Childhood experiences of abandonment can echo loudly in adulthood. The silent vows we made to stay safe — “I must be the good one,” “I must never need too much” — can linger as hidden scripts in our hearts. As children we try to earn love by pleasing others, hide our feelings to avoid rejection, or tiptoe through life to prevent loss. Later, those same fears may drive us to over-give, fear intimacy, or feel ashamed when we draw boundaries. Yet Scripture reminds us that we are never truly forsaken. 📖 "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me." — Psalm 27:10 (NKJV). Our God steps into the very places where human love failed and offers unwavering presence. He calls us out of self-protective patterns into the freedom of being His beloved. Reflection & Gentle Steps Toward Healing Notice the old vows. Invite the Holy Spirit to reveal hidden promises like “I must never upset anyone” or “I have to earn affection.” Replace them with truth. Speak God’s Word over each lie: I am chosen, not forsaken. I am His child. Practise safe connection. Begin with small, trustworthy relationships where you can share your heart and be met with grace. Seek prayerful support. Christian counselling, inner-healing prayer, or a mature mentor can help you release the weight of the past. May you sense His steady love today, stronger than every echo of loss. 💡Closing Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that You never leave nor forsake me. Heal the places where abandonment’s voice still speaks. Break every silent vow that keeps me from receiving and giving love freely. Teach me to rest in Your faithful arms and to walk in relationships marked by trust, honour, and holy freedom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

People often say, “Why don’t you be the bigger person?” as if it means endlessly reaching out, fixing, or pouring yourself dry into a relationship that refuses to heal. I used to believe that too — that love meant stretching until I broke, or carrying the weight of reconciliation on my shoulders alone. Yet the Holy Spirit has been teaching me that sometimes, being the bigger person means recognising when to let go. It is not bitterness. It is not unforgiveness. It is discernment. Because not every connection is meant to continue, and not every silence needs to be filled with words. Reaching out repeatedly only to meet the same wall of denial or unresolved conflict drains the life God has placed within us. Love and peace walk hand in hand, and sometimes the most loving thing we can do is to bless from a distance. To release the need to fix what only God can redeem. To trust that in His time, He can bring healing far deeper than our words could manage. 📖 “If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.” — Romans 12:18 (NKJV) When I choose peace, I am not choosing weakness. I am choosing wisdom. I am choosing the freedom to walk forward, lightened of the constant weight of striving, into the abundant love and purpose God has for me. 💡Reflection: Where in my life have I mistaken endless striving for true love?🤔 Am I holding onto a relationship out of guilt or pressure rather than God’s leading?🤔 How can I release someone with grace and still walk in love?🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for teaching me that peace is not passive but powerful. Help me to discern when to lean in and when to step back, always anchored in Your love. Guard my heart from bitterness and strengthen me to love without losing myself. Let me rest in the truth that You are the Redeemer of all things, and I can trust You with what I cannot carry. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Words. Such small, fleeting things, yet they carry the strength of storms and the tenderness of balm. They can crush a heart already bruised or become the very breath that revives it. They can shame a soul into silence or set it free to sing. They can shatter dreams in an instant or breathe courage into weary bones. They can build walls so high that no one can climb them, or melt defences with a whisper of kindness.   