Folded Into Peace

A quiet meditation on order, service, and the God who sees every hidden offering

There is something oddly soothing about gathering a chaotic pile of towels and watching it transform into a neat, gentle display of order. The soft rhythm of folding becomes its own steady heartbeat. The quiet roll of each cloth feels like a whispered prayer. The simple satisfaction of seeing chaos become calm reminds me how even the smallest acts of service can turn into a quiet offering of love. Interestingly enough, Sandra spoke about chaos and thresholds at last weekend’s Life Beyond Trauma seminar, and something in me stirred when I remembered it this morning. Chaos is not simply disorder; it is holy invitation. It is often the threshold between what was and what is becoming, the doorway God uses to usher us into healing we did not even know we needed. I have been volunteering to do this almost every day this year. Usually, Roland and I stand at the counter in the Business Lounge at The Crate, immersed in intense conversations while our hands move almost automatically like a factory line. I fold and he rolls them to fill up the crates for the bathrooms. He was not in this morning, so I slipped upstairs into the laundry, tucked away from sight, and allowed the stillness to wrap around me. It felt right to fold and pray, unseen and unhurried fo.r the next hour. As I gathered the unruly pile of towels, I felt that familiar tug in my spirit. The soft rhythm of folding became more than a task. The quiet folding of each cloth felt like a gentle unravelling of the knots within me. Watching chaos settle into calm reminded me that perhaps there is more to this small ritual than meets the eye. I have never been one to do things to be seen. What began as a practical task, a ministry of helps, has become a tender ritual that steadies my thoughts. These small white towels seem to mirror the moments in life that feel jumbled, scattered, and out of place. As I roll them and place them into the crate, I am reminded that God is a God of order, peace, and gentle restoration. Much like Roland and I care to do this with excellence, God quietly arranges what feels messy. He even cares about the details no one else notices. 📖 "Let all things be done decently and in order." — 1 Corinthians 14:40 (NKJV) In the quiet corners of the day, He meets me. In the hidden tasks, He strengthens me. In the small, faithful rhythms, He restores my soul. 📖 "Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men." — Colossians 3:23 (NKJV) The pile never complains or rushes me. It simply waits for loving hands to shape it back into purpose. In the same way, my heart often feels like that first photo — a heap of undone edges, weary from many things. The second photo feels like hope — evidence that intentional care and a willing heart can turn anything into beauty. These quiet moments remind me that even the most mundane tasks can be threads in the tapestry of service. God sees. God smiles. God strengthens. Nothing is wasted when done in love. 💡 Reflection: • Where might God be inviting me to find peace in the simple, unseen tasks? 🤔 • How do small acts of order bring rest to my heart and mind? 🤔 • What is one ordinary routine that becomes sacred when I invite God into it? 🤔 • Where in my life do I feel a little like that first pile of towels — jumbled, overwhelmed, or out of place? 🤔 • What simple rhythm or daily act might God use to bring calm and clarity back into my spirit? 🤔 • How is God inviting me to serve quietly in this season, trusting that He sees every unseen offering? 🤔 • Where in my life does the chaos feel less like a burden and more like a threshold God is inviting me to step across? 🤔 • How is God using simple daily rhythms to bring clarity, healing, or grounding into my spirit? 🤔 • What hidden acts of faithfulness is He using to shape me for the next season? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am held by a God who brings order to my chaos and peace to my heart. Even my smallest acts of service carry eternal worth. I am being gently led across holy thresholds. God brings order to my chaos, calm to my spirit, and purpose to my hands. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the quiet places, in tasks that feel small yet carry deep significance and steady my soul. Teach me to serve without seeking notice and to rest in the assurance that You see every hidden act of love. Teach me to recognise the thresholds hidden inside my everyday rhythms. Bring Your peace into the scattered places of my heart and guide me with tenderness into the order You are establishing. Shape me through each unseen offering and make me attentive to Your presence in the quiet moments. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Water Finds Its Way In

Learning to Breathe When Plans Are Washed in Unexpected Storms

There are days when you step into the studio with purpose in your heart and a vision in your hands, only to feel that first unexpected splash under your feet. What was meant to be a gentle afternoon of preparing for tomorrow’s paint party suddenly and this afternoon's Healing 💔heARTs💖 Encounter group shifts; water has seeped through the mat again, a quiet reminder of Tuesday’s heavy rain. It catches you off guard, unsettles the rhythm, and pulls you back to memories of the 2023 floods that tested more than the foundations of this room. This makes it the fifth time since then, and the weight of that repetition rests on the chest for a moment longer than it should. There is a pause where disappointment rises and tiredness whispers, yet the Lord meets us even here. He steps into the puddles with us, steady and unshaken, reminding us that His presence is not confined to the moments that run smoothly. Plans may derail, yet His grace steadies the heart. Storms may seep in, yet His strength clears the path. 📖 "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you." — Isaiah 43:2 (NKJV) Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is acknowledge the frustration, breathe, lift our eyes, and let Him guide us forward one step at a time. Even if the first step is taken with wet feet. 💡Reflection: • Where have unexpected storms tried to unsettle your peace recently? 🤔 • What rises in your heart when plans fall through, and how might God be meeting you there? 🤔 • How has God carried you through waters in the past, and what does that remind you about today? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am not alone in unexpected storms. God stands with me in every flooded place, steadying my heart and guiding my steps with love. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for meeting me even in the places that feel inconvenient, overwhelming, or wearying. Strengthen my heart when plans unravel, and remind me that You are present in every detail. Help me notice Your nearness, lean into Your grace, and walk forward with peace, regardless of how the day begins. Restore joy to my preparation and bless the work of my hands. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Raising a Generation That Knows Connection

A reflective post on leadership, healing, and the responsibility to rebuild what was lost

This morning’s Business Leader Breakfast left me carrying thoughts that continue to echo through my heart, stirring something deeper than professional curiosity. These were not just leadership insights; they were invitations to look at generations coming behind us with compassion, accountability, and hope. Elias spoke about the younger generation — not with criticism, but with deep concern and responsibility — a call to seasoned leaders to pause, understand their world, and shepherd them with grace. Many of today’s young adults never had the chance to develop relational maturity in the way previous generations did. COVID-19 shaped their schooling, their social worlds, and their emotional development. They are digital natives who can navigate screens effortlessly; however, asking them to pick up a phone and have a real conversation often triggers reluctance and anxiety. Quite frankly, I know that angst all too well, having grown up in a house where parents were always working and when home, they were emotionally absent. I judged them as uncaring, cold and distant and vowed never to become like them. In my judgment, I dishonoured them and set myself up for sowing and reaping, resulting in becoming just like them and repeating the same patterns. Sound familiar?🤔 AI now handles the simple tasks that once helped build confidence in young workers. Those small stepping stones that once nurtured emotional resilience have been replaced by technological shortcuts. Elias asked a question that continues to sit with me: What are we, as mature Christian leaders, doing to guide this next generation in ways that honour our faith and their humanity? 🤔Business culture often prioritises results over relationships; however, Jesus calls us to make disciples, not machines. We are meant to be people who see, guide, nurture, and uplift. Then there are the repercussions of the COVID-19 lockdowns. The ten or twelve-year-olds of today were young children when the world shut down. They couldn't learn to read faces hidden behind masks. They missed the natural social cues that shape emotional intelligence. Their development lagged through no fault of their own. Yet, my opinion may not be received well by my generation. I believe that it reaches even deeper than the pandemic. We have raised these generations while carrying our own unhealed wounds. Many of us grew up without emotionally present adults, then entered parenthood or leadership unequipped. We were busy working, overwhelmed, or distracted by the digital world. Conversations became sparse. Family dinners disappeared. Emotional expression was often suppressed rather than guided. We did not consistently model communication, emotional regulation, conflict resolution, or healthy attachment — so our children learned what they lived. If we never learned to have meaningful conversations with the adults in our world, how could we have naturally taught our children to have them?🤔 When conversation is unfamiliar, fear and avoidance grow. When connection lacks safety, anxiety takes root. Relational avoidance often springs from relational neglect. Much of the reluctance this young generation feels around phone calls or personal interactions is not a mystery, nor is it rebellion; it is a symptom. A mirror— reflecting back the places where we, as parents, caregivers, leaders, and communities, were absent, overwhelmed, distracted, or simply unequipped. Children become emotionally mature when raised in emotionally mature environments. Children become secure when raised by secure adults. Children learn empathy from being empathised with. Children learn courage when someone stands beside them long enough to show them how. If we never learned meaningful conversation in our own childhood, how could we have taught it to the children entrusted to us? 🤔 Children become emotionally mature when raised by emotionally mature adults. They become secure when surrounded by those who model security. They learn empathy from being empathised with. They learn courage when supported long enough to try. There is good news: we have an opportunity to undo so much of the damage. Generational trauma is not permanent; it can be interrupted.. Emotional disconnect is not destiny; it can be healed. The tide can turn — and it can begin with us. It starts with ownership. We must take ownership of our part in what we see around us. We must acknowledge where we have contributed to the fragmentation we see among younger generations. We must repent where necessary, ask for forgiveness where relationships have been strained, and choose intentionally to model something better. Connection is always learned from someone who offers it first. We must repent where our lack of presence created gaps, seek forgiveness where relationships have been strained, and choose intentionally to model connection again. Healing begins with humility. Restoration begins with responsibility. If we want to empower younger generations to rise above their anxieties and cultivate meaningful relationships, it starts with us — with rebuilding the dinner tables, restoring conversations, and choosing presence over productivity. It begins with slowing down long enough for their hearts to feel seen. The buck can stop with us, and the blessing can begin with us. We have the privilege — and responsibility — to be the turning point. 📖 "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." — Proverbs 22:6 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where have I unintentionally modelled disconnection, and how can I begin restoring connection today? 🤔 • Who in the younger generation is God inviting me to invest in with patience and presence? 🤔 • What conversations, rhythms, or family practices need to be restored or rebuilt in my own world? 🤔 • What fear or avoidance in myself have I passed down, and how can healing begin with me? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am a restorer of connection, a carrier of compassion, and a bridge for generations. Healing flows through me as I choose presence, grace, and intentional love. The buck stops with me, and the blessing begins with me. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for entrusting me with influence, leadership, and the privilege of shaping lives around me. Please heal the places in me that did not receive connection, so that I may offer connection freely. Restore what has been lost in our families, our communities, and our younger generations. Teach me to be present, patient, and courageous as I guide others toward emotional and spiritual maturity. May my life carry Your compassion, and may my leadership reflect Your heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Anger as a Trauma Response

When eruptions reveal the deeper wounds Jesus longs to heal

This morning, as I reflected on the teaching from our seminar and the conversation with Roland that followed, I sensed a tender invitation from Holy Spirit to look again at anger — not as a moral failure, but as a messenger of the heart. So much of what we call "anger" is not anger at all; it is the eruption, the overflow, the visible flame of something buried far beneath the surface. Unhealed pain never stays quiet, and trauma buried alive stays alive. It may lie dormant for a time, but eventually it rises, often disguised as anger, irritation, defensiveness, or emotional overwhelm. These responses are not random. They are survival mechanisms — the heart’s attempt to protect itself when it feels unsafe, unseen, dishonoured, or unheard. Anger is part of the fight response — a trauma response that forms when a person has lived through experiences too overwhelming to process. These roots may reach back decades, sometimes even to childhood, infancy, or the womb. Trauma overloads the capacity of the heart, and the body carries what the soul cannot yet speak. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 🌋 Anger and the Wounded Heart The trauma material reminds us that unresolved wounds affect every part of our being — emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual. Trauma can: • Disrupt sleep and rest • Trigger anxiety and hypervigilance • Impact concentration and memory • Cause chronic pain, body tension, and physical illness • Lead to depression, shame, hopelessness, or emotional numbness • Create patterns of withdrawal, people-pleasing, performance, or control These are not signs of weakness. They are signs of a heart trying to survive. Trauma teaches the body and the nervous system to stay on high alert. For some, the eruption of anger is simply the moment the internal pressure becomes too great to hide. 📖 "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties." — Psalm 139:23 (NKJV) When anger rises like a volcano, it often feels sudden and overwhelming, as though something inside finally burst through the surface. Yet beneath every eruption there is always a story. Anger is not the root; it is the visible flame of deeper, quieter pain waiting to be acknowledged and healed. Anger becomes the eruption only when the heart has already reached capacity. The surface heat is simply revealing a tender place below, a place Jesus longs to touch with kindness, truth, and restoration. 🌋 The Eruption (What We See) The outward expression — the raised voice, the sharp tone, the withdrawal, the sudden reaction — is simply the overflow. Like lava spilling over the edges of a volcano, anger shows us that something internal has been brewing for a long time. If left unchecked, anger can spill into hurtful words, broken connections, and cycles of shame. Yet Jesus does not meet us with judgment when we erupt; He meets us with understanding. 📖 "He restores my soul." — Psalm 23:3 (NKJV) He sees beneath the lava. He sees the heart. 🌋 The Hidden Volcano (What’s Beneath the Surface) Below every eruption lies a landscape of tender emotions: • Fear — of being abandoned, rejected, or misunderstood • Hurt — wounds still aching, memories still alive • Injustice — something deeply unfair that pierced the soul • Disappointment — hope deferred, expectations unmet • Shame — feeling not enough or too much • Rejection — the sting of not being chosen or valued • Guilt — feeling responsible for what was never ours to carry • Helplessness — the sense of losing control • Overwhelm — when life becomes too heavy to hold These are not sins. These are wounds. These emotional layers form the molten core beneath the “volcano.” When pressure builds and the heart has no safe release, the eruption follows. This is why anger is not a primary emotion; it is a secondary response, a signal pointing toward something underneath that Jesus desires to bring into His light. These are the beloved places Jesus moves toward — with tenderness, not accusation. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 🌋 The Levels of the Heart (Before the Eruption) 1. Calm — feeling grounded, peaceful, connected. 2. Unsettled — unsure, stretched, or challenged. 3. Bubbling Up — frustrated, worried, nervous. 4. Rumbling — annoyed, upset, stressed, close to erupting. 5. Exploding — overwhelmed, reactive, out of control. Each level is an opportunity to pause, breathe, and ask Jesus: "What is stirring beneath the surface of my heart?" He never rushes us. He never shames us. He waits for us to invite Him into the deeper layers. 🌿 A Sacred Invitation Anger may feel like a problem, but in the Kingdom, it is often an invitation: • To look beneath the eruption, not just at the behaviour • To name the wound, not condemn the heart • To recognise the false refuges we have leaned on • To surrender the idol that promised safety but delivered burden • To let Jesus tend the places where pain still lives Anger is not the enemy. It is the flashlight revealing where the heart still aches. It is the Holy Spirit whispering, “There is something here I want to heal.” 🌿 Idols, False Refuge, and Tender Places Sandra’s words echoed deeply: “If you are angry, someone has touched your idol.” Not an idol of rebellion, but an idol of protection — the places where we have leaned on false refuge to survive. When anger rises suddenly and intensely, it often reveals: • a place where we were never validated, • a voice that was silenced, • a boundary that was ignored, • a need that went unmet, • a wound that was never seen. False refuge can take many forms — coping mechanisms, self-protection, perfectionism, withdrawal, or even control. They promise safety but ultimately burden the soul. When these places are touched, the heart reacts. Jesus does not shame us for this. He moves toward the pain beneath the reaction. 🌋 The Volcano Within: What Jesus Sees Jesus sees the little child who learned to survive by staying silent. He sees the teenager who endured too much too soon. He sees the adult still carrying wounds that were never resolved. He sees the heart longing for safety, connection, and peace. He sees the trauma hidden beneath the behaviour. Anger is never the full story — it is the smoke that reveals the fire underneath. 💡 Reflection: • What emotion might be hiding beneath my anger today? 🤔 • Where did I learn that expressing need or pain was unsafe? 🤔 • Which part of my heart still feels unheard or dishonoured? 🤔 • What false refuge have I leaned on to feel safe? 🤔 • What is Jesus gently revealing beneath the eruption? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: You are not defined by your anger. Jesus sees the tender truth beneath your reactions and meets you there with compassion, not condemnation. Every eruption becomes an invitation into deeper healing, rest, and restoration. 🙌 Prayer: Holy Spirit, reveal the unhealed places that sit beneath my anger. Bring Your gentle light to every wound, memory, and fear still held in my heart. Dismantle every false refuge and draw me into the safety of Jesus’ love. Heal the places where trauma has shaped my reactions and restore my heart to peace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Anger Points to What Still Hurts

A gentle reflection on secondary emotions, tender idols, and the sacred invitations hidden within our strongest reactions

This morning’s conversation with Roland lingered with me long after the words settled. It reminded me of something Elijah House has taught so faithfully: anger is almost always a secondary emotion. It is not the beginning of a story; it is the evidence of one. It is a stink finder, the smoke rising from a deeper fire, a present day fruit, a compassionate signal from the heart that something unhealed is still calling for Jesus. During the weekend's Life Beyond Trauma seminar, Sandra’s teaching deepened this truth even further. She recalled a pastor who once said, “If you are angry, somebody has touched your idol.” Those words were not meant to shame; they were meant to illuminate. They invite us to look beneath the reaction with honesty and courage. Sandra shared a moment when a family member dishonoured her so deeply that she became “so mad I saw stars.” She nearly passed out from the force of it. Later she realised the root was her pain around feeling unheard and dishonoured, a part of her heart that had not yet been fully healed. That intense reaction was never just about the moment. It was the echo of earlier wounds. It was a place where Jesus longed to bring restoration. In Elijah House, we are taught that pain buried alive never dies; it mutates. It shifts shape, hides beneath coping mechanisms, settles in the shadows until it finds its way out sideways. It rises through anger, defensiveness, withdrawal, control, or even a sudden wave of emotion that feels far too big for the situation at hand. The Cross remains the only place where these old wounds find effective death and true healing. Sandra’s reflection on idols of the heart wove seamlessly into this truth. Idols are not always carved images; they are the subtle allegiances we form in the quiet. The Kingdom of self is built every time we reach for: • a false refuge, • a coping mechanism, • an escape, • a medicator, • a behaviour that promises comfort but steals wholeness. When these things become habit, compulsion, or the place we run to for safety instead of Jesus, they become idols. Sandra reminded us soberly that every idol requires a sacrifice — peace, intimacy, relationships, clarity, emotional health. Yet she also shared a profound hope: the desert, the trauma places, and the barren seasons can become either a place where idols are built or a place where Jesus brings revelation. Every strong reaction becomes an invitation to ask: • “What has been touched in me?” • “Where am I still tender?” • “What am I protecting?” • “What false refuge have I learned to trust?” There is such gentleness in Jesus when these things surface. He never shames. He seeks the bruise beneath the behaviour, the memory beneath the anger, the wound beneath the fire. Only He can dismantle idols without crushing the heart they grew around. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 📖 "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties." — Psalm 139:23 (NKJV) Anger, then, becomes a gift when approached with honesty. It becomes a guide pointing us not to shame but to the places where Jesus is already knocking, already drawing near, already preparing to heal. 💡 Reflection: • What emotion might be sitting beneath my anger today? 🤔 • Which reaction this week felt bigger than the moment itself? 🤔 • What idol might have been touched — approval, control, safety, reputation, comfort? 🤔 • Where have I reached for false refuge instead of Jesus? 🤔 • What might Jesus be inviting me to surrender or bring into His light today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: You are held by a God who sees beyond your reactions into the tender truth of your story. Even your strongest emotions are invitations into deeper freedom. Nothing is too tangled for His healing, and nothing is too hidden for His restoring love. 🙌 Prayer: Holy Spirit, reveal every place where my reactions point to unresolved pain. Show me the idols I have built in the quiet places of my heart and lead me away from false refuge into the rest that only Jesus can give. Heal the wounds I have buried, dismantle every false comfort, and turn the desert places within me into spaces of revelation. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

A Diamond in the Wrong Hands

When Worth Remains, Even When Unseen

There is a quiet ache that rises when value goes unrecognised. The image of a rough stone beside a brilliant-cut diamond reminds me how easily worth can be overlooked when held by hands that do not understand its beauty. A diamond in the wrong hands is treated as ordinary; however, its essence never changes. Its brilliance remains, waiting for the right light. I have learned through many seasons that an environment, relationship, or moment that cannot honour what God has placed within me does not diminish the gift, the calling, or the worth He wove into my life. My value is not determined by those who cannot see it. My potential is not reduced by those who mishandle it. My beauty is not lessened when misunderstood or ignored. 📖 "For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." — 1 Samuel 16:7 (NKJV) There is comfort in knowing that God sees the diamond even when others see only a stone. He knows the hidden facets, the internal fire, the years of pressure that shaped something precious. Nothing about His workmanship becomes less simply because someone else fails to recognise it. There have been seasons in my own life when I felt unseen or undervalued, moments where my heart whispered, "Maybe I am ordinary after all." Yet God, in His kindness, kept reminding me that worth is not bestowed by people. It is breathed by Him. People can mishandle, misunderstand, or misjudge — nonetheless, they cannot alter what He has made. In the right hands, a diamond is treasured. In the right environment, it shines. In the right season, its beauty becomes unmistakable. This truth brings deep rest to my spirit: being in the wrong place never changes my essence; it simply reveals that God intends to move me somewhere I can flourish. 💡 Reflection: • Where have I felt undervalued, and what might God be inviting me to see about my worth today? 🤔 • Which environments make my God-given brilliance shine most naturally? 🤔 • What does it mean for me to trust that God sees me fully, even when others do not? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am God-crafted, God-valued, and God-seen. No misplaced season can dim what He has placed within me. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for seeing my heart when others may overlook it. Thank You for shaping me with intention, beauty, and purpose. Help me rest in the truth that my worth comes from You alone. Lead me into environments where Your light in me can shine freely, and guard my heart from every lie that whispers I am less than You created me to be. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Resting Where God Places Me

Reflections on Serving, Being Seen, and Learning to Rest

There are moments when an ordinary conversation becomes a mirror, held gently by the Lord, revealing where He has been reshaping the innermost parts of my heart. Today’s conversation with Elias felt like that, a quiet affirmation, a gentle correction, and a reminder that God’s wisdom is always kinder than my striving. He stopped by the front desk for coffee, having returned from spending several days in China and then came towards me, where I was working in the business lounge. There was a softness to the moment, a grace I had not felt for a long time. No anxiety rose in my chest, no tightening of the breath. It seems my last prayer ministry session has begun to soothe the bruising of the past year’s wounding, easing places that once felt raw and guarded. What followed was an unexpected, encouraging conversation — one that reminded me of the gentle ways God restores confidence and relationships.  When he asked how the Life Beyond Trauma seminar went, my heart warmed instantly. It was brilliant, not because I was on the ministry team, but precisely because I wasn’t. I had expected to serve, to lead, to carry responsibility. That is usually where I find myself. Yet God whispered a clear no through Peter’s message: “We have enough volunteers. You can just come and soak.”  It still feels strange to write that. So often I equate serving with obedience, busyness with purpose, and silence with invisibility. The Lord is steadily, compassionately unravelling that belief. He placed me in the room as a daughter, not a soldier, and in doing so, He positioned me exactly where I was most needed.  Elias then spoke about the email I had sent out with all the details about the Life Beyond Trauma event. He asked if I had written it myself or copied it from someone. When I told him it was mine, he spoke words that caught me off guard. He said the writing was incredibly good, good enough that he questioned whether someone else had written it. The personalised stories, the flow, the clarity. He even rated it among the best of the copy he has read. I stood there, a little stunned. I felt that familiar mixture of gratitude and discomfort. I have always done a lot of processing with writing, yet I often hesitate to trust the gift God has placed in my hands. Elias simply said, "Don't underestimate your ability. God's given you a talent. Embrace it." A truth that landed warmly.  We spoke about the event being fully booked — over two hundred people — and I shared how this seminar included new teachings on chaos and thresholds, all resonating deeply with my current season. I can feel the Holy Spirit stirring the next pieces in me, unveiling what needs tending. I told him how God repositioned me this weekend, keeping me off the team so I could simply be present for one of my precious Encounter Group ladies who was struggling on Friday. I noticed her shoulders curved inward, the way her head hung down into her chest. Had I been on the team, I would have missed that holy assignment. I would not have been able to sit beside her, hover protectively and offer presence and comfort. Neither would I have been able to check in on all the others in our group who came. The Holy Spirit knew. He always knows.  God knows exactly where He needs me, and when. He places us where love can find us, or flow through us, even when we think we belong somewhere else. Elias then spoke gently about serving. He said it is important not only to serve, but to be served, because discipleship grows in both directions. I admitted this is where I am learning — asking for help, receiving and allowing others to be present for me. These are new muscles being strengthened for me. I told him I was working on it, and he nodded in response, "We are all a work in progress." We spoke about thresholds, that in-between place where something has ended, but the next thing has not revealed itself. I told him how the teaching stirred things inside me that I still need to sit with and pray through. I am in a threshold season myself. There are doors that feel half-open, invitations that feel half-formed, and a sense that God is unravelling old patterns so He can rebuild something truer, slower, and stronger. He asked about Clive and my trip to Wellington last month and I shared how the weather was wild at first, and how I have finally learned that travelling does not need to be a mission to see and do everything. There is rest even in exploration. Clive enjoyed not being rushed all the time and I enjoyed slowing down. I used to treat every holiday as a mission: see everything, do everything, squeeze meaning out of every moment. It was survival disguised as productivity. After last year’s ministry session with Sandra, something has softened within me. I no longer need to chase every view to prove the trip was worth it. I no longer need to force beauty into every moment. I can rest now. Clive can rest too. We wandered, lingered, returned early, and moved slowly. It felt like breathing again.  We spoke about his recent trip to China. He shared with that familiar spark in his eyes how vast the world feels when you step into places where nothing looks familiar, not the language, not the rhythms, not even the coffee menu. It sounded like an adventure, and he agreed with a quiet laugh. I smiled, realising that in different ways, the Holy Spirit has been doing the same in me. We laughed about how different we are. His wife calls him a traveller who does not travel because he rarely does anything touristy and he told me stories of navigating China through WeChat translations and blind guesses at Luckin Coffee.  It was ordinary conversation, threaded with small glimmers of God’s grace — the kind that whispers, "See, you are healing. You are growing. You are no longer who you were this time last year."  Yet even in that simple exchange, there was a theme: Learning to release control. Learning to trust the process. Learning to lean into what God is doing rather than forcing what I think should happen. Today reminded me that healing often happens quietly, not in the dramatic moments, but in everyday exchanges where fear no longer leads, wounding no longer speaks first, and your heart rests instead of bracing. Even though I felt ignored, betrayed, rejected, and abandoned by him earlier this year, I have finally been able to forgive from the heart. God is doing something gentle in me. I can feel it and in time, pray that trust and friendship will be rebuilt. That is the quiet invitation the Lord keeps placing in front of me. 📖 "He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul." — Psalm 23:2–3 (NKJV) Rest is not a retreat from calling; rest is part of the calling. Rest is where God strengthens what He has entrusted to me. Today reminded me of that again. 💡 Reflection Where have I noticed subtle shifts in my heart that show I am healing, even if no one else sees them? 🤔 In what situations do I still struggle to receive rather than serve, and what might God be inviting me to in those situations? 🤔 How do I recognise the Holy Spirit’s gentle redirection when plans change unexpectedly? 🤔 What conversations have recently affirmed gifts in me that I have been hesitant to embrace? 🤔 What threshold season am I standing in, and what is God forming in me as I wait? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am learning to walk with a quieter heart — steady, seen, and supported by the God who restores me from the inside out. Nothing about my healing is rushed or overlooked. Heaven celebrates every step I take, even the ones that feel small. I am growing, I am held, and I am becoming who God always knew I could be. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the gentle ways You guide my heart toward wholeness. Thank You for the conversations that affirm what You have placed within me and moments that reveal how far You have brought me. Teach me to rest when You call me to rest, to serve when You ask me to serve, and to receive when You send people to care for me. Help me recognise Your loving hand in every redirection and trust that You always place me exactly where I am meant to be. Continue to strengthen my confidence, refine my gifts, and deepen my sense of belonging in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Divine Realignment

When God Turns Not Enough into More Than Enough

I heard a whisper settling deep into the quiet places of my heart today, a holy reminder that realignment often comes wrapped in unsettling shifts. There are moments when God gently disconnects us from influences that once felt familiar, even comfortable, yet were quietly draining life from our spirit. This is the kindness of divine correction, a holy severing that frees us to breathe again. 📖"So they all ate and were filled, and they took up twelve baskets full of the fragments that remained." - Matthew 14:20 He is the God who breaks the chains of limitation, the unseen burdens, the inherited expectations, the whispers of unworthiness, and the strongholds that have attempted to define us. He clothes us in a mantle of authority, not born of striving but of surrender. This mantle enables us to take back what the enemy attempted to steal: our peace, our prosperity, our purpose. There is a holy courage rising within me, steady and sure, reminding me that I am not called to live beneath the weight of my circumstances. I am called to walk as His daughter, restored and realigned. Do not look at your present limitations. God multiplies the little, blesses the broken, and uses the willing. My "not enough" becomes "more than enough" in His hands. 📖 "And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." — Philippians 4:19 (NKJV) 📖 "Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think…" — Ephesians 3:20 (NKJV) This is my season to stand in faith and trust the One who transforms scarcity into abundance, fragmentation into fullness, fear into holy confidence. 💡 Reflection: • Where have I been viewing myself or my resources as "not enough"? 🤔 • What limitations is God disconnecting me from in this season? 🤔 • How is He inviting me to step into a new mantle of authority? 🤔 • What does “divine realignment” look like in my life right now? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am walking into divine realignment. God is multiplying my little, blessing my broken places, and shaping my willing heart into something beautiful. My "not enough" is becoming "more than enough" in His hands. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for realigning my heart, my path, and my purpose. Thank You for disconnecting me from every limitation and every influence that hinders my growth. Fill me with courage as I step into the authority You have given me. Multiply what I offer, bless what is broken, and use me for Your glory. Turn my "not enough" into "more than enough" according to Your goodness and power. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Honouring the Voice That Helped Me Heal

Honouring the voices that helped me rise again

📖 "He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Over these past five and a half years, I have often marvelled at how tenderly God used Sandra’s Navigating the Times and Seasons webinar to rescue me at a point when I felt myself slipping back into old shadows. Those three days of teaching became a lifeline, a gentle hand pulling me away from the edge and anchoring me once again in hope. It marked the beginning of my healing journey, one slow breath and one surrendered step at a time. Every teaching that followed — countless live sessions and video lessons — has helped unwrap the bandages around my heart. God has used her voice to peel back layers that were never meant to stay hidden, and He continues to meet me in every lesson with fresh grace. Watching her teaching series multiple times with my Healing 💔heARTs💖 Encounter Groups has become its own sacred rhythm. These lessons never grow old. Each time we revisit them, another layer softens, breaks open, or is restored. It feels like the Holy Spirit gently lifts one veil after another, revealing truth that heals and hope that breathes again. I remain deeply grateful for Sandra’s passion to heal the broken-hearted. Her obedience continues to transform lives, including mine. Thank you, Sandra, for pouring out your life so selflessly, loving so generously, and serving with a heart fully yielded to God. 🤗💞 I stand with you in your vision to change the world 🌎 one broken 💔 heart at a time. It has become part of my own calling, woven into everything I create, teach, and hold space for.

