I sit, in church, in our room, with my team. Janelle’s arms are lifted high in praise. Kristen sways with her eyes closed, singing out. Hallie squeezes shampoo packets into a bottle—Keighty and Chantai write fervently in their journals.
This is my team. We are Wimbi.
Throughout the last four months, we have become a family. A church. We’ve gone from fighting with each other to fighting for each other. We know how each person grieves, worships, and celebrates. And we grieve, worship, and celebrate with them. We know when they’ll go to sleep and when they’ll wake up. We’ve cried together and for each other. We’ve laughed, sang, and danced together. Taken care of each other when we’re sick and when we’re sad.
This is Wimbi.
Six believers, six beautiful daughters, six broken people, six lovers of adventure, six different stories. One God; one purpose. One team. We overcame the odds. We rose from—and continue to rise from—the ashes. We say what’s hard and we do what’s right. We love hard and we live to make a mark—His mark. Not our own. By His grace, our family was born. Wimbi was born. But Wimbi doesn’t die when we go out separate ways.
Wimbi is an idea. A vessel. A movement We are the women of the waves—born by water and saved by grace and each place our feet touch down is changed because we are changed and we are changing. Wimbi will live on long after we part and as we walk away from this beautiful season, we know that our love—we know that His love—will continue to gently wash over this world, illuminating the seashells and making waves.
To Hallie, Keighty, Janelle, Chantai, and Kristen: all you sucker emcees ain’t got nothing on me. But I love you anyway. xoxo.