When I think of all the words that shaped my life, my heart aches for the little girl who listened and believed. Words like “I was a mistake,” “I am worthless,” “I will amount to nothing” and countless others. They stuck to my spirit like heavy stones, labels pressed into my soul by the voices and actions of others. Those words built walls around my heart and painted lies across my identity. They whispered shame and echoed unworthiness. Yet even there, even then, God was present — His voice a gentle whisper, waiting for the day I would hear Him louder than the noise. I am so grateful that He redeems, heals, and removes those labels. He takes the jagged shards of our identity and mends them with golden seams of truth. He writes a new name over our hearts — beloved, chosen, worthy, His. Every word is a seed. Once sown, it cannot be recalled, and in time, it will bear fruit. This is why our words must be chosen with reverence, humility, and love. 📖 “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.” — Proverbs 18:21 (NKJV) 📖 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 📖 “Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands.” — Isaiah 49:16 (NKJV) The words of people may have shaped my early years, but the Word of God defines my eternity. I am no longer what was spoken over me. I am who He says I am. His truth silences the lies and turns pain into purpose. My prayer is that my words — and yours — would echo His heart: not careless or harsh, but vessels of grace. May they lift where others have been pulled down, soothe where there is sorrow, and call forth light where shadows linger. 🙌🏻 Prayer: Lord, thank You for redeeming the broken words spoken over my life. Guard my tongue and purify my speech. May my words carry Your life, not death. Let me speak hope over the hopeless, encouragement to the weary, and truth wrapped in love. Teach me to pause before I speak, to listen before I answer, and to bless instead of curse. Rewrite my story continually with Your truth. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There’s a difference between hearing and truly listening. The infographic on the 5 Levels of Listening reminded me how often I linger in the shallower waters — waiting to talk, or distracted, only half-present. My lips may be closed, but my mind is rehearsing what to say next. It reminds me that listening isn’t just about ears — it’s about the posture of my heart. Too often, I’ve caught myself in level one — quiet on the outside, but inside, already forming my reply. Other times, I’ve slipped into level two, where distraction steals the gift of being fully present. Yet, when I move toward the higher levels—understanding, recognising emotions, and even sensing what remains unspoken — that’s when true connection happens. It echoes the call of Scripture: 📖 "So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." — James 1:19 (NKJV) The Hebrew word for “hear” in the Old Testament is shema (שָׁמַע). It doesn’t mean just to perceive sound. It carries the depth of obeying, understanding, and responding with the whole being. To shema is to listen with the heart — attentive, reverent, and ready to act in love. When I choose to listen like this, I move closer to the image of Christ. Jesus listened deeply to those around Him. He heard the cries beneath the words, the blind calling out on the roadside, the bleeding woman pressing through the crowd, the unspoken ache of a rich young ruler. His listening was never hurried; it was spacious, healing, and infused with compassion. To listen this way is an act of love and service. It’s recognising the image of God in the one speaking, honouring their story, their tears, their silence. It’s stepping into empathy, courage, and compassion—all threads that are woven into my core values. And maybe the deepest form of listening is prayer. When I lean in and hear what the Holy Spirit is whispering beneath the noise of my own thoughts, I discover truth, healing, and direction. Listening, at its deepest, is more than a skill. It is a ministry of presence, a way of carrying Christ’s love into ordinary moments. True listening is an act of love. It says: You matter. Your story matters. I see you. It invites us into empathy and even beyond — into discerning what is unspoken, what the soul longs to say but cannot find words for.  May I grow to be a listener who not only hears but helps heal. A gentle challenge for today: Ask Jesus to help you notice where you usually stop. Do you wait only to speak, or do you listen until you can hear what is unsaid? Let each conversation become a small altar where His love is made known. 📖 "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!" — Matthew 11:15 (NKJV) Listening, at its deepest, is more than a skill. It is a ministry of presence, a way of carrying Christ’s love into ordinary moments. May I grow to be a listener who not only hears but helps heal.