Healing the Roots

From Womb Wounding to Bold Living

This morning, I found myself in a heartfelt conversation at The Crate — one that began quite casually but quickly turned deeply personal. We were talking about life, resilience, and faith when my own journey through depression surfaced. I was gently asked how I overcame it, and in that sacred moment, I sensed God opening a door to share not only my story but His deliverance. What followed was an honest discussion about how God heals the hidden roots of pain — the foundational lies we unknowingly build our lives upon. Lies like "I'm a mistake," “I’m not enough,” “I don’t belong,” or “I shouldn’t be here.” These are the silent beliefs that shape our identity long before we can give them words. Yet, the beauty of God’s mercy is that He doesn’t just patch over our wounds — He restores us from the inside out. When His truth begins to take root, fear loses its hold. He replaces shame with peace, confusion with clarity, and despair with hope. Through His love, we rediscover who we truly are — fearfully and wonderfully made, deeply wanted, and divinely purposed. ✨ This is the story of how God restores our identity from fear to faith. 1. The Lies We Come to Believe So many of the lies we live by take root before we even understand the world. Every experience gives us a perception, and if our parents never taught us the truth, those perceptions become our reality. One of the biggest lies I ever believed was this: “I shouldn’t be here.” I was born post-abortion, literally after another life was ended. We often fail to realise how this affects children in the womb, because we are spiritual beings. My first response to life was “I shouldn’t be here — I’m a mistake.” That’s where I came into agreement with the lies of Satan. He whispered, “You shouldn’t be here,” "You're a mistake" and I believed it. That agreement opened a door — a foothold for the enemy. When we say, “I’m a mistake,” the enemy says, “Let me help you with that,” and then surrounds us with people and experiences that reinforce that lie. 2. The Spiritual Impact of Womb Experiences This was all pre-birth. The womb should be a place of safety, yet when it is marked by fear, rejection, or trauma, that child absorbs it. If a mother discovers she is pregnant and her first thought is “Oh no,” that baby feels it. Even if she later loves the child deeply, that initial rejection can leave an imprint that echoes, “I’m not wanted.” I carried that for decades. When abortion occurs and repentance never follows, it spiritually opens a door. Every subsequent baby can be affected, carrying that same spirit of death over their life. I have fought that spirit my entire life — because, without knowing it, I had come into agreement with death instead of life. Science even confirms what Scripture has always said: children feel their mother’s emotions. When a mother’s emotions are in turmoil, a baby may decide deep down, “It’s not safe to feel,” and numbness becomes their protection, but when we push down emotions for too long, they will eventually come out sideways and we will erupt like volcanoes. That’s what depression really is — a numbing of the soul. Healing requires repentance, forgiveness and telling our bodies a new story: “Live.” “Breathe again.” “Heart, live again.” 📖 "I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." — John 10:10 (NKJV) 3. Fear, Personality, and the Mask of Shyness For decades, I hid behind the belief that I was shy and introverted. I lived with social anxiety and avoided people — yet deep inside, I loved people. What I later discovered is that what I called “shyness” was actually deep rooted wounding. If you watch children, babies are naturally expressive and open. Then experiences start to shape them and some begin to retreat. Shyness often begins in childhood as a response to pain, fear, or rejection. It’s not a personality trait — it’s fear masquerading as personality. God tells us repeatedly, “Do not be afraid. Be bold and courageous.” Shyness is the opposite of boldness and if it were part of His design, He wouldn’t call us to boldness. When He created Adam and Eve, they were not ashamed. Shyness and hiding came only after the Fall. Over time, I realised that the more I healed, the more I became who I was meant to be — bold, joyful, and connected. One day, someone told me, “I see you as an extrovert.” I laughed at first. My husband of thirty-three years said, “No way, you’re not extroverted.” because he has only ever known the unhealed, introverted version of me. Yet I knew — something inside me had changed. Healing had uncovered the real me. 4. Unmasking Wounds Hidden as Traits God didn’t create us to be shy, prideful, or angry. Those are masks born from wounding. Pride and anger are other ways we protect ourselves from pain. Everyone is wounded in some way, and often, what we call our personality is actually our self-protection. Many wounds can’t even be traced back to clear memories without the assistance of the Holy Spirit because they begin in the womb. We assume that’s just “how I am,” when in truth it’s what I learned to be to survive, but according to God’s original design, we were created for love, connection, and community. Social anxiety, fear of people, or hiding away are not God’s design — they are symptoms of the wound. Healing restores us to the freedom and boldness we were born for. 📖 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) 5. Coming Back to Life Healing requires turning away from lies, breaking agreement with death, and choosing life again. When we speak words like “I shouldn’t be here,” we must repent and replace them with God’s truth: “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Healing is the journey from numbness to feeling again, from hiding to shining, from fear to faith. It’s learning to tell your heart, “You are safe now.” “You belong here.” “You were created on purpose, for purpose.” As I continue to heal, the shy, introverted girl disappears, and the woman of courage — the one God intended — begins to stand tall. 📖 "I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvellous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well." — Psalm 139:14 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • What lies about yourself have you unconsciously agreed with? 🤔 • How might those lies have shaped your sense of identity or belonging? 🤔 • What truth does God speak over those lies today? 🤔 • How can you invite Him into the places of fear to restore courage and love? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I was fearfully and wonderfully made. I choose life, love, and courage. Every wound in me is being healed by His truth, and I am becoming who He always saw me to be. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for breathing life into me from the very beginning. Thank You that even in the womb, You knew me and called me by name. I repent for every lie I believed about not being wanted, seen, or worthy. Break every agreement I have made with fear or death, and replace it with Your truth and light. Restore boldness, joy, and peace to every part of my being. Help me live with courage, knowing I was created on purpose for Your purpose. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Living for an Audience of One

Choosing Heaven’s Applause over Human Approval

There will always be opinions and critics — voices that question, misunderstand, or misjudge. Yet I have learned to still my heart before the One who truly sees. I no longer live for applause, affirmation, or agreement from people. My gaze is fixed on Jesus. My purpose is to obey His voice, even when no one else understands. When I stand before Him one day, it will not be the crowd whose words echo through eternity. It will be His voice — the voice that calms storms and heals hearts — saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” That is the reward I seek. That is the sound I long to hear. That is the sound worth living for — the affirmation that echoes through eternity. Living before an audience of One means surrendering the need to please, choosing obedience over applause, and allowing your worth to be measured by Heaven, not human approval. It is a daily act of trust, a quiet offering of love that says, “Lord, all I do, I do unto You.” When your focus shifts from performing for others to pleasing the Father, peace replaces striving, and purpose blossoms where pressure once lived. You begin to live on earth as it is in Heaven — fully seen, fully known, and fully loved. So I choose to live on earth as it is in Heaven, before an audience of One. Every act of service, every word spoken in love, every hidden moment of obedience — they are all offerings laid before His feet. I live to carry a mantle, not to chase a platform, guided by the conviction that Heaven’s applause matters far more than human recognition. I'm moved by love and compassion, led by courage, and sustained by creativity that heals and restores. That’s the essence of living for an audience of One — eyes fixed on Jesus, hands extended to others, and heart anchored in grace. 📖 "Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ." — Colossians 3:23–24 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where have I sought human approval more than divine affirmation? 🤔 • What would it look like today to live purely for God’s “well done”? 🤔 • How can I honour Him in the unseen, ordinary moments of faithfulness? 🤔 • Whose approval am I seeking most in this season — people’s or God’s? 🤔 • What might obedience look like if I stopped fearing misunderstanding? 🤔 • How can I offer my work, my art, or my service as worship to Him alone? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am not defined by opinions or applause. I live to please my Father, walking in obedience, humility, and love. I live for an audience of One. My worth is not measured by the noise of approval, but by the quiet smile of my Saviour. My reward is hearing His voice and following where He leads. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, help me keep my eyes fixed on You when distractions and opinions surround me. Teach me to live for Your approval alone, resting in Your truth rather than striving for validation. May my every word and action bring You glory, both in quiet service and bold obedience. Let my life be a reflection of Heaven’s values here on earth — pure, steadfast, and devoted. Let my heart seek only Your pleasure and not the fleeting praise of men. Strengthen me to obey You in the unseen places, confident that You see and reward in love. May every breath, brushstroke, and word become worship before You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Healing as an Act of Love

Choosing growth so those I love don’t bleed from my unhealed wounds.

A love language we rarely mention is when someone works on themselves for the sake of the relationship. True love doesn’t just offer affection — it offers accountability. It is choosing to take responsibility for one’s own healing, to tend to the old wounds and untamed triggers that could otherwise become someone else’s burden. The opposite of this posture is resignation — the “That’s just how I am” that shuts the door to growth. Yet love was never meant to be stagnant; it is refined in humility and made holy in transformation. You deserve someone who recognises their harmful patterns and courageously seeks change, not one who expects you to endure them. That’s why I’ve invested time, energy, and resources to pursue my healing over the past five years — so God may be glorified and my loved ones no longer be bled on because of old wounding. I want my words, my touch, and my presence to bring life, not the residue of past pain. I long for my heart to be a vessel where God’s restoring love flows freely — not a place where the wounded parts of me leak onto those I cherish most.📖 "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me." — Psalm 51:10 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • What does it look like to love others through your own healing journey? 🤔 • How has God used self-awareness to deepen your relationships? 🤔 • Which parts of your heart is He inviting you to surrender for His restoration? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: My healing is an act of love. As God restores me, His love overflows through me — bringing peace, safety, and grace into my relationships. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, thank You for revealing that healing is part of holy love. Teach me to take ownership of my heart, to confront my triggers with truth, and to let Your grace shape my responses. May those around me feel Your peace through my growth and humility. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When the Protector Doesn’t Protect

Finding God’s comfort when those meant to guard your heart turn away

This morning, as I was listening to my audio Bible, a thought surfaced that gripped my heart. It was the story of Tamar, daughter of King David. It's a story that still breaks my heart every time I read it. She was violated by her brother Amnon, a moment that shattered her purity, dignity, and sense of safety. Yet the deepest wound, I imagine, wasn’t only the act itself, but what came after. When her father, David, heard of what had happened, Scripture records his response in one haunting line: 📖 “Then King David heard of all these things, and he was very angry. And Absalom spoke to his brother Amnon neither good nor bad. For Absalom hated Amnon, because he had forced his sister Tamar.” — 2 Samuel 13:21–22 (NKJV) Yet though David was angry, he did nothing. He did not confront Amnon, nor comfort Tamar. The silence that followed was deafening. And perhaps even more piercing than the violence was what came after — the absence of protection, the quiet dismissal of her pain, and the loss of safety within her own family. Some translations record David’s words: “Has your brother been with you? Never you mind.” (2 Samuel 13:20, paraphrased). What pain must have pierced Tamar’s soul in that moment — when the one person who should have defended her honour and comforted her tears turned away instead. The betrayal of trust. The absence of protection. The abandonment of love. I understand that pain. Having been molested as a teenager, I know what it is to carry a wound that no one seemed willing to acknowledge. To live in a quiet sackcloth of shame, wearing invisible ashes that others refuse to see. For years, I bore that silence — a heaviness not just from what happened, but from the unspoken message: You’re on your own. Yet even here, in this place of brokenness, God met me. He is not like the kings of this world. He is the Father who sees, the Defender who restores, the Healer who never looks away. 📖 “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) He weeps over every injustice done in secret. He gathers every tear that others ignored. He wraps the violated and forgotten in His tender presence and whispers, “You are Mine. I saw it all. I will heal what was stolen.” What Tamar’s story teaches me is this: human protection can fail, but divine compassion never does. God is still writing redemption over the places that once held despair. The ashes of yesterday are the soil in which He plants tomorrow’s beauty. 📖 “To give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” — Isaiah 61:3 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • Have there been times when those meant to protect you turned away? 🤔 • How has God shown Himself to be your Defender in those hidden places? 🤔 • What might “beauty for ashes” look like in your story today? 🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You that You see what others overlook. Thank You that no pain is wasted in Your hands. Heal the wounds of rejection and betrayal within me. Restore the voice that shame once silenced, and let my life testify of Your compassion and power to redeem. Clothe me, Lord, not in sackcloth, but in Your beauty and strength. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🎺 Affirmation: Even when others failed to protect me, God never abandoned me. I am seen, known, and loved beyond measure. ✨ A Note from My Core: This reflection comes from the very heart of who I am — a woman whose faith is her foundation, whose compassion compels her to reach for the broken-hearted, and whose courage refuses to let pain have the final word. My story is one of restoration — turning ashes into beauty, sorrow into song, and fear into freedom through the healing love of Jesus Christ.

Relationships Build Loyalty — Presence that Strengthens Trust

Leadership that values people above productivity.

Something that deeply struck me recently was learning that John Maxwell touches base with his longtime assistant every single day — 365 days a year. That level of intentional connection isn’t about control or obligation; it’s about care. It’s about remembering that relationships, not results, are the foundation of leadership. True loyalty isn’t demanded — it’s grown. It blossoms in the soil of consistent presence, genuine respect, and shared purpose. Checking in daily says, “You matter.” It communicates trust, not supervision; partnership, not hierarchy. As someone who treasures relationships and seeks to lead from love, this resonates deeply with me. Leadership, whether in ministry, business, or community, is never about managing outcomes — it’s about nurturing people. When we invest time in others, when we see them not just as contributors but as companions in the journey, we build something unshakeable. For me, this truth is a quiet reminder to keep showing up. To lead with intentionality. To value every conversation as sacred ground where connection, encouragement, and growth can take root. 📖 “Be devoted to one another in love. Honour one another above yourselves.” — Romans 12:10 (NIV) 💡 Reflection: • How intentional am I about maintaining relationships that matter? 🤔 • What simple act of daily connection could strengthen trust with someone I lead or serve? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I lead with presence, not pressure. My consistency builds trust, my kindness builds loyalty, and my heart builds connection. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me the power of consistency in love. Help me to see people the way You do — worthy of time, attention, and grace. Let my leadership reflect Your heart: faithful, relational, and steadfast. May every check-in, every word, and every moment carry Your presence. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Face It Until You Make It

Resilience, not Pretence — Choosing Courage over Performance

There’s a dangerous myth that whispers, “Fake it until you make it.” It teaches us to polish what’s broken, to hide our struggles behind smiles and to pretend strength where there is only exhaustion. We all know that "I'm F.I.N.E." is a lie we tend to live when we're not. Yet true growth doesn’t bloom in pretending. It begins in the soil of honesty — where we face what hurts, what failed, and what still needs grace. God never called us to perform our faith; He calls us to persevere through it. The refining fire isn’t for faking — it’s for forming. Every stumble, every tear, every moment of uncertainty becomes sacred ground when faced with humility and courage. 📖 “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” — James 1:2–3 (NKJV) When you face it — not fake it — you grow stronger. You rise again, a little wiser, a little braver, a little more like Christ. Growth isn’t glamorous; it’s gritty. You will fall. You will fail. You will face it again. Yet each time you get back up, heaven cheers, and purpose deepens its roots in you. 💡 Reflection: • What challenge am I being invited to face instead of fake today? 🤔 • How has God used past failures to form strength and resilience in me? 🤔 • Where can I offer myself grace in the process of becoming? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I choose to face life with courage and truth. My strength is not in pretending to be whole but in trusting the One who makes me whole again. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, help me to face what feels impossible with faith instead of fear. Teach me to rise after every fall, knowing Your mercy meets me there. Strip away pretence, polish my perseverance, and form Christlike resilience in my heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Don’t Just Be Available… Be Obedient🔥

True service begins when our hearts bow before His will.

In this generation, it is easy to mistake busyness for devotion. We fill our calendars with ministry, show up faithfully every Sunday, and volunteer for every event. Yet even in the midst of constant activity, it is possible to miss the whisper of His voice. Availability impresses people, but obedience pleases God. God is not seeking exhausted believers running from one task to the next. He is seeking surrendered hearts — broken vessels who will humbly say, “Lord, not my way but Yours.” 📖 “To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed than the fat of rams.” — 1 Samuel 15:22 (NKJV) Obedience is rarely convenient. It stretches our comfort, confronts our pride, and dismantles our timelines. Yet every time we choose obedience, we move from simply being present to being positioned — prepared for His power to flow through us. Before saying, “Lord, use me,” we must first be willing to pray, “Lord, change me.” He is not looking for more volunteers; He is looking for vessels who will listen, yield, and move when He says, “Go.” When availability meets obedience, ordinary moments become divine appointments. 💡Reflection: • Have I been serving out of duty or out of intimacy with God? 🤔 • What is one area where God is asking me to obey, even when it’s uncomfortable? 🤔 • How can I make space in my daily life to truly listen for His direction? 🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, forgive me for the times I have mistaken busyness for obedience. Teach me to serve not out of striving, but from surrender. Align my heart with Yours so that every act of availability becomes an act of obedience. May Your will shape my steps, and Your love steady my heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🎺 Affirmation: I am not just available — I am obedient. My life is yielded to His leading, and I find rest in His perfect will.

Letting Go of Control: The Gentle Unravelling of Fear

Learning to trust God with the parts of ourselves we’ve tried to hide.

Control often disguises itself as responsibility, excellence, or even love. Yet beneath the surface, it’s usually fear in another form — fear of rejection, fear of being misunderstood, fear that if people truly saw us, they might turn away. So, we keep busy. We perfect. We please. We manage every detail to keep our world safe and predictable. But control is a fragile shield. It keeps others out, yes — but it also keeps healing from coming in. When we begin to meet the parts of ourselves we’ve hidden — the insecure, the angry, the weary, the tender — something holy happens. In that meeting place, grace whispers, “You are still Mine.” 📖 “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.” — 1 John 4:18 (NIV) When love begins to seep into the cracks of our defences, we no longer need to micromanage how others see us. We start to rest in how God sees us — fully known, deeply loved, and already accepted. People-pleasing loses its grip. Perfectionism softens. The frantic striving to prove our worth gives way to peace. God invites us to surrender control not to leave us exposed, but to free us. To replace our anxious grasping with His steady, sovereign hand. To trade the exhausting illusion of control for the liberating truth of trust. 💡 Reflection: What part of yourself have you been trying to manage, fix, or hide from others — or even from God? How might you begin to meet that part with love and acceptance today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I no longer need to control how others see me. I am safe, seen, and loved by God, even in the parts I’m still learning to accept. 🙌 Prayer: Father, teach me to rest in Your love instead of trying to control my world. Help me to see the beauty in my imperfections and the freedom that comes from surrender. May Your perfect love cast out every fear that drives me to grasp or please. Heal the hidden places in my heart and remind me that I am already accepted in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

What Happens in Childhood Doesn’t End in Childhood

Healing the echoes of our early stories through God’s redeeming love

Childhood is where the first seeds of who we are were sown. Some were planted in rich soil — love, safety, and delight — while others took root in rocky ground, watered by fear, neglect, or confusion. Those early years formed the rhythms of our hearts, the ways we attach, trust, and dream. Even when we grow tall and move far from those days, the roots of childhood stretch quietly through the corridors of our adult lives. The phrase “what happens in childhood doesn’t end in childhood” reminds us that unhealed pain does not simply fade with age. It lingers, shaping how we see ourselves, how we love, and how we respond to life’s challenges. Trauma, loss, and unmet needs carve pathways in the brain and heart — patterns that can echo in anxiety, perfectionism, people-pleasing, or fear of rejection. Yet, those same pathways can be renewed when love — especially God’s love — begins to flow through them again. 📖 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NIV) Healing is not about rewriting history; it is about inviting Jesus into it. When we bring our inner child — the one who felt unseen, unheard, or unloved — into His gentle presence, something sacred happens. His compassion reaches into places time cannot touch. The memories that once felt frozen begin to thaw in the warmth of His truth. Healing is a process, not an event. Some days will feel like freedom, and others like grief resurfacing. Yet, every tear is a baptism of renewal — proof that something deep within us still believes restoration is possible. 📖 “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NIV) When we allow God to meet us in those early wounds, He rewrites the story not by erasing it, but by redeeming it. The same childhood that once held pain becomes the soil where empathy, strength, and compassion grow. What once broke us can become what builds us — shaping us into vessels of comfort for others. 💡 Reflection: • What part of your childhood still feels unfinished or unheard? 🤔 • Where might Jesus be inviting you to revisit the past — not to relive the pain, but to release it? 🤔 • How has God already used your past to help you comfort others? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My story is not over. What began in pain is being rewritten in grace. Jesus is healing the child within me so the woman I am can walk free. 🙌 Prayer: Dear Lord, thank You for seeing every chapter of my story — even the ones I tried to forget. Teach me to bring my childhood memories to You, trusting that Your love can heal what time could not. Help me to forgive where I’ve held on to pain, and to receive the restoration You long to give. Let Your truth speak louder than the lies I learned in fear. Make my heart a place of wholeness and peace, where Your Spirit dwells and redeems all things. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Your Breaking Is Birthing Something Beautiful

When the crushing becomes creation, grace is at work.

Everyone longs for the anointing, yet few are willing to endure the breaking. Everyone desires the crown, yet not all are ready to carry the cross. Still, remember this: God will not use an unbroken person. Brokenness is not punishment — it is preparation. Grapes must be crushed to make wine. Olives must be pressed to release their oil. Diamonds are formed under pressure. Seeds break open and grow in the darkness. So if you find yourself in a season of breaking, take heart — you are not being destroyed, you are being refined. The cracks are where His light gets in. The tears you’ve sown in pain are watering the soil of your next season. 📖 “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” — Romans 8:28 (NIV) God is moulding you into something far more radiant than you can imagine. Every crushing moment is birthing the fragrance of Christ within you. Every pressing is producing an oil that will one day heal others. If you believe God is working through your brokenness, whisper a faith-filled Amen — not to impress heaven, but to disappoint hell — and share this truth with someone who needs to remember that beauty is being born right now in the breaking. 💡Reflection: • What season of breaking have you been resisting instead of trusting? 🤔 • How might God be transforming your pain into purpose right now? 🤔 • What fragrance of Christ is being released through your current refinement? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: Even in my breaking, I am becoming. God’s hands are gentle in the crushing, faithful in the pressing, and sovereign in the shaping of my life. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being near to the broken-hearted. Help me see that my breaking is not the end but the beginning of something beautiful. Teach me to trust Your hands when I cannot see Your plan, and to remember that every pressure, every tear, and every surrender is drawing me closer to Your likeness. Refine me, restore me, and use my story for Your glory. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

F.I.N.E. — The Vow Not to Cry

When strength became silence, and silence learned to bleed

I was three, maybe four years old, when I learned to stop crying. I remember standing there — small, tearful, wanting my mother’s attention. All I wanted was time with her, to be held, to be seen. Instead, she shoved my head under cold water. The shock stole my breath. I gasped, covered my mouth, and made a vow that day: I will never cry again. That inner vow wrapped itself around my heart like armour. I told myself I wouldn’t need hugs, comfort, or softness. I would not ask for love. I would be strong — or at least appear to be. I grew up being F.I.N.E. — Fractured, Insecure, Numb, and Exhausted. For decades, that word became my survival code. “I’m fine” meant I’m holding it together by a thread. It was the language of control, the mask of someone who learned early that her needs were too much. Beneath that silence lived a river of uncried tears — tears that my body would one day reveal through pain, pressure and inflammation. 📖 “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) Years later, my mother told me she once found me in the living room — quiet and still. I had fallen while climbing on the TV unit and split my lip open. Blood was streaming through my fingers, yet not a single tear fell. I just stood there, hand pressed over my mouth, frozen not a sound. That image pierced me when I remembered it. The little girl who had learned that tears were dangerous now stood silently bleeding, unwilling to cry even in pain. My body remembered the vow even when my mind had forgotten. That moment became the mirror to my soul. I began to see how deeply that vow shaped my life — how it stole my ability to receive comfort, how it numbed joy as well as pain. The silence that once kept me safe had become a prison. Yet even in that frozen moment, Jesus was there. I believe He knelt beside that trembling child, whispering, “You don’t have to hide your pain anymore. I can hold it. I can hold you.” When I finally repented and renounced that vow, my body began to heal. My sinuses cleared. My chest loosened. My tears — once imprisoned — became prayers. Each one felt like a baptism, washing away years of self-protection. I was no longer drowning in grief; I was being freed by grace. 📖 “Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.” — Psalm 126:5 (NKJV) The vow that once kept me “fine” broke under the weight of divine love. The little girl who had stood silent and bleeding learned to weep again. 📖 “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying.” — Revelation 21:4 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • What vows of self-protection have shaped your story — and what might God be inviting you to release? 🤔 • What memories still hold your tears hostage, waiting to be redeemed by His touch? 🤔 • What would it look like to let your tears become an offering instead of a sign of weakness? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am no longer defined by silence or strength without softness. My tears are holy; my heart is safe. The vow is broken. Love has found me, and I am free to cry, to need, and to be healed. 🙌 Prayer: Abba Father, Thank You for finding me in every hidden place — even in the memories I thought were too painful to revisit. Thank You for loving the little girl who believed she had to be fine while her heart bled in silence. I release the vow that bound me to strength without comfort. I welcome Your healing presence into the places where cold water silenced my cries. Wash away every residue of fear and shame. Let my tears water new life, and may every drop become a testimony of Your compassion. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Held in His Hands

Trusting God’s Timing in Every Season

There are moments in life when God’s whisper feels like the only thing keeping us steady — a quiet assurance that He has not forgotten us. Today, He speaks gently over your heart: “Every detail of your life is in My hands. I am working all things together for your good. What I started in you, I will bring to completion. The dreams I planted in your heart and the purpose I designed for you — it will all come to pass in My perfect timing. Do not fear or be discouraged. My love for you is unfailing, unshaken, and unending. I have not forgotten you, and I will not abandon the work of My hands. Even in seasons where you don’t see progress, trust that I am moving behind the scenes, aligning the right people, opportunities, and moments for your breakthrough.” 📖 “The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; do not forsake the works of Your hands.” — Psalm 138:8 (NKJV) Every seed God has planted in you is still growing, even beneath the soil of unseen seasons. Like a potter shaping clay, His hands are steady — forming purpose from pressure and beauty from brokenness. Nothing is wasted when your life rests in His care. 💡 Reflection: Where in your life do you need to release control and trust God’s unseen work? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am held in the loving hands of my Creator. His timing is perfect, His promises sure, and His love unshaken. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for holding every part of my story in Your faithful hands. Help me to trust Your timing when I cannot see progress, and to rest in Your steadfast love. Let Your peace quiet my striving as I wait for the fulfilment of Your promises. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

I’m Possible: Creativity as Restoration

When Healing Becomes the Art of Becoming Whole Again

I know that I will one day speak on stages and in stadiums — it’s not a question of if, only when. Because this is what I’ve learned: People often say, “I’m not creative.” I used to believe that too. I said, I can’t sing, I can’t dance, I can’t draw, I can’t paint, I can’t write, I can’t speak. Those weren’t truths; they were wounds — ways of protecting myself from shame and rejection. Yet God, in His mercy, gave me seven keys for healing, and six of them were creativity, because creativity isn’t about talent — it’s about restoration. It’s rest. It’s joy. It’s the place where our hearts remember how to breathe again. Every “I can’t” in my life became a story of redemption. Now, I do all six. Creativity has become my conversation with God — a sacred exchange where pain becomes colour, words become wings, and silence becomes song. It’s where I find healing and restoration through faith and expression. 📖 “With God all things are possible.” — Matthew 19:26 (NKJV) 📖 “He has sent Me to heal the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.” — Isaiah 61:1 (NKJV) So now I know this: Nothing is impossible — because with Him, I’m possible. 💡 Reflection: • Where have you believed the lie that you are not creative? 🤔 • What story of healing might God be waiting to write through your hands, your voice, your movement, or your imagination? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am God’s masterpiece in progress. Every brushstroke of my life carries His grace. What once was broken, He is making beautifully whole. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the gift of creativity — for the ways You heal and restore what was once wounded and afraid. Help me to see myself as You see me: capable, beloved, and full of divine potential. Teach me to create from a place of rest and joy, and to use my gifts to reflect Your heart to the world. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Real Flex as an Artist

Staying Rooted in Your Artistry When No One’s Clapping

The real flex as an artist isn’t going viral — it’s staying rooted in your artistry when no one’s clapping. There’s a quiet strength in the artist who keeps showing up — brush in hand, heart open — when no one’s watching, sharing, or applauding. The courage to create without recognition is its own kind of faithfulness. We are our own worst critics when it comes to art. We’ll hail someone else’s painting as magnificent long before we’ll accept our own as merely good enough. Yet when God, the Master Artist, made man in His own image, He looked upon His creation and said, “It was very good.” 📖 “Then God saw everything that He had made, and indeed it was very good.” — Genesis 1:31 (NKJV) That truth still humbles me. God, who painted galaxies and sculpted mountains, called His work good — not perfect. If the Creator Himself found joy in the process, who are we to despise ours?🤔 For more than a year, this painting has sat on my easel — sky, mountain, forest, and water — waiting for me to finish the train that winds its way through the valley. I’ve hesitated to pick up the brush, afraid to mess it up. Afraid of ruining what’s already beautiful in its unfinished state. But isn’t that how we often live?🤔 Pausing mid-journey because the next step feels risky. We procrastinate, not from laziness, but from fear — fear of imperfection, of exposure, of not being “enough.” Yet God never asked for perfection. He invited participation. Perhaps this canvas is a quiet metaphor for my life — for every dream I’ve delayed and every vision I’ve left half-painted. The courage lies not in completing it flawlessly, but in continuing, trusting that grace will fill the gaps my skill cannot. True artistry flows not from performance, but from presence. It’s the courage to create when inspiration feels distant, to paint with praise when no audience gathers, and to rest in the knowing that God delights in the process as much as the product. 💡 Reflection: Where in your creative or spiritual life are you hesitating to continue because you fear imperfection? 🤔 How might God be inviting you to pick up the brush again, trusting Him with what you cannot perfect? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My art is an act of worship. Whether seen or unseen, finished or unfinished, it is good — because the One who made me is good. 🙌 Prayer: Father God, thank You for breathing Your creative Spirit into me. Teach me to see beauty in what You see as good. Help me silence the critic within and rest in Your affirmation rather than the world’s applause. May my art — however flawed, however incomplete — be an offering of worship to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

500 Stories — A Tapestry of Grace

Celebrating every word, wound, and wonder that shaped my journey of becoming.

