[From the Chronicles of The Twelve Gates of Twenty-Six]
Dear 2026,
At this point, I think I’m just being plain spoiled. Tell me why I walked into the House of Ephraim and was welcomed with what looked like an extravagant charcuterie board of delicacies?
I actually had to ask July if all of it was meant for me alone – fully expecting a negative response. Instead, I was met with the loudest, warmest affirmative laughter.
There is something happening in this home that I’m yet to put my finger on. Why do they always have so much to eat and drink?
Of all the places to be enrolled in as an institution of learning, this was the most shocking. On the very first day, I was skeptical about what could possibly be taught. Everyone seemed so extremely bubbly, far too distracted to sit through a serious lecture. But the moment class began, I was stunned. The shift was instant, they were deeply focused, having truly mastered the rare art of balance.
I’ve learned here that to be fruitful doesn’t always look like a lush green field watered by gentle rain. Some days, it looks more like a gardener holding a sharp pruning fork. The process can prove far harder than anything you could possibly imagine, but ultimately, it leaves you better for it.
I’ve had to learn some hard lessons in this space. I’ve had to let go of a lot of things I once held dear so I could embrace new experiences. And oh, I have cried, not the kind of tears I wept in the House of Reuben, but a far more heart-wrenching kind. Not tears born from the sharp pain of being hurt, but rather from the quiet, heavy ache of loss.
Now, I’m on my way to Manasseh’s house, escorted by beautiful August and I can say that I am a completely different person than the one who first left Gad’s house.
I am extremely grateful for the journey so far, 2026. Thank you for July and for my time at Ephraim’s home. I don’t take a single piece of this experience for granted.
I will write to you again shortly.
To listen on YouTube 👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽
