Are we Orchids?

Dear God

I still wonder sometimes that when we die do you let us become flowers, to be admired and loved for, to be symbols of love? I want to believe that he became a flower that i can admire for the longest time possible.

Flashback

I looked at myself for the fifteenth time, maybe more. The white and orange floral summer dress looked adorable, but somehow, I still wasn't sure it was perfect.

"Chomi (Friend), you look stunning and cute. I can't believe you're going on a date, you of all people. Wow! Uyamangaza (you are quite the shock)," Yami said, lounging on my bed with a glass of grape juice she had been sipping as if it were wine.

I had forgotten to restock my wine supply, and Yami wasn't pleased. She had decided to "make do" with grape juice, claiming it was the closest thing to wine. She was an undercover alcoholic and she knew I knew she was low key an alcoholic. She loved wine but still wine with alcohol was what she loved so she was a wine alcoholic.

"I am shocking myself, I can't believe this is me," I admitted, adjusting my braids in the mirror. "But it's nothing big. I just want to know the end of the story, and that's it."

Even as the words left my mouth, they felt foreign, like my body was rejecting them.

Yami raised a brow and sipped her juice dramatically. "Friend, I have never seen you this nervous or excited about a date. I can feel it, this one's different. I like it because you are finding love for the both of us."

"Love too far fetched and don't say that," I said, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "We will both find our Mr. Right. And if we don't, we promised to be each other's Mr. Right… forever."

Yami grinned, and for a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, exchanging a look only we could understand.

When I stepped out of the car, there he was, standing by the gate. Behind him, a sign read MaryAlice Botanical Garden.He was dressed in a light orange polo neck and a cream-white jean jacket, paired with cream-white pants. As I scanned him from head to toe, my gaze landed on his sneakers rephrased Orange sneakers.

"Those sneakers look sick! Wow. It's like they were made just for this shade of orange," I said as I approached him.

"Hello to you too, Pumpkin," he said, holding out his hand for me to take, a smug look on his face.

"Sorry, my manners. Hello, Mr Lonwabo. Your shoes look really beautiful," I teased, intentionally avoiding complimenting him.

"Not as beautiful as you today," he said, taking my hand and twirling me for a full spin. His eyes roamed over me, as though committing every detail to memory. "You look ravishing." Today felt different, this date felt different, he felt different and I felt different. This whole thing felt like the beginning of something new, something that would have a special memory in my mind.

"MaryAlice Botanical Garden?" I asked as we walked inside. The space was empty and peaceful, the silence interrupted only by birdsong and the faint sound of water splashing in the distance.

"Yes. It's one of the most beautiful gardens I have seen in Johannesburg," he said.

"Well, yeah, true. But it's also one of the busiest. How did you manage to reserve it?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying my curiosity. "You can reserve the entire place if you want. All it takes is a call."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and knowing one or two influential people helps." He flashed me a teasing smile, and I couldn't help but laugh.

It struck me how much he reminded me of Yami. She had the same knack for making me feel at ease, even when I felt out of place. That's how we had become friends in the first place, back when I was a shy kid sitting alone at the park while everyone else played. Yami had plopped down next to me and announced, "I want to be your friend because you look sad, and I'm funny, so I will make you laugh all day." She wasn't wrong. She had dragged me to the slides, made sure I felt seen, and hasn't left my side since.

"Do you love flowers?" I asked, turning to look at him as we strolled through a field of blooms. The colors were so rich, the air so fragrant, that it felt like we had stepped into a royal garden.

"I think they make things pretty," he said, shrugging as he glanced at the blossoms.

"True. But I think they are more than that. Each flower tells a story, you know? Sometimes I wonder if, when people die, they become flowers."

"A story?" he asked, intrigued. "Tell me one of these stories."

I looked around at the flowers as if i was in a library and searching for a story to bury myself in, I pointed to the roses. "They say roses only got their thorns after they fell in love with the sun. They wanted to hug the sun so badly, they stretched too high, got burned, and their heartbreak grew into thorns. But the sun? Still rises every day to see them bloom."