500 stories.  500 threads of grace, woven through laughter and loss, courage and surrender, faith and failure, love and healing. 500 glimpses into lives touched by God’s redemptive love. 500 testaments that healing is possible, hope is alive, and beauty truly does rise from ashes. When I first began writing This Is My Story on trixiscreations.com, I never imagined how vast the canvas would become. Each post began as a whisper — a fragment of truth carried by the Holy Spirit — slowly forming into a mosaic of redemption. Together, they tell not only my story, but the story of a God who restores, redeems, and renews through every chapter of our becoming. What started as an act of obedience became a sacred altar — a place where I laid down my heart, page by page, and found it beating stronger under His touch. 📖 “The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.” — Psalm 126:3 (NIV) Each story holds a heartbeat — of faith rekindled, of courage found in the breaking, of beauty revealed in ashes. From the trembling beginnings of my healing journey to the radiant unfolding of Healing 💔heARTs💖, every piece is a testimony that God truly wastes nothing. He has taken the fragments — the bruised seasons, the silent prayers, the journals soaked with tears — and turned them into art, into words, into light. Five hundred stories may sound like a number, but for me, it feels like a promise fulfilled: That no voice is too small, no pain too deep, no past too fractured for His redeeming love. As I look back, I see not just what I’ve written, but who I’ve become — a daughter restored, a storyteller healed, a vessel of hope for others still finding their way home. 📖 “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony.” — Revelation 12:11 (NKJV) Every story has been an act of worship — a way of saying, “Here I am, Lord, still writing, still believing, still becoming.” 📖 “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story.” — Psalm 107:2 (NIV) To everyone who has read, wept, or whispered me too — thank you. You’ve turned this journey into a shared song of grace. We are living proof that stories heal when they’re spoken, and hearts mend when they’re seen. 💡 Reflection: • What story in your life is God still writing through the cracks and the quiet? 🤔 • Where has His grace rewritten your pain into purpose? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: Every story matters — even the unfinished ones. My words are not wasted; they are seeds of healing, sown in faith and watered by grace. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the gift of story — for the way You redeem our brokenness and turn it into beauty. May each word written continue to glorify You and draw hearts closer to Your love. Teach me to keep writing from a place of truth, tenderness, and trust, knowing that You are still the Author and Finisher of my faith. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Restoring What Distance Broke

On mothering, regret, and the God who heals what we could not hold.

There are things I would do differently if I could relive those early years. Back then, I didn’t understand how sacred the bond between a mother and her child truly was — that trust is learnt at a mother’s breast, through presence, warmth, and the rhythm of being held. When that bond is interrupted, it leaves an invisible fracture that often resurfaces in adulthood, especially when life feels overwhelming. I see it now in the quiet distance of my own children — their self-sufficiency, their hesitance to share their hearts, not out of defiance, but because somewhere along the way, the safety of connection was disrupted. I grieve that. In judging my parents, I became like them and made many of the same mistakes I once resented. The very patterns I swore I’d never repeat found their way into my own mothering, quietly passed down like unspoken legacies. Now, I see it in the fruit of my boys — their guardedness, their independence, their need to protect their own hearts. And yet, even this recognition is grace, because seeing truth is the beginning of redemption. For I serve a God who redeems what time has eroded, who restores what was fractured by fear or ignorance. He turns “the hearts of the children to their fathers, and the hearts of the fathers to their children.” — Malachi 4:6 (NKJV) It’s never too late to acknowledge where we fell short, nor too late to pursue restoration. Love has a way of finding the cracks, filling them with mercy, and making something beautiful again — like kintsugi gold threading through broken pottery. If we want to live in our children’s memories, we must be present in their moments — the first steps, the whispered words, the small victories. It is in those ordinary, sacred spaces that trust is formed and love takes root. 💡Reflection: • Have I forgiven my parents for the ways they fell short, and in doing so, freed myself from repeating their patterns? 🤔 • What steps can I take today toward reconnection and grace? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I release judgment and receive grace. I am not bound to repeat old patterns — in Christ, I am made new, and so are my relationships. 🙌 Prayer: Father God, thank You for the mercy that meets me even in my regrets. Forgive me for the ways I judged my parents and for repeating the very wounds I sought to escape. Teach me to mother — and to love — from a place of grace, not guilt. Heal the spaces where distance took root and let Your love flow between us again. Turn our hearts toward one another and restore the beauty of connection. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Trust Begins at Mother's Breast

A reflection on nurture, attachment, and the restoration of hearts across generations

There are moments in life when truth lands not as a judgment, but as a quiet, piercing ache — the kind that makes you pause and whisper, “If I knew then what I know now…” I once believed that placing my children in daycare was a necessity, part of the rhythm of modern life. Everyone around me seemed to do it. Yet deep down, something in my spirit grieved. I now see with clarity that what the world calls normal often stands far from God’s design. Trust is first learnt at a mother’s breast — in the warmth of her arms, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, het consistent presence and the gentle gaze that tells a child, You are safe. You are seen. You belong. I look back now and see how easily we, as mothers, can be led by the world’s systems instead of God’s design. So many of us handed our babies to others too soon — not out of neglect, but out of pressure, exhaustion, or the belief that independence was progress. 📖 “Yet You are He who took me out of the womb; You made me trust while on my mother’s breasts.” — Psalm 22:9 (NKJV) When that primal bond is disrupted too soon, a child’s heart adapts for survival. They learn independence before safety, silence before expression, control before comfort. And those early wounds lie dormant until the structures of adulthood begin to crumble under pressure. Then, suddenly, the old ache resurfaces — the unspoken longing for closeness, for safety, for connection. Just look at the emotional disconnect between adults and children today, and you’ll see the ripple of that deprivation. It's in being present in those childhood moments that relationships, trust and safety to share are built. I now see the consequences in my own children — "That's a good question. " in reply to enquiring how they are, their quiet distance, their hesitancy to share their hearts. It grieves me, yet it also humbles me. Because even in regret, God whispers redemption. If we want to live in our children’s memories, we must be present in their moments — the first steps, the whispered words, the small victories. It is in those ordinary, sacred spaces that trust is formed and love takes root. This is not written from blame, but from awakening. We parented with what we knew, not with what we understand now. Grace reminds me that regret can become a doorway — not to condemnation, but to restoration. 📖 “He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers.” — Malachi 4:6 (NKJV) This verse anchors me in hope. No mistake is final in God’s story. The same hands that knit our babies in the womb can reweave the torn threads of trust. His love restores what our humanity mishandled. When we confess, when we choose to reconnect, when we let love lead again — He breathes new life into the bond. God, in His mercy, turns the hearts of children back to their fathers and mothers, and the hearts of parents back to their children. He weaves healing through honesty, humility, and renewed connection. I cannot rewrite their beginnings, yet I can choose how the next chapter unfolds — with presence, tenderness, and truth. 📖 “As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you.” — Isaiah 66:13 (NKJV) It’s never too late to nurture, to listen, to hold our children close — even if they’re grown. It’s never too late to model repentance, humility, and tenderness. Trust may take time to rebuild, but grace is patient. God’s heart beats with restoration, and He delights in mending what was once broken. 💡 Reflection: • What memories or beliefs about nurture and trust need healing in your story today? 🤔 • What memories or beliefs about nurture and trust need healing in your story today? 🤔 Where have distance or busyness robbed me of presence? 🤔 • How might God be inviting you to restore what was once broken — in yourself, your children, or your lineage? 🤔 • Where have you seen the long echo of early emotional disconnection — in yourself, your children, or your relationships? 🤔 • How might God be inviting you to participate in His restoring work today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am no longer defined by what I didn’t know then. By God’s grace, I am learning to love better now — to nurture, to listen, and to rebuild trust with gentleness and truth. I am not bound by regret. I am part of God’s redemptive story — healing, learning, and loving in new ways. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for opening my eyes to see both the beauty and the brokenness of what shaped me. Forgive me for moments when I followed the world’s patterns instead of Your design. Heal the attachment wounds within my family, and let Your love rebuild what distance has undone. Restore trust where fear once lived, and remind us that it’s never too late to begin again. Heavenly Father, thank You for Your mercy that covers every regret and breathes life into every broken bond. Forgive me where I fell short, and help me to see through Your eyes — to love my children, my family, and myself with the same tenderness You have shown me. Heal the places where trust was lost and let Your love flow freely between generations. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Truth About Apologies

Learning to heal what sorry alone can’t mend

"Sorry" has become one of the most overused words in our vocabulary. We say it when someone bumps into us, when silence feels uncomfortable, or when we simply want to avoid conflict. Yet most apologies, if we’re honest, are just that — conflict avoidance. True repentance goes far deeper than words. Real apologies have three sacred parts: 1. Acknowledgement — I see the hurt I caused. 2. Responsibility — I admit it was me. No excuses. 3. Change — I choose to act differently. Everything else is surface-level — social lubrication to smooth over discomfort rather than transform the heart. Saying “sorry” when we step on someone’s toe is right and kind. But when we step on someone’s heart, “sorry” isn’t enough. That wound deserves more than a polite word — it calls for forgiveness sought and repentance lived. Apology may ease tension, but repentance restores relationship. Apology seeks relief; repentance seeks renewal. The first says, “Let’s move on.” The second whispers, “Let me be different.” 📖 “Godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death.” — 2 Corinthians 7:10 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where have I used “sorry” as a way to avoid discomfort rather than pursue healing? 🤔 • What does true repentance look like in my relationships today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I choose truth over convenience. I seek forgiveness where I have caused pain and invite God to change what words alone cannot. 🙌 Prayer: Father, teach me to walk in humility and truth. Help me see when my words fall short of the healing You desire. Give me courage to seek forgiveness where I’ve caused pain, and grace to change what needs transforming. Let my life reflect Your heart — honest, gentle, and willing to grow. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Power of Your No — Guarding the Gates of Purpose

Learning to honour your boundaries so your yes can carry Heaven’s weight.

There is a sacred power in the word no. Not the harsh, defensive kind, but the kind that protects what is holy — the kind that guards the gates of your purpose. Every no spoken in wisdom strengthens the impact of your yes. So often, we equate kindness with compliance. We overextend, overcommit, and overgive until our peace leaks through the cracks of exhaustion. Yet saying yes to everything isn’t love — it’s leakage. Love has boundaries, and even Jesus withdrew from the crowds to rest, to pray, to realign with the Father’s will. Every yes is an investment of time, energy, and heart. When you scatter them everywhere, the things that truly matter — the vision God placed within you — are left undernourished. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. Skills are gifts, but calling gives them direction. Align your yes with Heaven’s purpose for your life. Let your boundaries be the borders of peace where your vision can flourish. Protect your passion from distraction, and you’ll find that your yes will begin to move mountains. 📖 “Let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No’; for whatever is more than these is from the evil one.” — Matthew 5:37 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where in your life have you been saying yes out of obligation instead of conviction? 🤔 • What boundaries could you set this week to honour your God-given vision? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My no is not rejection — it is protection. I honour God’s calling by saying yes only to what aligns with His purpose for me. 🙌 Prayer: Father, teach me the wisdom of discernment — to know when to step forward and when to rest. Help me to honour You with my boundaries, and to align every yes with Your will for my life. Guard my heart from distraction and fill me with peace as I walk in purpose. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Law of Invisible Progress

Trusting God’s work beneath the surface

There are seasons when the soil of your life looks barren — when nothing seems to be breaking through, and your effort feels swallowed by silence. Yet beneath that still surface, something sacred is stirring. The roots are reaching deeper. The unseen is aligning. A couple of years ago, my counsellor asked me to draw myself as a tree. What emerged on the page was a strong, sturdy trunk with deep roots and lush green branches reaching heavenward — yet not a single piece of fruit in sight. When she gently asked why there was no fruit, I realised it was because I couldn’t see any in my life. I had been sowing faithfully, but I hadn’t witnessed the impact my seeds were making in others. Even with the Healing 💔heARTs💖 Encounter Groups and the Community Paint Parties, it took more than three years before I began hearing the occasional ripple of feedback — a story passed along through the grapevine, a testimony whispered in gratitude, a quiet confirmation that something beautiful was indeed growing. There have been many moments when I’ve questioned why I keep showing up, especially when the harvest seems slow and unseen. Yet time and again, the gentle whisper of Scripture steadies me: be faithful in the little. That reminder roots me again in the truth that my part is obedience, and God’s part is fruitfulness. There is a holy mystery to progress that happens underground. Like a seed hidden in the soil, so much of growth takes place where no eye can see. God often hides our progress so we’ll learn to trust His unseen hand — to keep watering, keep tending, keep believing that He is at work even when there is no visible bloom. He wants us to keep seeking Him, not the outcome. The waiting stretches our faith and strengthens our character until we’re ready to hold what He’s been preparing. 📖 “Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” — Galatians 6:9 (NKJV) Every prayer whispered in faith, every act of kindness unseen by others, every tear sown in surrender carries eternal weight— none of it is wasted. Heaven keeps careful record of your obedience. The invisible work of today becomes tomorrow’s visible harvest. So keep showing up, even when nothing seems to move. Keep sowing, even when the ground looks hard. Your perseverance is not in vain. What feels like stillness is God’s quiet construction — a season of roots before fruit. The roots are forming; the branches are stretching; and in His perfect time, fruit will appear — not for our glory, but for His. 💡 Reflection: • Where in your life do you sense God asking you to trust the unseen process? 🤔 • What helps you stay faithful when progress feels invisible? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am growing in grace even when I cannot see it. God is working beneath the surface of my life, turning hidden obedience into visible fruit in His perfect time. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for reminding me that progress is not always visible. Teach me to trust Your timing and Your process, even in the silent seasons. Strengthen my heart to keep sowing faithfully, believing that every seed planted in love will bear fruit in due season. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

33 Years of Us — Still Choosing Each Other

Celebrating love, laughter, and the grace that keeps us growing together.

Tonight we marked another beautiful chapter of our story with a delightful dinner and dessert — a simple yet sacred celebration of love, friendship, and the life we continue to build side by side. Each shared smile and gentle touch reminded me that true love isn’t found in grand gestures, but in everyday faithfulness — in choosing one another, again and again, through every season. Every year adds another layer to our love — one shaped by faith, softened by grace, and strengthened through the storms we’ve walked through hand in hand. We’ve seen each other at our best and at our breaking points, yet somehow, love keeps leading us back home to one another. Tonight, as we shared a quiet dinner, my heart brimmed with gratitude. Each passing year deepens the meaning of love — not merely the feeling, but the daily choice to nurture, forgive, listen, and grow. 📖 "Above all things have fervent love for one another, for love will cover a multitude of sins." — 1 Peter 4:8 (NKJV) Love, for me, has always been more than romance; it is compassion in motion, a reflection of God’s heart. It’s holding space for each other’s dreams, walking through valleys hand in hand, and laughing over shared desserts when words are few but hearts are full. Love, at its truest, is not about perfection, but presence. It’s about showing up — even when life feels heavy, even when words fall short. It’s laughter over shared memories, the comfort of familiar hands, and the grace that bridges our differences with understanding. Our journey together hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been real — anchored in faith, strengthened through storms, and softened by grace. Life has thrown us a bunch of curveballs, but here we are, still standing stronger than before. Every milestone reminds me that love is both a sanctuary and a refining fire, teaching patience, humility, and deep joy. We’ve grown not just older, but closer — learning to listen with our hearts, forgive quickly, and treasure the gift of simply being together. Love, after all, isn’t found in grand gestures but in the quiet, daily choosing — to show up, to stay, and to keep believing in the “us” God has woven over time. 📖 “Let all that you do be done in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:14 (NKJV) Happy 33rd Anniversary, Schatzi. You are still my constant — my calm and my cheerleader, my safe place and my greatest adventure. I love that we can still laugh until tears fall, that we know each other’s stories by heart, and that we choose each other, again and again, even when life isn’t perfect. Three decades and more of laughter, tears, dreams, and growth — and still, your steady love remains my anchor. You’ve believed in me when I doubted and hated myself, lifted me when I felt weary, and loved me through every version of who I’ve become. What a gift it is to walk through life hand in hand with someone who sees both the woman I am and the one I’m still becoming. Thank you for being my partner in faith, my voice of reason, and my quiet strength when storms have come. What a gift it is to still laugh together, dream together, and rest in the quiet knowing that our hearts have found home. 💞 📖 “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” — 1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV) Here’s to all we’ve weathered, all we’ve learned, and all the new chapters still to be written. 💞 I love you to the moon and back.😘 💡Reflection: How has your understanding of love matured through the seasons of your life together? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: Our love is a living testimony of God’s grace — steady, forgiving, and full of laughter. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the sacred gift of partnership — for the joy of sharing life, laughter, and faith with the one You’ve joined to my heart. May our love continue to reflect Your faithfulness, growing deeper and more beautiful with each passing year. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Coach Me and I Will Learn

The posture of a teachable heart

True growth begins with humility — the willingness to be guided. When someone takes the time to coach me, I open my heart to listen, absorb, and apply. Learning is not just about gaining knowledge; it’s about transformation through relationship. Just as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. 📖 “Let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance.” — Proverbs 1:5 (NIV) Challenge Me and I Will Grow The stretching that strengthens the soul Growth never happens in comfort. It’s in the challenge — the stretching of faith, the testing of endurance — that I discover new strength within me. Each challenge, though uncomfortable, becomes a divine invitation to rise higher, to mature, and to trust God more deeply. 📖 “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” — James 1:2–3 (NIV) Believe in Me and I Will Win The power of encouragement and faith Few gifts are greater than belief — when someone sees potential in me before I can see it myself. That belief ignites courage, restores confidence, and reminds me of the One who never stops believing in His children. With faith spoken over my life, I can run my race with endurance and grace. 📖 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” — Philippians 4:13 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: Who has coached, challenged, or believed in you in a way that changed your life? How can you now be that person for someone else? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am teachable, resilient, and full of potential. With God’s strength and the encouragement of others, I am growing into the fullness of who He created me to be. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the people You’ve placed in my life to teach, challenge, and believe in me. Help me stay humble in learning, courageous in growth, and steadfast in faith. May I, in turn, pour that same encouragement into others, reflecting Your love and grace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Fear Writes the Script

The unseen inheritance of spiritual compromise

When my husband and I chose our wedding date — 31 October 1992 — we were very intentional. We wanted a day unshared by birthdays or other special events, a date that would belong solely to us. Back then, Halloween hadn’t yet reached South African shores, so the idea of our anniversary clashing with it never crossed our minds. Three decades later, it still saddens me that this sacred day — once a pure celebration of covenant love — has become surrounded by imagery that glorifies fear, death, and darkness. What was meant to honour union and life now often echoes with a message that celebrates the very things Christ came to conquer. My awareness of spiritual darkness began long before that, though. As a child, my mother — desperately seeking comfort and direction — turned to fortune tellers and mediums. I remember her taking us with her once when I was about ten. She was searching for light in places where only shadows dwell. One of those fortune tellers told her that my father would die, and that I would one day become a teacher. In my little-girl heart, fear and confusion took root. I decided that I would never become a teacher, just to prove her wrong — because I didn’t want Dad to die. What I didn’t realise was that, in that moment, I had unknowingly made an inner vow — a silent agreement with fear — and in doing so, came into alignment with the enemy’s lie. For years, I resisted the very calling God had placed upon me. Every opportunity to teach or speak stirred something deep and uncomfortable inside me, as though I were fighting against my own purpose. Only recently did I understand why. The enemy had used a seed of fear to silence the gift God intended for good. Yet this is the beauty of redemption: what fear distorts, grace restores. God, in His mercy, peeled back the layers of my resistance and revealed that the “teacher” I once rejected was part of His divine design all along. The anointing I ran from was the very one He meant to use for healing and truth. 📖 “You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the Lord’s table and of the table of demons.” — 1 Corinthians 10:21 (NKJV) It took years to understand that spiritual compromise — even in seemingly innocent ways — opens doors we were never meant to walk through. The spiritual realm is real. Curiosity or comfort outside of Christ’s truth may feel harmless at first, but it carries unseen consequences. What begins as curiosity can become captivity when it drifts from His Word. Yet in His kindness, God turns even our darkest agreements into opportunities for restoration. Through repentance, prayer, and surrender, He redeems what deception once claimed. The name of Jesus still holds absolute authority — breaking every chain and silencing every false prophecy spoken over our lives. 📖 “Therefore submit to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you.” — James 4:7 (NKJV) Looking back, I see now how the enemy tried to bury my purpose under fear — but God resurrected it through grace. My teaching anointing has become a source of healing, not harm; light, not loss. The enemy may have written fear into my childhood, but God has rewritten it with freedom, purpose, and truth. For me, 31 October will never be about Halloween. It will always represent covenant — the sacred union of marriage and the faithfulness of God who redeems every story, even the ones shadowed by fear. 🕊️ A Loving Caution: If you’ve ever entertained what seems like harmless fun around Halloween or sought comfort in things that promise light outside of Christ, I encourage you to take it to prayer. Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal anything in your heart or home that doesn’t belong. Repentance isn’t about shame — it’s about freedom. God’s love doesn’t condemn; it restores. But don't just take my word for it. Read this account from an ex-satanist on Halloween: "People have been desensitised about the occult and the realities of satanism." If you don’t believe me. When you meddle with the demonic, its effects do not stop with you. The doorway you open can echo through generations — touching your children and your children’s children. I know this not merely from Scripture but from experience. 💡 Reflection: • Have you ever made an inner vow or agreement rooted in fear? 🤔 • Are there words spoken over you that need to be broken or redeemed? 🤔 • What gifts or callings have you resisted because of past pain or fear? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I walk in the light of Christ. The blood of Jesus covers my life and cancels every agreement made in fear. My inheritance is freedom, and my calling is blessed. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for Your mercy that rewrites every fearful story with grace. Forgive me for the times I’ve resisted Your calling or sought safety outside of Your truth. I renounce every false word, every inner vow, and every lie that has silenced Your voice in my life. Redeem what was stolen, Lord, and awaken the gifts You placed within me. I choose Your truth and Your light. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Loving from a Distance

A reflection on grace, boundaries, and discernment in love

It’s important to love all people — yet it’s also wise to love some from a distance. Love doesn’t mean blind access; it means choosing truth over pretence and peace over pretense. Some hearts are simply not safe to hold close. They are not honest, trustworthy, or kind enough to be invited into the sacred spaces of your life. Loving them from afar isn’t bitterness; it’s discernment. It’s recognising that love, in its purest form, does not require proximity — only sincerity. Forgiving doesn’t mean returning. Compassion doesn’t mean tolerating harm. We can pray for people, wish them healing, and still protect our peace. Even Jesus withdrew at times to quiet places, teaching us that boundaries are not barriers to love, but expressions of wisdom. 📖 “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” — Proverbs 4:23 (NIV) 💡 Reflection: • Where do you need to create distance without closing your heart? 🤔 • How might you practise love that is both kind and wise? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I can love people deeply without losing myself. Distance doesn’t diminish love — it preserves peace. 🙌 Prayer: Father, teach me to love as You love — without resentment, yet with wisdom. Help me recognise when to draw close and when to step back, trusting that healthy boundaries honour You. May my love reflect Your grace, even when it must be expressed from afar. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Rejection Becomes Holy Ground

Finding belonging in the heart of the One who was also rejected

Rejection has been the story of my life — from family to friends, and even within the Church. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like the one standing on the outside, looking in. I’ve watched others belong with ease while I carried the ache of being unseen, unheard, or misunderstood. Yet when I trace the thread of this pain, I find myself standing beside Jesus. He, too, knew the sting of rejection — from His hometown, from those He came to save, and even from His closest friends in His darkest hour. 📖 “He was despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” — Isaiah 53:3 (NKJV) What a comfort it is to realise that the Saviour of the world understands. He doesn’t merely sympathise — He identifies. Every time I’ve felt left out or forgotten, He has whispered, “I know that pain.” Every time I’ve stood outside the circle, He has invited me closer to His heart. In the silence of rejection, I’ve discovered a sacred intimacy — a fellowship with the One who was wounded yet remained love. What once felt like abandonment has become a holy place where God meets me tenderly, reminding me that belonging begins not with people, but with Him. 📖 “The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” — Psalm 118:22 (NKJV) The world may have labelled me as “other,” but Jesus calls me chosen. The tables I was excluded from were never meant to define me. My place has always been at His table — the one built from mercy, grace, and unending love. 💡 Reflection: • Where have I mistaken rejection as abandonment, when it was really God’s redirection toward intimacy with Him? 🤔 • How has Jesus met me in the places I felt most unwanted? 🤔 • What might it look like to rest in the truth that I am already accepted and beloved? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: Even when others turn away, I belong to Jesus — the One who was rejected so I could be accepted forever. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, You understand the ache of rejection more deeply than anyone ever could. Thank You for meeting me in my loneliness and turning my wounds into places of communion with You. Teach me to see rejection not as failure, but as sacred redirection toward Your love. Anchor my identity in You alone — my Cornerstone, my belonging, my home. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Legacy of Love

Reclaiming tenderness as the truest inheritance of faith

We’ve inherited a legacy of fear — not the holy, reverent kind that draws us closer to God, but the quiet, generational fear that whispers we must withhold love to protect or strengthen others. Many of us grew up believing that too much love would spoil a child, that kindness would invite disrespect, and that gentleness would erode authority. We were taught to temper tenderness, to guard affection behind discipline, to withhold softness for the sake of strength. Yet, this is a distortion of truth. Love does not ruin children. Kindness does not create chaos. Respect does not invite rebellion. What ruins a child is not the abundance of love, but its absence — the ache of affection withheld, the cold echo of correction without compassion, the silence where affirmation should have spoken. True love — the kind that mirrors the heart of Christ — builds rather than breaks. It disciplines without diminishing. It corrects without crushing. It sees beyond behaviour into the wounded heart that drives it, choosing restoration over retribution. This is the kind of love that transforms generations. 📖 “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear.” — 1 John 4:18 (NKJV) Every act of gentle nurture, every word of blessing, every patient listening ear sows life into the soil of the soul. Love teaches safety. Kindness teaches dignity. Respect teaches worth. Together, they create a legacy that echoes heaven’s design — a home where hearts grow resilient not because they were hardened, but because they were held. We do not need to fear that too much love will make our children weak. The truth is far more sobering: it is the absence of love that makes hearts brittle. It is fear that fractures generations, not tenderness. When we raise our children — or even nurture the broken inner child within ourselves — in the soil of unconditional love, we begin to heal not only the present, but the past. Love is not permissive; it is redemptive. It does not excuse wrong; it restores what was wounded. The same love that drew the prodigal home, that touched lepers, that lifted the shamed, is the love that still reshapes families and rewrites stories today. So may we choose courage over control, compassion over criticism, and connection over compliance. May we build homes where love is not rationed, but released — a place where children learn that discipline can coexist with grace, and strength can dwell in tenderness. 💡 Reflection: • What fears or beliefs about love and discipline did you inherit from your own upbringing? 🤔 • How can you begin to parent — or reparent yourself — with more compassion and less fear? 🤔 • In what ways can love become your family’s legacy rather than its lesson learned too late? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: Love is my inheritance and my offering. I choose to give freely what fear once withheld. The legacy I leave will be one of grace, safety, and unwavering affection — for where love dwells, fear cannot remain. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for revealing the truth about Your love — perfect, patient, and fearless. Teach me to love as You do: to discipline with grace, to guide with gentleness, and to see through the eyes of compassion. Heal the places in me that learned to fear tenderness, and make me a vessel of Your nurturing heart. May my home, my relationships, and my legacy reflect the steadfast love that casts out all fear. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Walking in Light Amid the Shadows

A Scriptural reflection on spiritual discernment during Halloween

📖 “And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them.” — Ephesians 5:11 (NKJV) Followers of Christ are called to walk in the light — not in fear, but in wisdom. True discernment is not suspicion; it is the steady awareness that the enemy is subtle, often disguising himself as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14). Darkness rarely presents itself as dangerous; more often, it masquerades as harmless fun or cultural tradition. Yet the Word reminds us that we are children of light, entrusted with eyes to see beyond the surface and hearts to guard what is holy. In seasons when the world celebrates fear, death, and shadows, we are invited to stand apart — not in condemnation, but in consecration. Our homes can become altars of peace, our voices instruments of praise, and our prayers the fragrance that drives out darkness. We need not participate in what glorifies the very things Christ conquered. Instead, we can redeem this time by centring our hearts and households on life and light. ✨ Here are simple, Spirit-led ways to walk wisely through this season: • Pray over your children and dedicate your home to Jesus, declaring His Lordship over every doorway and every heart within it. • Teach discernment gently — helping your family recognise that not everything the world calls “fun” is spiritually neutral or harmless. • Redeem the day by sharing the hope of Christ — the Light who overcame every darkness, the Saviour who triumphed over death itself. Halloween need not be a night of dread; it can become a moment of quiet intercession. As others wander in costumes and shadows, may our prayers rise like lanterns in the night. For the darkness has no claim on the children of light. 📖 “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.” — John 1:5 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • What does it mean for your home to shine with the light of Christ during dark seasons?🤔 • How might you invite His peace to dwell tangibly in your atmosphere? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I walk in the light of Jesus, covered by His truth and guided by His wisdom. My home radiates His presence; my heart remains steadfast in His peace. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being the Light that no darkness can extinguish. Teach me to walk wisely and to guard my heart with discernment. Fill my home with Your presence and let every corner reflect Your peace. Use my life as a lamp that points others to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Seen and Valued — Healing the Wound of Being Overlooked

When God restores the places where we were unseen.