At 6 am this morning, I woke up to the news that Aunty Delice, my spiritual mom, has gone home to be with the Lord. Just last weekend, she suffered a stroke, and though my heart hoped for a full recovery, Heaven has now gained her tender soul. I first met her in the early 1990s at Julaine’s home cell. She was a mother of five, her youngest only weeks old, and yet she welcomed me into her heart as one of her own. In those days, when I felt so lost and alone, her steady love wrapped around me like a covering. That gift of belonging, of being mothered, has shaped me more than words can tell. I remember countless hours spent at her kitchen counter, conversations that poured balm into the cracks of my young adult heart. Conversations were foreign to me at the time, but I soaked up all I could. Mom knew how to make the lost and lonely feel heard, seen and valued. Two years later, she sewed together the 32 pieces of fabric that became my wedding dress, still hanging in my cupboard. She nursed me back to health with Marmite toast when for prior to the wedding, I couldn’t keep food in, resulting in weight loss so she had to sew me into the dress. Those pieces were a topic of discussion for years to come. She baked the cake and pressed silk flowers into a wine glass to make a topper, a treasure that still adorns my display cabinet as a symbol of her care. I even married out of her home. She modelled the love of Christ and motherhood. Mom love shaped my life in ways I will carry forever. My boys became her grandchildren, and she was "mom" and “Granny Lice” to many a stray youngster. If she wasn't busy in the kitchen preparing a meal, she was almost always with a baby in her arms and a smile of laughter on her face. Almost every photo of her carries that image, arms full of little ones, heart brimming with love. Today, my heart is heavy 💔, sorrow resting deep within😭. Heaven has gained a precious soul, but I have lost a pillar in my life. I don’t yet know why the tears have not come, but I will lean into the Holy Spirit for His comfort, trusting that He will help me grieve in His time and way. 📖 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." — Matthew 5:4 (NKJV) Though my heart feels the ache of loss, I am comforted by the hope we have in Christ that this goodbye is not the end, but only until we meet again. 💞 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the life of Mom Delice, whose love has been an anchor in my journey. Thank You for the ways she showed me Your heart through her kindness, her mothering, her faithfulness. Comfort her family, and hold us all close as we walk through the valley of grief. Teach me how to mourn with hope, resting in the promise of eternal life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Moving from waiting to talk toward hearing the heart of God and others The infographic I reflected on today outlined the 5 Levels of Listening: Waiting to Talk (Self-focused) — Quiet, but only because you are planning what to say next. Hearing the Words (Distracted) — Picking up parts of the conversation while your attention drifts. Understanding the Message (Focused) — Hearing not just the words but their meaning, listening to understand rather than reply. Recognising Emotions (Empathetic) — Sensing their emotional state and honouring how they feel. Hearing What’s Unsaid (Fully Present) — Picking up the deeper meaning, the things they struggle to express, and what they truly need you to hear. Weaving this into a Christ-centred life The Lord calls us to listen with both heart and spirit. 📖 "So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." — James 1:19 (NKJV) From self-focus to God-focus: Invite the Holy Spirit before a conversation. Ask Him to quiet the inner noise so you can be present. From distraction to attention: Lay aside the urge to multitask. Eye contact and gentle pauses create space for trust. From words to meaning: Reflect back what you heard. “I sense you’re carrying... Is that right?” shows care. From meaning to empathy: Pray silently as they speak, offering their burden to the Lord. From empathy to discernment: At the deepest level, listen for what the Father is saying, the comfort or truth He longs to impart. A gentle challenge for today Ask Jesus to help you notice where you usually stop. Do you wait only to speak, or do you listen until you can hear what is unsaid? Let each conversation become a small altar where His love is made known. 📖 "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!" — Matthew 11:15 (NKJV) Listening, at its deepest, is more than a skill. It is a ministry of presence, a way of carrying Christ’s love into ordinary moments. May I grow to be a listener who not only hears but helps heal.

For four years, my school holidays were marked by dutiful service — showing up, giving my time, energy, and heart without fail. This week was different. For the first time since starting my Elijah House journey, I did not serve at a school during the break. A few weeks ago, I felt the gentle nudge of the Holy Spirit inviting me into something new — a tender season of healing. He began unravelling the old “dutiful daughter” patterns within me, showing me how much of my striving came from wanting to please rather than resting in His love. At first, I wrestled. Guilt crept in after messaging Sandee, almost as if stepping back meant letting the team down. I missed the rhythm of Monday mornings, the familiar drive to Pakuranga. A flicker of FOMO visited me, reminding me of the moments I wasn’t part of. Yet by Tuesday, something had shifted. Apart from praying for the team throughout the day, I felt peace settling in like a gentle covering. I am beginning to learn that “no” is a full sentence. Boundaries are not walls of selfishness, but gates of wisdom that protect the heart. Rest is not absence, it is presence with God — and from that place of presence, my “yes” will one day flow again, not from duty but from love. 