Somewhere along the line

Somewhere along the line I stopped dreaming. I stopped believing. I stopped hoping. I stopped reaching. I stopped trusting the process. I stopped waiting for miracles. I stopped letting myself feel excited. I stopped imagining a future that looked different. I stopped giving myself permission to want things. I stopped seeing light in places where it used to shine. I stopped believing God still had something for me. I stopped looking forward to tomorrow.

I didn’t choose to. It just happened. Life happened.

Maybe it’s because of the nos. Disappointment. Unanswered questions. Maybe it’s because of the number of doors that got shut right in my face. Too many. Too loud. Unapologetic. Maybe it’s because love shifted. From long conversations. To messages left on read. To calls that were never returned. Maybe it’s because I kept trying. And trying. And trying. But nothing moved. Nothing changed. Nothing held. Maybe it’s because I poured and poured until there was nothing left of me. Maybe it’s because every almost felt like a promise that broke itself. Into a thousand pieces. Maybe it’s because I gave grace to people who never gave it back. Maybe it’s because I carried stories no one ever asked me about. Maybe it’s because disappointment became a language I understood too well. Maybe it’s because hope started to feel like a risk I couldn’t afford.

I didn’t choose to. It just happened. Life happened.

I say this to say. Faith is hard. Believing is hard. Asking me to lift my eyes when I can barely lift my head. Asking me to believe for rain when the ground of my heart feels cracked and dry. Asking me to trust His timing when the years are passing by. Fast. Asking me to hold on when my hands are slipping. Asking me to believe He is good when life doesn’t look like it. Asking me to choose to surrender when control feels easier. Asking me to see promise in seasons that look nothing like it. It is hard.

I didn’t choose to. It just happened. Life happened.

I am learning that God’s faithfulness does not depend on mine. That His promises don’t expire just because I grew tired of waiting. That His goodness doesn’t shift when my hope does. Somehow. In ways I don’t always understand. He keeps reaching for me in the dark. Reminding me that faith was never meant to be carried by my strength alone. And so I try again. Slowly. Softly. With whatever pieces I have left. Because uthembekile othembisileyo. And even here. Even now. Even with a heart that has forgotten how to dream. I am held by a God who has never forgotten how to keep His word.

I didn’t choose to. It just happened. Life happened.