Dear Lord

 Dear Lord, How do I meet him on the sidewalk and control the urge to spit on his face? How do I meet him at the coffee shop and control the urge to empty every single bit of nutted muffins and lukewarm coffee from my stomach? How do I meet him at the park and continue to enjoy the beauty of the sun painting the sky as it sets? How do I meet him at the supermarket and control the urge to throw butcher's knives and ropes into the trolley without proper wheel alignment? How do I meet him at the library and control the urge to cuss loudly and aggressively risking being thrown out by the old lady with the gold tooth? How do I meet him at the bus stop and control the urge to clutch my handbag to my chest tightly and nervously? How do I meet him at church and lift my hands to you in praise? How do I meet him at work and control the urge to dispute that the customer is not always right? He is not right! Rich coming from another sinner huh? Rich coming from a broken woman huh? Definitely t

 Dear Lord, Every where I look I see you. Every life experience seems to give me more testimonies, testifying to your goodness. Your love. Your patience. Your grace. The past few days I have been babysitting my niece. You know it really has been such an eye opener. A revelation of the width, the length, the depth and the height of your love which has got me crying out ‘what is man that you are so mindful of him?' Izolo ekuseni, there I was trying to get her ready for school. We were running late already. I ask her to brush her teeth first before I bath her. She starts shouting a whole lot of nothing about how she doesn’t want to do so. In my head all I could hear was, ‘You know am doing this for your own good, who after all doesn’t want a blinding smile? Crooked or not. Umlomo onukayo? Definitely not me. You know you will thank me later.' All of sudden it hit me. How many times dear Lord, have you told us take this path, knowing it will lead us home? How many times do we act li

 Is that him? It does look like him. Wait. Yes. It is him. The bounce in his step hasn't changed. He does look more handsome. Locks tied to the back. Clean shaven. The suit fits like a glove. And who is that he's with? Must be his new woman judging from the way they keep looking at each other. She is beautiful. I look down as a tear drops from my eyes and lands right on his forehead. He tries to wipe it off with his little fingers. I help him. I hold him tight to my chest and rock him back and forth. I look up again wondering why the nurses are taking too long to offer such basic services. I remember this is Zimbabwe. Lost deep in thought. I lock eyes with him. His face turns stone cold. Bringing me back straight to earth with a thud. He entwines his fingers with his woman and they walk past us. The nurses follow him around like he is some great sensei dishing out tips on how to master life. Mxx. I roll my eyes and try to control my breathing. I look at my baby. Our baby. He is

 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