📖 "Come to Me, all you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where in my life have I been serving out of duty rather than love? 🤔 What old expectations is God inviting me to release? 🤔 How can I practise healthy boundaries without guilt, knowing Jesus calls me into His rest? 🤔 🙏 Closing Prayer: Father God, thank You for teaching me that Your love is not earned through duty but received in rest. Thank You for showing me that boundaries are not walls of selfishness but gates of wisdom that guard my heart. I release the guilt of saying “no” and choose instead to trust the freedom of Your “yes.” May my serving flow not from striving but from love, not from obligation but from delight in You. Holy Spirit, continue to unravel the old patterns and weave in Your truth. Teach me to walk in rhythm with grace, resting in Your presence and rising only when You lead. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. ✨

Still my one and only, my constant support — what a privilege it is to do life with you. Reflections of the Heart As I look back over the years, my heart fills with gratitude. Life has carried us through shifting seasons — joys, trials, laughter, tears, and countless ordinary days. Through it all, your steadfast presence has been my safe place. There is something sacred about knowing that whatever may come, you are there beside me. 📖 "Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion." — Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 (NKJV) Marriage is not just shared moments, it is a weaving of souls. Threads of faith, patience, and kindness form a tapestry of love that only grows richer with time. You have been God’s tangible reminder to me of His faithfulness and grace. Prayer of Gratitude Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of a faithful companion. Thank You for the laughter that brightens our days and for the strength that carries us through challenges. May our love reflect Your love, and may our unity bring You glory. Keep us anchored in You, that we may continue to walk hand in hand with courage, tenderness, and joy. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

“Average” is what the failures claim to be when their family and friends ask them why they are not more successful. “Average” is the top of the bottom, the best of the worst, the bottom of the top, the worst of the best. Which of these are you? “Average” means being run-of-the-mill, mediocre, insignificant, an also-ran, a nonentity. Being “average” is the lazy person’s cop-out; it’s lacking the guts to take a stand in life; it’s living by default. Being “average” is to take up space for no purpose; to take the trip through life, but never to pay the fare; to return no interest for God’s investment in you. Being “average” is to pass one’s life away with time, rather than to pass one’s time away with life; it’s to kill time, rather than to work it to death. To be “average” is to be forgotten once you pass from this life. The successful are remembered for their contributions; the failures are remembered because they tried; but the “average,” the silent majority, is just forgotten. To be “average” is to commit the greatest crime one can against one’s self, humanity, and one’s God. The saddest epitaph is this: “Here lies Mr. and Ms. Average — here lies the remains of what might have been, except for their belief that they were only “average.” — Gaudet Reading these words is uncomfortable — and that’s the point. Average is not about ability, it’s about choice. It’s the decision to shrink back when courage is required, to silence creativity when it longs to speak, to coast when God calls us to walk with purpose. What struck me most is that “average” wastes God’s investment. Each of us carries unique gifts, stories, and opportunities entrusted by Him — not to be buried, but multiplied. Playing small doesn’t spare us; it robs both us and those we were meant to touch. When I read Gaudet’s words about “average,” I can’t help but think of the years when I felt silenced, disconnected, and unseen. For so long, I settled into the background, believing the lie that I was ordinary — nothing special, nothing remarkable. Yet deep inside, God had already sown seeds of creativity and healing in me, waiting to break through. Rediscovering my creative voice was never about proving I was “better” than average; it was about realising that God never designed me for mediocrity. He placed in my hands brushes, words, songs, and stories — seven keys of healing that all carried the fingerprints of creativity. Each time I dared to sing, paint, write, dance, or speak, I was not just creating — I was choosing life over “average.” Faith has taught me that to play small is to dim the light God entrusted me with. To stay “average” would have been to bury my gifts, but instead He called me to let them shine — not perfectly, but boldly, honestly, and with love. Even failure, when it comes from trying, can echo with meaning. But choosing “average” leaves no echo at all. That’s the saddest epitaph: “what might have been.”So the question becomes deeply personal: Am I living in a way that leaves behind only safe sameness, or am I daring to create, love, risk, and shine — even imperfectly — so that God’s investment in me grows and blesses others?🤔 My creative journey is my testimony: I am not “average.” I am God’s workmanship (Ephesians 2:10), crafted with purpose. Even in my brokenness, He uses golden seams of grace to turn my story into something that speaks life. And so I keep creating, not to be remembered, but to reflect Him. Each brushstroke, each devotion, each gathering becomes my way of saying: “I refuse to settle for average. I choose to live poured out.”

