Dear Lord

 Dear Mdali, Lord Is this on? Sorry, I haven't done this in a while. I hope you're all good up there. Saying that out loud made me realize how absurd that is, but I guess I am that lost. Frankly, I'm tired, beaten and somehow I can't find the one. This is what this is about Lord. A girl. A woman. Where's mine? I do confess I've done my fair share of bad. I've lied, I've cheated, I've been broke among other sins. There's no justification for cheating, I know we often try to find reasons why men cheat. The truth as I see it is we men cheat because we just want to, our lack of inhibition and egocentric pangs of hunger gets the most of us. Then again, I'm not justifying why I did it, I want to understand if that's the reason why I keep getting the Eve bloods on my path. Maybe my rib is defective. Take another one Lord. Most of the Eves you gave me wondered into the world to eat fruits with serpents. Where's the woman you are keeping for m...

 Growing up I have heard a lot of talk about the perfect woman. The famous Proverbs 31 virtuous woman. I somehow haven't come across the description of the perfect man. Of course king Lemuel's mother warns him about ‘giving his strength to women' in lay man's language ‘sleeping around'. She tells him about how alcohol will negatively influence his decision making. She encourages him to open his mouth. To speak. To say his truth. To make a stand for what he believes is right. To be the voice of the voiceless. Lastly she gives him tips on how to choose a life partner. So maybe that could work as a yardstick for how a kingly man ought to behave.  I have been hearing a lot of ‘indoda must' kind of talk lately. Indoda iphi? Indoda kabani? You mean your boyfriend or your husband? See I can't help but wonder ukuthi am I the one who is slow on getting on with the program. Indoda mayisebenze ibelemali. Indoda mayibe tall and dark. Indoda must have everything all fig...

  Dear Lord, The depth of this song just hits different when you know how its lyrics came to be written. I can't help but wonder what level of faith Horatio Spafford had to sing, to sing a new song after losing so much. I can't help but wonder where he got the strength to write, to write a new song after losing so much. How do you not get to say goodbye or bury your children but choose to sing it is well? How do you not get closure but choose to sing it is well? How do you not regret allowing them to go on vacation as the head of the family? Maybe if I'd said no. Maybe if we'd stayed a little longer. Maybe if I'd traveled with them. But choose to sing it is well? How do you look at the Atlantic again, marvel at creation and sing it is well? When it is those waves that brought about your greatest loss. See he had love. It was taken away. He had family. It was taken away. He had support. It was taken away. Not some of it. Not slowly. No. All of it. All at once. Unexpe...

Psalms 61:2 From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. Sighs. I don't know man. Please allow me to vent. I feel so tired. I cannot even bring myself to read. I have hardly been writing too. Actually I haven't been writing at all. All I have been doing is listen to music and sleep. You know, to escape feeling. To escape my reality. The one that does not involve running in a field of daisies with the wind in my hair and the sunshine kissing on my skin. The one that is not so rosy. The one that has got me writing this piece. Yazi, I'm so tired. Ngikhathele of trying you know. A girl can only do so much. I am tired of praying for a miracle. Only to see it being magical for some. I get it. Own lane. Own pace. Whatever. But how come the grass I have been watering just won't grow or let alone turn green. Show me that there is life. That there is hope. I'm tired of staying in my head. Over thinkin...

  Dear Lord, Growing up, Wait, was a gentle no. Wait, was an I'm doing important adult stuff right now, whatever it is you want can take the back seat. Wait, was a sometimes you just talk too much, give me a break will you?! Wait, was just give me a few moments I want to give you my full attention. The problem is. I don't know which one of those it is with you whenever you tell me to wait. The problem is. I wasn't taught the art of waiting. Even if it's for a little while. What I know is to keep checking my wrist watch. Every tick. Every tock. Making me a little anxious than a minute back. Every tick. Every tock. Leading me straight to the edge of the cliff. The problem is. I wasn't taught how to wait through tribulation. Through distress. Through persecution. Through famine. Through nakedness. Through loneliness. Though sickness. Through emotional conflicts. Through death. Through failure. Through misunderstandings. Through unfair dismissals. The problem is. I wasn...

  She said, “If you were to come face to face with God, and could ask only one question, what would it be?" I laughed. “Just one?" I couldn't bring myself to answer her because I couldn't choose. Just one?!  Dear Lord,  There is so much I want to know. Like how was life like for you before you created heaven and earth? Why did you put the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the garden of Eden? Can all the angels change their form like Lucifer did? Turning into a talking serpent? Why did you choose to curse your creation when you could have easily given them a second chance? Wasn't cursing the ground so it brings forth thorns and thistles going a little too far for a people that you love? Why did you drive them out of the garden and keep them away from the tree of life? Knowing how painful it is to lose a loved one? I've read about the shadow of death. Does death have a form? How did you feel when the people from Noah's time were drowning from the flo...

 Dear Lord, Here I am sitting on a toilet seat swiping through my gallery. I find myself staring at a picture of the sun set. I can't help but wonder how you paint the sky!? It is so beautiful. I swipe left and nineteen year old me appears. She is smiling with her head plaited with cornrows tilted to the right a bit. A habit I haven't outgrown. She is in her white shirt tucked into a navy blue pleated skirt. She has her tie neatly in place and a blazer over that. She's wearing white ankle socks and black school shoes. Clean. I can tell she didn't know what to do with her hands from the way she is standing. She is standing infront of a brown brick building. The science laboratories block, if my memory serves me right. She looks beautiful. She looks at peace. She looks content. I press the power button and put my phone in the pocket of my hoodie. I flush the toilet and quickly walk out trying by all means to avoid any questioning stares. You know the what were you doing f...