Feeling invisible, unheard, and pushed into the corner has marked many of my work experiences. Time and again, I’ve found myself pouring my heart into roles that began with promise and purpose, only to slowly realise that I had become unseen — present, yet overlooked. My last position started beautifully. It felt like a divine appointment — meaningful work, supportive people, and a sense that I could truly contribute. Yet somewhere along the way, something shifted. What began as encouragement turned into silence. For the last six months, it became one of the deepest wounds I’ve had to face, not because of what was said, but because of what wasn’t. The absence of acknowledgement, the unanswered emails, the hollow monthly check-ins — all of it echoed something far older than that workplace. It reached back into the tender places of my childhood, where being ignored was familiar, where speaking up often felt unsafe, and where invisibility became a form of survival. When this familiar ache resurfaced in adulthood, it brought with it layers of pain I didn’t know were still buried. There were days I felt I was holding my breath, waiting for the proverbial axe to fall — that silent anticipation of rejection that steals your peace long before any words are spoken. Even now, I still don’t know what went wrong. I’ve replayed the scenes in my mind, asking myself, Was it something I did?🤔 Did I misstep somewhere along the way?🤔 I’ve prayed this through countless times, sometimes with tears that said more than words ever could. Slowly, gently, the Holy Spirit met me in that space — not with answers, but with healing. The pain that once clenched my heart has begun to loosen its grip. The resentment that once flared at the mention of his name has quieted. I no longer feel that urge to withdraw or to flee the room when he appears. The wound is still tender, but it no longer defines me. God has shown me that being unseen by man does not mean being unseen by Him. He has always been the One who notices the unnoticed, who hears the unspoken, and who restores the dignity that silence tries to steal. 📖 “You are the God who sees me.” — Genesis 16:13 (NIV) In Hagar’s story, I see my own reflection — a woman cast aside, misunderstood, and wandering in the wilderness. Yet even there, she encountered the God who saw her. And like her, I have discovered that God’s sight is not passive; it is redemptive. His seeing heals what invisibility has fractured. Today, I lead, create, and serve differently because of this. I make it my mission to see people — to listen deeply, to respond with kindness and compassion, and to value hearts over hierarchies. For I know how it feels to be unseen, and I never want to leave anyone standing in that lonely space. 💡 Reflection: • When have you felt unseen or unheard, and how did God meet you there? 🤔 • How can you be a vessel of His attentive love for someone who feels invisible today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am seen, known, and loved by God. My worth is not determined by who overlooks me, but by the One who calls me by name. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being the God who sees. You notice the smallest sigh and the deepest wound. Heal the places in me that still ache from being unseen. Teach me to lead and love with empathy born from experience, so that others may feel Your presence through my attentiveness. Help me walk freely, without bitterness or fear, knowing that You redeem every chapter — even the painful ones. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Remembering Her Worth

When a woman stands tall in the truth of who God created her to be.

There comes a sacred day — a quiet yet powerful awakening — when a woman finally remembers her worth. She straightens her spine, not out of pride, but in reverence to the One who shaped her soul. Her spine becomes a cathedral, built stone by stone from the prayers she once whispered through tears. Her standards rise, not as walls of defence, but as boundaries of dignity. She no longer chases validation or begs for belonging. Instead, she blesses and releases. The bargains she once made with her light — those moments she dimmed to keep others comfortable — are gently laid to rest. For when she remembers her worth, she no longer fits inside the thimble of small expectations. She realises she is the ocean, uncontainable, holy in her vastness. What once felt like love was only drought, yet what she is — is the rain. She grieves the smallness she survived, gathers every fragment of her power, and raises her standards like sunrise. From that place of remembrance, she does not settle; she summons. 📖 "She is clothed with strength and honour, and she shall rejoice in time to come." — Proverbs 31:25 (NKJV) To remember your worth is not arrogance; it is worship. It is a return to the truth that you were fearfully and wonderfully made, handcrafted by a God who makes no mistakes. Worth is not something you earn; it is something you remember. 💡 Reflection: Where have you settled for less than the worth God has woven into your being? What would change if you began to see yourself through His eyes again? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am no longer apologising for my light. I am walking in the fullness of my divine worth — radiant, rooted, and redeemed. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for reminding me of my worth in You. Forgive me for the times I doubted what You declared good. Teach me to walk tall — not in pride, but in reverence to Your design. Let my boundaries honour You, and my presence reflect Your grace. Help me to bless, not beg; to choose peace over pursuit; and to stand in the truth that I am Your beloved daughter. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Quiet, Steady, and Real

Redefining Greatness in a World Obsessed with Noise

I’ve stopped being inspired by loud success. What moves me now are the people who rise without selling their soul or stepping on others — those who achieve incredible things without constantly chasing relevance or applause. I’m drawn to the ones who live what they preach and treat people kindly, whether or not the cameras are rolling. The ones who know their worth but remain humble enough to know they aren’t above anyone else. That’s the kind of greatness I aspire to — quiet, steady, and real. The kind that builds rather than breaks, heals rather than harms, and honours God through integrity rather than image. 📖 “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.” — Philippians 2:3 (NIV) In a world that glorifies visibility, I’ve come to see the sacred beauty in anonymity — in doing the right thing simply because it’s right, in showing up with kindness when no one is watching, and in choosing authenticity over popularity. True greatness has never been about being seen, but about being faithful. It’s the quiet ones — the ones whose lives are anchored in love, humility, and integrity — who change the atmosphere wherever they go. 💡 Reflection: • Where have I been tempted to measure worth by visibility rather than faithfulness? 🤔 • How can I live more quietly yet powerfully in alignment with God’s heart? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My value isn’t found in applause or recognition. It’s found in walking humbly with God and loving people well. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, teach me to find contentment in serving quietly and faithfully. Let my life echo Your character — steadfast, gentle, and true. May my success be measured not by what I gain, but by how I give. Keep my heart humble and my motives pure, so that everything I do reflects Your glory, not mine. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Let Today Be

A gentle reminder to move at the rhythm of grace

There is something profoundly sacred about giving yourself permission to simply be — not striving, not proving, not rushing toward what comes next. Just being. Let today be what today needs to be. Whether you travel through quickly or slowly, breathe deep, no matter your pace. Take action where you need to take action, and if a moment calls for stillness, then embrace stillness. You are allowed to welcome the ebb and flow. You are allowed to pace yourself through every unknown — one day at a time, one hour at a time. Perhaps you will find there is grace to make it through this, just fine. 🕊 Morgan Harper Nichols 📖 "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NKJV) There are days when our hearts race ahead of our feet, filled with urgency to “get things done.” Then there are days when the simplest task feels heavy. Both belong to the same journey of grace. God never demanded perfection from us — only presence. The rhythm of His love beats slower than the world’s pace, inviting us into a sacred stillness where our souls can breathe again. In the quiet, grace finds us. It doesn’t rush or reprimand; it gathers the fragments of our fatigue and turns them into rest. It whispers that strength is not born from striving, but from surrender. When we allow today to unfold as it must — with its pauses and its pulses — we discover that we are carried by a Love greater than our effort. The Holy Spirit moves gently through our moments, weaving peace where we once carried pressure. Each breath becomes an act of trust; each pause, a prayer of surrender. You are not behind. You are not too late. You are exactly where grace meets you. 💡 Reflection: • Where do you feel hurried or pressured to produce rather than simply be present? 🤔 • What might happen if you allowed today to be enough — exactly as it is? 🤔 • How can you honour both movement and stillness as holy expressions of grace? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am learning to move at the rhythm of grace. I will trust the pace of God’s timing — slow or swift — knowing His strength is perfected in my surrender. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, teach my heart to rest in Your rhythm of grace. When I rush ahead, draw me back into Your presence. When I slow down, remind me that stillness is not weakness but worship. Help me find peace in the pauses, courage in the quiet, and joy in simply being Yours. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When You Open Doors to the Darkness

The unseen inheritance of spiritual compromise

A True Leader Understands — Leading with Heart, Not Numbers

Leadership that sees, values, and uplifts the human soul.

A true leader understands that people don’t walk away from jobs — they walk away from feeling unseen. When individuals begin to feel invisible to those guiding them, they slowly disconnect. Not from the work itself, but from the one who was meant to see, hear, and value them. Leadership is not about authority or output; it’s about stewardship — the sacred responsibility of nurturing hearts, not managing headcounts. The strongest leaders remember daily that they are leading human beings — each with dreams, challenges, fears, and divine potential. They listen with compassion, speak with integrity, and create environments where others feel safe to grow. Such leaders don’t just demand excellence; they inspire it by modelling humility, courage, and grace in their own lives. Something that deeply struck me recently was learning that John Maxwell touches base with his longtime assistant every single day — 365 days a year. That level of intentional connection isn’t about control or obligation; it’s about care. It’s about remembering that relationships, not results, are the foundation of leadership. True loyalty isn’t demanded — it’s grown. It blossoms in the soil of consistent presence, genuine respect, and shared purpose. Checking in daily says, “You matter.” It communicates trust, not supervision; partnership, not hierarchy This is the kind of leadership I have come to understand and embody through years of ministry, creativity, and service. My faith anchors my leadership in love — the kind that sees people not as resources but as reflections of God’s image. Whether guiding a team, mentoring through Encounter Groups, or encouraging someone to rediscover their creative voice, my desire is always to help others recognise their worth and walk in their God-given purpose. For me, leadership is discipleship in motion. It is loving people enough to tell the truth gently, holding space for their growth, and celebrating their victories as if they were my own. It is serving quietly behind the scenes, praying over decisions, and choosing integrity even when no one is watching. True leadership doesn’t inflate the ego — it expands the heart. 📖 "Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve." — Matthew 20:26-28 (NIV) 💡 Reflection: • When was the last time you made someone feel truly seen at work or in ministry? 🤔 • How can you lead with greater compassion and humility today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am a leader who sees, hears, and honours the humanity in others. I lead from love, grounded in faith and guided by grace. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me to lead with Your heart. Help me to see people the way You see them — with tenderness and truth. May my words bring healing, my presence bring peace, and my actions reflect Your servant leadership. Let every decision I make be shaped by love and integrity, drawing others closer to You through my example. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Sowing the Wind and Reaping the Whirlwind

When God Reveals the Seeds Beneath the Storm

There is a sobering truth in Hosea’s words: “They sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind.” — Hosea 8:7 (NKJV) For much of my life, I tried to understand why certain patterns kept repeating — why rejection seemed to follow me, why misunderstandings cut so deeply, or why peace felt fragile even in seasons of blessing. It wasn’t until I began learning the principles of Bitter Root Judgments, Bitter Root Expectations, Honour, and Sowing and Reaping that light began to break through. The first time I remember hearing the phrase “sowing the wind and reaping the whirlwind” was during a small group prayer ministry session with Kevin at Elijah House D-School in July 2022. Back then, I couldn’t quite connect the dots. It sounded distant, almost poetic — a warning that didn’t yet carry the weight of understanding. Now, having journeyed through these principles, the truth of Hosea 8:7 has become deeply personal: 📖 “They sow the wind and reap the whirlwind.” — Hosea 8:7 (NIV) Looking back with gentleness rather than shame, I can now see how my own sinful responses to wounding had caused me to sow seeds that naturally produced a painful harvest. I see now how my own sinful responses to wounding — the inner vows, judgments, and defences I formed to protect myself — became seeds sown into the soil of my life. Every judgment I made in self-protection, every unhealed expectation I carried into new relationships, and every time I dishonoured someone — even silently — became a seed that would grow in kind. Those seeds bore fruit that looked like repetition: familiar pain wearing new faces, similar betrayals wrapped in different stories. I had unknowingly participated in cycles that mirrored my unhealed heart. Yet, grace has been patiently teaching me that recognising these patterns is not condemnation — it’s invitation. God, in His mercy, allows us to see where we’ve sown the wind so that we can invite Him to redeem the harvest. The Holy Spirit gently reveals the roots beneath our reactions, the pride hidden within pain, and the fear masked as control. Healing came when I stopped blaming the soil and started asking the Gardener to reveal what I had planted there. Through His mercy, God didn’t condemn me for those seeds; He invited me to repent, uproot, and re-sow in love. The Holy Spirit began showing me how cycles of pain could be transformed into fields of grace — if I was willing to forgive, release, and bless instead of judge. Through healing prayer, I’ve begun to see how repentance and forgiveness till the soil of the heart anew. What once grew from bitterness can, under His touch, become fertile ground for love, humility, and blessing. Honour became a seed of restoration. Mercy became a seed of freedom. Love — patient, enduring love — became the seed that broke the curse of my own reactions. Healing is not about erasing the past; it’s about transforming its seeds. What I once sowed in pain, I now sow in grace. What once reaped destruction, I now surrender to the Redeemer — trusting that even the whirlwind can scatter seeds of renewal. Now, when storms rise and whirlwinds come, I no longer see them as punishment but as revelation. God, in His kindness, uses them to expose what needs uprooting and to cultivate a new kind of harvest — one aligned with His righteousness and peace. I'm finally recognising the Seeds I Once Sowed and the Harvest Grace Redeems 💡 Reflection: • Where might God be showing me the link between my past responses and my present harvest?🤔 • What patterns or “harvests” in my life might reveal seeds sown from past pain? 🤔 • How can I invite God to show me where repentance or forgiveness can redeem those roots? 🤔 • What does honour look like in this area — toward God, myself, and others? 🤔 • What new seeds of love, forgiveness, or honour is He inviting me to sow today? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: Even when I have sown in pain, God’s mercy offers me a fresh beginning. The same hands that allow the whirlwind also guide me into calm, teaching me to sow peace and reap joy. I am no longer bound by the harvests of my old sowing. In Christ, the soil of my heart is being renewed, and what I plant today will bear the fruit of peace, mercy, and righteousness. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for revealing truth in love. Forgive me for every word, thought, or action sown from hurt instead of healing. Uproot the bitter roots that have taken hold in my heart, and teach me to plant seeds that reflect Your heart. May my life become a field where grace grows freely, where old judgments die, and where new fruit bears witness to Your redemption. Father, thank You for revealing where I have sown the wind and reaped the whirlwind. Forgive me for the judgments, vows, and reactions that took root in my pain. Redeem every seed of bitterness, and let new life spring forth through Your grace. Teach me to sow love where I once sowed fear, and to walk in honour that reflects Your heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Safety of His Presence

When comfort lulls but His nearness anchors your soul

It’s not comfort your soul is craving — it’s safety. Comfort feels easy in the moment, but it slowly suffocates growth. It keeps you where you are, makes fear your boundary line, and whispers that the familiar is safer than the unknown. Yet real safety — the kind your heart was made for — is not found in the absence of risk but in the presence of God. Safety is knowing that even when the road feels jagged, when the outcome looks uncertain, and when you are stretched far beyond what feels manageable, you are held. Comfort can lull you into stagnation, but safety creates the soil for confidence. Comfort convinces you to shrink back; safety calls you to stand tall. Comfort avoids the refining fire; safety reminds you that the flame cannot consume what God protects. True safety doesn’t mean life will always feel smooth or simple — it means you can step boldly because you know Who is with you. Your safety can bring comfort, but your desire to stay comfortable often compromises your true safety. Safety is the soil of courage — because true safety isn’t the absence of hard things, but the steady nearness of God in all things. 📖 “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” — Deuteronomy 33:27 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: • Where have I mistaken comfort for safety in my current season? 🤔 • What does true safety in God’s presence look and feel like for me today? 🤔 • How can I step into growth even when my heart longs for familiarity? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am safe in the hands of the One who holds my heart. His nearness is my refuge, His love my anchor, and His presence my peace. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You that real safety is not found in predictability but in Your unchanging presence. Teach me to rest in You even when I’m stretched beyond my comfort zone. Help me trade false comfort for the deep assurance that I am held in Your everlasting arms. Strengthen my courage to step into the unknown, trusting that You go before me and guard me from behind. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Kindness Is Weaponised

Recognising Adult Bullying and Choosing a Higher Way

Adult bullying is one of the most under-recognised forms of abuse. It rarely looks like schoolyard cruelty. Instead, it hides in plain sight — dressed as gossip, exclusion, reputation damage, or emotional manipulation. It’s not simply “conflict” or “personality clashes.” It’s a calculated effort to control, discredit, or diminish another person’s voice. As Ryan Hwa wrote, “We can’t fix what we refuse to acknowledge.” And perhaps this is where courage begins — not in confrontation, but in clarity. When we see through manipulation, when we name the harm without becoming hardened by it, when we choose to keep our hearts tender yet guarded by truth. For those who have walked through this quiet cruelty, know this: your compassion is not weakness. Your kindness is not naivety. The Lord sees what is said in secret, and He vindicates those who trust in Him. 📖 “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14 (NIV) 💡 Reflection: • Have you ever downplayed or excused emotional manipulation because it didn’t look like “real abuse”? 🤔 • What boundaries could you strengthen to protect your peace and honour your worth? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My kindness is strength, not surrender. I am protected by truth, guided by grace, and no longer available for emotional games. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for being my Defender and my Peace. Heal the wounds caused by hidden cruelty. Teach me to walk in truth without bitterness and to guard my heart without walls. Help me forgive wisely and love without losing myself. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Love That Stays

When attraction fades and understanding begins

There’s a Turkish saying that whispers a truth as old as time: “If you truly love someone, you love them twice. The first time, it’s all about attraction — their smile, their voice, their presence. But slowly, the curtain lifts. You see their scars, insecurities, mood swings, trauma, moral differences. It’s no longer perfect. It’s real. And if you can still love them — without filters, without expectations — that’s not infatuation. That’s the love of understanding. The kind that stays. The kind that grows.” How deeply this echoes the rhythm of divine love — the kind of love that remains when the shimmer of perfection fades and the rawness of truth is revealed. Real love isn’t blind; it sees and still chooses. It witnesses the flaws, the struggles, the fragile humanity beneath the surface, and it stays. This is the love Christ has for us — not born of illusion, but of revelation. He sees the broken parts we hide, the fears we mask, and the inconsistencies we try to outgrow, yet His love never wavers. It does not shrink back from our mess; it steps closer, gently mending what shame would have discarded. 📖 “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” — 1 Corinthians 13:7 (NKJV) To love another in this way is to mirror the heart of Jesus — a love not measured by romance or reward, but by understanding and grace. It is a sacred echo of the covenant love that says, “I see you — not the idealised version, but the real you — and I still choose to stay.” We learn, in time, that love is not sustained by chemistry but by commitment; not by fleeting passion but by prayerful patience. It is choosing to see the image of God in another person even when their humanity is showing. It is forgiving seventy times seven, believing in redemption, and tending to wounds instead of walking away from them. In this kind of love, we become more like Christ — refined through compassion, stretched by humility, and strengthened by endurance. For when we love past comfort, we love with eternity’s heart. 💡 Reflection: • Who has shown you this kind of love — the love that stayed when things became real? 🤔 • In what relationships might God be inviting you to shift from attraction to understanding? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am learning to love as Christ loves — with eyes that see truth, hands that hold gently, and a heart that endures through imperfection. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me to love beyond the surface. Help me to see others through Your eyes — with grace, patience, and understanding. When it feels easier to withdraw, give me the courage to stay present, to listen, and to forgive. May my love reflect Yours: steadfast, compassionate, and pure. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Redeeming the Proverbs 31 Woman Within

Healing the twist of wounded strength into redeemed womanhood

For most of my life, I strived to become the Proverbs 31 woman — that noble example of faith, diligence, and grace. I measured myself against her as though she were a mountain I needed to climb, a list of virtues I had to perfect to prove my worth. Yet lately, as I’ve walked deeper into healing, I’ve discovered something profoundly freeing: she was already within me. The traits I admired — courage, compassion, wisdom, creativity, generosity, and strength — were not qualities I needed to acquire; they were gifts I had carried all along. They had simply been twisted through pain and early wounding. Love had become people-pleasing. Strength had become striving. Compassion had turned to exhaustion. Wisdom had been silenced by fear. Yet even in distortion, these qualities bore the fingerprints of divine design. Healing has not been about becoming someone new but rather remembering who I was before the world’s pain reshaped me. Each area of restoration mirrors the values God wrote into my soul: • Faith that anchors me when storms arise. • Love that gives freely, not for approval but from overflow. • Service that uplifts without losing self. • Creativity that mends what was broken and paints hope anew. • Courage that faces truth with grace. As the Holy Spirit untwists what trauma distorted, I’m witnessing the redemption of these very traits. What once felt like weakness now radiates divine strength. What once sought validation now finds rest in being seen by God. It’s as though the Proverbs 31 woman has stepped out from within the shadows of my striving and begun to breathe again — not as an ideal to chase, but as the truest reflection of who I already am in Christ. 📖 "She is clothed with strength and dignity; and she shall rejoice in time to come." — Proverbs 31:25 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: Where have your God-given strengths been twisted by pain or misunderstanding? What would it look like for those traits to be redeemed through grace? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I am not striving to become her — I am remembering her. The Proverbs 31 woman is already alive within me, redeemed by grace and restored through healing. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for creating me with every virtue needed to live out Your call with grace and strength. Heal the places where pain distorted Your image in me. Redeem what has been twisted, restore what has been broken, and let the fullness of who You designed me to be reflect Your glory. Teach me to walk in quiet confidence, clothed in dignity, wisdom, and love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Silence Feels Unsafe

Learning to make peace with the quiet after the storm

The quiet that follows conflict may seem calm to an adult, yet to a child, it hums with unspoken tension. It can feel louder than the argument itself. The air feels heavy, the smiles feel strained, and love feels distant. Children often internalise it as danger, not peace. They learn to tiptoe through rooms heavy with unspoken words, reading emotional weather forecasts in facial expressions, tone shifts, or the absence of sound. They learn to read the pauses between words, the footsteps in the hallway, and the sighs behind closed doors. They come to fear silence as much as anger, because silence, too, can wound. 💔 I know that silence well. It followed me from childhood into adulthood, shaping how I handle conflict even now. But my last line — “It’s followed me through childhood all the way into adulthood” — holds the weight of both grief and recognition. That awareness is where healing begins. It names what so many carry quietly: that fear of stillness, that unease when calm feels unsafe because it once meant disconnection. My familiar has always been to withdraw — to retreat into stillness, to keep the peace by disappearing into quiet. Yet God has been gently teaching me that silence need not always mean danger. When surrendered to Him, it can become a sanctuary of peace — a place where He heals the echoes of fear and fills the space with His presence. He speaks not through the chaos, but through the calm that follows it. His voice is gentle, yet it restores courage, allowing the frightened child within to breathe again. 📖 “He makes the storm a calm, so that its waves are still.” — Psalm 107:29 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection Prompts • What memories or emotions surface for you when silence feels heavy or unsafe?🤔 • How have past experiences shaped the way you respond to conflict or withdrawal today?🤔 • What does it look like for you to invite God into the silence — not as a void, but as a place of peace?🤔 • What gentle step could you take this week to speak, reconcile, or rest rather than retreat?🤔 🎺 Affirmation I no longer fear the quiet. With God beside me, the silence is no longer empty — it is sacred space for healing and truth to grow. 🙏 Prayer Lord, You see the child within me who learned to hide when the shouting stopped and the silence began. Teach me that not all quiet is dangerous. Fill those spaces with Your love, so that I may no longer retreat from peace but rest in it. Heal the parts of me that still tremble when calm comes, and teach me to trust Your stillness as safety. In Your presence, may my silence become prayer, and my heart find rest. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Gut Feelings and Betrayal

Learning to trust the quiet warnings of the Holy Spirit

This image speaks volumes — it captures the heartbreak of betrayal with such quiet power. One person holds the bow, arrows still in hand, while the other stands wounded yet embracing — a picture of forgiveness in the midst of pain. My reflection echoes something deeply human and painfully familiar. When I sense unease but silence it — afraid of judging, of being “too much” — I often end up paying a high price. Yet those gut feelings are not mere suspicion; they’re discernment, a whisper from the Holy Spirit protecting my heart. 📖 “The prudent sees danger and hides himself, but the simple go on and suffer for it.” — Proverbs 22:3 (NKJV) I have lost count of the number of times throughout my life that I've gone against my uneasy gut feelings when meeting people for the first time, thinking I'm just being prejudiced, only to be stabbed in the back. Each time I’ve been “stabbed in the back,” it wasn’t because I lacked love — it was because I gave it freely. The pain reminds me that empathy without discernment can wound me, but discernment without empathy can harden me. The art is learning to keep my heart soft and my eyes open. I’ve lived my values — love, compassion, integrity — even when others haven’t. That’s not weakness; that’s courage. The same heart that bleeds is the one capable of deep healing. 💡Reflection: • When have I silenced discernment for fear of being unkind?🤔 • What might it look like to trust that gentle warning next time without losing compassion?🤔 🤲🏻Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being my defender when I’ve been betrayed. Teach me to listen when Your Spirit nudges and to recognise the difference between fear and discernment. Help me to forgive without reopening wounds and to love wisely with Your truth as my guard. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Catherine’s Quiet Courage

A Reflection on Betrayal, Injustice, and Enduring Grace

What we know Catherine Thomson Hogarth was born 19 May 1815, Edinburgh, and married Charles Dickens on 2 April 1836. Wikipedia+1 They had ten children together over the next fifteen-plus years. Charles Dickens Info+2Wikipedia+2 In 1858 the couple separated. Dickens retained control over the home and the narrative; Catherine left the house and lived apart. Wikipedia Letters and newly-analysed documents show Dickens accused Catherine of mental instability and inadequate domestic performance. smithsonianmag.com+1 For decades, Catherine’s side of the story was overshadowed by Dickens’ public persona of moral champion and champion of the oppressed. Modern scholarship is working to re-examine Catherine’s voice and plight. Bates College+1 I can hardly bear to think of it without my heart tightening in anger after reading this. The injustice of it all — how could he write with such compassion for the poor and oppressed, yet treat his own wife with such cruelty?🤔😡 Catherine gave him ten children, buried three, and still managed to serve, to love, to hold a home together while the world applauded his genius. What burns within me is not only his betrayal but the silence of those around him. The children who turned against her. The sister who stayed with him. The community that believed his polished lies because it was easier than facing the truth. Such manipulation, such control — how it mirrors every story of power that silences love, every time truth is twisted until the victim seems to be the villain. 📖 “Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness.” — Isaiah 5:20 (NKJV) I feel a righteous fury rise within me, yet beneath it runs a deeper grief. I imagine Catherine — tired, lonely, and humiliated — packing her things while the world looked away. I think of her as she clutched the letters he once wrote in love, the last proof that she had ever been cherished. That image makes me weep. Still, she chose silence over slander. She bore her cross with quiet courage, entrusting her name to the God who sees in secret. Her restraint becomes her testimony; her dignity, her defiance. 📖 “Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass… He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.” — Psalm 37:5–6 (NKJV) I think of my own life, the moments I have been unseen, unheard, or misjudged while quietly carrying burdens no one else could see. The times I longed for vindication, for someone to tell the truth. Yet like Catherine, I am reminded that God Himself is my defender. My worth does not depend on the world’s applause but on His gaze of love. Her story strengthens the fire in me. It reminds me why integrity matters more than image, why compassion must begin at home, and why truth is sacred even when it costs everything. 📖 “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)  So I let my anger breathe — but I do not let it consume me. I turn it into intercession for every woman silenced by power, for every heart that has loved deeply and been discarded, for every soul still waiting for justice. Considerations of injustice This is an example of someone who wrote eloquently about the suffering of others yet failed to see the suffering in his own home. The tension between Dickens’ public advocacy and his private behaviour is stark. Catherine was performing the extraordinary labour of motherhood (ten pregnancies, child-loss, household management under the weight of Dickens’ success), yet her toil appears to have been unacknowledged, demeaned, and finally discarded. The marital and social structures of Victorian England granted Dickens far more power and reputation than Catherine had. While he had the public pulpit and pen, she had to labour quietly, emotionally and physically. That imbalance in power allowed Dickens to control the narrative of their separation, casting Catherine as the problem rather than acknowledging the mutual complexity of their marriage, his ambitions, his sins, his failings. Catherine walking away with dignity despite her losses — her home, her marriage, the public respect — makes her a figure of resilience in the face of injustice. 💡A faith-centred reflection In the gospel of our Lord, we find a call to see the hidden, to honour the weak, to give voice to the silent. I believe Catherine’s story reminds us of this: “The Lord … sets the solitary in families; He brings out those who are bound into prosperity; But the rebellious dwell in a dry land.” — Psalm 68:6 (NKJV) Catherine was one of the bound — by culture, by expectations, by a marriage that became a story of abandonment more than companionship. We honour her by remembering. She endured what many would have thought impossible: the loss of multiple children, the public shaming, the erasure of her contribution. Yet she preserved her dignity and her request that the early love letters be published as proof that she once was loved into being. Wikipedia+1 Her story invites us to ask: Who else in history (or in our own circles) has been erased, mischaracterised, made silent by power, by fame, by narrative control?🤔 Where have I been silenced or dismissed when I was simply carrying too much?🤔 What truth in me longs to be seen and set free?🤔 Personal application for Us As you speak to hearts broken, overlooked, or wounded, you are doing the holy work of giving voice to the hidden. Catherine’s life can serve as a mirror: Encourage those who feel invisible that their story matters. Remind the oppressed that their worth is not determined by those who ignore their labour. Challenge systems (within relationships, workplaces, churches) where power is abused under the guise of compassion. Provide hope: though Catherine’s voice was subdued in her lifetime, it is rising again in scholarship, remembrance, honour — and that, in itself, is an act of justice. 🗣Affirmation: I am seen by God. My voice matters. My quiet strength carries heaven’s approval, even when earth withholds its praise. 🙌Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for being the God who sees the unseen and defends the forgotten. You know the cries of those who have been silenced, the hearts wounded by betrayal, and the women who have carried burdens in secret. I bring before You every Catherine—every soul who has endured injustice and been blamed for another’s sin. Wrap them in Your peace. Heal the wounds that others have ignored. Where power has been misused, bring repentance and truth into the light. Teach me to carry righteous anger without letting it turn to bitterness. Make my heart a vessel of both compassion and courage, so that in all things, I may reflect Your justice wrapped in mercy. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Right Train Will Come

