and leave a legacy of love, kindness, and compassion. Have an amazing day, Members of Gada.Chat! Warm Regards! Elder Erasmus Ibom

BEAUTY FROM THE ASHES Episode 6 The women’s conference stretched across the week like a divine unfolding, each evening a sacred appointment that Amara hadn’t even known her soul had been craving. It wasn’t just a program; it was an invitation. An invitation to heal, to awaken and to breathe again. The first night had left her in tears. The speaker, a soft-spoken woman with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand stories, had shared her journey from despair to deliverance. Amara sat quietly in the third row, tears slipping down her cheeks as the words struck something deep, something raw within her. She wasn’t alone. Not in her pain. Not in her confusion. Not even in her silence. Every session after that peeled back another layer of pain, of pride, of fear. Like an onion shedding its skin, Amara found herself slowly unraveling. The masks she had worn for years...the brave wife, the silent sufferer, the spiritual martyr, began to fall. With every worship session, with every testimony, the walls she had so carefully constructed began to crack. Each night, she came home lighter. And each morning, she woke with a little more clarity. It was as if her heart was remembering how to feel again, how to hope. By Thursday, something inside her had shifted. That night’s message felt like it was delivered straight from the throne room of heaven to her wounded heart. The speaker, a fiery preacher with a voice that could calm storms or rouse an army, stood with authority and grace. She read from Isaiah 61:3: “…to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…” The words echoed through the hall, soaking into the atmosphere like rain on dry soil. Amara closed her eyes and let them wash over her. Beauty for ashes. Joy for mourning. Praise for heaviness. She didn’t know when the tears had started, but they came in quiet streams, not of sorrow, but of release. For the first time in a long time, Amara allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, her story wasn’t over. That perhaps God hadn’t abandoned her in the wreckage of her marriage, but had been waiting in the wings for her to find the strength to choose. Later that evening, Amara sat in Chinwe’s cozy living room, cradling a warm mug of ginger tea. The lights were dim, the air fragrant with the scent of cinnamon and honey. Chinwe sat across from her, legs tucked under her on the couch, listening intently. “I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking for years,” Amara began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was so sure I was doing God’s will by marrying Eddy. Everyone said I was. And when things turned ugly, I thought... maybe this was my cross. Maybe I was supposed to endure it.” Chinwe reached out and gently took her hand. “Amara,” she said, her tone gentle but firm, “God never asks us to stay in darkness and call it faith. He’s not glorified by your suffering. He’s glorified by your healing, your wholeness, your courage.” Amara looked down, tears pooling again. “But how do I just walk away? I made vows. I kept hoping he’d change. I didn’t want to give up.” “Walking away from abuse isn’t giving up,” Chinwe replied. “It’s waking up. It’s choosing life. God is not a taskmaster. He’s your Father. And He loves you far too much to watch you slowly die in a house where your soul can’t breathe.” A long silence passed between them. “So what do I do now?” Amara finally asked, her voice cracking. Chinwe squeezed her hand. “You choose,” she said softly. “You choose light. You choose life. You choose you.” That night, Amara didn’t sleep much. She lay in her room, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the moments she had silenced herself for the sake of peace, all the prayers she had whispered in the darkness, asking God to change Eddy, to save their home. But something had shifted. She realized she had been praying for resurrection in a grave she was never meant to lie in. The next morning, the storm arrived. Eddy came home with a man and started raining abuses on Amara; " See this idiot! You think you can come from African part of Nigeria to outsmart me that came from American part of Nigeria? It's either you hand over the school to me, channel all income to my account or I make sure the school is closed down completely." Her children, all came out to watch helplessly as usual. As Amara was trying to explain to the man he came home with, Eddy rushed Amara and started pounding her, targeting her face and bragging that he must make sure Amara becomes useless to any other man in this life; "By the time I'm done with you, people would spit on you at sight" Eddy continued hitting Amara until she collapsed on the floor. The poor man that came to ask for money to feed his family couldn't help the situation. When Amara regained consciousness, she saw only her children crying and waking her up. She sent for Chinwe. Chinwe immediately and secretly arranged for a drop that took them to Divine Mercy Hospital. The doctor was furious and demanded for his presence. When he arrived, he pleaded with the doctor that it's devil's handwork. As soon as he sighted Amara's brother, he begged Amara not to tell her brother but mocked her immediately her brother left. It's already few days Amara returned from hospital. Pastor Dickson visited their house. Bro Eddy pls kindly tell your wife what you shared with me. Eddy hesitated. "Sister Amara, your husband impregnated a lady called Jacinta and asked her to keep the baby. Although the lady insisted he must furnish a flat for her otherwise she will terminate the pregnancy. He was mad against you because he was having a showdown financially and couldn't meet the lady's demands and you refused to hand your income over to him." Pastor Dickson explained. Amara was lost in thought...so this man wanted me dead because of women. She remembered how he was bashed by one of his customers when she visited at the hospital. "Eddy, were you not the one that that told me this woman gave up her 12month salaries for you to have an English machine? Why are you treating this woman as if she worths nothing?" Mrs Aleme queried "How dare her say no to my order, a woman that bends to urinate? She must hand over the school to me. My account must be used for all income!" he thundered. But she has left the factory for you. The woman reminded And then? Eddy persisted. To Be Continued 🙏 What do you think that happened next? Find out in the next episode 🤔 Pls encourage me with like, follow, comment and share. God bless you 👏 ©️Grace Amarachi #teacherwritersingerlover #BeautyFromTheAshes #ChristianFiction #FaithAndResilience

