Ulwandle

I was watching a video Tsepo. The love of my life’s brother took of me earlier today. He reminds me of me. Only that he wakes up ridiculously early. Voluntarily. Might I add. And finds solace in climbing mountains. Give me cute pyjamas and block out curtains okay?!

I watched my face closely. I still find it amusing that I cannot hide an emotion to save my life. Whatever I am feeling always finds its way to the surface. And there it was. Even through the screen of my iPhone that was bought in cash haha. The awe. The curiosity. The mystery. The beauty. The questions. The childlike wonder.

And then I realised something. I have spent a good portion of my twenties blogging as Lwandle. I chose that name because I have always been fascinated by the ocean. Its depth. Its vastness. The life it harbours beneath the surface. The way how when you look closely it seems to touch the sky. Ngideep. Sometimes.

For years I could not shut up about Cape Town. Anyone who knew me in my mid-twenties knew this. I wanted to go to Cape Town. I wanted to see it. To experience it. To taste it. To wake up there. To breathe the mother city’s air. At one point I was convinced I was going to pack my life in a 23kg bag and move there entirely. I had already made up my mind. Then I remembered that the weather is. Quite frankly. Disrespectful. So I settled for visiting.

But even the visit took years. Years of talking about it. Years of writing about it. Years of imagining it. Years of praying about it. Years of dreaming about it. And then. Somehow. One day became this day. And finally here I was. On a rather cold day. Beneath a sky heavy with clouds that seemed to stretch endlessly over the water. Feet in the sand.

I have always known the ocean was big. I just did not know how big. Not really. You can read about something. You can see pictures. You can watch videos. But there are some things you only understand when you finally stand in front of them. I could have stood there for hours. Just watching. The endlessness of it. The rhythm. The way the water kept returning to my toes. Again and again. It was beautiful. Extremely beautiful.

Watching that video of myself it hit me. I had been standing at the shore of an answered prayer. I had prayed for this. I had talked about this. I had imagined this. I had wanted this for years. And then one day without some grand announcement from heaven. I was simply there.

Maybe you are living in the house you once prayed for. Maybe you are calling the person you once prayed to meet. Maybe you are doing the work you once hoped someone would give you a chance to do. Maybe you are waking up in a city you once only saw in pictures. Maybe you are driving the car you used to bookmark. Maybe you have a little more peace. Maybe your heart feels lighter in the morning. Maybe you have more strength to keep going. I think we spend so much time waiting for the next miracle that we forget to look around at the ones that already happened.

Dream. Please dream.

Pray. Please pray. 

Pray for the things that feel impossibly far away. Write them down. Say them out loud. Tell God about them. Keep asking. Keep hoping. Even when it takes years. Even when life looks nothing like what you imagined. And when it finally happens. I hope you remember to stop. To look around. Really look. At the people. The places. The little things. The life you are living. And I hope you recognise traces of the prayers you once prayed.

God is real. God listens. God answers prayers.