He laughed, his warm chuckle filling the air. "Kind of like me trying to get close to you, knowing full well you will set me on fire."

"I don't know about setting you on fire but I am determined to set you ablaze," I said in my pokiest voice ever, earning a chuckle from Lonwabo.

I plucked a daisy and twirled it between my fingers. "Daisies, they are for overthinkers like me. They remind us to stop doubting and just bloom."

"Does It work?"

"What?" I asked, slightly brushing the rose on my nose to catch its fragrance.

"When you look at daisies does it help remind you to not doubt everything?"

"Sometimes they do make me feel confident. You know, my mom loved her flower garden. This one time, she was busy tending to her flowers while I was practicing my speech for the oral presentations and she noticed how much I changed my speech. She plucked a daisy and handed it over to me, 'Daisies bloom everyday to remind us not to doubt ourselves. Our best is good enough and we don't need to constantly keep changing if our first is what our best has to offer,' she said and walked back to her plants."

I remember that day so well, I had not expected it at all, when she said that to me it stayed with me. If I were asked to say one of my favourite moments with my mom it had to be this one because she said something that helped me get through so much. She is the reason I love daisies even to this day and I don't think so will ever stop loving them.

"She wanted to tell you to stop overthinking and doubting your skills and that the speech you first wrote was the best," Lonwabo said, his eyes gazing at the daisies besides us.

"Yes, so everytime I had to do something, whether big or small, she would put a daisy on my study table or in my bag. A little reminder that I am a daisy that is meant to bloom in any and every situation."

"I already love your mom by the way," Lonwabo said, his eyes meeting mine. A smile played on my lips as I remembered the moments I spent with my mom.

My gaze wandered to a patch of orchids. I pointed and said, "And orchids? They were once stars in the sky, but God brought them down to earth because He thought it was unfair to keep all that beauty up there." I paused, grinning. "Personally, I think He was preparing you for the day you would meet someone like me."

He rolled his eyes, laughing again. "Look at you, being all corny."

"I'm just saying what you are thinking, Mr. Lonwabo," I teased, gripping the side of my dress. "We are like orchids," I added, my voice softening. "God creates us, admires us, and sees that we deserve to be seen by the world. We are too beautiful not to be loved, even if we get hurt here and there it won't stop us from shining every day."

"Orchids, huh?" he said, squeezing my hand gently. "I think everyone's their own flower. Some are roses, some are daisies, and the rest are orchids."

As we left the field of flowers, we reached the waterfall at the center of the park. The water glistened under the soft lights scattered around the garden, making the scene feel almost magical. A round table waited nearby, set with decorations, a bottle of wine, and scattered rose petals. Candles flickered softly in the breeze. Lonwabo pulled out a chair for me, his smile widening at my teasing comment. "A gentleman, I see."

"Of course," he replied, pouring me a glass of wine. "This gentleman also handpicked the playlist for tonight and is excited to hear your thoughts."

I tilted my head, listening to the soft melody playing in the background. "I love it. The music is perfect, and the water splashes just add to the beauty. This is... incredible, Mr. Lonwabo."

"Thank you," he said, looking me in the eye. "I aim to impress."

I smiled, taking a sip of wine. "So... continue the story. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Later," he said, shaking his head with a mischievous grin. "First, let's eat. We have got all night."

After dinner, which by the way he had me rolling with laughter as he narrated silly stories I totally do not believe ever happened, "No way that happened," I said as I held my stomach feeling the cramps from laughing too hard. "I am telling you this dude was supposed to hand me my bag but instead he made me hold the bag and when I thought he would let go as the taxi started moving he held on tighter. Here I was running beside a taxi like a mad man and this man was just smiling."

"Why didn't you let go?"

"It had my laptop and my important documents for the job interview, hebanna this dude."he replied with a defeated look on his face.

"I can't imagine you running beside a taxi looking like your life depended on it."

"At that moment it did," he said with a smile on his lips. He stood up and held out his hand. "One last thing before I finish the story, dance with me."