*OPEN HEAVENS DAILY DEVOTIONAL* *DATE: FRIDAY JUNE 13TH 2025* *TOPIC: PRAYERS FOR YOUTHS* *MEMORISE:* “Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” - (2 Timothy 2:22) *READ: ECCLESIASTES 11:9-10 (KJV)* 9 Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment. 10 Therefore remove sorrow from thy heart, and put away evil from thy flesh: for childhood and youth are vanity. *PRAYERS:* 1. Father, I thank You for all the Christian youths across the world. Thank You for this new generation that You have chosen to show forth Your glory. 2. Father, please let all the youths in my community and around the world who are yet to accept Jesus as their Lord and Saviour be convicted by the Holy Spirit to surrender their lives to You. 3. Father, please guide the youths as they make decisions in their education, careers, relationships, and other areas of life. Help them to make the right decisions in line with Your will for their lives, in Jesus' name. 4. Father, please keep the youths focused on You. Help them to grow deeper in love with You, in Jesus' name. 5. Father, please help the youths break all negative generational patterns. May they not repeat the mistakes of past generations, in Jesus' name. 6. Lord, I come against any agenda of the enemy concerning the youths around me. They will not die, but they will live to show forth the glory of God and become terrors to the kingdom of darkness, in Jesus' name. 7. Lord, please help the youths overcome the devil's plans to indoctrinate them with perverse morals and cultures. I decree that his evil doctrines will have no influence over them, in Jesus' name. 8. Father, please set the youths on fire for You. Let them rise in every part of the world, speaking boldly about You and influencing their communities for Your Kingdom, in Jesus' name. 9. Father, please let Your excellent Spirit rest on every youth. Bless them with Your wisdom and creativity, and make them agents of positive change in their societies, in Jesus' name. 10. Father, please strengthen the youths to overcome temptations, depression, stress, and anxiety. Empower them with good health and a sound mind to deal with all of life's challenges, in Jesus' name. 11. Father, help the youths develop the right sense of responsibility that will make them excellent leaders, in Jesus' name. 12. Your personal prayer points for the youths around you. *BIBLE IN ONE YEAR: PSALMS 43-49* *AUTHOR PASTOR E A ADEBOYE* *HYMNAL: 22 - SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER! SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER!* 1 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer! that calls me from a world of care, and bids me at my Father's throne make all my wants and wishes known. In seasons of distress and grief, my soul has often found relief, and oft escaped the tempter's snare by thy return, sweet hour of prayer! 2 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer! the joys I feel, the bliss I share of those whose anxious spirits burn with strong desires for thy return! With such I hasten to the place where God my Savior shows his face, and gladly take my station there, and wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer! 3 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer! thy wings shall my petition bear to him whose truth and faithfulness engage the waiting soul to bless. And since he bids me seek his face, believe his word, and trust his grace, I'll cast on him my every care, and wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

