We Rebuild

How many times do we rebuild?

We rebuild when life knocks us flat and we lose everything we thought we had.

When the dust settles and we’re left standing in the ruins of what used to be—

a dream, a plan, a version of ourselves—broken and scattered.

Still, somehow, we gather what’s left and begin again.

We rebuild when we don’t have the tools or the resources.

When all we have are trembling hands and a whisper of hope.

We find small ways—quiet, often unseen ways—to make it work.

We make do. We stretch. We improvise.

Because something deep within us refuses to quit.

We rebuild when no one believes in us.

When support disappears and even our reflection looks uncertain.

But faith shows up, even in the silence.

And we take one more step,

with nothing but a spark inside and the sacred conviction: "There must be more."

We rebuild when the ground is dry and hard,

when lifting the jembe feels like lifting the weight of the world.

And when we can’t dig another hole, we pause—

not in surrender, but in strength.

We breathe. We pray. We wait.

We speak life into barren places.

And little by little, the signs begin to show:

A door opens.

A burden lifts.

A seed takes root.

The light shifts.

One day, we look back and see—

it was working all along.

The quiet labor, the unseen prayers, the deep soul work.

God was moving. Grace was holding us together.

So we sit in the stillness—not in pride, but in reverence—

and we say, “Thank You.”

Thank You for the strength to keep going.

Thank You for showing us that rebuilding isn’t a failure. It’s faith in action.

Because this is the truth:

We rebuild.

Again and again.

Even when it all crumbles.

Even when no one is watching.

Even when the journey is long.

We rebuild—

Because hope still lives here.

Because God is not finished with us.

Because somewhere in the ashes, something new is being born.

With love and courage,

Cyprine Omollo