Adventure. Writing. Impact
My name is Amara (she/her). I am an outdoorsy soul and from as far back as I can recall, writing has been my primary mode of expression. That was until I got Chemo brain during Cancer treatment. Going through that stage made me start blogging again.
God offered him a dynasty as enduring as David’s, yet insecurity pushed him to build what God never asked for. His story is a warning to every believer who feels the urge to take control when God’s promise feels fragile. Fear doesn’t just distract; it rewrites futures
Demas didn’t fall. He faded.
He didn’t rebel, he relaxed.
He didn’t deny Christ — he simply preferred comfort.
His story is a warning that the greatest threat to calling isn’t always sin or suffering, but the slow, quiet pull of a world that feels easier than obedience.
Does she who is down really fear no falls? Explore how a rebuke led me down a rabbit hole of discovery to reveal the subtle ways we sabotage our own calling.
Why Black communities in the UK face late cancer diagnoses. And how stigma, faith, trauma and healthcare inequalities shape outcomes. A lived‑experience resource for patients, families and NHS professionals.
A wet towel + an empty toilet bowl = a life lesson. And yes, the best ideas still emerge from the bathroom
A vivid, emotionally charged reflection on James Clavell’s Shōgun—and the four major lessons it forces readers to confront about culture, power, honour, and colonial greed.
What began as a simple trip to the dentist veered off into into an unexpected spiritual confrontation.
But the patterns of our upbringing don’t disappear simply because we reject them. They lie dormant, waiting for moments of:
A contemporary retelling of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife that exposes the quiet compromises, hidden deceptions, and moral tensions shaping modern marriages.
The Spice Girl’s Mental Health May tiptoed down the corridor and opened the door slightly. She was being extra cautious not to wake anyone as it was a good hour before the dawn – she didn’t need any dissuasion or what her father termed common sense. Stepping into the courtyard, she felt the chill permeate through her clothing. For although it was early Spring, the weather was still trying to extricate itself from the throes of winter. The security guard at the gate dipped his head in a bow as he closed the gate behind her. Long years of service in this family had taught him the vital lesson of staying out of May’s way – especially when she acts weird like now – no sane female from a respectable family should be out by this
Zakari glared at his phone as it vibrated on the table right in front of him. This was the third time it was pinging, yet he ignored it. He was still seething from the aftermath of the meeting which he has recently dismissed The monthly meeting of his regional Comptrollers – officers who controlled various ports across the country This particular session turned out to have exhausted him emotionally in addition to its usual mental exhaustion Both the ministers of Trade and Finance had read him an ultimatum during their meeting last week An ultimatum which left him no choice – clean up your house or risk being tossed out with the bath water Three of the core Commands under his jurisdiction were not turning in enough taxes – and two of them, headed by his own people It didn’t
A wry smile tugged at my lips as the irony of the moment settled in. There I was, greasy fingers scrolling through a devotional while waiting – impatiently – for my bread dough to rise. Two hours had passed already, and the dough still looked like it needed another hour. I was tempted to shove it into the oven as‑is. After all, why should it take so long? “Why am I even making this bread?” I muttered, half‑annoyed.I wanted to be at the seaside, not babysitting dough. Then the question dropped. “Why do you think it is called unleavened bread?” Without hesitation, I answered,“It had no yeast.” “Why did it have no yeast?” That one stopped me. My eyelids scrunched, my brain rummaging for the obvious answer like a student whispering exam questions to herself, hoping the answer would magically
© Amara Nnaji 2025.