2024 has arrived, and I’m sure that many of us have been reflecting over the past few days, including me.
My thoughts drift back to November 2023. I took a little leap of faith and attended a reunion of the scholarship that I used to be a part of. I hesitate to say “little leap of faith” because it’s really not that deep. I was nervous to go because being there would highlight what I have not achieved yet. It would shine a light on my empty awards shelf. However, I pushed my ego aside and decided to go. At least, I could brace myself for those feelings of inadequacy.
To my surprise, the opposite happened.
I entered that all-too-familiar office with a mixture of apprehension and nervousness. But as time went on, those feelings slowly melted away. Instead, I started to feel a deep sense of gratitude and expectancy. The next part may sound a bit far-fetched, but go with me. It was as if 25-year-old me saw 16-year-old me sitting in that very room almost 10 years prior. Young Rebecca was conversing with her fellow group members on how exactly we were going to change South Africa. We would get to changing the world later. 25-year-old Rebecca watched on as the younger version of herself, believing without any doubt or hindrance that she was capable of doing anything that she put her mind to. For a moment, younger me made eye contact with older me, and in that moment, my 16-year-old self looked at her future with worry and sadness. I did not feel disappointment when our eyes met; instead, her eyes offered so many questions. The loudest one being, “What happened to us?”
“Where did that girl go?” I asked myself as I drove home. Reality was now sitting in the seat where my dreams used to be. My dreams were almost choking on the dust that had gathered on their shoulders.
I had a whole list of reasons why my old self quietly packed up her bags and left. But instead of still getting stuck in the excuses, I decided to work on getting her back.
That day in November, while filled with a level of angst and fear, my dreams wearily broke through as I sat in those cushioned seats. And in spite of me thinking that my lack of achievement would make me stick out like a sore thumb, I was surprisingly comfortable in those conversations—one could even say that I felt at home. I had suppressed my ambitions for so long, but it only needed a moment back in a room with my past to re-ignite.
I am thankful to God for that day, for I know that nothing “just happens” with Him.
I want to encourage anyone reading to go back and re-ignite those dreams that have died away, and if they are past the point of reviving, aim to at least get that fearless mindset back.
All it takes is a mustard of faith and audacious belief.
Time to blow the dust off those dreams.