This morning I woke with a melody stirring in my heart — 🎼“Light of the world, You stepped down into darkness, opened my eyes, let me see.”🎵🎶 The words reminded me afresh of the beauty of Jesus, the One who is altogether lovely, worthy, and wonderful to me. They echoed like a gentle prayer rising from within: 🎵Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down, here I am to say that You’re my God.🎶 As the first light of day slipped through my window, I felt my heart respond in gratitude. A new day, another chance to shine Christ’s light into the shadows around me. Another opportunity to let His love spill over into the places that ache for hope. 📖 “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.” — Matthew 5:14 (NKJV) Today I choose to walk with open eyes and an open heart, guided by Holy Spirit. I ask Him to align my steps, words, and thoughts with the rhythm of heaven’s song. May my life be an altar of worship — not only in songs I sing but in the love I show, the kindness I extend, and the courage I carry into dark places. 💡Reflection: • What song of worship is stirring in your heart today? 🤔 • How can you let your daily actions reflect a life of worship? 🤔 • Where might the Holy Spirit be nudging you to shine light into someone else’s darkness?🤔 🙌Closing Prayer: Holy Spirit, thank You for filling this new day with light and purpose. Let my life reflect Your beauty and truth. Lead me in paths where Your love is needed most, and keep my heart tender before You. May my worship today be more than words — may it be lived out in every breath and every step. Lord Jesus, I lay this day before You. Be the light that shines through my words, my actions, and even my silence. May others see You in me and be drawn to Your love. Protect my mind from distractions, my heart from fear, and my spirit from weariness. Teach me to worship You not only with my lips but with the way I live. I rest in the truth that You are altogether worthy, altogether lovely, and altogether wonderful to me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

We have two ears and one mouth for a reason. This simple truth, tucked into the way God designed our bodies, carries a gentle yet profound lesson: listen more than you speak. 📖 "So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." — James 1:19 (NKJV) Listening is not passive. It is an active, loving posture that says, I value your heart and story. In a noisy world, it becomes an act of compassion to give another person the gift of full attention. It allows us to discern not just words, but feelings and unspoken needs. I do enjoy listening to others; it brings me joy to hear their stories and to hold space for their hearts. Yet I know this has been a journey for me. Being raised in a silent home and having spent much of my life feeling disconnected, I am still learning the skill of active listening. It does not come naturally, but God has been gracious in teaching me how to lean in with love, to listen not only with my ears but with my heart. Every conversation becomes both a practice ground and a gift, shaping me into someone who longs to mirror His attentiveness. When we slow down to hear first, our words carry more weight and grace. Prayer becomes deeper. Friendships grow stronger. Even conflicts soften, because someone has truly been heard. As you move through today, let your ears do the greater part of the work. Speak carefully, with kindness, after the listening is done. 💡Reflection: • When was the last time you felt truly listened to? 🤔 • How did it impact your heart? 🤔 • In your conversations, do you tend to listen to respond, or listen to understand? 🤔 • What practical step can you take today to become more present when someone is sharing their heart with you? 🤔 • How might God be inviting you to listen more closely — to His Word, to His people, and to the whispers of the Holy Spirit? 🙏 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of ears to hear and a heart to understand. Teach me to listen with patience and compassion, not only to others but also to the gentle leading of Your Holy Spirit. Guard my tongue so that my words may be filled with grace, wisdom, and kindness. May my listening bring comfort, healing, and peace to those around me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

“Forgive as quickly and as often as you would expect Christ to forgive you.”These words stir something deep in me, because forgiveness is not always easy. Yet, when I pause and remember how quickly Christ forgives me — without hesitation, without conditions — my heart softens. Unforgiveness is like holding shards of broken pottery close to our chest, hoping they will somehow harm the other person, when in truth, they only cut deeper into us. Forgiveness, then, is not excusing wrongs or forgetting pain. It is releasing the weight that binds us, allowing God’s golden grace to flow into the cracks. 