Learning to wait without chasing what’s gone

Some seasons in life feel like standing on a quiet platform after the train has already pulled away. You can still feel the wind of its passing — the sting of missed chances, the ache of goodbye, the whisper of what if. Yet not every train is meant to carry us where we’re called to go. Some simply pass through to remind us of what still needs healing, what must be released, or what faith looks like when we can’t yet see the next arrival. 📖 “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) God’s timing is never late; it is layered with purpose. The waiting platform becomes holy ground when we trust His timetable. In the stillness, He prepares our hearts, strengthens our legs for the journey ahead, and whispers, “Be still, I’m bringing something better.” So, if a door closes, a person walks away, or a dream seems to slip beyond reach, don’t run after it. Stand firm, breathe deeply, and look up. The right train will come — one that carries peace, purpose, and promise. And when it does, you’ll know it’s time to step aboard. 💡Reflection: What “train” in your life have you been tempted to chase?🤔 How might God be inviting you to wait with trust instead of striving?🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for teaching me to wait with hope, not haste. When I feel left behind or forgotten, remind me that Your plans never miss their timing. Help me rest in Your faithfulness, trusting that the train You’ve prepared for me will come — right on time. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Becoming Under Pressure

Emerging from the shadows into the brilliance of divine design

The more I pursue my healing, the more I uncover the woman God originally designed me to be — not the shy, timid, introverted version I once believed I was, but one who is bold, radiant, and courageous. Healing has not made me someone new; it has simply revealed who I was beneath the layers of fear and false belief. Courage and confidence have not preceded obedience; they have followed it. Every act of faith — every trembling yes to the prompting of the Holy Spirit — has drawn me out of hiding and into the light of divine purpose. There was a time I mistook humility for silence, and meekness for shrinking. Yet God, in His tender love, is showing me that true humility is not about diminishing myself but allowing His strength to shine through me. The shy girl was never the full story — she was the cocoon. The woman emerging now is evidence of His refining fire. I used to see pressure as punishment, but I am learning it is often the place where God does His most transformative work. Diamonds are formed in hidden places — under immense heat and crushing weight — yet their beauty tells of endurance, not ease. The same God who forms the diamond in darkness is shaping me in the depths, polishing the rough edges of my character until His light reflects through every facet. What once felt like breaking is becoming. What once felt like loss is revealing hidden treasure. The more I surrender, the more I see that healing is not the end of a journey, but the unveiling of identity — the discovery of who I have always been in Him. 📖 "For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light." — Ephesians 5:8 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • What parts of your old self are being refined, not erased, through your healing journey? 🤔 • How has obedience revealed courage in ways you didn’t expect? 🤔 • Where might God be forming something precious under pressure right now? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am not who I was — I am who God says I am. I am being refined, not reduced. My courage is rising from the furnace of obedience, and His light shines through the cracks that once made me hide. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the beauty You bring from pressure. Teach me to trust the process of Your refining love, even when the fire feels fierce. Strengthen my heart to walk boldly in who You created me to be — confident, courageous, and radiant with Your glory. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Mom’s First Heavenly Birthday

Celebrating love that lives beyond time

Today would have been your birthday, Mom. Our hearts still ache from the space your absence left, yet there’s a quiet joy in knowing you’re celebrating in Heaven — whole, radiant, and free. I can almost picture you laughing with the angel choirs, your voice woven into their song of eternal praise. Down here, the memories linger like soft echoes — your gentle hands, your tender heart, your laughter that could brighten even the weariest day. The ache reminds us of the depth of love shared, and though our loss still feels fresh, we find comfort in knowing that love has not been severed, only transformed. Your legacy lives on in every prayer whispered, every act of kindness, every moment we choose to love as you did — fully, fiercely, and with grace. 📖 “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying.” — Revelation 21:4 (NKJV) Until we meet again, we hold you close in our hearts. Love and miss you always, Mom / Granny Lice 🤗💞

Born to Create

Healing the Wound that Silenced Our Song

There’s something sacred about watching a child create. Give a toddler a paintbrush, and they will fill the world with fearless colour. Play music, and they will dance with abandon. Hand them crayons, and they’ll draw stories that make perfect sense to Heaven. We are all born this way — unafraid to express the divine spark within us. We are made in the image of the Creator Himself — designed to mirror His creative nature through art, words, song, and imagination. 📖 “So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” — Genesis 1:27 (NKJV) This is the first recorded moment where Scripture speaks of someone being filled with the Holy Spirit — not for preaching, but for creating. God anointed Bezalel to craft beauty for His dwelling place. 📖 “Then the Lord spoke to Moses, saying: ‘See, I have called by name Bezalel... and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship.’” — Exodus 31:1–3 (NKJV) Yet somewhere between childhood wonder and adult responsibility, something shifts. Words wound us, and comparisons cage us. The need for approval dims the light that once flowed so freely. Society teaches us that if it's not generating income, it's not worth pursuing because there's no time for "fun" activities. We stop creating not because the gift has left us, but because our hearts have learned to protect themselves. Creativity, then, becomes more than expression — it becomes healing. Each stroke of paint, each song, each poem is a whispered prayer that says, “I’m ready to live again.” In creating, we let the Holy Spirit touch the tender places, transforming pain into beauty and fear into freedom. 📖 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) When we create, we partner with the One who first created us — the Artist of our souls. We return to childlike faith, where love leads and shame loses its grip. May we never stop colouring outside the lines of fear, for every act of creation is a step closer to the heart of God. Every act of creation — whether painting, writing, or song — becomes worship when done for Him. 📖 “Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.” — Colossians 3:23 (NKJV) Creativity unfolds in divine timing; what we make in partnership with God carries eternal beauty. 💡 Reflection: I don't remember what I did for creativity as a little child, but in my teenage years, I did a lot of colouring, and in high school, I wrote poetry. Over the past nine years, the Lord has given me seven keys to healing, and all but one relate to creativity. He has restored my faith and reframed the lies I had come to believe that I can't sing, draw, paint, dance, write, or speak. • What was your favourite way to create as a child — to sing, draw, dance, imagine, or build?🤔 • How did it make you feel?🤔 • When did you first begin to doubt your creative voice or hide your self-expression?🤔 • What moment or words silenced your song?🤔 • In what ways do you sense God inviting you to rediscover joy through creativity today?🤔 • How does creating (painting, writing, cooking, singing, etc.) help you connect with the Holy Spirit?🤔 • What fear, comparison, or lie might God be healing through your creative process right now?🤔 • How can you make space in your daily rhythm to create simply for the joy of being with Him?🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for placing creativity within me — not as a talent to prove my worth, but as a pathway to healing. Restore the innocence of my imagination, the courage of my voice, and the joy of my expression. Let my art, in whatever form it takes, become worship that brings You glory. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

From Fearful to Faithful

When God Rewrites the Voice of Inadequacy

In March this year, I attended the Speakers Institute Premiere Bootcamp for the very first time, after experiencing the free viewing in January. Something in me knew I had to return—not as a spectator this time, but as a participant ready to face the very thing that once made me tremble. Like Moses, I had often felt inadequate, asking God for an Aaron to do the talking because I so often forgot what I was about to say halfway through a sentence. Having been raised with "Children must be seen, not heard", and a lack of conversations, the lie, “I can’t speak,” had buried itself so deeply within my heart that even the thought of public speaking made my body tremble. Although public speaking still scares the hell out of me, I’ve realised it’s a necessary skill to learn for my calling. My journey with the Tribe has brought huge improvement in confidence and speaking within my Encounter Groups. Each time I step forward, the trembling lessens, and faith grows stronger than the fear. 📖 "Then the Lord said to him, ‘Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord? Now therefore, go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall say.’" — Exodus 4:11–12 (NKJV) That verse became real to me in those days. Through tears, vulnerability, and courage, a team of volunteers stood beside me like armour-bearers — patient, kind, and unwavering. They believed in me when I could barely stand in my own belief. Their compassion helped me peel back the layers of fear and rediscover the voice God placed within me. This weekend, I had the immense honour of "paying it forward" — serving among the incredible Speakers Tribe crew, supporting 19 courageous attendees on their transformational journeys. To serve among such selfless, inspiring hearts felt like standing on holy ground. What an honour and privilege to walk alongside this tribe — to give, to witness, and to grow together. I am so deeply grateful to be part of this journey. If you long to speak with confidence, share your story, or simply find your authentic voice in a safe, empowering community — this experience is truly extraordinary. 🌿 📖 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." — Philippians 4:13 (NKJV) This journey reminds me that courage is not the absence of fear but the decision to keep showing up despite it. God doesn’t ask for perfection — He asks for obedience. Each time I stand to speak, I am reminded that my voice is not my own; it is a vessel for His message of healing and hope. When I surrender my trembling to Him, He transforms fear into faith and hesitation into holy confidence. 💡Reflection: What fears have silenced you, and how might God be inviting you to trust Him with your voice?🤔 When have you felt inadequate or fearful about something God was calling you to do?🤔 How does remembering that God equips and speaks through you change your perspective on your weaknesses?🤔 Who has stood beside you, encouraging you to believe in the voice God placed within you?🤔 What practical step can you take this week to strengthen your confidence and use your voice for God’s glory?🤔 How might you “pay it forward” by supporting or encouraging someone else in their own journey from fear to faith?🤔 🙌 Prayer: Dear Lord, thank You for calling me beyond my fears and teaching me that my weakness is a canvas for Your strength. When my heart trembles and my words falter, remind me that You are the One who speaks through me. Let every word I share carry Your truth, Your compassion, and Your light. Help me to use my voice to build, to heal, and to bring glory to Your Name. Strengthen others who are learning to speak their truth in faith. May we all find courage in Your presence and peace in Your promise. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.n

The Hour Heaven Moves

When faith wakes before dawn and surrender meets the whisper of God

For the past two years or so, I’ve been waking up between 3 and 5 a.m. regularly. Honestly, I don’t always feel like getting up and have turned around and gone back to sleep on many occasions. However, when I do get up to spend time with the Lord, my days just flow so much better. There’s a peace that lingers, a clarity that carries me, and a sense that I’ve already aligned my heart with His before the noise of the world even begins. It’s not about discipline — it’s about desire. The Holy Spirit meets me there, gently reminding me that His presence is worth the surrender of sleep. Those quiet hours are where my strength is renewed and my spirit recalibrated to grace. 📖 “Now in the morning, having risen a long while before daylight, He went out and departed to a solitary place; and there He prayed.” — Mark 1:35 (NKJV) There is a sacred stillness before dawn — a hush when the world has not yet stirred, and the weight of heaven leans close to the earth. This is the hour where God moves most deeply, not because He has changed, but because we have. When the heart is fully surrendered and the noise of the world has not yet begun, we step into a holy invitation. It is not convenience that draws us — it is faith. In those quiet hours, between 3am and 5am, when sleep still clings to our eyes and comfort begs us to stay in bed, the Spirit whispers, “Rise, beloved.” This is not about routine; it is about revelation. It is not about performance; it is about presence. It is not about eloquence; it is about honesty. For in that hour, when a woman rises to pray, her tears become seeds in heaven’s soil. Her whispers are not lost to the dark — they echo in the courts of God. It is a prayer not polished but poured out, not scripted but surrendered. Heaven bends low to listen for one thing only: truth from the heart. Such prayer is warfare wrapped in worship. It silences demonic voices, shatters strongholds, and commands peace to reign. The enemy trembles because he knows that a woman who prays before dawn is not to be trifled with. Her intercession becomes a shield around her home, her family, her mind, and her future. This kind of prayer does not just change circumstances — it changes you. It forges strength in silence, births oil through obedience, and anchors faith in intimacy. These are the women whose eyes carry light that cannot be dimmed, whose presence calms storms, and whose lives quietly testify: “I have met God in the dawn.” They do not pray to be seen. They pray because their spirit knows what is at stake. They have found the secret place where victory is won before the day begins. 💡 Reflection Prompt What would it look like to meet God before the noise begins? What burden might lift if you rose early and whispered, “Here I am, Lord”? 🙌🏻 Prayer Father, awaken me before the dawn. Teach me the power of stillness and the strength of surrender. Let my prayers carry the fragrance of faith and the fire of intimacy. May my tears water seeds of breakthrough, and may my life become an altar that burns quietly before You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Faithful Friends

When Love Stays Through Every Season

There is something so sacred about long-term friendships — the kind that have weathered every version of who you’ve been. The ones who saw you stumble and still stayed beside you. The ones who believed in your goodness when you doubted it yourself. They’ve watched you change, break, heal, and rise again, yet their love never shifted with the wind. Such friends are a quiet reflection of God’s heart — steadfast, gracious, and true. They remind us that real love isn’t conditional upon performance or perfection. It’s presence. It’s staying when it would be easier to walk away. It’s holding space when words fall short. It’s celebrating small steps and believing for the breakthrough when faith feels thin. 📖 “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” — Proverbs 17:17 (NKJV) True friendship is covenant, not convenience. It bears the marks of grace — laughter shared, tears witnessed, prayers whispered in the dark. When we find souls who love us through every phase — loud or quiet, near or distant, strong or searching — we glimpse the faithfulness of Christ Himself, who never leaves nor forsakes us. So when you find those hearts, hold them close. Water them with gratitude. Let them know how deeply you cherish their presence on your journey. Because friendship, the kind that endures seasons and storms, is one of life’s most beautiful proofs of divine love. Reflection Question: • Who has stood beside you through your seasons of change? 🤔 • How might you show them your gratitude this week? 🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the precious gift of friendship — for the ones who have walked beside me in joy and in pain, who have reflected Your steadfast love in their patience and grace. Teach me to be a faithful friend in return, to love deeply, forgive quickly, and nurture the bonds You have blessed me with. May every friendship in my life bring You glory and remind others of Your unfailing love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Room Grows Honest

When the fall reveals who truly stands with you

There is a holy clarity that arrives when strength runs out. When all pretence is stripped away, and we find ourselves face-to-face with our own breaking, the room grows honest. Smiles that once seemed safe now reveal their scaffolds or masks, and the noise of flattery fades into silence. It is there — in the quiet rubble of what once held us — that truth begins to speak. Some hands will weigh you down under the guise of help, while others will lift you with gentleness that asks for nothing in return. These are the sacred ones — the few who kneel beside your wreckage, name your light when you cannot see it, and whisper hope into the dust. I think of the words from Steve De’lano Garcia: “Take their fingers like a promise, gather your ribs like a prayer, and rise — not to shame the silent, but to honour the truth that survived in you when nothing else did.” There is something profoundly Christlike in that rising — not a triumph of pride, but a resurrection of truth. Even in the shadows, His hands reach first, not to measure our fall but to lift us into grace. 📖 “The Lord upholds all who fall, and raises up all who are bowed down.” — Psalm 145:14 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • Who knelt beside your wreckage? 🤔 • How might you honour them (and the God who sent them) by the way you rise?🤔 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the few who stayed when others turned away, for the hands that helped me rise and the hearts that reflected Yours. Teach me to discern mercy from manipulation, and to carry gratitude instead of bitterness as I rise again in Your light. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Endings with Honour

Because how we say goodbye reveals what we truly value

Endings matter — sometimes even more than beginnings. We pour so much heart into welcoming people in, yet often forget that farewells deserve the same intention. Off-boarding shouldn’t be just business or a tick-box exercise. It is a sacred moment of meaning, gratitude, and closure. What if we designed our endings with the same care and creativity we give to new beginnings? Imagine a thoughtful off-boarding programme called “Your Next Move” — crafted to bring clarity, dignity, and continued connection. Instead of a cold goodbye, we’d celebrate the journey shared and bless the path ahead. Recently, I experienced a season that tested integrity, dignity & ability to heal through disappointment in profound ways. After months of faithful service and a sudden silence — six months without meaningful communication — I received a termination letter giving just four weeks’ notice. There were no conversations, no farewells, no moments of human connection until long after my contract had already ended. It left me feeling rejected, unseen, and abandoned — not only as a professional but as a person. The ache was not simply about employment ending, but about the way it ended: without acknowledgement, honour, or closure. I had poured my heart into relationships and work that mattered deeply to me, only to be met with silence. Through tears and prayer, I brought that pain before God, asking Him to teach me how to respond with grace rather than bitterness. Slowly, I began to see that even in endings that lack dignity, He remains faithful. What others leave unfinished, He redeems. 📖 "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit." — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) That experience deepened my conviction that endings matter. Integrity is not only tested in how we begin but in how we close a chapter. I still believe relationships, even professional ones, deserve to end with honour, gratitude, and blessing — because people’s worth extends far beyond contracts and timeframes. A farewell could become a moment to honour the person: to gather around their favourite foods, share meaningful words (and a few tears), give thoughtful gifts — perhaps a book of memories, tokens for their next chapter, or small treasures for their family — and most of all, to mark the ending well. Why does this matter?🤔 • Because endings signal what we truly value. • Because the way we say goodbye shapes how those who stay feel about belonging and trust. • Because a person’s worth extends far beyond their job title or end date. Goodbyes don’t have to be awkward, sterile, or uncaring. They can be beautiful moments that reinforce the truth Marcus Buckingham so eloquently expressed: 📖 “A beautiful goodbye reinforces the message that people’s worth as human beings extends far beyond their time with the organisation.” I couldn’t agree more. May we learn to end well — with gratitude, grace, and blessing — so every chapter closes with the same love that began it. 💡Reflection: When you think about the way a season or relationship ended, what emotions surface for you?🤔 How might God be inviting you to process those endings with grace rather than regret?🤔 What would it look like to design a meaningful farewell or closure in your current context — whether at work, ministry, or in friendship?🤔 How do your endings reflect your values?🤔 In what ways can you offer honour and blessing to someone who is transitioning out of your life or organisation?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord, help me to see endings not as failures but as sacred thresholds. Where I have felt unseen or dismissed, heal my heart and teach me to walk in grace. Let every closure become an altar of surrender, where You write the final word with compassion and purpose.

Honouring Excellence

How leadership stewardship protects the heart of a team

Excellence has always been woven into the fabric of who I am. From a young age, I felt its pull — a deep desire to do things well, to give my best, to make beauty out of what others might overlook. Yet, somewhere along the way, that pure longing for excellence was twisted into perfectionism. Wounding shaped my understanding of worth. I believed love had to be earned through performance and acceptance was conditional upon doing everything “just right.” What once was a reflection of God’s character — order, diligence, and grace — became an exhausting pursuit of approval. Perfection demanded; excellence invited. One enslaved me; the other frees me. Over time, the Holy Spirit has been tenderly restoring this part of me. Through brokenness, I learned that God never required perfection — only surrender. Excellence, in His Kingdom, is not about flawlessness but faithfulness. It’s about offering what’s in my hand with a pure heart and trusting Him with the outcome. It’s doing my work unto the Lord, not for the applause of men. 📖 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters." — Colossians 3:23 (NIV) Now, I model excellence not as a performance, but as a posture — a way of living that honours God in the details. It shows up in how I create, how I serve, how I lead, and how I love. It’s reflected in the quiet commitment to do things well even when no one is watching, and in the grace to rest without guilt when it’s time to stop. When excellence is quietly punished by overuse, and mediocrity is quietly rewarded with comfort, teams begin to fracture. The ones who care the most — the high performers — start to dim their light, not out of weakness, but exhaustion. Carrying what others neglect soon feels less like teamwork and more like neglect disguised as loyalty. True leadership is stewardship. It recognises that excellence needs nurture, not exploitation. When we fail to guard the time and energy of our most faithful contributors, we erode not only their trust but the very culture we’re trying to build. 📖 "The labourer is worthy of his wages." — Luke 10:7 (NKJV) Protect your high performers. Hold your low performers accountable with grace and truth. Honour effort, not just outcome. Because when we tend the soil of excellence, everyone grows. 💡 Reflection: How has God redefined excellence in my life, and what does it now look like when I express it from a place of peace rather than pressure? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: I no longer chase perfection; I embody excellence through peace, purpose, and presence. My work, my art, and my leadership are offerings of love — reflections of God’s grace and goodness within me. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for redeeming what once was driven by fear and turning it into a reflection of Your beauty. Teach me to walk in true excellence — the kind that flows from rest, not striving; from love, not performance. May my life be a quiet testimony of faithfulness that glorifies You in all I do. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Story You Need to Tell

Writing as a sacred act of release and redemption.

Writing is a beautiful way to let your pain out. When you share your story, you release it from being trapped within you. It’s as though you’re saying goodbye to a monster that once lived inside — one that fed on silence, shame, or fear. Sandra Marinella wrote: “Writing is a beautiful way to let your pain out. As you share your story, you release it from being stuck inside of you. This can feel like saying goodbye to a monster who has been living in you.” There is truth in those words. Writing doesn’t simply record your pain — it redeems it. Each time you name what once hurt you, you strip it of its power. Every sentence becomes an exhale, every paragraph a small resurrection. Through ink and honesty, you make room for healing. Faith anchors this process. Because when you place your story in God’s hands, it no longer defines you — it refines you. Every scar becomes a testimony of grace, every broken chapter a place where light can enter. For me, writing has always been more than words on a page; it has been a lifeline. It helps me process my thoughts and capture what’s stirring in my heart so I can return to it later, prayerfully and reflectively. I’ve been processing life through writing for decades. In my teenage and young adult years, I found comfort in poetry — raw and unpolished, but honest. Later, I turned to blogs and Facebook posts as places to share what God was teaching me along the way. These days, my This Is My Story page ( https://www.trixiscreations.com/this-is-my-story) has become my sacred outlet — a home for reflection, testimony, and the unfolding beauty of redemption through words. 📖 “Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7 (NKJV) When you pour out your heart through words, you are not merely writing — you are releasing. You are no longer carrying the weight alone. The page becomes a sacred meeting place between your wounds and God’s healing touch. May your story become a river, cleansing the hidden corners of your soul. May your words bring release, not just for you, but for those who will one day read them and realise they’re not alone. 💡 Reflection: What story have you been holding inside that still aches to be told? What truth needs to be written so your soul can finally breathe again? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My story holds power. As I release my pain through words, I invite God’s healing and turn my wounds into witness. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, thank You for giving me the courage to write what once silenced me. Help me release my pain with honesty and grace, trusting that every word I offer becomes a step toward healing. Let my story bring light to others who walk in similar shadows. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

A Friendship that Stayed

When loyalty becomes love in action

There are some friendships that mark your soul like gold lines in broken pottery—subtle yet unbreakable. She was that kind of friend. Not flawless, but faithful. Not loud in her care, but steadfast in her presence. She didn’t need to fix me; she simply stayed. When my laughter thinned into silence, she listened. When my strength faltered, she held space. When others turned away, she remained—proof that real connection still exists. Her friendship became a quiet sanctuary where I could breathe, be seen, and begin again. I only have one, maybe two friends who reach out to me from time to time—just because they thought of me and wanted to know how I’m doing. For most of my life, I’ve been the one reaching out to everyone, carrying the conversations, tending the bonds. Yet now, I’ve learned to focus on those rare few who reciprocate, who reach back with the same gentleness I’ve offered. Those are the friendships that hold steady, the ones that breathe mutual grace and understanding. True friendship isn’t about constant cheer or perfect understanding. It’s about showing up when it’s hardest to do so. It’s about holding loyalty, trust, and grace in the same hand—and offering them freely. 📖 “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” — Proverbs 17:17 (NKJV) I’ll always be grateful for the kind of love that stays—not because it must, but because it chooses to. 💡Reflection: • Who has stayed beside you through your darkest valley? 🤔 • How might you honour them today with words or actions of gratitude? 🤔 🙌 Prayer: Lord, thank You for friends who remain when life feels uncertain. Thank You for their loyalty, patience, and grace. Help me to love with the same constancy—to be a safe place for others as You are for me. Let every act of friendship reflect Your faithful heart. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Authenticity Builds Trust

Being the Same in Every Place You Stand

For most of my life, I tried to be who I thought others wanted or needed me to be, until I had almost forgotten who I truly was. My journey has been as much about rediscovering who God created me to be as it has been about healing my heart. Authenticity builds trust, and trust builds lasting connections. When your heart remains the same in private as it does in public, people glimpse the truth of who you are. Let your actions mirror your values, not the attention you seek. The most respected souls are those who stay genuine, even when no one is there to applaud them. Be the same at church, at work, and at home. True integrity does not shift with setting or audience. It is the quiet strength of a heart anchored in truth — steady, sincere, and unafraid of being known. Heaven honours what the world often overlooks — the quiet obedience of a faithful heart. Your life speaks louder than your words when what you do aligns with who you are. 📖 “The integrity of the upright will guide them, but the perversity of the unfaithful will destroy them.” — Proverbs 11:3 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where in your life have you felt the pressure to be someone you are not, and what would it look like to show up as your true, God-created self in that space?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord, thank You for creating me with purpose and intention. Teach me to walk in integrity and to be the same wherever I am — at home, at work, and in community. Help me to live from the truth of who You created me to be, not from fear or the expectations of others. May my life reflect Your love and truth in all I do. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Breaking the Curse of Neglect

Healing the Silent Cries of a Generation

Neglect does not always bruise the skin, but it always bruises the soul. It looks like a child whose laughter fades into silence because no one ever leaned in to listen. It sounds like a tiny heart learning that tears are inconvenient and joy must earn its place. It feels like the emptiness that lingers when love was present in duty but absent in delight. Lack of nurture, unspoken affirmations, and blessings withheld leave an emptiness they'll spend a lifetime trying to fill. That child grows up. Now they are the adult who flinches at kindness, who struggles to trust, who long to be held yet fear being seen. Their wounds whisper through generations, not because they are wicked, but because pain unhealed finds another vessel to inhabit. Broken homes shape broken hearts. Broken hearts shape broken worlds. Every “I’ll do it later,” Every “Stop bothering me,” Every time we choose our phones over their stories, we teach them that connection is not worth fighting for. If we long to heal a generation, we must begin by seeing — truly seeing — the one before us. Listen when they speak. Hold them when they tremble. Say sorry when you fall short. Be the safe place you once needed. Love is not convenient. Love costs time, attention, humility, and grace. Yet only love has the power to break the curse of neglect. 📖 "Above all things — have fervent love for one another, for ‘love will cover a multitude of sins.’" — 1 Peter 4:8 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Whose voice in your life might need to be heard today — a child, a friend, or perhaps your younger self?🤔 How can you embody love that listens, heals, and restores rather than reacts or withdraws?🤔 What does being present look like for you this week?🤔 🙌🏻 Prayer: Lord Jesus, Teach me to see as You see. Open my heart to the quiet cries I’ve overlooked and the little ones — young or grown — still longing to be known. Help me to love without haste, to listen without defence, and to bring Your healing presence into every place I dwell. May the curse of neglect end with me, and may Your love write a new story through my life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Layers of Freedom

Facing what formed us so Christ can transform us

Too often, we say, “That’s just who I am!” because we’re afraid or ashamed to face the deeper issues. Those words can become walls — self-protective defences that keep us from healing. They might sound harmless, even self-accepting, but beneath them often lies a silent agreement with pain, fear, or sin. Most recently, I realised that shyness is just fear masquerading as personality. I wasn’t always shy. Shyness was a trauma response — a shield of self-protection formed by years of neglect, betrayal, bullying, and mockery. It became a way to stay safe, unseen, and unhurt. Yet God wouldn’t command us to be bold and courageous if He had created some to be shy. He calls us to step out of hiding and into His light, to trade fear for faith and timidity for trust. I used to think I was just an introvert, but now I believe we often become introverted because we fear rejection. Most people will naturally be more open, expressive, and even extroverted when placed in an environment where they feel safe and supported. Safety births authenticity; love makes room for freedom. Over the past five years, I’ve been unravelling layer upon layer of bitter expectancies, judgments, inner vows, and foundational lies I came to believe through trauma — not only my own but that which has filtered down through generations. Each layer has required courage to face, truth to expose, and grace to heal. It’s been humbling work — not the kind that earns applause, but the kind that rewrites a legacy. 📖 “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” — 1 John 1:9 (NKJV) Every time I’ve brought a hidden wound or wrong belief to Jesus, He’s met me with mercy. His truth has untangled lies, His love has softened my defences, and His blood has silenced the generational echoes of shame and fear. What I once accepted as “just who I am” is being transformed into who I was always meant to be — whole, free, and anchored in Christ. 💡 Reflection: What phrases or self-definitions have you used to protect unhealed pain?🤔 Which generational patterns might God be inviting you to confront with His truth?🤔 What would freedom look and feel like if those layers were lifted?🤔 🙌Prayer Jesus, thank You for patiently uncovering the layers of pain, pride, and fear that have shaped me. I surrender every inner vow, judgment, and lie that has bound me to the past. Replace them with Your truth, Lord — truth that heals, restores, and renews. May my freedom become a testimony that sets others free. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Breaking the Cycle

Healing Generational Pain Through the Cross of Christ

There’s a quiet grief that lives in families — the unseen weight passed from one generation to the next. It’s heartbreaking how many children grow up carrying the burden of their parents’ unhealed pain, mistaking it for their own. When we become parents, the responsibility shifts. It’s no longer about what we didn’t receive; it’s about what we now choose to give. Our children deserve love, stability, and peace — not the echoes of our past pain. Pain that’s buried alive doesn’t disappear. It festers beneath the surface, eventually spilling out sideways — through anger, silence, or control — and we bleed all over those we hold most dear. The only way to stop the cycle is to bring it into the light of Christ, where confession and repentance break the power of generational curses. 📖 “Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.” — John 8:36 (NKJV) The truth is, we are shaped not only by our parents’ genes but also by their wounds. They, too, were doing the best they could with unhealed hearts. I’ve been doing the deep heart work with Jesus — layer by layer — to let His love and truth rewrite my story, so that my boys and their children may walk in freedom. Healing yourself is one of the greatest gifts you can give your child. Every surrendered tear, every honest prayer, every moment you choose forgiveness over bitterness — it all becomes a seed of generational blessing. 📖 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) May we be the ones who choose to stop the cycle, to stand in the gap, and to let mercy flow through us like gold in the cracks of a family restored. Reflection Questions: What generational patterns or wounds have you recognised in your family line?🤔 How has God invited you to respond — through forgiveness, confession, or prayer?🤔 What legacy of blessing do you want to leave for the generations after you?🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that through Your Cross, the power of every generational curse is broken. Teach me to walk in humility and repentance, bringing every inherited pain to You. Heal my heart so that my children may inherit freedom, not fear. Let Your mercy rewrite our family story from generation to generation. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Righteous Flame: When Anger Serves Love

Learning to let holy anger protect what is sacred

There is a line between anger that wounds and anger that heals — and Thomas Aquinas understood it well. He wrote, "He who is not angry when there is just cause for anger is immoral. Why? Because anger looks to the good of justice, and if you can live amid injustice without anger, you are immoral as well as unjust." Those words stir something deep in me. For years, I was afraid of anger, equating it with sin or loss of control. Yet Aquinas reminds us that there is such a thing as righteous anger — the kind that flows not from pride, but from love. It is love's protective flame, a fire that refuses to let injustice, cruelty, or deception go unchallenged. When I see someone mistreated or truth distorted, that ache I feel is not hate — it is the echo of God's own heart for righteousness. To remain silent in such moments would be to betray the very values I hold dear: love, courage, and compassion. Even Jesus displayed holy anger when He drove the money changers from the temple. His zeal was not violence; it was love defending what was sacred. He overturned tables not to destroy, but to restore purity to His Father’s house. 📖 "Be angry, and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your wrath." — Ephesians 4:26 (NKJV) There are times when we, as followers of Christ, will be called upon to stand up with a holy 'NO!' in the face of evil and injustice. We are called to be obedient to Truth, not compliant to lies. • Silence in the face of evil is in itself evil. • God will not hold us guiltless. • Not to speak is to speak. • Not to act is to act. As Archbishop Desmond Tutu said: "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality."  — Desmond Tutu We are called to the same holy balance: to let anger serve justice, not self. To let it kindle action, not bitterness. When anger aligns with love, it becomes courage in motion — the boldness to stand up for the broken, to speak truth when silence feels safer. So today, if your heart burns at the sight of injustice, do not rush to extinguish that flame. Bring it to God. Let Him purify it, shape it, and send it forth as light rather than heat. Because when love burns for what is right, anger becomes holy. 💡Reflection: When have I witnessed injustice or wrongdoing and chosen silence over action?🤔 What held me back?🤔 How can I discern when anger is rooted in love rather than pride or hurt?🤔 What might righteous anger look like in my life today — where is God calling me to speak or act with courage?🤔 How can I bring my emotions before God and let Him purify them into compassion-driven courage?🤔 '🙌🏻Prayer: Lord, teach me the difference between destructive anger and righteous zeal. Help me to feel deeply without losing peace, to act justly without harming others, and to let my emotions reflect Your holy heart. Let my anger be a servant of love, never its master.

