Yeah, it's just the way it is, in life some one have to take a step in other to became a great person in life

*Health Education*

*Cockroaches*

Can survive a week without its head.
Can survive 2weeks without water.
Can survive one month without food
Can live in your house for 3½years (maximum life span) without been detected!!

Defecates on human food.
Can trigger severe asthma attack.
Spreads bacteria that can cause food poisoning and typhoid.

A cockroach can kill you.
If you don’t kill it first.

These things are capable of the worst things you can imagine.

They eat almost anything even fellow insects. Hair, books, sweets, meat anything- they will eat.

They are attracted to human food.
They vomit on the food.
They defecate on the food.

Absolutely disgusting animals.

Some young cockroaches have been documented to crawl over sleeping human beings and crawl inside the ears, noses, and even open mouths.

So if you have cockroaches in your house and you sleep sometimes with your mouth open and drooling, a cockroach can scroll in for a kiss.

Cockroaches have been known to spread at least 33 kinds of bacteria, including E. coli and Salmonella, six parasitic worms and more than seven other types of human pathogens.

E. coli and Salmonella for example are classic causes of serious food poisoning, typhoid and diarrhea.

So what to do?
Prevent the environment that helps them thrive. That’s the main answer.

Keep your cupboards, sinks, tables and floors clean and free of dirty plates, unused utensils and old newspapers.

Clean your dishes, food crumbs and oil spills right away once you cook.

*Always store your food in airtight containers, and never leave your food out (even if it is pet food!).*

*Storing up food in nylon bags and sacks like garri and rice is NOT the best for you. These idiots can eat through the sack and ruin that food for you.*

*Don’t risk it at all.*

Seal cracks and gaps in walls, floors and openings around or inside cabinets.

Also make sure that you seal gaps around pipes, plumbing, wall outlets, and spaces under the doors to your house and kitchen.

From time to time, run hot water in spare bathrooms and little used sinks.

Always check your bag and your children's school bags when they return home, as well as your shopping items before storing them.

If despite all these measures, you still have a cockroach problem at home, contact a pest professional for assistance with elimination and prevention.

Smack with a broom.
Squash with slippers.
Boil in hot water.
Spray with an insecticide.
Kill with a gun.

Use whatever means you can.
But don’t ever ignore.

One cockroach can produce up to 1,000 new ones in a year to torment your life.

Kill cockroaches now
Before they kill you.

So ladies and gentlemen.
Do the world a favour:
Kill a cockroach today.

When you go to your friends house, as a show of goodwill, kill a cockroach.

When you go to your partner’s house, as a show of love, kill a cockroach.

Wherever you go, and you find one-
kill it. Just do it.

It takes just one person to destroy a group.

Do not be that person.

Nobody understands the reason will we meet on this journey of life. We may not be related by blood, we may not know each other from the beginning, but God has put us together to live as one big family. Relationship is a silent gift of Nature.It takes just one person to destroy a group.

Do not be that person.

Nobody understands the reason will we meet on this journey of life. We may not be related by blood, we may not know each other from the beginning, but God has put us together to live as one big family. Relationship is a silent gift of Nature.

Truly, Champions are those who have fought and won life's battles. Don't you know you are one

Dearest friends, it is no new thing that death rate is on the increase these days. Inasmuch as we can’t stop it, there are still some little things we can do to help ourselves or at least live a pressure free life.
In all your doings, guard your heart, thoughts and emotions first.
Decide in you to be happy no matter what. The rate at which people breakdown and die these days will make you understand that allowing so many negative emotions, feelings and thoughts in your heart has a way of breaking your walls gradually, before you know it you begin to sink.
Don’t blame yourself if you don’t have the best life or if others are doing better than you, don’t curse your life either, but always ask yourself this” what can I do to improve? How can I do better?” Insights will come, ideas will come, it will all shape your focus and help you stay positive.
Do not strive to be like anyone but work hard to be a better version of yourself. Set targets for yourself, it’s ok not to meet them at once, but you’ll see how it will help you go farther. Try as much as possible to take your eyes off things that will put you under pressure, your peace of mind matters. It is not enough to live, but the most important is to live a peaceful and pressure free life.
Above all, be contented, be prayerful and remember this. “. YOUR PRESENT SITUATION IS ANOTHER PERSONS PRAYER POINT.