"I can't dance," I protested.

"Anyone can dance," he said, pulling me to my feet. "Just follow my lead."

His hand found my waist, and he pulled me closer. The music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. He began to hum softly, his deep voice blending with the rhythm.

"When I found you, I saw my fears fly away like a dove," he sang, his voice low and warm.

I rested my head on his chest, letting myself melt into the moment. For the first time in a long time I left my guard down, I let my defenses fall and I allowed myself to soak into the moment and imprint this moment in my heart and I knew very well how that would end.

"I don't know about you," he whispered, "but this feels right. You feel right." He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "Wadalelwa mina (You were made for me)."

My heart raced, but I couldn't find the words to respond. I simply smiled. I didn't want to believe it was the truth, it was too soon and I didn't want to let all my guards down if I was going to get hurt, if I wasn't really made for him.

"Uyasaba ukuthi ngizokulimaza?(Are you afraid I will hurt you?)" he asked softly.

"What?"

"Are you afraid I will hurt you?"

"I... I don't know," I admitted. "A part of me is. I haven't done this in a while, and I'm so tired of chasing things that leave me broken. I don't want to pick up the pieces again." He held my gaze, his expression tender. "Ndiyakuva, thangalam (I hear you, Pumpkin). Let me win you over. I won't give you any other choice but to say yes."

He kissed my forehead, and for the first time in a long while, I felt safe, wanted and seen.

"Masihambe (Let's go)," he said, his voice soft yet firm.

"Where?" I asked, confused and a little disappointed, thinking the date was coming to an end.

"To the car," he replied, taking my hand in his.

"But the story-"

"It's getting cold here. I will finish the story in the car where it's warm."

He led me to his car, opening the door for me before grabbing a small blanket from the car trunk. As we settled into the backseat, he handed me the blanket, draping it over my shoulders. Then, he pulled out a bag of snacks and set it between us with a grin.

"These are my car snacks," he said, almost shyly. "I figured we could use some comfort food for the rest of this story."

I couldn't help but smile. His thoughtfulness was disarming, but I tried not to dwell on it too much. "Where did I leave off?"

"You were angry, at God," I reminded him, leaning back against the seat as I opened the bag of chips.I didn't want to tell him that I had snacks in my car too and these were my favourite snacks but with the way he smiled while looking at me I think he figured that part out easily.

"Ah, yes," he said, his tone shifting to something more solemn. "God obviously didn't get rid of the gangs like I wanted. Each passing day, the anger in me grew. I just wanted to do something about them. I was tired of seeing those men every day, tired of kids disappearing and coming back broken. So, I convinced my gang to infiltrate their warehouse and destroy everything."

His voice tightened as he continued. "I knew the layout of the warehouse from my escape, so I thought it would be easy. But something about that night felt... off. My gut was telling me not to go through with it, but the anger won. So we went."

He paused, his gaze drifting out the window as if he were reliving the moment. "As we were destroying everything, we heard gunshots. They had found us. I panicked and started running, leaving some of my gang members behind. I didn't know where I was going, I just wanted to survive. I prayed to God, and begged Him to save me. I promised Him I would change if He just got me out alive."

His voice faltered, and I reached over to squeeze his hand. He glanced at me, giving a small nod before continuing. His face was tight like he was reliving that day and his hardened face showed how hard it was loving that moment again.

"The guy running beside me was shot. I wanted to stop and help him, but... I couldn't. If I did, they would have killed us both. So, I kept running. And then, out of nowhere, headlights blinded me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the road, staring up at the sky. A car had hit me."

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. "What? Were you badly hurt?"

"Luckily, no," he said with a faint smile. "The driver was a man in his late forties. He got out and rushed to help me. He even took me to the hospital. While we were waiting for the doctor, he asked me what I was doing out so late, and... I don't know why, but I told him everything. I told him about the gangs, the kidnappings, the violence, everything."

"What happened next?" I asked, leaning forward, completely engrossed.

