high on grace – HIGH ON GRACE

Hello, daddy. Can I come home?

… in every heart is a daddy-shaped hole.

All or Nothing

At what point does “heaven” help those who help themselves? What about the helpless?

Enjoy this excerpt from my novel, Guilty as Grace. There was a short and confusing email from one of her [Esther’s] brothers. He said he had been trying to reach her. And he said there was someone they wanted her to meet, a good family friend who had just gotten back from the UK. AndContinue reading “Mirror Mirror on the Wall”

Fearfully and Womanly Made

How do you deal with something you cannot change? Like being a woman? From clients to bosses and colleagues, it has been an interesting journey of discovery… But it’s not as if I want so much to be such a threat.

Tall, Dark, Handsome

I fell out of love with my type.

Well, with one of my types because I sort of rotate them. Sometimes they are dark, sometimes they are not. Sometimes they are full of potential, other times they are full of money. Sometimes they are artsy, and still other times, they are nerdy.

The Full Package

This New Year’s post is coming in February because January was in a hurry going somewhere. (And there is also the perfect excuse that it’s New Year in China!) I have thought about something inspirational to say but all I could think about was pineapples. Weird? I know! And then I fell asleep. I wokeContinue reading “The Full Package”

Blogging Away on Monday

…no matter how hard you try, the planning, strategic documents and research put in, what you are and what you dream are essentially on two different planes. Because a true dream is based on nothing except faith. It doesn’t make logical sense. There is no 5 steps to making your dreams come true.

No Room for Small Sizes

Remember when they told us, “You’ll grow into it”, and then your school uniform comes back from the seamstress and it is baggy? Bad thing is, the uniform sizes never caught up with our real sizes. (any witnesses here???)

This Person Called Grace

I’m not about to write a “Myself” essay. Remember those essays we had to write in primary school? They felt very indulgent and by the time you were done, your teacher actually knew all about your short life. Not that we cared.

My Black Life, Far From Home

I am Ghanaian and apart from sometime in 2001 in the midst of religious riots while living in Nigeria, I’d never felt my life to be in serious danger. And then just yesterday, I watched a video sent by my Malawian American friend about how South Asians were part of the racism problem in America.Continue reading “My Black Life, Far From Home”