For many years after school, I walked through life with an invisible sign slung around my neck: “I’m stupid.” It wasn't written in ink or carved in wood — it lived in my thoughts, shadowed my choices, and whispered lies whenever I dared to dream beyond what I thought I deserved.

That sign was hung on me by a system that mistook performance for worth. Even though I earned some distinctions for matric back in 1987, I never pursued further study. I didn’t feel smart. I didn’t feel seen. The truth is, that sign wasn’t born from failure — it was born from striving. My marks weren't a source of pride — they were the desperate fruit of trying to be good enough to finally earn love, attention, or acknowledgement from the adults in my life.

Yet even in the achievements, there was silence. No “well done.” No embrace of delight. Just the quiet echo of “not good enough.” That phrase — “You can do better than this” — sounds so noble on the surface, doesn’t it? 🤔 But when spoken without tenderness, without celebration, and without love… it doesn't inspire. It wounds. It quietly tells a child: “What you’ve given is still not enough.”

Oh, how I wish I had known back then what I know now…I wish I had known that grades on a report card do not determine the mark we make on the world.

Oh how I wish I had known that I was born with a deep love of learning — not for numbers or accounting formulas, but for people, for connection, and for the sacred art of building relationships.I wish I had known that life would offer thousands of opportunities to learn, grow, and earn — far beyond the narrow corridor of traditional education.

I wish I had known that the best investment I could ever make would be in myself through growth, through healing, through learning from others who carried hard-earned wisdom.

I wish I had known that the discipline I formed through years of athletic training would serve me far more in life than SIN, COS or TAN ever could 😜

I wish I had known that one day, I would make a beautiful, meaningful difference in families and lives across the world, not because I held a certificate, but because I said yes to the One who called me.

Today, I reach back to that tired, 18-year-old version of me…

I gently lift her chin, look into her tear-filled eyes and whisper: “You’re going to be more than OK. You’re going to shine.” because now I know something I didn’t know back then:📖 “God doesn’t call the qualified, but qualifies the called.” (See 1 Corinthians 1:26–29)

And I was called. Willing. Bruised, but brave. Unqualified in the world’s eyes yet fully chosen and equipped by the God who sees the heart. His banner over me is love.

💡A Soul Reflection:

What false label have you been carrying — one that was never yours to wear?🤔 Ask the Holy Spirit to gently uncover the lie. Then invite Him to write a new name over you in gold.

Write a letter to your younger self — not to fix her, but to free her.

Today, tear off that sign.

The only banner you wear now is Love.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.