📖 "Then Peter came to Him and said, 'Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.'" — Matthew 18:21-22 (NKJV) Forgiveness is never easy. The sting of betrayal, the heaviness of offence, the quiet ache of repeated hurt — all of these weigh on the heart. Yet Jesus showed us the way of freedom while He was still hanging on the cross, whispering, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” That moment wasn’t just history; it is the living example that grace flows stronger than bitterness. Forgiving quickly and often is not about excusing wrongs or pretending pain doesn’t matter. It is about laying down the chains that bind us. Offence locks us in prisons of resentment. Forgiveness, however, sets us free. Forgiveness is freedom. It heals the offense lodged in our hearts, lifts the heaviness from our shoulders, and makes space for peace to breathe again. It is love in action — a reflection of Christ’s mercy alive within us. Sometimes, it isn’t just one act of forgiveness, but a repeated surrender — seventy times seven. The same person, the same wound, the same choice to release. In our strength, this feels impossible. Yet Christ, who forgave us before we ever repented, gives us the ability. His love fills the cracks where bitterness once tried to take root. Every time we forgive, we echo the Cross. We declare: “Christ in me is stronger than the offence against me.” 🕊️ Today, I choose to forgive. Not because it’s deserved, but because I have been forgiven much more. 💡Reflection: Who comes to mind when you think of forgiveness that still feels unfinished? 🤔 How might holding onto offence be keeping you bound? 🤔 What would it look like to forgive again — even if it’s the same wound, the same person? 🤔 ✨ You are not defined by the offence done to you, but by the grace that flows through you. Forgiveness is the doorway to freedom — and Christ holds it open for you. 🎨Creative Prompt: Paint or journal the image of a broken chain mended with golden seams. Let this be a symbol of forgiveness turning wounds into testimonies. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for forgiving me fully, even when I fall short again and again. Teach me to forgive quickly and often, not in my own strength but in Yours. Break the chains of offence in my life and replace them with Your peace. May my heart reflect Your mercy as I walk in freedom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

God is saying to you today: “You are impacting more lives than you realise. Someone is watching you. Someone will be saved because of you. Someone will keep pushing forward because of your faith. Someone will learn to trust Me because of your example. One day, when you stand before Me in Heaven, you will see the countless lives you've touched, and it will amaze you! Keep walking in faith, keep shining your light, because I am using you in ways beyond what you can see.” 📖 "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." — Matthew 5:16 (NKJV) There are days when I wonder whether the small, faithful acts really make a difference. The prayers whispered in private. The kindness is extended when no one is watching. The art created from tears and worship, sent quietly into the world like a message in a bottle. Yet today, I sense the Lord reminding me that even the smallest light can pierce deep darkness. Today, I’m grateful that the Lord whispers reassurance that what I’m sowing in secret is bearing fruit far beyond what my eyes can trace. His words speak of hidden ripples: someone will find salvation because I shared hope; another will persevere because they’ve watched my steadfast faith; and still another will dare to trust God because of the gentle way I’ve lived His truth. He reminds me that even when the work feels unseen or unnoticed, Heaven is keeping count. Each act of love, each word of encouragement, each prayer sown in faith becomes a seed in His garden of grace. One day, when I stand before Jesus, I believe He’ll show me a tapestry of lives touched through the ordinary threads of obedience. The smiles, the art, the prayers, the faith in waiting — all woven together into something eternal and beautiful. Until then, I will keep walking in faith, shining His light, and trusting that He is using my life in ways beyond what I can see. 💡Reflection: Where have I seen God use my quiet faith to encourage or inspire others?🤔 What “small things” might I be underestimating that God could be using greatly?🤔 How can I stay faithful and joyful in serving unseen?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer Lord Jesus, thank You for reminding me that no act of love is ever wasted in Your kingdom. Help me to trust that You are working through every seed sown in faith, even those that fall in hidden soil. Teach me to shine Your light without striving for recognition, knowing that Your glory is the true reward. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

📖 "Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy." — Proverbs 31:9 (NKJV) There will be moments when you see unfairness unfold and every fibre of you wants to speak, yet fear whispers reasons to stay quiet. Perhaps the wrongdoer is a friend, a leader you respect, or someone with influence. Still, God calls us to rise above fear. His Word reminds us that real courage is not about picking fights; it is about standing firm for what is right even when it is uncomfortable or costly. Christ Himself is our example. He confronted injustice, defended the vulnerable, and never compromised truth for popularity. When we follow Him, we carry His heart for justice and mercy. We do not need to shout to make a difference; often a calm, steady word can be stronger than a storm of anger. 📖 "For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” — Esther 4:14 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where might God be inviting you to speak truth with love today — at home, in your workplace, or within your community?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord Jesus, strengthen my heart to stand firm for truth and righteousness. Fill me with Your wisdom to speak with grace and courage, and help me defend those who cannot defend themselves. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

