What Rough Diamonds are made of.

Good morning

Back when I was very young, I once confronted another child at Sunday school to a point that I stopped going church for a long while. I did have regrets not equal to my age, it was too much. To me, I had let the actions I kept seeing somewhere on how matters are approached rub off on me. I was as bad as the person I judged for that kind of problem solving. It was surely a rocky time, considering my burning desire to go to church and my shame at the same time. I do not quite remember what shred of bravery landed me to going back again, but I did. Though a lesson of self-control was a major there, it didn’t mean I would never find myself getting in trouble again. In fact, given the obvious need to learn better ways of confronting matters and being a black child, there was no real recognition of this even by those around me to a point of literally sitting me down. I will thank my Sunday-school teachers (also my primary school teachers), who welcomed me back with open arms. Their patience truly made it profound. Life went on and I had to fall over and over, repeating the same mistake, time after time. This is one of the things I believe made me the kind of relative I am, as another once mentioned in not so blunt words, “over protective and probably up tight”. And to you I confronted so harshly at Sunday school, I am not amazed at how we kept getting in each others way even to the years when dating started. I truly am glad to see that we have become family women. Strong-willed huh!

I tend to pay close attention to the kind of messages people send me on my Birthday. I always digest what is being said about me so that I understand the kind of nature I enable when around others. I do not know if this is a bad thing, but I know at most times, I often ask myself if the description given is really about me. What I am made of is very dear to me. It is mostly not from the lovely things said about me, but the experiences I have been through that often makes me cry. One of those, is that of finding myself in a terrible accident that took so many lives, out of the love of Dancing. This is why I have a hard time letting go of dancing. I promised myself that, my life must have been spared not so I can stop loving the dance, but to recognize what life can take away at a blink of an eye, without a warning. To my fellows, may your souls have continuity in peaceful rest. You will always be a family I literally ran to, so I can find belonging. The environment you provided me with is what even today remains, one of hope. A young soul you embraced through a community of dancing, and to a young soul you displayed the beauty of what doing what you love can birth, though even for just a moment, that it was enough.

What you are made of, may not be so much of a bed of flowers ever so beautiful. They may have been no trust fund to your name. It may be about the times you had to make a Lemon fruit tree a plate for there was no meal prepared at home out of lacking. The times you had to cross a river to walk up a mountain to assist your parents as they farm. The times you had to go to the maize milling compound to have maize meal. The many times you were whipped because of some kind of mischief and mishap. The attire you wore repeatedly for there was no budget for a new two piece. The shoes you got from another, who also received from someone else. The one bowl that had a number of hands feeding from at the same time. The long walk to school on an empty stomach. An old school bag that you went back to school with because though pale and scratching for life, it still was functional. I can surely mention the supermarket plastic bag as a carrier. Those are the things that made you. I am not going to pretend I do not relate; I am right there with you. All the way to the oranges I harvested early in the morning to sell at school for a few cents to get two a few rands, and get me some Simba and Lucky-packet. I look back on those days and feel a certain amount of wonder, “How did our guardians feel about it? / Where did they find the courage to keep us ambitious? / Do we thank them enough now that we are older and more understanding of the life they worked hard to provide for us?”. I often read about houses being built for parents because… I see a lot of gratitude towards parents and guardians from many. There is none quite like that for a mother and grandparents. Most men find their vulnerability when it comes to this. They sure can express emotion fearlessly when it comes to that. It must be one of the most genuine feeling ever for most. This I believe is for there is just no amount of “men don’t cry” that can separate them from expressing their love for their mothers/guardians. The sacrifices made for them, they are not so hard to recognize now that You are a man of your own, surely.

What we are made of is mostly of sentimental value. The kind of value that shaped our ethics. The kind we often defend mightily when threatened. It is in the backgrounds not so pleasant. It is in the walks of life that often made no sense and so far away from clarity. This is what it took for you to feel and believe you ought to enjoy your life. It is what drives you. It often grounds you. Considering the kind of lives we are conforming to since the year that has passed, should you still have this kind of acknowledgement making it all so heartwarming and humbling, kindly hold on to that. Savor the memories, and should there be chances still to pick up the phone and say thank you, do not hesitate. Should there be acts of thanksgiving you practice, keep at it. And, if ever you have a hard time being sentimental with your loved ones for whatever reason, may you at least pray for them. It is time!

The matter for this almost of a tribute post, is to encourage that one person who is feeling like time is slipping away and the anxiety to really express themselves to someone in a form of thanking, apologizing and forgiving them, is proving hard, still. I would like to tell you that, it is meant to be like that, for it is a big deal. The one I get it done, is to dive in exactly when I have made up my mind on the spot. Though we are hopeful for tomorrow, it is not guaranteed. In that numbness you feel just thinking about it, a brave soul aches to let it all out. If it is the one thing you may very well have to do for the last time, let it be made of such intensity. And that my dear friend, will be what you will be remembered as and for, a diamond in the rough.

To shine bright has nothing to do with the light already giving way, but the darkness that is not to hold you back. As you long to do good, remember that the small acts have just as much impact. It is better to be a diamond in the rough than to be a perfectionist who is never fulfilled. Your effort and potential for greatness matters. Remember, You Matter!

Regards

LT