There is grief in accepting someone won’t change!" (Nedra Tawwab)
In the quiet depths of the heart, there lies a profound sorrow in the realization that someone may never change. It is a poignant acknowledgment, a tender letting go of hopes for transformation or growth in another.
This grief is not loud or dramatic but a subtle ache, a gentle mourning for the possibilities that may never come to fruition.
Accepting this truth requires a deep well of strength and resilience, a willingness to release expectations and embrace the reality before you. It is a bittersweet journey of acceptance but within it lies the opportunity to learn the art of detachment.
Detachment does not mean indifference or lack of love; rather, it is the gentle practice of releasing the need to control or fix others, allowing us to embrace reality as it is.
By cultivating detachment, we free ourselves from the weight of expectations and the pain of disappointment, creating space for acceptance and peace. It teaches us to love without attachment to outcomes, to honor our own well-being while holding compassion for others.
In learning this art, we transform grief into wisdom, finding strength in surrender and serenity in embracing life’s impermanence

It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut." (William Shakespeare)
Not everyone will understand the weight you carry—and that’s okay. Some will laugh at what they’ve never lived through, dismiss what they cannot see, or speak carelessly about wounds they’ve never had to tend.
It’s easy to minimize someone else's pain when you’ve never sat awake with your own. True empathy doesn’t come from observation; it rises from experience—those quiet, raw places where life has broken us open and taught us how fragile the human heart can be. Only then do we learn to approach others not with judgment, but with gentleness. To see someone's scars and not flinch. To offer kindness, not critique.
Because once you’ve been there, you don’t forget how much it meant when someone offered you understanding instead of advice.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 4
The house was too quiet.
Grace sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the rim of her morning coffee cup, the steam long gone. Michael had left early again—another "business meeting." But this time, something felt different. Her stomach twisted in knots, and no matter how hard she tried to shake it off, the feeling clung to her like a shadow.
She picked up her phone, scrolling mindlessly until a message notification popped up.
It was from an unknown number.
Her breath hitched as she opened it.
"Your husband and his secretary look so cozy together at the Silver Spoon Café. Thought you should know."
Attached was a photo—Michael sitting across from his young, beautiful secretary, their heads close together as they smiled over documents.
Grace’s hands trembled.
She didn’t remember driving to Michael’s office.
All she knew was the burning in her chest, the way her pulse roared in her ears. She burst through the doors, ignoring the startled receptionist, and marched straight to his office.
And there they were—Michael and her—standing close, the secretary laughing at something he said.
Grace saw red.
"Grace? What are you—" Michael started, his eyes widening as she stormed in.
"Who is she?!" Grace screamed, pointing at the secretary.
The young woman stepped back, her face paling. "Mrs. Thompson, I—"
"Grace, calm down!" Michael moved between them, his hands raised. "This isn’t what you think!"
"Then what is it?!" Her voice cracked, raw with betrayal. "Another business meeting? Another late night? How long has this been going on?!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "Nothing is going on! We were just going over contracts!"
Grace let out a bitter laugh. "Contracts? Is that what you call it now?"
She lunged forward, shoving him hard. Michael stumbled back, shock flashing across his face.
"Grace, stop!"
But she couldn’t. The rage, the hurt, the months of loneliness—it all erupted. She grabbed the nearest thing—a glass paperweight—and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence.
The secretary screamed, scrambling out of the room.
Michael grabbed Grace’s wrists, his grip firm. "Grace, enough! You’re acting crazy!"
"*Crazy?!" She wrenched free, tears streaming down her face. "You’ve been lying to me! You’ve been cheating on me!"
"I haven’t!" Michael’s voice broke. "Grace, please—just listen to me!"
But she didn’t want to listen.
She couldn’t.
The ride home was a blur.
Michael followed her, pleading the entire way, but Grace barely heard him. All she could hear was Pastor Gideon’s voice in her head:
"If you stay, you will die."
When they got home, the children were there—their three beautiful babies, their faces filled with confusion and fear as they watched their parents scream at each other.
"Daddy? Mommy?" little Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with tears.
Grace’s heart shattered.
But she couldn’t stop.
She packed her bags that night.
Michael begged on his knees, his voice broken. "Grace, please… Don’t do this. I love you. We love you."
The children cried, clinging to her legs. "Mommy, don’t go!"
Grace closed her eyes, her hands shaking as she zipped up her suitcase.
Pastor Gideon’s words echoed louder.
"God wants you free."
She turned away, walking out the door without looking back.
When she arrived at the church, Pastor Gideon welcomed her with open arms.
"Sister Grace," he said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "You’ve done the right thing. God is pleased."
He patted her back, his smile wide. "This is your new beginning."
Grace nodded, but deep down, beneath the numbness, a voice whispered:
What have I done?
That night, alone in the small apartment the pastor had arranged for her, Grace sat on the edge of an unfamiliar bed, staring at her phone.
There were 17 missed calls from Michael.
32 messages from the kids.
And one voicemail—Sarah’s tiny, broken voice:
"Mommy… please come home."
Grace pressed a hand to her mouth, choking back a sob.
For the first time, she wondered—had she made the biggest mistake of her life?
TO BE CONTINUED...