He smiled faintly. "Turns out, he was an investigator working on the gang case. For years, he had been gathering evidence but could never get enough witnesses to come forward. He said he could help me if I helped him. So, I agreed. I told him everything I knew about their operations, and I testified as a witness. It took time, months of planning and fear, but eventually, we got them. The warehouse was raided, and they were arrested. The gang was dismantled."

I let out a breath I didn't realize i had been holding. "That's incredible. You helped stop them."

"I did," he said, his expression softening but still hard. "But the damage had already been done, to me and so many others. I felt guilty for panicking and running away when I was the one who led them there. So many young boys lost their lives, parents lost their kids. As I walked the streets and saw faces of some of my members' parents I felt like they blamed me for everything deep down. That investigator introduced me to his pastor. He said the church had programs to help kids like me, kids who had been victims of gang violence. At first, I didn't want to go. I was still so angry. I kept asking myself, 'Where was God when I needed Him? Where was He when those men were ruining lives?'"

I nodded, my heart heavy. "Did you ever find the answers?"

"Eventually," he said. "One day, the pastor called me aside and told me to ask all my questions, every single one. He said I wouldn't find peace until I let it all out. So, I asked: 'Why me? Why did God let this happen? Why didn't He stop them?'"

"What did he say?" I whispered.

"The pastor said, 'Lonwabo, God didn't cause your pain, but He was with you through it. He gave you the strength to escape, to survive, to fight back. We live in a broken world, and people make evil choices. But even in the darkest valleys, God is there, walking beside us. Psalm 23:4 says, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.""

I felt a lump in my throat as his words sank in. "Did that bring you peace?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I still had more questions. So, I asked, 'If God is so loving, why didn't He stop them? Why didn't He save the other kids who didn't escape?'"

"What did the pastor say to that?"

"He said, 'God is just, and evil will not go unpunished. But His justice doesn't always happen on our timeline. Romans 12:19 reminds us, "Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: 'It is mine to avenge; I will repay.'" Evil men may prosper for a time, but their deeds will not escape God's judgment.'"

Tears prickled my eyes. "That's... heavy."

He nodded. "It was. And I wasn't ready to forgive them, I wasn't ready to forgive myself. But the pastor said, 'Forgiveness isn't about letting them off the hook. It's about setting yourself free. Ephesians 4:31-32 teaches us, "Get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger... Forgive each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." Forgiveness is a process. It doesn't mean forgetting, it means surrendering your pain to God so He can heal you.'"

I wiped my eyes, overwhelmed. "And did you forgive them, did you forgive yourself?"

"Not all at once," he said quietly. "It took time. A lot of prayer. But eventually, I let go of the anger. I realized God had used my pain to save others. He gave me a new purpose, a new family in the church, and a chance to start over."

I looked at him, my heart swelling with admiration. "You turned your pain into something beautiful."

He smiled faintly, squeezing my hand. "God turned my pain into something beautiful. That's why I would like to agree with you, we are like orchids. Fragile yet resilient. Even when the world around us is broken, we bloom because His hand is on us."

"And one of the young boys mother saw me at that church one Sunday evening and when she approached me I was scared, I knew I was to blame but then I couldn't bare to have her cry and blame me, it would eat me alive but instead when she got close she hugged me so tight and she said to me, 'Ke leboha haholo moshanyanaka, ha u tsebe hore na u re thusitse hakae hore re fumane toka le khotso (Thank you so much my boy, you have no idea how much you have helped us get justice and peace)' that made me cry as I started learning to forgive myself for what happened."

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. I bit my lip to stop myself from sobbing but I couldn't hold it in,Lonwabo pulled me into a hug and I wrapped my arms around him tightly as it felt like i was there when all of it was happening, i couldnt hold in the tears as i tried to imagine how it felt for him, if i was such a mess how was he? I gave him the best hug I could master.

"Enkosi(Thank you)," he said, as if he knew how I felt deep inside, how sorry and proud I felt of him at the same time.

"And Pumpkin," he said softly, pulling out from the hug in order to have me look at him, brushing a tear from my cheek, "Don't be afraid to bloom. God has something beautiful in store for you too."