The Fruit of Intention

When love examines the heart before it speaks

All too often, we judge ourselves by our intentions but others by their actions. We may think our intentions allow us to say or do certain things, yet God sees beyond the surface — He looks straight into our hearts. Our true intentions always reveal themselves in the fruit of what we do. If our words or actions cause harm, destroy trust, or fracture community, it’s time to pause and look honestly within. Good intentions don’t excuse painful impact. When someone tells us they’re hurt — or when people walk away wounded by something we said or did — love doesn’t defend itself. Love listens, apologises, and learns. God doesn’t call us to be perfect; He calls us to be humble. To repent quickly, forgive freely, and walk gently with one another. True love is never careless. It is intentional about not wounding others. It seeks to restore, not to destroy; to build bridges, not walls. 📖 “You will know them by their fruits.” — Matthew 7:16 (NKJV) 📖 “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God in Christ forgave you.” — Ephesians 4:32 (NKJV) 📖 “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” — Matthew 22:39 (NKJV) This is especially true for the church and body of Christ. God commands His blessing where there is UNITY — when hearts are humble, love leads, and forgiveness flows freely. Where unity dwells, His presence and favour abide. Where unity dwells, His presence and favour abide. God will also hold the shepherds accountable when the sheep are scattered by their actions, for His heart is for unity, healing, and restoration among His people. May our hearts be so aligned with His that our intentions and our impact bear the same fruit — love, joy, peace, and healing. 💡 Reflection: Where in your life have you caused someone to walk away wounded by something you said or did?🤔 Are there relationships or communities where your words or actions have left division or broken trust?🤔 How can you invite God to reveal the intentions of your heart and align them with His love?🤔 What step of repentance or reconciliation might the Holy Spirit be inviting you to take today?🤔 What does the fruit of your life currently reveal about the condition of your heart?🤔

In You My Soul Will Hide

When faith becomes the melody that lifts the heart from heaviness

🎵 “I will not be afraid of ten thousand foes, though I’m surrounded on every side, for You alone are my Protector — in You my soul will hide.” 🎶 This morning’s wake-up song became a quiet declaration over my soul. Life will be hard sometimes, and the enemy will still try to take me out — yet God remains my Defender. His presence surrounds me like a shield, His peace anchors me when everything else trembles. Today, the heaviness that’s lingered for weeks has lifted. Someone recently said that funerals and memorials bring closure — they allow us to honour, to pay tribute, and to say our final goodbyes. I haven’t had that for any of my distant losses — those already lost to distance long before they were lost to death. Yet even without closure, I woke today with gratitude. A new dawn. New mercies. Life goes on, and I want to live mine as Mom did — loving people back to life. Unlike her, I wasn’t raised or trained in God’s ways, so I must be intentional not to fall back into my old patterns of withdrawal or disconnection. Healing is rarely a single moment; it’s a continual returning — to love, to hope, to the One who covers me with grace until the ache softens into peace. 📖 “He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler.” — Psalm 91:4 (NKJV) I rest in this promise today — that the One who began a good work in me will complete it. 📖 “Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” — Philippians 1:6 (NKJV) 💗 Prayer: Father, thank You for being my Protector and my peace. Thank You for lifting the weight of sorrow and wrapping me once more in Your presence. Teach me to rest beneath Your covering when the world feels unsteady, and to keep loving others with the same grace that You’ve poured into me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Love Holds in Silence

How presence becomes prayer in the language of grief

Since Aunty Delice passed away, I found myself trying to bury the ache beneath work. Much like with my miscarriages, responses like "She’s in a better place" translated to "Swallow your tears, girl, be happy for her new life with Christ." and have therefore made me feel my feelings are not valid. This morning, at The Crate, I was burying a wave of grief beneath my work when Dean walked in. “Hello, bringer of joy,” he said warmly, wrapping me in a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” I whispered fighting back the tears, “my bringer of joy is broken at the moment.” He didn’t try to fix it. He just held me tighter and stayed a few moments longer. That simple act of presence, without a single word, reached places that condolences could not touch. In that embrace, I felt something holy — grace holding space for my tears. That silent hug did more for me than all the well-intentioned words since Aunty Delice passed away two weeks ago. Few people know how to simply sit beside sorrow—to hold space for holy tears and weep with those who weep and to recognise that presence itself can be prayer. 📖 “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” — Romans 12:15 (NKJV) Sometimes the deepest comfort is not found in eloquent words but in quiet compassion — in the stillness of a heart that chooses to stay. There’s a quiet ache that comes from living far away from those you love — an ache that deepens in moments of grief. It’s not only the loss that hurts, but the distance that keeps you from being near when hearts break, when candles are lit, and when laughter mingles with tears in remembrance. Sometimes, grief feels heavier because you can’t show up with flowers, can’t hold a trembling hand, or whisper comfort face to face. You learn to grieve through screens and prayers, to love across miles that cannot be crossed.Yet even in this distance, love does not fade. Love stretches, adapts, and finds ways to reach the heart — it travels in whispered prayers, in quiet remembrance, in the faithful knowing that connection is never truly severed. Love doesn’t need to be begged for; it simply shows up. It shows up in a warm coffee placed beside you, in a message that says, “I’m thinking of you,” in a hug that lingers longer than words allow. Tonight, as we joined the memorial live-stream to celebrate Mom’s life, I realised this is the first time since moving to New Zealand that I could be part of a farewell, even from afar. Though my heart still aches, I’m deeply grateful for the time and heritage that Mom shared — and for the love that continues to bridge the distance between earth and eternity. The hardest part of grieving across oceans is feeling like an outsider looking in. You watch sacred moments unfold through a screen — the tributes, the tears, the embraces — and your heart aches to reach through and hold someone close. You can’t offer comfort in person; you mourn alone, unseen yet deeply connected. 📖 “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)

The Quiet Kind of Courage

Learning to Listen Within

"Courage isn’t always loud; sometimes it's the woman who chooses stillness and listens. She listens to her body when it says rest, to her boundaries when they say enough, to the quiet truth inside that has been right all along… strength gathers—patient, grounded, unshakeable—the kind of thunder that does not need to shout to be believed." — Steve De’lano Garcia There is a kind of courage that doesn’t roar. It doesn’t arrive with fanfare or applause, nor does it need to prove itself through action. It moves quietly, like breath through the trees, or the steady rhythm of waves upon the shore. A few years ago, I heard the Lord whisper, “Courage and confidence will follow obedience.” Those words have never left me. True courage is not born in moments of adrenaline or public victory, but in the quiet “yes” to God when no one else sees. It grows with each step of obedience—each moment we trust His voice over our fear, His truth over our own understanding. Courage increases when we walk in alignment with what He’s asked of us, even when the path feels uncertain. It’s choosing stillness when the world demands hustle. It’s saying no to what drains your peace, and yes to what nourishes your soul. It’s unclenching your jaw, breathing all the way to the bottom of your lungs, and meeting fear with presence instead of panic. This courage is gentle yet resolute, quiet yet fierce. It is not the absence of fear but the decision to move with faith regardless of it. It is the strength that comes from abiding in the One who never leaves, who calls us not to perform but to rest in obedience. 📖 “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” — Isaiah 30:15 (NKJV) May we be women who walk in this quiet kind of courage — whose confidence is not in the noise of achievement but in the steady heartbeat of obedience. For every small step taken with God builds a faith too deep to be shaken and a peace too profound to be stolen. 🙌Prayer: 🕊️ Holy Spirit, teach me to listen — to my body, to my boundaries, and most of all, to Your still, small voice. Let obedience become my courage, and peace my confidence. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Love Lives Across Oceans

Grieving from afar and holding space for the moments you can’t touch.

There’s a quiet ache that comes from living far away from those you love — an ache that deepens in moments of grief. It’s not only the loss of a loved one that hurts, but the distance that keeps you from being near when hearts break, when candles are lit, or when laughter echoes in remembrance. The hardest part of grieving across the distance via live streams is feeling like an outsider looking in. You watch sacred moments unfold through a screen — the tributes, the tears, the embraces — and your heart longs to reach through and hold someone close. You can’t afford comfort to the mourners, and you mourn alone. Sometimes, grief feels heavier because you can’t show up — can’t bring the flowers, hold the hand, or whisper comfort face to face. You miss milestones, funerals, gatherings where stories are shared, and tears are met with embraces. You learn to grieve through screens and prayers, to love across miles that cannot be crossed. Yet even in this distance, love does not diminish. Love stretches, adapts, and reaches in ways unseen. It travels in whispered prayers, in handwritten notes, in the quiet knowing that connection is never completely severed. 📖 “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) Though oceans separate us, the same God who holds their tides also holds our hearts together. His presence bridges the miles, wrapping comfort around the spaces we cannot fill ourselves. So, when you feel the sting of absence, remember — love is not limited by geography or death. It lives on in memory, in faith, and in the eternal arms of God, where distance dissolves and reunion is promised. 🙌Prayer: Lord, comfort the ones who grieve from afar. Help us rest in the assurance that You are present where we cannot be, that Your love carries what our hands cannot hold, and that one day, all distance will fade in the light of Your glory. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Where Love Feels Like Home

Choosing presence over pretense, truth over tolerance

When you truly matter to someone, time is not a wall — it’s a door they open for you, even with tired hands and crowded hours. Love doesn’t need to be begged for or chased down; it simply shows up. It shows up in the text that says, “I’m thinking of you,” in the coffee that’s still warm when life feels cold, in the listening that lingers longer than convenience allows. I used to mistake tolerance for love — the kind that endures you rather than delights in you. It leaves you walking on eggshells, apologising for needing space at the table. Yet love — true love — doesn’t just include you; it considers you. It bends calendars, shortens miles, and lays out small sacred moments like fresh bread with your name written across it. 📖 “Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil. Cling to what is good. Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honour giving preference to one another.” — Romans 12:9–10 (NKJV) There comes a point in the healing journey where you stop knocking on closed doors. You stop shrinking to fit someone else’s comfort zone and begin walking toward the places where your heart is welcomed, not weighed down. To go where you are loved, not tolerated, isn’t pride — it’s stewardship. It’s choosing to nurture the soil that bears good fruit and release what withers your peace. Presence is love’s purest proof. It doesn’t subcontract its heart to excuses or let its vows unravel in the rain. It keeps showing up — even in the storm — until truth becomes the light and faith becomes the bridge you can cross in the dark. 📖 “Love never fails.” — 1 Corinthians 13:8 (NKJV) Finding Home AgainNot feeling at home has been with me for as long as I can remember. “I’m a mistake” and “I shouldn’t be here” were the strongest foundational lies beneath my story. They built invisible walls around my heart long before I had the words to name them.Yet, throughout my life, a rare few have made me feel at home — people whose love carried no conditions, no performance, no pretense. Their kindness was a glimpse of heaven’s hospitality, a reminder that God never intended me to wander through life feeling like an afterthought. Recently, I realised that the very thing I never received growing up — time — the one I vowed never to need, is actually my love language. There’s never a moment I hesitate when someone I care about needs my time. It’s my way of saying, “You matter. You’re not an inconvenience.” Because I know what it feels like to be overlooked, I make time as an offering of love — a reflection of the Father’s heart that always has time for His children. 📖 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I sanctified you.” — Jeremiah 1:5 (NKJV) Those moments of being seen and welcomed were God’s gentle way of rewriting my foundation. Every embrace, every word of affirmation, every sacred space of belonging whispered: You were never a mistake. You were chosen. You belong.Now, I understand that home isn’t a place — it’s a Presence. It’s found in the quiet knowing that I am loved, wanted, and delighted in by the One who called me His own. I am learning, slowly and surely, to rest there. To stop searching for belonging in fragile places and dwell instead in the love that never moves away. 📖 “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” — Deuteronomy 33:27 (NKJV) 💡Prayer: Heavenly Father, Thank You for teaching me the difference between being accepted and being adored by Your kind of love — one that never grows weary, never withdraws its affection. Thank You for the rare few who carried Your heart and reminded me I belong. Help me to rest in the truth that You are my home, my refuge, my unshakable place of belonging.May I carry that same love to others — the kind that makes time, keeps promises, and holds space like home. Help me recognise where Your love flows freely and have the courage to walk toward it. May I give the same steadfast love to others — the kind that makes time, keeps promises, and holds space like home. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Learning to Live, Not Just Survive

Unlearning survival to rediscover wholeness in Christ

Most of us weren’t raised to live — we were raised to survive. We learned to silence our needs, to over-function when we were exhausted, and to call numbness “strength.” We weren’t taught how to rest without guilt, how to walk away from what harms, or how to say “no” and still believe we’re loved. Instead, we were taught to endure, to fix ourselves quietly, and to find our worth in how much we could carry. Yet Jesus came not so we could merely survive, but so we could live — fully, freely, and faithfully. 📖 “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” — John 10:10 (NKJV) Healing, then, becomes an unlearning — a holy undoing of the patterns that kept us safe but small. It’s learning that rest isn’t laziness, that boundaries are sacred, and that peace isn’t the absence of struggle but the presence of Christ within it. It’s the slow, sacred return from striving to simply being — being loved, being whole, being enough. You are not broken. You are a child of God relearning how to breathe again, how to receive grace instead of earning love, and how to walk in freedom instead of fear. Wholeness isn’t perfection; it’s alignment — your heart, mind, and soul resting in the One who makes all things new. 🕊️ Reflection: What survival habits have shaped your life — and which ones is God inviting you to release today?🤔 🕊️ Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me to live abundantly, not anxiously. Heal the parts of me that confuse exhaustion with worth and busyness with belonging. Show me how to rest in Your love and walk in true freedom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Blood That Covers

Finding calm beneath waves of grief

This morning, I woke to the words: 🎼“Oh, I will not fear, I will not fear When the enemy comes near. Oh, on the doorframes of my life Is the blood of Jesus Christ…”🎵🎶 It was the perfect song to rise to — strong, defiant faith echoing through trembling heartbeats. Yet even under that melody, grief rolled in again, steady and deep like waves against the shore. Yesterday went gently enough. Two Encounter Groups filled the studio with prayer and presence. Someone told me, kindly, to stop feeling bad about the mistakes I made during A-School. Apparently, B-School had its fair share of glitches too. That reminder lifted a quiet weight — how often we hold ourselves to impossible standards when grace already covers us. We even trialled having people join via Google Meet, and it worked beautifully. It means we can open our doors wider — for those who live far away, those who long to be part of this journey but can’t always make the distance. Even technology, redeemed, can be a vessel of inclusion. Still, die trane lê weer vlak vandag — the tears sit close today. At The Crate, I busied my hands rolling towels, showing up for the non-negotiable stand-up. But as I worked, heaviness crept back in. The ache wanted solitude; it whispered, “Go home, cry it out.” Yet I had promised Rachel and Dave I’d come to Life Group. Sometimes obedience to community is the very thing that keeps you from collapsing inward. I almost turned the car around — afraid that one look, one kind word, would break the dam. And still, Rachel came. She sought me out mid-conversation with Phil and wrapped me in a hug. For the first time that day, I whispered, “Thank you… I needed that.” During worship, something loosened. Tears didn’t come, but peace did. And by the time lunch rolled around, the heaviness had lifted — not vanished, but softened. Grace lingered long enough for me to stay. 📖 “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.” — Isaiah 43:2 (NKJV) Sometimes God doesn’t still the waves — He steadies the swimmer. His blood on the doorframes of my life still speaks: “You are covered. You are safe. You are Mine.” 💡Reflection: What small act of love or obedience helped you stay grounded when grief or fear tried to isolate you?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that Your blood still speaks a better word over my life — protection, redemption, peace. Teach me to trust Your covering even when the waters rise. Let me feel Your nearness in the quiet moments, and help me to see grace in the faces that seek me out when I would rather hide. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Ministry of Presence

A gentle reminder that love often speaks loudest in silence

There is a tenderness that lives in stillness, a kind of love that does not rush to fix, explain, or perform. It is the love that simply stays. When someone is walking through a storm, our words may scatter like leaves in the wind, yet our quiet nearness can become a refuge stronger than walls. 📖 “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” — Romans 12:15 (NKJV) "When someone is walking through a storm, let your silent presence be a shelter the wind cannot breach - a steady nearness that says I am here without making their pain perform. Sit beside them the way mountains keep watch over valleys: unwavering, unhurried, unafraid of thunder. Offer ordinary kindness--boil water, hold the umbrella, place a blanket, keep time with their breath- and let the hush between you speak the oldest language of care. Do not rename their clouds or argue with the rain; become warmth, witness and ground. In such gentleness, grief loosens its grip, fear remembers it can exhale, and the heart relearns that it can be both broken and beloved while the sky works out its weather. Your presence, unpolished, consistent, sincere, becomes the anchor under their waves, the small light that makes darkness navigable. And when the storm passes, they will not recall perfect advice; they will remember that you stayed, that your quiet never flinched, and that, without a million empty words, you helped their spirit trust the light again." - Steve De'lano Garcia Don't ever underestimate the gift of the ministry of presense. There is a tenderness that lives in stillness, a kind of love that does not rush to fix, explain, or perform. It is the love that simply stays. When someone is walking through a storm, our words may scatter like leaves in the wind, yet our quiet nearness can become a refuge stronger than walls. 📖 “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” — Romans 12:15 (NKJV) Lately, I have been reminded of how uneasy we are with tears. When grief visits, even the kindest hearts often reach for quick comfort — “She’s in a better place,” “She’s with the Lord now.” Though spoken with good intentions, these words can sometimes brush too lightly over a heart that longs to have its ache acknowledged. They can make us feel guilty for needing to cry and be comforted. Few know how to simply sit in silence beside sorrow, to hold space for holy tears. Grief comes in waves and hospice will tell you it takes as long as it takes. You can’t speed it up or reason it away. Tears and silence make people uncomfortable. Yet Jesus never avoided them. When Jesus stood beside Mary and Martha at Lazarus’ tomb, He did not immediately offer a sermon. He wept. His tears were not weakness; they were divine compassion, the presence of God sharing human grief. That is the heart of true ministry: not to rush someone out of their valley but to sit with them until they remember the Shepherd is still near. The Son of God did not silence their grief with theology; He sanctified it with His presence. That moment still teaches us the sacred art of simply being the ministry of presence. When words fall short, love can still stay Sometimes, all that is required of us is to sit silently with the wounded — to be there, to share Christ’s love and comfort without needing to speak. The ministry of presence is not about perfect words; it is about faithful nearness. It is what happens when we offer warmth, witness, and ground, becoming an anchor under another’s waves. 💡Reflection: Who around you may need the gift of your quiet nearness rather than your answers? 🤔 Can you let your heart be a shelter for another’s tears? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My silence can carry Christ’s comfort; my presence can become His embrace. 🙌Prayer: Lord, teach me to bring comfort without rushing to conclusions. Help me to honour another’s pain the way You honoured ours with presence, not performance. Lord, teach me to carry Your peace into other people’s pain. Let my silence be filled with Your presence, my patience with Your compassion and my stillness speak of Your steadfast love. May I become a quiet anchor in someone’s storm, reflecting Your steadfast love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

You Are Already Enough

A note to self — learning to believe I was never a mistake.

For most of my life, I carried an invisible label: “mistake.” It wasn’t written in ink, but etched deep into my heart. Every failure, rejection, or silence seemed to underline it. I learned to overperform, overgive, and overthink — hoping that if I did enough, maybe I’d finally be enough.  Yet, somewhere in the quiet places where only God could reach, His love began to rewrite the script. He didn’t fix me by force; He healed me with truth. Slowly, tenderly, He began to whisper: “You were never a mistake. You were My idea.” 📖 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I sanctified you.” — Jeremiah 1:5 (NKJV) There are days when the weight of “not enough” still presses hard — when comparison steals colour and my worth feels blurred at the edges. Yet in those moments, God’s voice comes through the people He’s placed in my life: You are already enough. There are days when the shadows of self-doubt creep in, whispering that you’re not enough, that your worth is somehow diminished. In those moments, pause. Breathe. Remind yourself of the truth that stands like an anchor: you are deeply loved, valued, and seen — not only by the people in your life who cherish you, but by the One who created you. When you feel unseen, know that there are those who see the goodness in you even when you struggle to see it in yourself. They love you, flaws and all. They treasure your kindness, your strength and your ability to bring light to others’ days. They see it, and they hold it dear. You do not have to perform, to strive, or to reach perfection to be worthy of this love. There are hearts that see the goodness in me even when I can’t. They see the quiet strength in perseverance, the warmth carried into every room, and the beauty in loving without fanfare. They see me, just as God does — fully known, fully loved. 📖 “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you.” — Jeremiah 31:3 (NKJV) On the days when your heart feels heavy, or when uncertainty clouds your view, whisper this truth back to yourself: I am loved. I am valued. I am enough. God Himself says so, and the people He has placed in your life echo that truth. Keep going, beloved soul. You matter far more than you know. The Lord delights in you, and His grace is sufficient even on your weakest days. Rest in His unfailing love and the quiet assurance that you’re already enough in His eyes. I don’t need to strive for perfection to be worthy of love. The One who formed me already delights in me. His truth silences every lie that says I must earn what was freely given. 🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for rewriting the lies that once defined me. Teach me to see myself through Your eyes — chosen, cherished, and enough. When shame tries to speak louder, quiet it with Your truth, Lord, help me rest in the assurance that I am loved beyond measure. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Repositioned by Grace

When God shifts your steps to prepare your heart for what’s ahead.

Grief still comes in waves, but not so many tears anymore. I managed to finish Aunty Delice’s tribute video on Friday. Roland had offered to help, but when he saw what I’d created, he said it couldn’t have been done better. It felt more personal because my paintings formed the background — my heart woven through every frame. The overlay of tribute images during the moments I had to compose myself made it all the more authentic. It carried her essence and mine, woven together through brushstrokes and love. That felt like a quiet affirmation from heaven — a nudge that love’s labour, though tender, was enough. I’ve sent it off to Julaine for Friday’s memorial and shared all my photos with Uncle Rodney — a small act of honour that feels like closure. I served at the Restoring Families Seminar at Victory Convention Centre on Friday evening and all of Saturday. I got there early yesterday morning. “You’re the dancer!” the caterer said when she recognised me. “You should have flags — that creates the atmosphere,” she added. “Usually I do,” I replied, “but not all churches welcome them, so I left them in the car.” “We have some for the youth — I’ll get you some,” she said, and off she went, bringing a whole container full for me to use during worship. In that moment, I felt seen, validated in a way that reached deep into old fears of being “too much” or “out of place.” Worship flowed freely, unafraid. There was no guilt in the movement, only gratitude for the One who sets hearts and bodies free to dance before Him. 📖 “Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” — 2 Corinthians 3:17 (NKJV) I loved how the team presented the seminar — not through videos, but through their stories. Honest, redemptive, and real. It was lovely to hear more of their stories — who they are and what they’ve overcome. Their vulnerability made the message feel alive. Each testimony became a thread of healing that wove the message deeper into our hearts. We ended with a joyful team dinner at Grand Harbour Chinese Restaurant, laughter mingling with tired smiles. By the time I got home around 6:45 p.m., my body was weary but my spirit full. I went to bed by 10:30 p.m. At 1.26 a.m. a sharp cramp in my left calf jolted me awake — a strange, painful echo of the tension my body still holds. I rolled around for a while before finally hanging my leg off the side of the bed to ease the pain, praying, and eventually drifting back to sleep. This morning, another weird dream — fragments now lost to the wind. Still, I woke with a sense that the Holy Spirit stirring something new. Today, Clive and I visit Shiloh in our quest to get to know the churches around us. I sense the Lord repositioning us for what’s ahead, gently guiding us toward the next chapter — launching the Nexus Connect Learning & Community Hub in a neutral venue. The vision has never been tied to just one church. Our aim is to reach those who are in the gutters — the ones who won’t step into a church building because they’ve been so wounded by it. We want to create a safe space where people are loved back to life, healed through community and creativity, and then sent into surrounding churches to flourish again. It feels like He’s aligning pieces we can’t yet see, drawing us out of familiar patterns into something new. 📖 “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way.” — Psalm 37:23 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where do you feel the Lord gently repositioning you in this season?🤔 What small moments of validation has He used to remind you that you are seen and free to worship as He created you to?🤔 How might grief be softening you, not breaking you, as He prepares you for what’s next?🤔 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the in-between — between grief and grace, rest and readiness. Thank You for gentle reminders that You see me, You validate the gifts You’ve placed within me, and You are guiding our steps toward new ground. Let Your presence go before us as we seek where to plant, build, and serve. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Hill and the Monster Truck

Finding refuge on my knees

Last night I had another strange dream. I don’t remember all the details, but one part stood out so vividly. I stumbled down a hill and found myself struggling to get back up. Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. When I looked back, I saw a huge monster truck coming down the road, with crowds of raging people at its sides. The road curved sharply at the bottom, making the truck’s descent feel even more threatening. Fear gripped me as I tried to get back on my feet to move out of the way. I ended up walking on my knees as fast as I could, desperate to find a safe place where I could rise again. Just as I turned the corner at the bottom, I woke up. As I sit with this dream, I sense its weight. Hills so often remind me of struggles or tests — those seasons when the climb feels impossible and my footing slips. The monster truck felt overwhelming, unstoppable, like the pressures and voices that sometimes barrel toward me in life. Yet even on my knees, I was still moving. I was still reaching for safety. I realise that the dream echoes something deeper: when life presses me down, my first posture is kneeling — a posture of humility, of prayer, of surrender. It’s not weakness; it’s strength. It’s the place where I find God’s refuge. 📖 "When I am afraid, I will trust in You." — Psalm 56:3 (NKJV) I love how even my subconscious seems to know: the safest place is with Him. My safe clearing at the bottom of the hill glowed with light. That is where I run into His presence. 💡Reflection: Where in my life right now do I feel like I’m stumbling down a hill?🤔 What “monster trucks” are pressing in, threatening to overwhelm me?🤔 What does my safe space with God look like in this season?🤔 How might my knees — in humility and prayer — actually be the ground where my strength is renewed?🤔 Today, I hold onto the truth that I am never safer than when I kneel in trust before Him. Even when fear looms behind me, His light goes before me. I am seen, carried, and sheltered in His love. 🙌Prayer: Lord, when pressures close in like unstoppable forces, remind me that even on my knees I can keep moving toward You. Teach me to see humility and surrender not as defeat, but as the doorway into safety and strength. Lead me into Your refuge and help me rise again in Your light. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Double Grief of Living Losses

When goodbye comes twice

As my memorial scrapbook album has steadily grown over the years, I have found myself adding yet another page, another name, another story. Each addition carries weight, but the hardest ones to grieve are those I lost while they were still alive. Relationships that unravelled, hearts that grew distant, people who became unreachable long before death ever arrived. In many ways, death was only the second, more final goodbye. This is a grief not often spoken of: mourning the presence that remained physically but was gone in every other way. It is the sorrow of what could have been, compounded when death seals the unfinished chapters. These are the double griefs — losses that echo twice through the soul. 📖 “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) Yet even here, I sense God’s nearness. He is not afraid of the complicated tears. He gathers both the grief of absence and the grief of unfinished stories into His hands. My scrapbook becomes more than a record of loss; it becomes a testimony of love, of presence once shared, and of His healing touch over my heart. Where grief lingers, His grace lingers longer. 💡Reflection: Which “living losses” still tug at my heart, and how can I bring them into God’s healing light?🤔 How might I use my scrapbook not only to remember, but to release each name into His care?🤔 If you are grieving today, whether the loss of presence through death or through life’s unravelling, know that your sorrow is seen. God does not dismiss the ache of double goodbyes. He draws close, holding both your memories and your heart in His everlasting arms. 🙌🏻Prayer: Father, You see the layers of my grief — the spoken goodbyes and the silent ones. Heal the places in me where I still mourn what was lost before life ended. Help me entrust each story to You, knowing that Your love is greater than death, distance, or brokenness. Thank You for being near to the broken-hearted and for weaving redemption even through my tears. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Sacred Weight of Last Photos