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 3
Grace stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared at the text on her phone. It was from Michael—short, cold, like always.
"Working late. Don’t wait up."
She had spent all afternoon preparing his favorite meal—peppered snail soup with fresh bread. The table was set, candles lit, the house smelling of spices and warmth. She had wanted to talk, to finally tell him how lonely she felt. How much she missed him.
But now, the food would go cold. Again.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to type, "Please come home. We need to talk." But she knew what his response would be—silence. Or worse, annoyance.
She took a deep breath and called him instead.
The phone rang three times before Michael answered. In the background, she could hear laughter, glasses clinking. A restaurant.
"Grace, I said I’m working," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.
Her heart pounded. "You’re not at the office."
A pause. Then a sigh. "I had a business dinner. I didn’t think I needed to explain every little thing to you."
Little thing. Those words cut deep. To her, it wasn’t little. It was another night alone. Another night where she felt invisible in her own marriage.
"Michael…" Her voice cracked. "I made dinner. I wanted us to talk. We—we can’t keep living like this."
Another pause. Then, "Grace, not now. I’ll be home late."
And just like that, he hung up.
Grace stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone buzzing like a taunt.
When Michael finally came home, hours later, Grace was waiting.
The candles had burned out. The food was untouched.
He walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing at her as he headed for the stairs.
"Michael," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."
He stopped, exhaling sharply. "Grace, it’s midnight. Can’t this wait?"
No. It couldn’t.
"Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Do you even love me anymore?"
Michael turned, his face unreadable. "This again? Grace, I’m tired. I work all day, and I don’t need this drama when I come home."
Drama.
That word shattered something inside her.
"This isn’t drama!" she cried. "This is our marriage! You don’t talk to me, you don’t spend time with me—I feel like a ghost in my own house!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "What do you want from me, Grace? I provide for you. You have everything!"
Everything except his love.
Grace wiped her tears, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "I want my husband back."
For a second, something flickered in Michael’s eyes—guilt? Regret? But then it was gone, replaced by cold indifference.
"I don’t have time for this," he said, turning away.
And just like that, he walked upstairs, leaving her standing there, broken.
Grace didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, her heart raw. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen.
So she went back to the only person who seemed to care—Pastor Gideon.
In his office, Grace cried as she told him what happened.
Pastor Gideon listened, nodding sympathetically. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave.
"Sister Grace… I fear for your life."
Grace froze. "What?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "A man who treats his wife this way… it’s not just neglect. It’s spiritual warfare. The devil is using him to destroy you."
Grace’s hands trembled. "But—but what do I do?"
Pastor Gideon placed a hand over hers. "God is telling me… if you stay, you will die in that house. Not just your heart—your life."
Grace gasped, her blood running cold.
"The Bible says, ‘Come out from among them and be separate.’ You must leave, Sister Grace. Before it’s too late."
Her mind spun. Leave Michael? After eighteen years?
But the pastor’s words sank deep, feeding her fears.
You will die if you stay.
That evening, Pastor Gideon "coincidentally" ran into Michael at a charity event.
"Brother Michael!" he greeted warmly, clapping him on the back. "How are you, my friend?"
Michael, unaware of the pastor’s conversations with Grace, smiled. "Doing well, Pastor. Keeping busy."
The pastor sighed sympathetically. "I actually wanted to speak with you. Your wife came to me recently… she’s been struggling."
Michael’s smile faded. "Grace?"
Pastor Gideon nodded. "She’s… very emotional. I’ve been counseling her to find peace in God’s word. Marriage is sacred, after all."
Michael relaxed, grateful. "I appreciate that, Pastor. She’s been… difficult lately."
The pastor smiled, hiding his deceit behind holy concern. "We’ll keep praying for you both."
Meanwhile, Grace sat at home, staring at her wedding ring, wondering if removing it would save her life—or destroy it.
TO BE CONTINUED...