Tears for Africa In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A continent's cry echoes through the day, Africa's heartbeat, strong and free, Yet bound by chains of poverty. From Sahara's sands to Cape's green shore, A story unfolds, of struggle and more, Of nations rising, of dreams unfulfilled, Of potential waiting, yet unskilled. In cities bustling, where lights ablaze, A different tale of Africa's gaze, Of progress made, of hope anew, Yet whispers of despair, in every hue. The drums of tradition, beat strong and free, A heritage rich, of history, Yet modernity's tide, brings change and strife, A balance sought, between past and life. The tears fall hard, for all unseen, For futures bright, yet unclean, For opportunities, lost and rare, For potential squandered, beyond repair. But still we hold, on to hope's thin thread, A glimmer of a brighter future spread, Of leaders rising, with vision grand, Of people uniting, hand in hand. The African dream, of unity and might, A future shining, where all take flight, Where children learn, and grow with glee, Where women thrive, and equality, Where men and women, in peace entwine, And Africa's story, is one divine. The tears we shed, are not in vain, For in our sorrow, a change will reign, A new dawn breaks, with promise true, For Africa's future, anew. Let us stand tall, and claim our right, To shape our destiny, and shine with all our might, Let us unite, and work as one, To build a brighter future, for everyone. In Africa's heart, a fire burns bright, A flame of hope, that guides through the night, A beacon of light, that shines so bold, A symbol of strength, that never grows old. The tears for Africa, will dry with time, As progress made, and hope entwine, A brighter future, will soon unfold, For Africa's children, young and old.

On a more serious note no real man wants a lady with just a big bum bum... We live in a generation where attention has been reduced to angles, filters, and how much body you can show. The louder the curves, the more people assume you’re winning. But let’s be real for a moment because behind the trends and temptations, the truth still stands tall. No real man is looking for a woman with just a big bum bum. Yes, a woman’s body may attract the eye, but it is her mind, her values, her character, and her essence that hold a man’s soul. The internet may be flooded with men commenting “fire” emojis and heart eyes under BBL pictures, but when it’s time for real life, when it’s time to choose a wife, a mother, a business partner, a backbone, these same men go quiet on curves and start looking for substance. Because here’s what they won’t post online: They want a woman who has sense, not just shape. They want a woman who can sit in a room with kings and speak with wisdom. They want a woman who can raise children with values and discipline. They want a woman who can manage a home, not just show off an outfit. They want a woman who can lead a business when they are not there. They want a woman who can multiply whatever she’s given not one who needs to be constantly maintained like a car with no engine. This is the truth social media will not scream at you. So whether you have the body or not, what really matters is: do you have value? Do you have strength of character? Can you think for yourself? Can you build something out of your life even when no one is clapping for you? Can you build a family, a vision, a legacy? Because no real man is looking for a liability. Real men are looking for women who are whole, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Not women who only offer their bodies but are empty in purpose and identity. So while you’re chasing body goals, don’t forget to chase life goals. Train your mind the same way you train your hips. Build your value the same way you build your wardrobe. Learn emotional intelligence the same way you learn makeup tutorials. Because in the end, the world may celebrate your bum bum, but your destiny will rise or fall based on your substance. You’re more than a body. You’re a builder. You’re a thinker. You’re a nurturer. You’re a world-shifter. So rise beyond what they see. Let your mind be sharper than your waistline. Let your presence shake rooms not because of how you walk, but because of the wisdom you carry. Because the kind of woman who changes generations doesn’t just have a bum bum, she has a brain and a spirit that cannot be ignored. _______ You want to be a woman of value?... Learn a skill. Click on the link in the comment section to learn how to write for impact, influence, and income. 📷 Internet Yours Inspiration, Kathryn Esther Clement

For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.For there are no bands in their death: but their strength is firm.

Hello GADA Family, It's Friday and I am so excited. This is a gentle reminder that we've made it through another week of showing up, doing our best and learning through it all. Whether you're managing a team, running a business, or building your career one day at a time, take a moment to breathe and reflect. - How did you lead this week? - How did you show up for yourself, not just your work? I believe in working with excellence and heart. Leadership isn't just about titles, it's about how we carry ourselves, how we treat others and how we honour our personal growth while pursuing professional goals. So today, pause and celebrate: 😍 The grace you extended to others and yourself 😍 The quiet strength behind every task you completed 😍The boundaries you protected. While we are celebrating the official launching of GADA Platform online, let this weekend be a soft reset. Reset. Reflect. Reconnect with your "Why" because next week, we rise again, grounded, focused and full of promises. Selah! Regina Edem Employee Relation Personnel