Cherishing the fleeting glimpses of love and presence

There are photographs tucked into albums and frames that I now realise are the last with certain loved ones. At the time, they seemed so ordinary — a family gathering, a shared laugh, a quiet moment around a table. Yet now they hold a sacred weight, whispering, "This was the last time." Time with loved ones is precious. We cannot always know which smile, which touch, or which conversation will be the last. The ordinary becomes extraordinary in hindsight, and the photos capture more than faces; they capture presence, love, and belonging. 📖 "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." — Psalm 90:12 (NKJV)  My heart aches with both gratitude and longing as I turn these pages. Gratitude that God gave me the gift of these people, these moments, these memories. Longing, because I wish I had savoured them even more while they were unfolding.  Yet, even here, grace flows. These photos remind me not of what I have lost, but of the love that was given. They are reminders of God’s faithfulness in surrounding me with relationships that reflect His heart. They are treasures of memory, echoes of eternity. 💡Reflection: Who in my life do I need to be more intentional about savouring time with?🤔 How can I live so that love, laughter, and faith become the legacy captured in my “ordinary” days?🤔 If you are holding a “last photo” today, may you also hold the comfort of knowing that love is never wasted. Each captured smile is a testimony of God’s goodness and a call to savour the sacred ordinary of today. 🙌Prayer: Lord, teach me to number my days rightly. Help me to pause in the busyness and savour the people You have placed around me. May I not wait until a photo becomes the “last” to treasure a moment. Let my presence, my love, and my words be a blessing to those I hold dear. Thank You for the gift of memory, of photographs, and of the love that outlives time. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Included vs. Considered

Moving from overlooked presence to cherished intention

There is such a difference between being included and being considered. Inclusion says, “You can come.” Consideration says, “We thought of you when making the plan.” One checks a box; the other checks the heart. For much of my life, I have felt overlooked — sometimes not even included. That ache runs deep, because being left out speaks to the child within who longs to be seen, valued, and chosen. Yet even when I was included, it often felt like there was still a gap — the absence of true care, of being remembered in the details. Reading Anthony D Brice’s words struck me like a gentle light: to be considered is to be thought of with intention, with love. It means someone has already set a place at the table, already woven me into their plans, already seen my value without me needing to prove it. 📖 "Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others." — Philippians 2:4 (NKJV) This Scripture reveals the heart of Jesus — He didn’t just include us; He considered us. Long before we asked, He planned redemption. Long before we felt the ache of loneliness, He promised His presence. To be considered is to be loved with foresight. 💡Reflection: Where in my life do I feel merely “included,” and where do I feel truly “considered”? 🤔 How is God inviting me to lean more deeply into places where I am seen, valued, and cherished?🤔 🌸 Closing thought: I no longer need to chase inclusion. I will sit only where I am seen, go only where I am valued, and remain only where I am considered. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that You have always considered me. You saw me before I was formed, You planned my days before I lived them, and You set a place for me at Your table. Heal the wounds of being overlooked and teach me to rest in the truth that I am chosen, valued, and remembered. Help me also to extend this same intentional love to others, not just including them, but truly considering them. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Rare Hearts That Keep Giving

On carrying tenderness in a world that prizes hardness

There are words that stop you in your tracks because they name what your heart has long carried in silence. Steve De’lano Garcia’s words did that for me today.  "There is a rare breed of people who bet their whole heart and never ask for odds: they keep their word even when it hurts, they step into storms for the sake of someone else's sunshine, they give the last of their warmth to hands that may never hold them back; they walk the extra mile on blistered feet and still ask if you need a ride; they pour love into empty rooms and tuck hope into beds that have never learned their name, and when the echo does not answer, they do not grow smaller -they grow steadier; they stay kind in a world that profits from hard edges, they stay soft in a season that praises stone, and they pay a quiet price for it, again and again, with tears wiped in the dark and smiles set straight at dawn; yet even through the ache, they keep a small light for the day another rare heart appears- equally brave, equally loyal, equally willing to meet them in the deep; to the givers, the forgivers, the selfless lovers: keep being beautiful, guard your tenderness without burying it, let the cold world be cold and choose to be warm, take every small moment like a breath you mean to keep, and know this--your love is not wasted; it is a seed, and one day it will fall into hands that know how to grow it." It speaks of a rare breed of people who give their whole heart without asking for odds, who love when it hurts, who stay soft when the world demands stone. Reading it brought tears, because it resonated so deeply with my own journey. I have known what it feels like to pour warmth into empty rooms, to sow kindness into places where my name may never be remembered. I have known the ache of wiping tears in the dark and smiling at dawn, carrying the quiet price of love that costs without return. Yet in those very moments, I have also known the steadying hand of Jesus, the One who sees what others may never notice. 📖 "And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart." — Galatians 6:9 (NKJV) This verse reminds me that nothing given in love is ever wasted. Love is never lost; it is a seed. The soil may seem barren now, but God Himself is faithful to water and bring fruit in His time. Our tenderness, our loyalty, our willingness to keep loving in the face of rejection or silence — all of it matters to Him. 💡 Reflection: Where have you been sowing love that feels unseen? How might God be inviting you to trust Him with the unseen fruit? 🙏 Prayer: Lord, thank You for reminding me that love is never wasted. When the ache feels heavy and the cost of tenderness feels too much, steady my heart in You. Help me to guard my tenderness without burying it, to remain kind in a world that grows cold, and to trust that You are bringing a harvest in Your perfect time. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

No Lie Lives Forever

Truth’s patient pursuit through shadows and masks

Lies may cover for a season, but they never remain hidden forever. Every mask worn, every betrayal carried out, every manipulation crafted leaves a mark, not just on the people wounded, but upon the soul of the one who weaves them. For a moment, deception might feel like safety, power, or advantage. Yet God sees, and nothing escapes His gaze. Shadows grow heavy, and the bridges burned today often spark the fires that will one day expose falsehood. You may deny, twist, or charm your way through stories, yet you cannot outrun truth. When it comes, it does not simply remove the mask — it reveals the wreckage left behind. So hide, if you must. Pretend, if you choose. But know this: no lie lives forever, and no cruelty goes unpaid. God is not mocked, and His timing is never late. Justice waits, patient yet certain. 📖 "For there is nothing hidden which will not be revealed, nor has anything been kept secret but that it should come to light." — Mark 4:22 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Are there places in your life where truth is waiting to be spoken, yet fear has kept it silent?🤔 What would it look like to invite God’s light into that place today?🤔 '🙌🏻Prayer: Lord, thank You that You are truth and that You see all things clearly. Where I am tempted to hide or cover up, give me the courage to bring it into the light. Where I have been hurt by deception, bring healing and restore trust in Your goodness. Let my life be anchored in integrity, built not on shifting lies but on Your unshakable Word. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Grief of Obedience

A surrender that feels like loss, yet leads to life

Obedience isn’t always radiant and full of rejoicing. Often, it comes cloaked in tears. It feels like death to our will, a burial of our pride, and a surrender of the comforts we cling to. It may look like leaving when your heart longs to stay, keeping silent when every fibre of your being burns to speak, or loosening your grasp on something you love deeply — not because you no longer care, but because God is asking you to trust Him for what lies beyond. Every act of obedience carries its own grief. Abraham’s heart surely ached as he lifted the knife over Isaac (Genesis 22). Moses gave up the splendour of Pharaoh’s palace to walk with a complaining people in a barren desert (Exodus 3–4). And Jesus, in Gethsemane, with sweat like drops of blood falling to the ground, still whispered: 📖 “Not My will, but Yours be done.” — Luke 22:42 (NKJV) Obedience can feel like loss. Yet each surrender opens the door to God’s glory. Each relinquishing becomes the soil where new life rises. What feels like ashes in your hands can become the canvas where God writes His beauty across tear-stained skies. Jesus reminds us: 📖 “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.” — Luke 11:28 (NKJV) So if your obedience feels like grief today, take heart. God is not taking something from you — He is leading you to something greater. Obedience may hurt, but it also heals. It may cost, but it also crowns. One of my biggest areas of struggle with obedience is the call to prayer in the early hours of the morning. It’s as though the Holy Spirit gently stirs my heart while the world still sleeps, inviting me into the quiet, sacred space where heaven whispers. Yet my body resists, longing for the comfort of blankets and the stillness of rest. There’s a grief in that tug of war — between spirit and flesh, longing and lethargy. The call to rise feels heavy, and yet, every time I choose to answer, I’m met with a Presence so tender, it’s as if dawn itself bows in reverence. In those early hours, before the noise of the day intrudes, His voice is clearest. It’s not about performance or perfection; it’s about communion — the deep heart exchange that can only happen in stillness. 📖 “O God, You are my God; early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.” — Psalm 63:1 (NKJV) Obedience in these moments feels like dying to comfort so that I might awaken to glory. It is costly, but it carries the fragrance of love — a quiet yes whispered in the dark, trusting that what He has to say is worth the sacrifice of sleep. Let’s face it, who wants to be up between 3 and 5 a.m. when everyone else is sleeping — especially in winter, when it’s so much warmer and cosier under the covers? Yet even in that reluctance, there’s an invitation. However, when I rise, weary but willing, I find strength not my own. His presence wraps around me like dawn light, and the grief of obedience becomes the grace of encounter. 💡 Reflection:  What area of obedience feels most costly to you right now? How might God be inviting you to trust that His presence will meet you there? 🙌🏻 Prayer: Lord, teach me to embrace the hidden beauty of obedience, even when it feels like loss. When You call in the quiet hours, help me to respond with love, not reluctance. Let every sacrifice of sleep become a seed of intimacy, and every act of surrender a song of trust. May my heart rise to meet Yours in the stillness. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Led by the Spirit, Not by Feelings

A reflection on discerning emotions without losing purpose

The enemy knows that if he can trap us in our emotions, he can blur our vision and derail our obedience. Offence, fear, and insecurity are his subtle tools to cloud our sight. He whispers lies, magnifies hurts, and stirs up comparisons, all so we would walk in circles instead of stepping forward into the calling God has set before us. Emotions themselves are not wrong. God created us with feelings — they are like colours on the palette of the soul. They allow us to experience joy, sorrow, compassion, grief, and delight. Yet, when feelings take the lead, they can become stormy waves that toss us to and fro. Cloudy emotions, if left unchecked, delay obedience and dim the clarity of God’s direction. 📖 "For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God." — Romans 8:14 (NKJV) We were never called to be driven by feelings. We are called to be led by the Holy Spirit. To live Spirit-led means acknowledging our emotions, but not bowing to them as masters. It means learning to express them righteously, anger without sin, grief with hope, joy with humility, love with purity. When surrendered to God, even our deepest emotions can become vessels of grace. Tears become intercession. Anger becomes fuel for justice. Fear becomes an invitation to trust. Joy becomes strength.   💡Reflection: Where have I allowed feelings to cloud my obedience to God’s voice?🤔 How can I acknowledge my emotions honestly while inviting the Holy Spirit to lead me?🤔 What practical step can I take today to move from being led by feelings to being led by the Spirit?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Holy Spirit, thank You for the gift of emotions. Teach me to express them in ways that honour You. Guard my heart from being ruled by offence, fear, or insecurity. Lead me in truth, clarity, and love. Please help me to walk by faith, not by sight, and by Spirit, not by feelings. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Her Final Psalm: When Love Leads Home

On tears, legacy, and the holy hush of goodbye

Today, the tears I’d been holding back finally came. It happened as I read Uncle Rodney’s post — his tender words about Aunty Delice’s final days on earth. The story of their last reading together, Psalm 91 — her favourite psalm — undid me. They were reading the very words that had anchored her faith for decades when she fell silent and slipped toward eternity. There is something achingly beautiful about that image: two souls wrapped in prayer, dwelling “in the secret place of the Most High,” until one is called home. 📖 “He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge.” — Psalm 91:4 (NKJV) Uncle Rodney’s letter carried both the ache of absence and the glow of gratitude. After fifty-seven years of shared life, love, and ministry, his words reflected the strength of covenant — love that endures storms, children, decades, and even the veil between earth and heaven. Reading his tribute stirred something deep within me — a remembering of how Aunty Delice stepped in with grace and generosity to take up my mother’s responsibilities during my wedding and for my family. Her care was steady, practical, and full of love. She sewed my wedding dress, baked our cake, and wrapped every detail with the kind of tenderness that speaks louder than words. Her life was the sermon that showed me what love in action looks like. I wept because her story mirrors my values — faith, family, service, compassion — the very things she helped awaken in me. I wept because the kind of love she lived doesn’t end; it multiplies. It seeps into generations and echoes in our own tenderness toward others. 📖 “Here is the one thing I crave from God, the one thing I seek above all else: to live my life so close to Him that He takes pleasure in my every prayer.” — Psalm 27:4 (Passion Paraphrase) That was her daily prayer — and now it’s her answered one. 💡Reflection: Whose faith has shaped yours, and how might you honour their legacy by the way you love and serve today?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord, thank You for Aunty Delice’s legacy of love and devotion. Thank You for the way her faith shaped generations. Help me to live as she did — unhurried in love, unwavering in faith, and unafraid of surrender. Let her example draw me closer to You each day, until the moment faith becomes sight. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Inner Peace Over Prestige

Choosing alignment with God’s values over the lure of success

Some costs are hidden until they begin to gnaw at your soul. Prestige, recognition, or opportunity may look radiant on the outside, yet if it requires you to betray your God-given values, the price is too high. Peace is fragile when fear is driving your decisions. Yielding to fear of loss can push you to say “yes” where your spirit is whispering “no.” To comply for appearances is to trade away the very treasure Christ has entrusted to you — His peace. 📖 "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." — John 14:27 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where have I felt pressured to compromise my values for the sake of approval or opportunity?🤔 What situations rob me of peace, and how can I invite God’s guidance into those places?🤔 How might I practise courage by saying “no” when something dishonours my faith, integrity, or calling?  ✨ May you never trade the calm waters of your soul for the crashing waves of false success. You are seen, held, and guided by the One who calls you His beloved. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of Your peace that guards my heart and mind. Help me to recognise when something is too costly for my soul, no matter how prestigious it looks. Strengthen me to stand firm in my values, to choose integrity over fear, and to rest in the assurance that Your way leads to life. Let me measure success not by worldly standards but by faithfulness to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Ahab’s Silence Enables Jezebel’s Chaos

When passivity opens the door, destruction walks in

The spirit of Jezebel wreaks havoc among the nations because the spirit of Ahab has caused good men to cower in apathy and say nothing. Jezebel thrives where Ahab abdicates. Her manipulation finds fuel in silence; her intimidation grows strong where courage has gone weak. In Scripture, Ahab was king, but his crown held little weight because he surrendered his authority. Jezebel filled the vacuum, murdering prophets, silencing truth, and twisting justice. Yet God raised up Elijah—a voice that did not bow, a prophet who dared to confront lies with holy fire. 📖 "And so it was, while Jezebel massacred the prophets of the Lord, that Obadiah had taken one hundred prophets and hidden them…" — 1 Kings 18:4 (NKJV) There are times when we, as followers of Christ, will be called upon to stand up with a holy ‘NO!’ in the face of evil and injustice. We are called to be obedient to Truth, not compliant to lies. Silence in the face of evil is in itself evil. God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. 📖 "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) As Archbishop Desmond Tutu said: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”  Today, the same spirit seeks to muzzle God’s people, but silence is agreement, and apathy is partnership with destruction. The call of Elijah still resounds: will we bow, or will we stand?🤔 Meowing time is over. It is time to roar with holy boldness, to rise as the lion-hearted people of God, declaring His truth with love and courage. We are not the Lion, but it has fallen on us to release His ROAR into the earth. Let us choose courage over comfort. Let us rise with truth, love, and holy boldness, knowing that our God still answers by fire. Reflection: Where have I remained silent when God was calling me to speak truth?🤔 Am I willing to trade comfort for courage, even if it costs relationships or reputation?🤔 How can I prepare my heart to be an Elijah voice in my generation?🤔 Prayer Heavenly Father, forgive me for the times I’ve bowed to fear or stayed silent when You called me to speak. Strengthen me with holy courage to stand for truth, to resist manipulation, and to walk in integrity. May my life echo Elijah’s cry — that You alone are God. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Faithful in the Small Things

God’s personal encouragement to keep trusting His timing and promises

📖 "His lord said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord.’" — Matthew 25:21 (NKJV) Beloved heart, God is speaking a tender yet powerful word over you today: "You have been faithful in the small things, and now I am trusting you with more. I have seen how you kept a good attitude, even when it was hard. I have watched you bless others while you were waiting on your own blessing. Now get ready: increase is coming. I am releasing new opportunities, new influence, and new resources. People who did not notice you before are going to seek you out. Doors you could not open are going to fly wide open. What you have prayed for in private, I will reward you with in public. Keep believing — it is all coming together!" Let these words settle deep into your spirit. God notices every quiet act of obedience and every hidden prayer. He treasures the unseen seasons where you served faithfully, often without recognition. Nothing has been wasted. 💡Reflection: Where have you been faithful in the small things, even when no one saw?🤔 Which private prayers are you still holding before the Lord?🤔 How might you prepare your heart for the new doors He is about to open?🤔 💖 May today’s assurance give you courage to keep trusting. The God who sees in secret is bringing everything together in His perfect time. 🎨Creative Prompt: Take a blank page and draw or paint a door flung wide, golden light pouring through. Around the doorway, write or illustrate the prayers and promises you are believing God to fulfil. 🙌Prayer of Faithfulness and Increase Heavenly Father, Thank You that my life is anchored in You — my foundation, my strength, my joy. You see the small acts of obedience, the quiet prayers whispered in the dark, and the moments when love, kindness, and courage were chosen over ease. Lord, I bring my faith and spirituality before You, asking that it always remain my highest priority. Let every act of service, every creative offering, and every relationship I nurture be an overflow of Your love. May my compassion for others mirror the compassion of Christ. Father, where I have walked faithfully in hidden places, I trust Your promise that increase is coming. Release opportunities that align with my calling, doors that no man can shut, and resources that bring healing and hope to the broken-hearted. Keep my heart pure with integrity and generosity, so that when favour comes, it glorifies You and not me. Teach me balance and rest, that I may serve with strength and joy. Give me courage to stand against injustice and freedom to live authentically in Your truth. May beauty and creativity in my life always point to Your glory, and may my greatest achievement be measured by lives touched with Your love. I surrender my plans to You, Lord. Let Your will be done, and may my story shine with the radiant seams of Your grace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Compassion in Action

A soul that sees, feels, and then moves to heal

"A soul that carries compassion is a soul that has walked through fire and chose not to become flame; it learned the weight of grief so it could lift it from others. Its scars are not warnings but seams, stronger where it was torn, proof that tenderness can be engineered from ruin. It knows that gentleness is disciplined strength, that boundaries are a form of care, and that listening is a shelter built from nights when no one came. It does not forget the dark; it uses it as a lantern, turning pain into sight and sight into mercy, so others can find their way back to themselves." Empathy is precious. It allows us to notice, to feel with another. Yet empathy by itself can remain passive, a learned behaviour of acknowledgement without movement. Compassion, however, is empathy clothed in action. It is experience that moves us beyond understanding into tangible love — to bind wounds, to meet needs, to restore hope. When Jesus walked this earth, He did not stop at empathy. The Gospels tell us He was moved with compassion, and every time compassion stirred His heart, something changed. The blind received sight, the hungry were fed, the grieving were comforted, and the lost were found. Compassion became the doorway for miracles. 📖 "But when He saw the multitudes, He was moved with compassion for them, because they were weary and scattered, like sheep having no shepherd." — Matthew 9:36 (NKJV) Empathy is praying for the hungry, but compassion will give them something to eat. Jesus modelled this when He told His disciples: 📖 "But Jesus said to them, 'They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.'" — Matthew 14:16 (NKJV This is the invitation for us too — to let our scars become seams of strength, to let our past darkness become lanterns of mercy, and to let empathy grow into compassion that acts. It is in those holy moments of action that Christ’s love shines brightest, turning ruins into restoration. 💡Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me not only to feel the weight of another’s sorrow but to step into their need with compassion. May my scars become testimony, my past pain a lantern, and my heart a vessel for Your miracles of love. Move me beyond sentiment into service, beyond empathy into compassion. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Resting in the Rain

A gentle reminder that stillness is not failure, but preparation for flight

I read today that butterflies rest when it rains, because the drops can damage their wings. How fragile, and yet how wise — they wait until the skies clear before they take to the air again. This week, I too rested. I didn’t serve at Elijah House, and at first it felt uncomfortable. Guilt whispered that I was letting others down. Yet the Holy Spirit’s gentle prompting was unmistakable: be still, pause, breathe. I am grateful I listened. Rest is not weakness, it is obedience. Even Jesus withdrew to quiet places to pray and be renewed. 📖 "Come to Me, all you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28 (NKJV) Storms pass, and when they do, butterflies rise again on wings unbroken. I believe I will too. 💡 Reflection: Where is God inviting me to lay down my striving and rest in His love?🤔 🙏 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for reminding me that even in the storms, I am safe in Your care. Teach me to rest without guilt, knowing that You restore my strength in stillness. May I rise again, renewed, when the time is right. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Kindness That Feels Like Home

Small gestures, eternal echoes of love

Some friends feel like home. Not because they fix or rescue us, but because they never demand that we be anything other than ourselves. With them, silence feels safe, weakness isn’t judged, and even in our messiest moments, we are still chosen. That kind of love is rare. It is holy ground. On Friday, Rose and Harry sat across from me at lunch. Rose’s hands carried two gifts: a scented candle, and a card that reached deep into my heart. Inside were these words: *“Dear Trixi, Thank you for your dedicated service in ministry, the ways which enrich our church. Your selfless acts of service: Elijah House Prayer Ministry, Healing Courses, Painting Lessons, Worship. Your leadership and teaching help and inspire me to grow in my faith. Your love, care, and support create a nurturing place in our church. Thank you for being a true friend to me and all. You…are more than enough. We are blessed to have you! Blessings, Love from Rose 25/09/2025”* Then today, as we got home from church, Caroline arrived unexpectedly, pressing into my hands a little box of home-baked cookies with a note: “Thinking of you my lovely friend. Love, Caroline.” Such gestures catch me off guard. I’m not used to kindness arriving so gently and freely. I’m still learning how to receive without feeling like I need to earn. 📖 "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights." — James 1:17 (NKJV) These small acts of kindness are not small at all. They are God’s reminders that love is alive and tangible, often wrapped in simple offerings — a card, a candle, a cookie. Each one carries a whisper from Heaven: You are more than enough. You are loved, not for what you do, but for who you are. 🙌A prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of friends who carry Your heart. Teach me to receive kindness with humility and joy, without fear or striving. Help me to hold these moments as reminders of Your unfailing love. May I also be one who offers warmth, light, and nourishment to others. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Truth That Shakes Comfort

Choosing honesty with courage, even when it costs relationships.

Testifying isn’t something we do because we are amazing Christians. It isn’t a performance or proof of perfection. It flows from the faith we hold close to our hearts, the unshakable knowing that Jesus is the only way we made it through difficult days. Without Him, we would not have survived. When doubt rises and struggles weigh heavily, silence often tempts us. We shrink back, still and lifeless, like a body without breath. That is what the enemy longs for — to quench the flame of the Holy Spirit, to hush the living witness within us. Yet faith is not meant to be buried. When you feel it stirring, when you sense His life springing up in you, speak. 📖 "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death." — Revelation 12:11 (NKJV) Testifying is courage in action. It is not about eloquence but obedience. Each time you declare what you believe, you anchor yourself again on Christ, the Rock. Faith becomes the foundation of your works, love flows outward in service, and your story becomes a beacon of hope for others stumbling in the dark. Your voice matters because it carries the witness of His light. 💡Reflection: Where have you allowed silence to smother your testimony?🤔 What story of God’s faithfulness do you need to speak out loud today?🤔 How can honesty, even when costly, become an act of love in your relationships?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of testimony and the courage You provide to speak truth with love. Forgive me when fear or doubt keeps me quiet. Stir faith within me and let my words carry Your light to those who are weary. May my life be a witness that glorifies You in all things. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Facing the Storm

A lesson in courage, trauma, and trust

I recently came across a metaphor that stopped me in my tracks. Both buffalo and cows can sense when a storm is coming. The cows, in their panic, run away from it. Yet the storm inevitably catches them, and because they keep running, they remain in it far longer — weary, drenched, and battered. The buffalo, on the other hand, charge directly into the storm. Terrifying at first, yes, but they reach the other side quicker, emerging rested and nourished, able to enjoy the green pastures watered by the rain. It made me think about trauma. How often do we live like the cows, running from our pain, our memories, our fears? In doing so, we stay in the storm longer than we need to. Avoidance feels easier in the moment, but it prolongs the shame, the guilt, and the exhaustion. Healing comes when we stop running away. The way of the buffalo calls for courage. It mirrors the life of faith. To walk through the storm means to face the grief, to let the tears fall, to sit with the memories that ache. Yet in that brave choice, healing comes swifter, because Jesus meets us in the middle of the tempest. 📖 "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you." — Isaiah 43:2 (NKJV) I don’t want to raise a generation of cows — running endlessly, weary beneath storms they were never meant to carry so long. I long for a generation of buffalo, who know that facing the storm with Jesus leads to peace, strength, and new life on the other side. 💡 Reflection: Think about a storm you may be facing right now. Are you running from it, trying to avoid the pain, or are you willing to face it with Jesus by your side?🤔 What fears surface when you consider walking into the storm rather than away from it?🤔 How have past “storms” shaped you — did avoidance prolong them, or did courage quicken healing?🤔 What would it look like to trust God in the midst of this present storm?🤔 Take a few quiet moments to journal your answers. Invite Holy Spirit to whisper His perspective. Remember, you are not alone. He walks with you through every downpour, leading you to peace on the other side. 📖 "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." — John 14:27 (NKJV) ✍️ Journaling Prompts: Facing the Storm with Courage Name the Storm What storm are you currently sensing in your life — whether it’s grief, fear, shame, or uncertainty?🤔 Write it down honestly, without judgement. Buffalo or Cow?🤔 When storms come, do you tend to run away (like the cow), or face them head-on (like the buffalo)?🤔 Describe a time when you did each. What was the outcome?🤔 The First Step Facing the storm begins with one brave step. What small act of courage could you take today that would help you walk through your storm with Jesus?🤔 The Aftermath Think of a past storm you’ve endured. How did God use that season to bring new life, growth, or blessing?🤔 Write about the “green pastures” that followed. God’s Presence in the Tempest In what ways have you experienced Jesus walking with you in difficult times?🤔 How could you remind yourself of His nearness in the storm you face now?🤔 Generational Courage What legacy do you want to leave for your children, grandchildren, or spiritual sons and daughters?🤔 How can you model the courage of the buffalo in a way that invites them to do the same?🤔 📖 "Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you." — Deuteronomy 31:6 (NKJV) 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, give me the courage of the buffalo. Teach me not to run away from the storms of life, but to walk through them with You. Hold my hand when fear rises, and remind me that Your presence is my shelter and my peace. May I model bravery, honesty, and faith for those who come after me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Old Wounds Whisper

Finding God’s Steadfast Love in Seasons of Abandonment

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.

Being the Bigger Person

A gentle wisdom: choosing peace over performance

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.

The Weight of Words

Redeemed, healed, and rewritten by the Word of Truth

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.

Listening with the Heart

The infographic I reflected on today outlined the 5 Levels of Listening

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.

A Pillar of Love Remembered

A mother’s embrace that shaped my soul

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.

Listening that Heals

Hearing the heart of God and others

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.

Learning to Rest Without Guilt

A tender pause in the healing journey

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. ✨

My Constant Companion

A quiet thanksgiving for the one who walks with me through every season

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.

Not Called to Average

Living in God’s fullness and abundance

“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.”

Here I Am to Worship

A morning song of gratitude and surrender

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.

Two Ears, One Mouth

The quiet power of listening well

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.

Forgiven to Forgive

A freedom that flows only from the Cross

“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.

Your Quiet Influence Matters

A reflection on unseen impact and faithful obedience

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.

Stand Firm for Truth

Courage to Speak Out When Silence Feels Safer

📖 "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.

Wake-up Song of Gratitude

A melody of joy rising with the dawn

🎼 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.

Refined Under Pressure

A meditation on hidden strength and authentic faith

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.

God’s Rainbow of Promise

A gentle reminder of His covenant love on an ordinary Friday morning

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.

Seeing Differently

A reflection on how what some call weakness, others see as a gift

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.

The Strong Tower

A refuge of safety and song

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. 💖

Extend Your Wings

A prophetic blessing of freedom and childlike delight

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.

