Khulekani's room smelled of sweet Caribbean salsa. Her mother had once given her a clay pot filled with African spices, but she preferred the Caribbean salsa...it reminded her of the time she spent in St. Lucia, and the smell of the beach and other aromatic spices. Her room was lovely. It had three dainty photographs hung up on the wall in a diagonal manner. On the right, she had her own little sanctuary: a lime green sofa in front of a little TV, and a small side-table with a lime colored vase filled with tall green and white sweet alysum plants, shipped from Southern Europe. On the left was her luxurious bed with the canopy drapes in front of them, British style.
There seemed to be a clear sense of normalcy and serenity, that everything was alright and blossomy. But there was something wrong. It was not alright outside the window. In that very moment of time, if you decided to stand in front of her window, you would see Khulekani standing right there, outside in the rain without a raincoat. And you would notice that she was trying to defy time, to stop the clock's hands from turning. Any time soon, the thrash collectors would come with their big old ugly truck, to carry away the left-overs of the entire neighborhood. So there she was, stalling for time. There she was, unloading everything she had thrashed last night...looking for her precious diary. She must have thrown it out by mistake. No, not her secret diary, the story of her life! Her world was different from the one in the diary, and she did not want her true self to die. She needed to find it. She didn't want that part of her to die with the truck that was coming soon.
But she never really found it...although she knew it was no longer in her room.
Three days ago I read about the man who wanted to follow Jesus. The problem was that he really wanted to go back and bury his father who had died, you know, pay him his last respect. And I saw nothing wrong in that, and truly there is nothing wrong with wanting to do that, if you think about it. But the next statement which came from Jesus was very shocking, "Let the dead bury their own dead, you follow me."
Now, I understand why He said what He said. He said that so we could get a lesson or two from that picture. It's not that we should not physically bury our dead (because it is important that we do), but that we should leave those things which have died alone. There are some things that die, even when we are trying to revive them. There are some destinies, visions, and thoughts that die...even when we are putting all our hopes in them. Today, I want you to know that because a part of you is dead does not mean that the whole of you is dead. Because something you really wanted is no longer possible does not mean your future is bleak. Dead things are not equal to dead people. You don't need to die just because something precious is dead.
That being said, I pronounce "life" upon you today. You woke up this morning, didn't you? So, I praise God for your life right now. I praise Him for your destiny. If God allowed something to die, it means He wants something else to live in you. He has the power to resurrect what has died, doesn't He? So just let the dead go and follow God. If He wants to resurrect those things that have died, it would only be in the blink of an eye. Remember the story of Lazarus who died and Jesus resurrected after three days? So, live large and live big with what you have right now. Oh, and don't forget to praise & worship your Maker while you're at it. Lol.