There is nothing as discouraging as not getting appraisal or encouragement for your efforts to make something right. When you devote yourself to proffer solutions to certain problems or difficulties faced by people around you but get little or no recognition from it. Believe me, it is heartbreaking. I have been there too. This can make you give up on your dreams. It can make you shut the windows of your inspiration. It can terminate your vision. It can enslave you to low self-esteem and doubt. That which you can do will seem strange to you and becomes difficult to do. I understand. Your experiences so far have made you quit that which you do. But I bring you something different. Different from 'balablu'. RENEWAL! In every weakness, there lies strength. In disappointments, there you will find blessings. In loss, there is gain. In discouragement is encouragement. You can still write... You can still organize that program... You can still volunteer, again... You can still design... You can still speak, your voice is ok... All you need to do is START, that is the definition of renewal ~ strengthening that which is feeble...to revive! This word has the potency to re-ignite the already quenched fire in you, get up and walk! Look beyond appraisals and recommendations, in due time they will surface. Your audience misses you. Your generation awaits your return, patiently. Now is the appointed time, let's do more. FYI, we can do it together. I hope this helps. I am Erasmus Ibom

16 ways to calm yourself when life is getting tough 1. Walk. 2. Indulge. 3. Give something to a total stranger. 4. Be silly. Do something that you did as a child. 5. Educate yourself. Research what it is you're experiencing. 6. Write the day's to-do list the evening before. 7. Write down a list of 20 of your strengths (e.g.empathetic) 8. Keep taking small steps, no matter what. 9. Re-visit an old hobby. 10. Prioritize. Decide what's important right now. 11. Get enough rest. Sleep 7-9 hours each night. 12. Cry. 13. Check your self-talk. 14. Journal. 15. Remind yourself of the value you have to offer. 16. Sit in a coffee shop or a busy street and soak up your surroundings.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL PART 8 The apartment was dark, the air thick with the smell of stale tears and untouched meals. Grace had been lying on the cold floor for hours, her body weak, her mind drowning in regret. The phone, now silent, lay just inches from her limp fingers—the last connection to the family she had pushed away. Outside, the rain poured heavily, tapping against the window like desperate fingers trying to wake her. But Grace didn’t stir. Michael sat at the dining table in their home, staring at his untouched dinner. Sarah, Daniel, and little Joy were unusually quiet, their eyes downcast. "Dad," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling. "What if something’s wrong with Mom?" Michael’s chest tightened. He had called Grace a dozen times. Sent messages. Begged. But there had been no response. Not even a "leave me alone." Just silence. Too much silence. Daniel, always the observant one, spoke up. "What if she’s sick? Or… or hurt?" Michael’s hands clenched into fists. He had tried to respect Grace’s space, to give her time. But this—this silence—was different. Something was wrong. He stood abruptly, grabbing his car keys. "We’re going to check on her." The drive to Grace’s apartment felt like the longest of Michael’s life. The children sat in tense silence, their small hands gripping the seats. When they arrived, Michael knocked—once, twice, three times. No answer. His heart pounded. "Grace!" he called, banging harder. "Grace, open the door!" Still nothing. Panic clawed at his throat. He turned to the building supervisor, who, after seeing the fear in Michael’s eyes, quickly unlocked the door. The sight that greeted them shattered Michael’s heart. Grace lay crumpled on the floor, her skin pale, her lips cracked. Tears had dried on her cheeks, her eyes swollen from crying. "Mom!" Sarah screamed, rushing forward. Michael was at Grace’s side in an instant, lifting her frail body into his arms. She was burning up, her breathing shallow. "Call an ambulance!" he barked, his voice raw with fear. Little Joy burst into tears, clinging to Daniel as they watched their father cradle their mother, his own tears falling onto her face. "Grace," Michael whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "I’m here. We’re *all* here." The sterile white lights of the hospital buzzed overhead as doctors and nurses moved around Grace’s unconscious form. "Severe dehydration," one doctor said. "Extreme stress. Her body just… shut down." Michael sat by her bedside, his large hand wrapped around Grace’s small one. The children hovered close, their eyes wide with fear. Sarah, trying to be strong, wiped her tears and held Joy’s hand. "She’s gonna be okay," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Daniel, ever the quiet thinker, stared at his mother’s face. "Why didn’t she call us?" he asked softly. Michael swallowed hard. "Because she thought we didn’t want her anymore." The words hung heavy in the air. Grace’s eyelids fluttered open hours later, her vision blurry. The first thing she saw was Michael’s exhausted face, his stubble rough, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. Then—Sarah, Daniel, Joy. All staring at her with a mix of relief and lingering hurt. Grace’s breath hitched. They came for me. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as shame crashed into her. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. "I—I’m sorry…" Michael squeezed her hand gently. "Shhh. Don’t talk." Joy, unable to hold back any longer, climbed onto the bed and buried her face in Grace’s neck. "Don’t leave us again, Mama," she sobbed. Grace’s arms—weak as they were—wrapped around her baby, holding her tight. Sarah and Daniel joined, their warmth seeping into Grace’s cold bones. Michael leaned down, pressing a kiss to Grace’s forehead. "We never stopped loving you," he murmured. "We never *will*." Grace closed her eyes, letting their love wash over her. For the first time in months, the storm inside her stilled. Recovery was slow but steady. Michael took time off work, refusing to leave Grace’s side. The children took turns reading to her, bringing her favorite foods, filling the hospital room with laughter and life. One evening, as Grace sat propped up in bed, Michael handed her a cup of tea—just the way she liked it. Two sugars, a splash of milk. She smiled weakly. "You remembered." Michael sat beside her, his voice soft. "I remember everything, Grace." A pause. Then— "Pastor Gideon never came, did he?" Grace’s smile faded. She shook her head. Michael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press. Instead, he pulled her closer. "You don’t need him. You have us" And for the first time, Grace believed it. As the days passed, Grace’s strength returned—not just physically, but emotionally. The panic attacks lessened. The nightmares faded. Because every time she woke in fear, Michael was there to hold her. Every time she doubted, Sarah was there to remind her, "We love you, Mom." Every time guilt threatened to swallow her, Daniel would slip his hand into hers, silent but steady. And Joy—her baby—would climb into her lap and whisper, "You’re my favorite person in the whole world." Grace had spent months believing she was alone. But her family had never left. Not really. The storm has passed now comes the sunrise TO BE CONTINUED...

