Did I ever tell you of when my Dad left my small sister Kainos in a matatu (public vehicle)? Yes. Yes. What a day to remember! And oh, before you start sharpening the pitchforks thinking he was an irresponsible father, let me set the record straight—my dad was a loving, responsible man. But even the best of us have our oops moments, and this was his.
I call this one: How to Not Forget Important Things (Like Your Child!)
It all started when my little sister, Kainos, about eight years old at the time, begged and pleaded to go to town with him. You know how kids can be—when they want something, they don’t just ask. They campaign. They negotiate. They weep dramatically like they’re auditioning for a Nollywood movie. And after what must have been an Oscar-worthy performance, my dad caved in.
So off they went. Dad did his usual business, buying stock for his village shops, and everything went smoothly. Mission accomplished. They boarded a face-me matatu—a type of old-school pickup-turned-passenger-vehicle, named for the way passengers sit facing each other. (Let me tell you, after staring at someone for 30 minutes straight, you either become best friends or you leave there with so many ‘you look familiar’ scenarios).
Anyway, halfway home, the matatu broke down. Everyone got out, because rule number one of rural travel: when a matatu breaks down, you do not sit inside like a dignitary—you come out and participate in the public viewing of the crisis.
Now, my dad, being the ever-helpful man that he was, joined a few other men to diagnose the problem. Just as they were getting their hands greasy, a friend of his happened to drive by. They exchanged pleasantries, and when the friend offered him a ride home, dad didn’t think twice. He hopped in and off they went.
He arrived home feeling victorious—he had dodged a long wait, saved himself some dust inhalation, and was about to get back to work. Life was good.
And then, the look.
If you are married, you know the look. That silent, potent gaze from your spouse that tells you, without a single word, that you are in serious trouble.
My dad, oblivious, looked around. What now?
Then Mum asked, in the kind of voice that makes a grown man reevaluate his life choices, “Where’s the baby?”
Dad blinked. Which baby?
And then, like a lightning bolt of divine revelation, it hit him—HE HAD LEFT WITH KAINOS!
The man sprinted back to the road, caught another matatu, and sped back to the scene of the crime.
Meanwhile, my dear, innocent sister was still sitting in the broken-down matatu, as patient as a saint. Most of the passengers had given up and left, but not Kainos. She sat there, unbothered, waiting for the car to be fixed, completely unaware that she had been accidentally donated to public transport.
Eventually, Dad arrived, scooped her up, and took her home. Mum forgave him (eventually), and my sister—well, let’s just say she milked that story for extra privileges for years.
Now, there’s an old Swahili saying: Haraka haraka haina baraka—hurry, hurry has no blessing. My dad, in his rush, ended up wasting more time and money than if he had just been patient.
So, my friend, what are you rushing today? Are you so busy that you might forget something—or someone—important? Slow down before life gives you your own version of “The Great Forgetting.”
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧
1. Haste Makes Waste (And Sometimes Forgets Children)
My Dad was in such a hurry to get home that he ended up spending more time and money going back for my sister. This is a classic example of how rushing often leads to mistakes that require even more effort to fix. Whether in business, relationships, or travel—slow down, plan well, and avoid unnecessary back-and-forth.
2. Never Assume You’re Traveling Alone
Life has a way of making us so focused on our own goals that we sometimes forget the people we are responsible for. My Dad thought he had everything under control, but in reality, he was missing one small but significant passenger. Whether at work, in ministry, or at home, always check—who are you supposed to be journeying with? Have you forgotten someone who depends on you?
3. Crisis Doesn’t Mean Abandon Ship
My sister, despite being young, had the wisdom of patience. While other passengers found alternative means home, she simply waited for the situation to resolve itself. Sometimes, in life, when things break down, the best thing to do is not panic or abandon ship but to trust that solutions will come in due time.
So, what book is in my hands today?
A Quiet Center by Susan Sutton.
And before you ask—no, this is not a book about how to stay calm after accidentally leaving your child in a matatu (though my Dad could have used the book back then).
This book is about finding stillness in the middle of life’s chaos—which, if you think about it, is exactly what my sister did while waiting for my Dad to realize he had abandoned her. Instead of panicking, she simply sat still and trusted that everything would work out. Maybe she had already read this book? At such a young age?
Susan Sutton invites us into the practice of slowing down, creating space for God, and refusing to let the noise of life drown out His voice. Let’s be honest—how many of us live life like my Dad that day? Always rushing, always jumping from one thing to another, and then realizing—Oops, I forgot something important (hopefully not a child, though).
If you feel like your life is one long, chaotic matatu ride—loud, bumpy, and slightly questionable in terms of direction—then this book is for you. It will teach you how to pause, breathe, and recenter your focus on what truly matters: God’s presence in your daily life.
Susan Sutton writes about the importance of slowing down, quieting our minds, and centering ourselves in God’s presence. Sometimes, our biggest mistakes happen because we are too busy chasing after the next thing instead of being present in the moment.
Don’t Forget What Matters Most
In life, we all have “Kainos moments” where we unintentionally leave behind the things that matter—our relationships, our peace, our time with God. A Quiet Center reminds us to intentionally create space for God, rather than rushing through life on autopilot.
So, as I turn the pages of A Quiet Center, I ask you—are you in such a rush that you might be forgetting something (or someone) important? Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to pause, breathe, and find your quiet center before you board the next matatu of life.
I urge you, before you speed off to your next task, take a moment. Sit still. Find your quiet center.
Grab your copy of A Quiet Center here. It might just save you from forgetting what’s important in your life.
Meet the Author
Susan Scott Sutton and her husband, Louis, are dedicated missionaries with WEC International (Worldwide Evangelization for Christ), carrying a deep passion for reaching the nations with the Gospel. After serving thirteen years in Chad, Africa, they now serve as co-directors at WEC’s United States sending base in Fort Washington, Pennsylvania, where they equip and mobilize others for cross-cultural mission work.
With a heart for discipleship and a global vision for the Kingdom of God, Susan is committed to seeing lives transformed and communities impacted by the power of Christ. Whether on the mission field or in leadership, she continues to inspire and mentor others in their calling to serve.
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
African Christian Authors Book Award – ACABA
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