Daily Diary Game | [September 31, 2026] 《 PART OF MY JOURNRY SO FAR IN LIFE,AFTER LOOSING MY MUM》
Hi guys it your boy @temipkz.
Today ill be sharring my journey so far in life.
《Life has a way of testing you until you feel entirely emptied out.》
If someone had told me years ago that I would one day stand on stage as a gospel artist singing praises to God, I would have laughed through my tears. My path wasn't smooth; it was paved with sweat, deep hunger, meager paychecks, and moments so heavy they nearly broke my spirit. Yet through every valley, God kept me.
This is my honest, unfiltered story.
SERVING OTHERS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH
In the early days, survival wasn't a choice—it was a daily battle. To keep food in my stomach, I took a job as an usher and server for a catering company. To the guests at those lavish events, we looked pristine and welcoming in our bowties and aprons. But behind those rehearsed smiles lay a painful reality.
I stood on my feet for hours, serving multi-course feasts to wealthy guests, while my own stomach growled from intense hunger.
When the music faded and the guests went home, the illusion shattered. There was no glamour behind the scenes. I would sit on the bare ground, hunched over giant black plastic basins, scrubbing thick grease and burned food from heavy iron pots. My hands grew numb, my back felt ready to snap, and my clothes soaked through with dirty water and waste. I wasn't just washing dishes; I was swallowing my pride and enduring the bitter taste of poverty every single day.
《CARRYING HEAVY LOADS: THE BOTTLING COMPANY ERA》
When catering gigs dried up, I had to find another way to survive. I took a job as an errand boy at a 7Up Bottling Company.
The work was relentless. I darted across noisy, dusty factory floors and scorching loading zones—hauling heavy crates, running endless orders, and burning through energy under the unrelenting sun. To the supervisors and staff around me, I was invisible, replaceable, and easily dismissed.
At the end of every shift, I would collapse onto a wooden bench and stare at my calloused, grime-stained hands. It broke my heart to realize my youth and strength were being drained just running errands for people who barely knew my name. I couldn't help but wonder if this was all life had planned for me.
《WALKING MILES FOR PEANUTS: COUNTING HOUSES UNDER THE SUN》
Hoping for a breath of relief, I later joined a government house-enumeration project. They handed us bright yellow reflective vests, fastened official ID badges around our necks, and sent us out into the heat.
Day after day, we walked until the soles of our shoes wore paper-thin and our ankles swelled. We trekked through dusty roads and rough terrain, knocking on door after door, only to be met with hostility and suspicion by residents who treated us like trespassers.
We gave that job our sweat, time, and remaining strength. Our reward? Peanuts. The stipend was so minuscule that after covering daily transport and a basic meal, virtually nothing remained. It was a crushing cycle: working to the point of physical collapse, only to return home empty-handed.
《THE SILENT TEARS IN THE DARK》
The world saw a young man hustling through the streets by day—wearing a server's apron or a high-vis vest, doing whatever it took to keep moving forward. But no one saw the dark hours after the sun went down.
So many nights, I cried myself to sleep on a thin mat, staring at the ceiling as an unbearable weight pressed down on my chest. I had no safety net. No wealthy relative to call, no influential contact to pull me out of the pit, and no shoulder to lean on when the pain became overwhelming.
While the rest of the world slept, my mind wrestled with painful questions: “God, why me? When will my story change? Am I destined to suffer like this forever?”
I wept until my throat burned and no tears were left. I had to choke back my sorrow because I needed a brave face for the world the next morning. Feeling helpless, abandoned, and forgotten was the most agonizing part of the entire journey.
《THE TURNING POINT: FINDING MY VOICE IN GOSPEL MUSIC》
In those dark, silent hours when human help failed, music became my altar. With no one else to turn to, I began pouring my broken spirit out to God through song.
Slowly, I realized that not a single tear shed in secret was wasted. God was gathering those tears to water the seeds of a ministry He was building inside me. He took my humiliation, my heartbreak, and my lonely nights, and transformed them into songs of hope and deliverance.
Today, by His grace, I stand as a gospel artist. The same hands that scrubbed greasy pots on the floor and carried heavy crates now hold a microphone to lift up the name of Jesus. When I step before a congregation, I don't just perform lyrics—I minister from the depths of my soul. Every note and every shout of praise comes from a deep well of gratitude to a God who stood by beach when I was completely alone.
《WHERE I AM TODAY: KEEPING THE FAITH》
My story is far from over, but I am living proof that God is faithful. He lifted me out of the ash heap, washed away the dust of shame, and put a new song in my mouth. He proved that He was present in that dark room every single night I thought I was crying alone.
If you are reading this post on Steemit right now and feel like giving up—if you are working a job that pays peanuts, scrubbing floors just to get a single meal, or crying yourself to sleep tonight—please hold on. Man may reject, mock, or forget you, but God will never leave you behind.
The same God who brought me out of the mud, sweat, and tears is working on your story right now. Keep trusting Him, keep moving forward, and don't lose hope
heart.
Thank You, Lord, for bringing me this far. My voice and my life belong to You! 🙏✨
Thank you for taking the time to read my testimony on Steemit! If this post touched your heart or gave you hope today, please consider upvoting, leaving a comment below, and resteeming to share this message with someone who might need it.