Thank You, Chanty, for the Invite

This is not going to be a letter. Why? Because we’ve been writing a lot of letters lately. This is going to be me flexing about how I got invited to a birthday party and you were not.

For those of you who know me in real life, you know very well that I rarely go to crowded places. This year, I’ve already been to two weddings, with one more left before I officially retire from social events for the year. But just when I was bracing myself for a quiet, event-free rest of the year, Chanty texted me.

“Hey, I’m having a small birthday celebration this Sunday, and I’d love for you to come.”

And in my mind, I was like, “Okay… this is so sweet of her.” But as I was thinking that, she added, “I’ll send you a flyer in a few with the location and time.”

And I was like, “Girl, a small birthday celebration with a FLYER?”

But I guess there’s no such thing as “small” when it comes to Chanty. She wants something big. She wants something that says “I'm here.” BEYONCÉ!

So Sunday comes. I SHOWER, get dressed, pass by Simba to pick up a few drinks, eh, by drinks I mean Fanta, bro. Turi abana b’Imana, and some snacks, then drive to the place.

At first, it’s the usual energy. People are sitting around, the music isn’t too loud, there are no kids running around, thank God! Just a quiet, normal party. I sit inside, and, of course, someone says, “I know you from Substack.” followed by, “Wait, is Rebecca real or fictional?”

And if you want to know the answer, don’t miss the first edition of Substack Hangouts. The name might change, but stay alert for the event details. Okay, that’s it for the commercial. Let’s get back to the party you weren’t part of.

So things happened in between. I won’t tell you the details because you weren’t invited, and I was. But there were cakes, with emphasis on the plural. You had to be there to enjoy it. But, again, you weren’t invited.

Fast forward, we had a moment for prayer. Cool, right? I know, prayer at a party. Anyways, we start praying, and in my head I’m like, “It’s just a birthday party. I shouldn’t go all in with this prayer.” But then I start praying, and I keep praying, and then something hits me. Something so strong that words can’t really describe. I won’t even lie, I wasn’t expecting to feel anything that deep. I had come for cake and mild social suffering, not revelation.

Surrounded by people I barely knew, I was reminded that I belong to the family of God. I’ve always seen myself as this bad person whose sins could never be forgiven, but as I closed my eyes, I realized that I am loved and highly favored. And in that prayer, it felt like I was being asked to walk in my freedom with less self-condemnation. Because who the Son sets free is free indeed.

I didn’t cry or anything dramatic like that, calm down. But when I opened my eyes, I saw things differently from how I had seen them before I closed them.

So, thank you, Chanty, for the invite. I wish you nothing but good things this year. I can’t guarantee that I won’t continue stressing you, but I can promise I’ll do my best not to make you run mad.

And to you, dear reader, who wasn’t there: help me wish Chanty a happy birthday. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll invite you next year.