BIG SECRETS IN MARRIAGE! Secret 1 Everyone you marry has a weakness. Only God does not have a weakness. So if you focus on your spouse's weakness you can't get the best out of his strength. Secret 2 Everyone has a dark history. No one is an angel. When you get married or you want to get married stop digging into someone's past. What matters most is the present life of your partner. Old things have passed away. Forgive and forget. Focus on the present and the future. Secret 3 Every marriage has its own challenges. Marriage is not a bed of roses. Every good marriage has gone through its own test of blazing fire. True love proves in times of challenges. Fight for your marriage. Make up your mind to stay with your spouse in times of need. Remember the vow For better for worse. In sickness and in health be there. Secret 4 Every marriage has different levels of success. Don't compare your marriage with any one else. We can never be equal. Some will be far, some behind. To avoid marriage stresses, be patient, work hard and with time your marriage dreams shall come true. Secret 5 To get married is declaring war. When you get married you must declare war against enemies of marriage. Some enemies of marriage are: Ignorance Prayerlessness Unforgiveness Third party influence Stinginess Stubbornness Lack of love Rudeness Laziness Disrespect Cheating Be ready to fight to maintain your marriage zone. Secret 6 There is no perfect marriage. There is no ready made marriage. Marriage is hard work. Volunteer yourself to work daily on it. Marriage is like a car that needs proper maintenance and proper service. If this is not done it will break down somewhere exposing the owner to danger or some unhealthy circumstances. Let us not be careless about our marriages. Secret 7 God cannot give you a complete person you desire. He gives you the person in the form of raw materials.

Oh Gracious Lord, Weaver of Words and Crafter of Courage, I come before You with open hands and an earnest heart. In my moments of doubt, remind me of Your unending faithfulness. Fill my mouth with Your wisdom and grace, that I may speak life into the shadows of this world. Stand with me, as You stood with Moses, and guide my words to mirror Your love. Let my voice be Your vessel, and my story a beacon of Your truth. For in the sharing of our journeys, we find the strength of Your Spirit weaving through us. In the precious name of Jesus, I lift this prayer. Amen.