🎼 Dankie Jesus vir 'n wysie en 'n woord (Thank You Jesus for a tune and a word) Dankie Jesus want ek leef my volle droom Thank You Jesus because I live my full dream) Dankie Jesus vir die vreugde wat U bring ( Thank You Jesus for the joy that You bring)🎵🎶 This little song of praise carries the fragrance of a childlike heart — light, simple, and full of joy. Sometimes our deepest worship is found not in grand declarations but in whispered tunes of gratitude. Like the sparrows that greet the morning with song, our voices can rise to declare the goodness of God before we even know what the day will hold. 📖 "This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it." — Psalm 118:24 (NKJV) Every breath, every note, every smile is a reminder that Jesus has filled our lives with His love. Even in the middle of trials, He gives us songs in the night (Job 35:10). Waking up with praise shifts our eyes from the weight of yesterday to the promise of today. May this little chorus become like a gentle alarm for the soul — waking us not just from sleep, but into awareness of His presence. For truly, to live our full dream is to live in Him, and to delight in the joy only He can bring. 🙏 Prayer: Thank You, Jesus, for the gift of a new day and the melody You place in my heart. Teach me to wake with gratitude, to carry Your joy, and to live fully in the dream You have planted in me. May my life become a song of praise that draws others to Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is something about pressure that tells the truth. Diamonds are forged in the deep, where heat and weight transform common carbon into something of rare beauty. Yet not every glittering stone is a diamond. An imitation may look perfect until it is tested. When life presses down, it can feel like we’re being crushed. Yet in God’s hands, pressure is not punishment, it is transformation. Just as carbon is refined into a diamond under immense weight, so too our faith is revealed in the fire of adversity. This picture holds a spiritual lesson. 📖 “Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you; but rejoice to the extent that you partake of Christ’s sufferings.” — 1 Peter 4:12-13 (NKJV). Our Father is not cruel. He does not crush to destroy. He allows the squeeze so that our lives reveal what is genuine, grace that endures, faith that does not fracture. Tests of adversity separate surface sparkle from the enduring brilliance of a surrendered heart. If you feel the weight today, remember that hidden strength is rising within you. What is of Christ will not shatter. Instead, pressure will polish it until His reflection shines more clearly. Perhaps you’ve been in a season where the weight feels heavy and the pressure unrelenting. Take heart. What is of Christ will not shatter. Hidden strength is rising within you. 💡Reflection: • Where have recent trials revealed unexpected resilience or exposed areas that still need His refining touch? 🤔 • Write a prayer of trust, inviting Jesus to keep shaping your character into lasting beauty. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that nothing is wasted in Your hands. When life presses hard, steady my heart. Purify my motives, strengthen my faith, and let Your light shine through every crack until Your likeness is all that remains. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

This morning, on the way to The Crate, I was greeted by a quiet spectacle: a rainbow arched like a painted bow across the pale sky. The pavement was still damp from the night’s showers, and a hint of blue broke through the cloud, yet the colours shone as if placed there just for me. It felt like the Lord’s own signature — a whispered assurance of His unchanging promises. The rainbow has always been His covenant sign, first given to Noah after the flood, declaring that mercy triumphs over judgement. 📖 "I set My rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be for the sign of the covenant between Me and the earth." — Genesis 9:13 (NKJV) May we carry this same certainty into our day. Whatever storms have gathered, His Word still stands. His mercy is fresh, His faithfulness unbroken. Today, may every glimmer of colour in the ordinary remind us of the God who keeps His promises, leading us from grey skies into hope-filled blue. Thank You for the rainbow this morning — a radiant reminder of Your faithfulness that never fails. Just as the colours stretch across the sky, so does Your mercy cover every part of my life. Thank You for new beginnings after the storms, for hope that rises even on grey days, and for promises that are steadfast and true. Teach me to pause and recognise these glimpses of Your goodness in the ordinary. May my heart be filled with gratitude and trust, knowing that You keep every word You have spoken. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There will always be voices that label us as too much or not enough. Too quiet, too sensitive, too weird, too confident. Yet the truth is that God did not design us by mistake. Every detail was lovingly formed in His heart before it was knit into being. For every person who thinks you are too quiet, there is one who sees in you a patient, safe, listening ear. For every person who calls you too sensitive, another honours your ability to feel deeply and love fully. Where some may call you too confident, others find courage and inspiration in your self-respect. The very qualities others criticise may be the balm another soul has been praying for. This is why anchoring our identity in Christ is so vital. When our worth rests in shifting human opinions, we are pulled back and forth like a boat in restless waters. Yet when our worth rests in Him, we stand steady. 📖 "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them." — Ephesians 2:10 (NKJV) I am reminded again of my core values — faith, love, compassion, creativity, courage, and integrity. These were not accidental traits but intentional gifts, entrusted to me for a purpose. What someone else calls too much may in fact be just right in the Father’s hands. 🎨Creative Prompt: Paint or sketch an image of a potter shaping clay. Around the clay vessel, write words others have spoken over you that felt like too much or not enough. Then, on the vessel itself, write the words God speaks: Beloved. Chosen. Beautifully Made. 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You that I am Your workmanship. Help me to see myself through Your eyes and not through the shifting lens of others. Teach me to rest in the truth that my weaknesses and strengths alike are redeemed in You. Shape me as the Potter shapes the clay, and let my life reflect Your design. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. You are not defined by another’s labels. You are defined by the One who formed you. Hold fast to His truth and walk boldly in the beauty of who He made you to be.

There are melodies that rise from Scripture and echo deep within our souls. Today it’s this one: 🎼 “The Name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and are safe.” 🎵🎶 How beautiful that His very Name is our protection. Not a distant shelter, but an ever-present tower where safety is not just imagined, it is guaranteed. When storms howl, when accusations sting, when fears creep in like shadows, we are invited to run—not walk—into His refuge. It reminds me that safety isn’t found in control, in people’s approval, or in securing outcomes. True safety rests in the unshakeable, eternal, holy Name of Jesus. A tower higher than my doubts. Stronger than my fears. Wider than my wounds. 📖 “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; The righteous run to it and are safe.” — Proverbs 18:10 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where do you run when you feel unsafe or overwhelmed? How might you turn your heart toward His strong tower today? 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that Your Name is a refuge for my weary soul. Teach me to run swiftly to You, not to distractions or self-sufficiency. Be my strong tower, my hiding place, and my peace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. You are safe, beloved one. Always. Rest in His Name today. 💖

As I listened to the words spoken over me, I felt the Father’s love wrapping gently around my soul. It was as if the Holy Spirit Himself brushed back the heaviness that has long tried to clip my wings. There was a tender invitation — to stretch them wide again, to dance without fear, to love without hesitation. 📖 "But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." — Isaiah 40:31 (NKJV) The picture of wings unfolded before me — not fragile, broken feathers, but eagle’s wings, strong and unafraid of the heights. New Zealand once carried the largest eagle in the world, the Haast Eagle, and I believe the Lord was reminding me of the unique strength He has placed within me. Where the enemy tried to silence, limit, or shame, God is renewing courage, creativity, and joy. He delights in me as His little girl twirling before her Daddy. Not judged, not compared, but cherished. There is such freedom in remembering that my worship, whether in dance, paint, or words, is a gift He treasures. The sideways glances and critical comments of others no longer hold weight here. His love is louder. Today, I choose to extend my wings again — to fly in His freedom, to dance in His joy, to rest in His delight. I choose to believe that where the enemy clipped, the Lord has healed, and where there was heaviness, He brings playfulness. 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You for calling me Your beloved daughter. Thank You for delighting in me as I dance, create, and worship. Heal the clipped places of my wings, and teach me to rise again in Your strength. May my life be a prophetic picture of freedom and joy, pointing others to Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.