GET TO KNOW ME
Hi, my name is Chenai Mbanga! Welcome to my blog! I write to encourage, inspire and empower you in growing in your spiritual life through reflections and prose. I have been writing on this blog for 5 years now, and it has been a journey! Join me as I continue my journey toward self-actualizing.❤

CHECK THESE OUT!

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    HINDSIGHT
    Hindsight is my first book! Read about where the idea came from, why I think it’s important, and how it’s the book that led to self-actualization.♡
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    EOCNaturals
    I’m the founder and owner of amazing plant based hair and body butter! Transform your hair and skin with our natural plant butters and oils!♡
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    SPEAK ON IT, SIS!
    My girls and I are podcasters, speaking on life, adulting, and the socio-political challenges that we see and face as young black women in today’s society. Check out our podcast!♡
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READ THESE TOO

Latest Posts

Waiting





I beg you, please; don’t make me wait too long. I can barely summon the strength to hang on. Most days feel as though I am hanging over a cliff, clinging to rope, a 20,000 ft deep gorge waiting to swallow me whole. I often tell myself not to look down, continue to look up, to wait because help is on the way. But I couldn’t help myself. I looked down, and saw the horrifying drop; the sounds of water rushing and converging with the steep boulders below producing a robust vibration taunting me: You are alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.  I can’t deny the panic that overwhelmed me. My heart has been in my throat ever since. ‘Don’t be despondent,’ I tell myself. ‘It’s not going to be like this forever.’ But when you give an inch to panic, it is like a restless wildfire that consumes everything in its path. I feel it warring to reach the deep places of my spirit, even as it wars mercilessly against my mind. 

I beg you not to make me wait too long. I don’t know how long I can hang on. You said that you would not tarry, that you would rescue me when I called. You promised that you knew what you were doing. Most days hope feels sluggish in my hand, slimy and slippery. Often it drops to the floor, and I can barely pick it up again. But I am a prisoner of hope. Even when it falls to the ground, I dive head first to pick it up again, because although it hurts, I believe that this isn’t all that there is in my life. My reprieve will come and it won’t be late. 

It’s hard though you see? But there’s hope in the midst of the sound of mockery. It flickers in every incoming minute, in every passing hour, in anticipation of tomorrow. There is hope for better days, better situations. There is promise of a double portion for all my troubles. I don’t know how it will find me. But even as the sounds of panic pummel the walls of my mind; even as everything within me trembles, this mustard seed of faith gives me hope. I chose this path. And here I am. And so, I implore you, with all that I am, all that is within me: Do not make me wait too long.
**
~~SoulTea~~

pic by @osengwa (instagram)