Shyness: A False Identity Unveiled

A gentle revelation of fear exchanged for God’s design

I once believed I was simply “the shy and introverted one.” Teachers said it. Family repeated it. Eventually, I wore it like a name tag stitched to my soul. What I didn’t realise then was how quickly labels, especially spoken over us in childhood, can take root and shape how we see ourselves. Shyness became a cage, a false identity I thought was mine. Yet as I grew in Christ, I heard a question whispered in prayer: “Is this truly who I created you to be?” The Holy Spirit began unravelling the tangled threads, showing me that shyness was not my original design but fear masquerading as personality. 📖 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) Fear painted its brushstrokes across my life, trying to obscure the masterpiece God had formed in my mother’s womb. But when revelation came, I saw it clearly — shyness is not a part of God’s handiwork. It was never written into the blueprint of my being. It was a lie I had agreed with, giving it permission to linger. God calls His children to boldness. 📖 "The righteous are bold as a lion." — Proverbs 28:1 (NKJV). We cannot be both bold and shy; one flows from truth, the other from fear. As His beloved, we are called to walk with lion-hearted courage, not hidden timidity. Here I began to see another layer — the difference between how God created me and what the enemy tried to twist. Introversion, for example, is not a flaw or a false identity. It is a temperament — a gentle strength woven by God Himself. Some are created to be reflective, to find energy in solitude, to notice what others might miss. Even Jesus often withdrew to quiet places to pray (Luke 5:16). This is a holy rhythm, not a weakness. Social anxiety, however, is different. It is a wound — a fear-based distortion, often birthed from rejection or trauma. It whispers, “Hide, or you’ll get hurt,” while God whispers, “Come into the light, you are safe with Me.” Shyness and anxiety are the enemy’s brushstrokes, trying to cover what God has made. The truth is that God restores without erasing our God-given design. He does not take away the contemplative nature of an introvert; instead, He frees it from the chains of fear so that gentleness, depth, and creativity can shine unhindered. His boldness doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it is the quiet, steady courage to stand, to speak when needed, to love without fear. 📖 "For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, 'Abba, Father.'" — Romans 8:15 (NKJV) Through forgiveness, repentance, and renouncing lies, God began restoring me to my true identity: bold, beloved, and free. No longer hidden behind timidity, I could step forward as the woman He intended. His masterpiece — not faint or overshadowed — but radiant with His light. Perhaps you too have worn a label that was never meant for you. Today, may the Holy Spirit lift that false name, revealing the truth of who you are: wonderfully made, chosen, fearless in His love. 💡 Reflection: What labels were spoken over you in childhood that you may have worn as truth?🤔 Do you see ways where social anxiety has masked itself as part of your personality?🤔 How might God be inviting you to embrace your true temperament (introversion or extroversion) without fear?🤔 What does lion-hearted boldness look like in your life — not loudness, but steady courage in Christ?🤔 🙏 Prayer: Abba Father, thank You for calling me Your beloved. Thank You that You did not give me a spirit of fear but of power, love, and a sound mind. I confess and renounce every false label I have carried — especially the lie of shyness and the weight of social anxiety. Lift these burdens, Lord, and show me the truth of my original design. Teach me to embrace the way You created me, whether quiet or expressive, as a gift. Fill me with the boldness of a lion, anchored in Your love and freedom. Let my life shine with courage and compassion, unafraid to step into the light of who I truly am in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Identity — The Original Masterpiece

A gentle unpeeling: discovering the canvas God painted before the world began.

There are times when the river of memory carries debris from storms long gone. A comment, a rejection, a whispered judgement; each one lodges like a dark brushstroke across the face of the masterpiece God painted when He formed you in your mother’s womb. Holy Spirit moves with gentleness and wisdom, revealing what has been overlaid so that the original colours may be seen again. 📖 "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." — John 14:6 (NKJV) An identity crisis began in Eden and spread into every generation, creating a fog that convinces us the cover-up is actually the original painting. Labels given in childhood — "shy," "too much," "insecure" — slowly become lenses. A sibling’s louder laugh, a teacher’s careless word, the family stories passed down; each becomes another coat of paint the enemy uses to hide the image of God within us. Holy Spirit does not come to shame us. He comes to reveal, to heal, to gently lift those layers. For decades I believed I was an introvert. I carried the weight of social anxiety and labelled myself as painfully shy. It wasn’t until I heard the statement, “If you’re painfully shy it would behoove you to ask Holy Spirit if that was an inner healing issue,” that I dared to bring it before Him. He revealed that my shyness was not who I truly was — it was fruit from unresolved trauma, my social anxiety, the outworking of being a wounded burden bearer. As I’ve walked with Him in healing, the suppressed version of me has begun to give way to my true design. Recently, a few people even called me an extrovert. When I told Clive, he laughed and said, “No way!” because he’s only ever known the suppresed version of me. The more healing comes, the more I remember who I really am, and the more I step into the masterpiece the Father painted from the beginning. I also recognised how my strengths and values had been twisted, leaving me trapped in painful double-binds — wanting to live out love, creativity, compassion and courage, yet feeling paralysed by fear, guilt, and the lies of the enemy. Through recognition, forgiveness and repentance, the Father has been restoring me to my original design. What once held me hostage has become the very place where His freedom now flows. Healing is not just removing pain; it is restoring His intention. As you sit with this truth, invite Holy Spirit to bring revelation. Ask Him where a lens has been formed, and allow His light to expose what is not yours. He will not yank the bandage; He heals with tenderness, not force. Mercy triumphs over judgement and safety invites vulnerability. When the Father is seen as safe, the heart leans in, and the unpeeling happens in love. There are places where generational wounds have taken root. Patterns of anger, fear, perfectionism or shame may feel like a family heirloom, handed down from one heart to another. Jesus bore every curse on the cross. His blood begins the slow, holy work of washing the canvas: revealing the image God intended, restoring purpose and beauty. Practical steps for tender unpeeling: 1. Ask Holy Spirit to show you the first memory where a lie felt true. Name it aloud. 2. Speak truth into that place using Scripture, not as a weapon but as balm. 3. Renounce the lie and declare your truth in Christ. 4. Invite a trusted friend or minister to pray with you and speak life over the hidden masterpiece. 5. Keep a small journal of each layer that peels away so you can see how God restores colour over time. You are not what the enemy painted over you. You are the Father’s original, beloved work — fearfully and wonderfully made, an image-bearer of the living God. Allow His light to rise in the hidden valleys of your heart; watch the debris float away and the river begin to flow again. 🙌A short, soul-tending prayer: Lord Jesus, thank you for the gentleness of the Father and for Holy Spirit who reveals truth. Peel away what is not of You. Wash the canvas of my heart with Your blood and let me see my true self reflected in You. Replace shame with wonder, fear with power, and doubt with the knowledge that I am beloved. Help me to renounce the lies and to walk in the freedom of my original identity. Restore the colours that have been hidden and set my feet to rise in the purpose You have painted for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. Affirmation: Today I choose to see myself through the Father’s eyes. I am His original masterpiece, called to beauty, courage and faithful love. You are seen, cherished and being made whole.

When Rejection Shapes Our Blueprint

Rewriting our relationships in Christ’s love

Sometimes, the deepest ache isn’t the sting of another’s rejection but the silent scanning of our own hearts — always bracing, always waiting, always fearing we won’t be enough. When we grow up without a sense of true acceptance, our blueprint for belonging is etched in fear. That blueprint whispers lies into our adult lives: “Don’t get too close, or you’ll be hurt.” “If you give more, maybe they’ll stay.” “Better to leave first than be left behind.” “Don’t bother, because relationships don’t last.” I know this ache. I’ve lived it. It can even drive us to sabotage love before love has a chance to bloom. By the time I was 6, I had concluded that relationships won't last after being the "new kid on the block" 5 times.  13 schools and 34 homes by the time I reached 18 just helped solidify this judgment on life and people. Displacement trauma ran so deep that I never put down roots. Yet, beloved, there is hope. The Master Builder is not finished with us. Our relational blueprints can be rewritten by the One who calls us accepted, chosen, and dearly loved. 📖 "Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!" — 1 John 3:1 (NKJV) The enemy tries to keep us bound to fear, but God calls us into freedom. In Christ, rejection does not define us, nor does abandonment hold us captive. His love builds a new foundation, one rooted not in fear but in belonging. Like clay in the potter’s hands, He reshapes our broken places into vessels of grace. Where fear once over-gave, His Holy Spirit teaches us balance. Where withdrawal once ruled, His Spirit teaches us courage to stay. Where suspicion once clouded love, His Spirit teaches us to trust His presence in others. Where despair once whispered that relationships don’t last, His Spirit reminds us that His love endures forever. 💡Reflection: Where do I notice myself bracing for rejection?🤔 How might I invite the Holy Spirit to rewrite my “relationship blueprint”?🤔 What Scriptures remind me that I am fully accepted and loved in Christ?🤔 How can I begin trusting that some relationships, by God’s grace, are meant to last?🤔 🙌🏻Prayer: Father, I surrender my old blueprints, the ones written in fear and rejection. Rewrite them with Your love. Teach me that I am already accepted in Christ, and help me walk in the freedom of that truth. Heal the parts of me that sabotage love, and replace them with courage, grace, and trust. May my relationships become reflections of Your steadfast love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

My Soul Follows Hard After Thee

A song of deep pursuit and holy longing

There’s something about the old songs that rise up unbidden, like treasures hidden deep in the soil of our souls. This morning, my heart hummed an old refrain: 🎶 *“*My soul followeth hard after Thee Early in the morning I will rise up and seek Thee And because Thou hast been my help Under the shadow of Your wings Will I rejoice…” It is the cry of a heart that refuses to be distracted, a spirit determined to cling to the One who gives life. David once penned those very words: 📖 “My soul follows close behind You; Your right hand upholds me.” — Psalm 63:8 (NKJV) That picture of following hard after Him feels like a dance of longing and trust. We don’t pursue Him casually. We run after Him as though our very breath depends on it, because it does. His presence is not an accessory to our lives — it is the essence of life itself. This morning’s whispered melody reminds me that even when I am weary, He holds me steady. My grip may falter, but His right hand never lets go. 🙌Prayer Lord Jesus, keep my heart soft and my feet swift to follow You. When the world distracts me, draw me back with Your steadfast love. Let my pursuit of You be marked by holy longing, not duty, and may my soul cling ever tighter to Your presence. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🌸 Always remember, you are seen, cherished, and carried. May your soul rest today in the safety of His upholding hand.

Legacy of Love

A heart that longs to leave lives transformed and souls drawn to Christ

I do not desire to leave behind monuments of my own making, nor a name etched in the halls of fame. What I long for most is a legacy of hearts loved back to life and lives forever transformed by Christ. If, when all is said and done, others can say they saw His reflection in me, then my life will have been well spent.   This desire flows from the very core of who I am and what I value most. Faith is my foundation, love is my compass, and service is my offering. Creativity becomes the vessel through which hope and healing are painted back onto broken souls. Integrity and generosity shape the way I walk, courage anchors me when fear threatens, and compassion reminds me that every heart matters. Success, as the world measures it, holds little meaning to me. True achievement is when someone who was hurting finds wholeness in Christ because love reached them through me. 📖 "Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament, and those who turn many to righteousness like the stars forever and ever." — Daniel 12:3 (NKJV) 💡Prayer: Lord Jesus, may the reflection of Your love be so evident in me that others are drawn to You, not to me. Let my legacy be one of lives healed, hearts restored, and souls saved. Teach me to love with Your compassion, to serve with Your humility, and to create with Your Spirit’s inspiration. May every act, no matter how small, ripple into eternity for Your glory. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Still the Storm Within

When melodies remind the soul that Jesus calms our inner seas

I woke this morning with a nauseating headache and the faint ache of clenched teeth. My body seems to be carrying what my heart is wrestling through. Two tablets and a little more rest lifted the heaviness, yet even in the fog of weariness, the Lord placed a melody on my heart. I cannot even remember the old Afrikaans song that came first, only that it was about Jesus. But as I stood under the shower, another fragment rose like a prayer whispered back to me: 🎵 “Want U stil die lewensstorms weereens Heer. Maak 'n molshoop van die berg in my gemoed.” Such tenderness in that reminder — that He stills the storms of life and turns mountains into molehills within our troubled minds. Perhaps it is no coincidence. Pastor David’s recent meeting with the elders has been weighing on me, stirring an anxious undercurrent I cannot always name. I have noticed myself clenching my teeth, as though bracing against impact. He has now sent through a message with his second warning from the elders and his subsequent response. I have not yet read it, let alone replied. My heart hesitates. Yet even here, God meets me. Scripture says: 📖 “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” — John 14:27 (NKJV) So before I step into words, decisions, or responses, I need to sit in His peace. To let Him still the storm inside, that I may not react out of fear, but respond in His wisdom and grace. 🕊 A prayer rises with the melody: “Heavenly Father, I surrender the storms within me to You. Calm the mountain of worry into a molehill of peace. Guard my mind, steady my words, and align my response with Your truth. Thank You that I am safe in Your hands, no matter the turmoil around me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.” Affirmation for today: Even when anxiety clenches its grip, Jesus is the One who stills my storms and brings peace to my inner seas.

ALL Life is Sacred

Rejecting violence and the celebration of harm

Today my heart feels heavy. I'm appalled at the laughing emojis and celebration at someone’s passing and sickened by the cruelty I’ve seen spilling across comment sections online. Words — typed by fingertips running rampant — mock and cheer at the loss of a 31-year-old man with a family. A murder is being applauded, as though life itself were disposable. The darkness of such responses chills me: “He had it coming,” “Think like me or die,” “Stay silent or die.” This is the language of hell’s fury, not of heaven’s light. This portrays a lack of compassion that wounds more than just words. Freedom of belief means nothing if it is met with bullets instead of conversation. A man has lost his life. Loved ones have lost their father, their husband. This is beyond politics — it is about human dignity. Sometimes we just have to agree to disagree. There is something seriously wrong in society when a person is not allowed to freely hold and even teach a view different from another’s without fear of harm. Violence is never the answer. Murder is never justice. 📖 "You shall not murder." — Exodus 20:13 (NKJV) I didn’t follow Charlie Kirk and do not care what his political or religious views are or were. What was done is insanity and totally unacceptable. Children lost their father. A man was murdered because he held beliefs his killer could not accept. To those who celebrate death the death or public execution of anyone who used words, not violence, you are part of the problem. Your voice contributes to the rage, the hatred, the pain. Evil shows itself most brazenly when it whispers death and destruction in the disguise of power. Yet, even in the face of such wickedness, I cling to a holy peace. Charlie was a believer. At the moment he crossed from this world into eternity, he was welcomed with the words we long to hear: 📖 "Well done, good and faithful servant." — Matthew 25:21 (NKJV) This assurance does not erase the sorrow, but it strengthens the resolve. Life is sacred. No matter the chorus of voices that grow careless with human dignity, the truth remains: every life bears God’s imprint, every breath is known and counted by Him. Now, the torch Charlie carried is not extinguished—it has been passed to us. His boldness in faith must stir a holy fire within our bones. To refuse silence. To speak truth in love. To rise in courage, even when the world mocks. May we not shrink back in fear but step forward in holy defiance against evil. May our lives, too, echo heaven’s commendation when the race is finished: “Well done.” Let’s refuse to walk that path. Let’s mourn life lost. Pray for the grieving. May we instead choose to pray for peace, comfort the grieving, and speak words of life when others speak rage. 🙌Closing Prayer: Heavenly Father, we lift before You every grieving heart touched by violence. Restore compassion where callousness has taken root. Remind us of the value of every soul, created in Your image. May our words bring peace, our actions reflect Your love, and our witness point always to the sanctity of life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Faith, Family & Creativity

A threefold cord that carries me when life feels heavy

When life grows heavy and shadows press close, it is one thing — braided strong like a threefold cord — that keeps me standing: Faith, Family, and Creativity. Faith roots me deep in God’s unshakable love, the anchor that steadies me when storms howl. Family surrounds me with belonging and warmth, reminding me that love is stronger than any burden. Creativity gives me wings, a way to pour beauty into brokenness, to turn pain into colour and story. Together, these three are not separate strands but one lifeline, woven by God’s hand. They are the heartbeat that carries me through the weight of the world and lifts me into hope again. 📖 "Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken." — Ecclesiastes 4:12 (NKJV) 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You for weaving my life together with the threads of faith, family, and creativity. Help me never to take these gifts for granted. May I lean on You, cherish my loved ones, and keep creating beauty even in hard seasons. Strengthen this cord You’ve woven so that it never unravels, but always points me back to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

TRUST: The Fragile Bridge of Leadership

Why every relationship stands or falls on this invisible foundation

Trust is the invisible bridge that every relationship walks across. Without it, the journey collapses before it even begins. In leadership, trust is not optional; it is everything. People may admire your vision or applaud your skills, but they will not truly follow unless they trust your heart. Trust is painstaking to build. It grows slowly, plank by plank, through honesty, integrity, and consistency. Yet it takes only a careless word or a broken promise to shatter it in seconds. Once fractured, it can be repaired, but the scars often remain. This is why Scripture urges us to live lives above reproach, to let our yes be yes and our no be no, so that our words carry the weight of truth. 📖 "He who walks with integrity walks securely, but he who perverts his ways will become known." — Proverbs 10:9 (NKJV) Leadership is not about perfection. It is about humility, courage, and the willingness to own our missteps. When we confess, seek forgiveness, and make amends, trust can be restored. In that restoration, followers see not weakness but strength — the kind of strength that reflects Christ. If you lead, lead with a heart anchored in love and integrity. Let your actions echo your words, so those who follow you walk across the bridge of trust without fear it will crumble beneath their feet. 🙌A Closing Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that You are perfectly trustworthy. Teach me to lead with honesty, humility, and love. Help me guard the hearts entrusted to my care, that my life may point them to You, the faithful Shepherd of our souls. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Healing Ripples Through Generations

When our restoration becomes the overflow for our family

Our children don’t need us to silence their emotions. They need us to help them understand them. To show them it’s okay to feel deeply and to teach them what to do with that depth. We validate the storm inside. We hold the line outside. And in doing so, we help them learn what it means to be both human and whole. For much of my life, I did not know how to do this. I had dismally failed in this area, not because I didn’t love my children, but because I was not equipped to even deal with my own emotions. I had neatly boxed them away and spent years surviving in numbness, living in what I now call numbville. Survival felt safer than feeling. Yet God in His mercy did not leave me there. As I pursued my healing, the ripple effect began. What the Lord restored in me spilled over onto my husband and children. Healing is never just for us — it overflows, it spills, it touches the ones closest to us. 📖 “The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) I see now that my failures were not final. God has been rewriting my story, layer by layer, storm by storm, until I could begin to model for my children what wholeness looks like. Not perfection, but authenticity. Not the absence of pain, but the presence of hope. If you too feel like you’ve failed in this area, take heart. Healing is possible, and its fruit will not only restore you but also nurture the hearts of those you love most. 💡 Reflection: • In what ways have you seen healing in your life ripple out to others around you?🤔 • Where do you still long for that overflow?🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You that my healing does not stop with me, but flows into my family and generations to come. Help me to hold space for my children’s emotions, even as You continue to heal mine. May Your love and truth be the legacy we carry forward. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Love Calms the Sea

A reflection on how God’s love stills the storms of our hearts

This morning, a line of song drifted through my thoughts: "🎼Some say love, it is a river that calms the roaring sea."🎵🎶 Though the original lyric is different, my heart caught hold of this version, and it became a tender reminder of the way Christ’s love works within us. Life often feels like a roaring sea — waves of grief, fear, or uncertainty crashing against the shores of our souls. Yet, when Jesus speaks, even the most violent storm bows in surrender. 📖 "Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, 'Peace, be still!' And the wind ceased and there was a great calm." — Mark 4:39 (NKJV) Love is not only a gentle feeling; in Christ, love is a force that silences storms. His love does not erase the waves, but it steadies the boat, anchors our hope, and carries us to shore. It is both tender and strong, fierce and gentle, like a river that brings life wherever it flows. As I sat with this thought, I heard a whisper of the Holy Spirit: "My love calms what overwhelms you. Rest in Me." How freeing to know that the God who commands seas also commands the chaos inside of us. 🙌Prayer Lord Jesus, thank You for being the One who speaks peace into my storms. Help me to lean on Your love when fear rises, trusting that Your voice still carries authority over every wave. Teach me to rest in You, knowing that no storm is stronger than Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🌿 May you feel His calm wash over you today, dear heart. You are not abandoned in the storm — you are held by Love Himself.

Heaven Hears Honour First

Living the Kingdom Culture of Kindness, Courtesy, and Consecrated Responses

“Be careful how you handle any soul in the flesh; you cannot see their rank in the spirit…” Those words stir something deep in me — not fear, but reverence. A holy awareness that every person I encounter bears the fingerprint of God and may be seated in unseen heavenly places. Honour isn't optional in the Kingdom. It is culture. It’s not reserved for leaders, elders, or those we admire — Scripture commands it plainly: 📖 "Honour all people. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honour the king." — 1 Peter 2:17 (NKJV) We are not excused from honour simply because we disagree. Quite the opposite. How we disagree is often the greatest test of our spiritual maturity. Courtesy is not weakness. Kindness is not silence, and honour is not agreement — it’s alignment with God’s heart for people. When I lose sight of that, my responses reveal more about my own soul than the situation. If I lash out, belittle, or respond with pride, I step outside the culture of the Kingdom and risk bearing consequences for my own unrighteousness, no matter how “right” I feel in the moment. 💡 Reflection: There is no room in the Kingdom for cruelty disguised as conviction. In prayer ministry and my own healing journey, I’ve come to realise that the wounds which provoke dishonour in me — sarcasm, withdrawal, defensiveness — often stem from old places of rejection or injustice. Yet the Holy Spirit gently reminds me: "Daughter, they are not your enemy. Love them. Honour them. I will defend you." It is heaven’s way. It is His way. And it must become mine. ✍🏼 Journaling Prompts: Have I treated someone dismissively because I couldn’t see their spiritual worth?🤔 In what ways have pride or pain caused me to respond without honour?🤔 What would it look like to walk in Kingdom courtesy today — even with those I disagree with?🤔 🙌🏻 Prayer: Father, teach me to see with Kingdom eyes. Let my tone carry Heaven before my deeds ever speak. Forgive me for careless words, for the times I’ve dismissed those You esteem. Clothe me in kindness, cover me in courtesy, and crown me with humility. Let honour be the fragrance I carry, not just for the seen, but for the sacred unseen in every soul. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Leadership, Connection, and the Courage to Care

A reflection on love at the heart of true leadership

Leadership without connection is like a rope tied in a knot, holding but never truly binding hearts together. We may guide tasks, manage outcomes, and measure progress, yet without love and compassion woven into the fibres, it becomes hollow — mere management. God calls us not only to lead but to connect. To listen with both ears and heart. To see those entrusted to us as image-bearers of Christ, not just as roles or responsibilities. Leadership shaped by faith is leadership that mirrors Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who knows His sheep by name and calls them tenderly. 📖 "I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own." — John 10:14 (NKJV) Connection transforms leadership from control into care, from hierarchy into service, from performance into purpose. When love and compassion are present, leadership becomes a sacred trust, a space where others are uplifted and seen. May we never settle for management alone. Instead, may we have the courage to care, the faith to connect, and the humility to serve. Recently, I was struck while reading one of John Maxwell's books. He makes it a priority to connect with his assistant every single day, 365 days a year, even if just for five minutes. That simple habit speaks of honour, attentiveness, and value. In stark contrast, during the last six months of my previous job, my boss only met with me once a month for an hour. No wonder I felt ignored. His confession in December — that he had indeed been ignoring me — only confirmed the ache I carried. 📖 “Be diligent to know the state of your flocks, And attend to your herds.” — Proverbs 27:23 (NKJV) That neglect struck a major chord, echoing the unresolved wounds of childhood emotional neglect. The silence and absence of care triggered retaliation through my own withdrawal and silence. It was as though the little girl inside me was still trying to make sense of being unseen. Through prayer ministry for self-sabotage, this issue unexpectedly took over the whole two-hour session. Layer by layer, the pain was unravelled, and the connection to my past was revealed. For the first time, I was finally able to bring those vows and responses to death at the cross. 📖 “When my father and my mother forsake me, Then the LORD will take care of me.” — Psalm 27:10 (NKJV) There, at the cross, Jesus lifted the burden I had carried for so long. In His presence, silence was no longer a prison but a place of peace. What had once bound me in self-protection was now broken by His love. True leadership requires presence, not just authority. It thrives in the small, consistent touches of care. The absence of that rhythm communicates neglect, whether intended or not. Yet even in that painful experience, God is using it to sharpen my discernment. I now know the kind of leader I want to be — one who never leaves people feeling unseen. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me to lead like You — with love, integrity, and courage. Help me to see each person not as a task but as a soul, worthy of compassion and connection. Let my leadership be an overflow of Your heart. Heal the places in me where neglect has left its mark, and use them to cultivate in me a tender attentiveness. Thank You for the cross, where every vow of withdrawal and silence is brought to death and exchanged for Your freedom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Unmasking Shame

From Hidden Wounds to Healing Wholeness

When I first did the Loved, Chosen & Free worksheet in May 2020, I discovered a sobering truth: my whole life had been shame-based. The realisation stung, but it was also an unveiling of what the Lord longed to heal. Since then, I have done the same worksheet four times. Some of my issues have shifted into the "not so much" column, showing areas of movement and grace. Yet overall, shame still lingers as a heavy undercurrent. For a time, that deeply concerned me. During a prayer ministry with Sandra in October, last year, I shared my worry. With her usual wisdom and gentleness, she reminded me that shame takes a long time to untangle. Its roots run deep, often entwined in places of identity. She reassured me that as long as I see even small signs of improvement, I need not fear. Healing is not a race. It is a steady journey led by the Holy Spirit, one tender unveiling at a time. Shame is a thief. It does not speak with reason or truth, for it does not dwell in logic but in the amygdala, the seat of survival and fear. It paralyses perception, whispers "you are a mistake," and persuades us to hide what we dislike. Our bodies often carry their weight — the gut, the tense shoulders, the face turned away from the mirror. Yet guilt says, "I made a mistake," while shame declares, "I am a mistake." That lie can feel crippling. Sandra’s encouragement freed me to see that even slow progress is real progress. Every time I sit with Jesus, every time I confess the lie and choose His truth, a little more light enters the hidden places. 📖 "Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame." — Psalm 34:5 (NKJV) Shame is such a major stronghold that Sandra has done a 7-lesson teaching series called UNashamed on it. It wasn’t until I offered it in my encounter groups that I finally plucked up the courage to watch the lessons and work through it myself. The truth is, shame does not define me. My Core Values reflect my truest self in Christ — faith, love, compassion, courage, creativity, and service. These are the pillars of who I am becoming, the prophetic counter-story to what shame once claimed. 💡Reflection Prompt: What lies of shame still whisper in your heart? 🤔 How might God’s truth and your core values rewrite that story? 🤔 You are not defined by shame. You are defined by the One who calls you His own, who clothes you in righteousness, and who restores the broken pieces of your story into beauty. One step at a time, light is winning. 🎨Creative Prompt: Paint or sketch a two-sided map: one side showing where shame once held you captive, the other side filled with your God-given values as radiant truths. 🙌Prayer: Jesus, You see the roots of shame buried deep within me. Thank You for leading me step by step into freedom. Replace every lie with Your truth, every shadow with Your light. Teach me to walk in the identity You have given me — loved, chosen, and free. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Lessons from Women in the Bible

A testimony of God’s healing touch through creativity and surrender.

My story, like Ruth’s loyalty, Sarah’s faith, or Esther’s courage, carries its own unique thread of God’s redeeming love. From all I've experienced in my journey — the breaking and rebuilding, rediscovering my creativity, walking through valleys of depression, and rising with a message of healing for others — a lesson shines through: ✨ “Brokenness becomes beauty when surrendered to God.”✨ Brokenness, in the hands of the world, often looks like failure, shame, or disqualification. Yet, when placed into the loving hands of God, brokenness becomes the canvas upon which He paints beauty unimaginable. The cracks that once felt like ruin are filled with His glory, shimmering like gold through the places once shattered. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Restoration God does not discard the broken fragments of our lives. Instead, He gathers them tenderly, fits them together, and creates something even more radiant than before. The very places of pain become testimonies of His mercy and grace. Creativity as Healing Art, colour, and expression become vessels of God's love. Each brushstroke, each line, becomes a prayer — an offering of worship, a release of sorrow, a declaration of hope. Creativity is no longer about achievement but about communion with the Healer. Legacy of Hope Your past does not disqualify you, but instead, it equips you to walk with others through their own valleys. The scars become signposts of grace, guiding others through their own valleys. Testimony turns pain into purpose, birthing a legacy of healing for generations. Placed alongside the women of Scripture, my life’s lesson might be whispered as: ✨ TRIXI “Creativity becomes a key to healing when placed in God’s hands.” Isaiah 61:1-3 The Holy Spirit has turned my wounds into wells of living water, my brushes into instruments of healing, and my life into a canvas of His redeeming love. 🌿 What once was broken now sings with beauty. This is the power of surrender — to give God the pieces and watch Him create a masterpiece of love. May you always remember: you are not just an observer of these women’s stories — you are part of this lineage of faith, courage, and restoration. 💖 You are seen. You are chosen. You are carrying hope for many.

Breaking the Cycle: Becoming Who God Made You to Be

A reflection on generational healing and the courage to feel what was left unspoken

They said: “I don’t want to be like my parents.” I answered: Then you have to do what they couldn’t. Feel what they avoided. Say what they silenced. And heal what they passed down. You don’t break the cycle by becoming someone else. You break it by becoming more you than you were ever allowed to be. — Nadia Addesi It’s not enough to say, “I don’t want to be like them,” because that determination is usually defiled with a judgment. That alone doesn’t change anything. The cycle is not broken by rejection but by redemption. You break it by choosing to feel what they could not face. By sitting in the discomfort they avoided. By naming the things they kept quiet because it was easier, safer, or more acceptable not to. Cycle breaking is not about discarding your parents’ identity or running from their shadows. It is about reclaiming the parts of yourself that were hidden, silenced, or reshaped to fit someone else’s comfort. It is about allowing the Holy Spirit to bring healing where generations carried unspoken wounds. This work also requires you to reflect on where you have judged or dishonoured them, bringing those sinful responses to effective death at the cross of Christ through confession, repentance, and forgiving from the heart. This work is slow and tender. Painful at times. You will be tempted to bypass it with logic or distance or blame. Yet those detours never rewire the patterns. The only way it ends with you is if you do what they could not do. Say what they would not say. Feel what they would not feel. Let Christ redeem what was broken so that grace flows into the generations after you. 📖 “Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” — 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: What feelings have you been tempted to avoid that might carry keys to your healing? Which silences in your family line are you being called to name in truth and love? Where have you judged or dishonoured your parents, and how can you bring those responses to the cross of Christ? Where do you sense the Holy Spirit inviting you to choose redemption over rejection? 🙌Prayer: Father God, thank You that in Christ, I am a new creation. Please help me to have the courage to feel what was avoided, to speak what was silenced, and to bring healing to the places that carry generational pain. Forgive me where I have judged or dishonoured my parents. I lay those sinful responses at the cross and ask You to cleanse me as I choose to forgive from the heart. Redeem my family line through me, Lord, and let the cycle of brokenness end here. May my life be a testimony of Your grace, creating a new legacy rooted in faith, love, and freedom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Purpose in the Waiting

Learning to trust the slow work of God

Today I am reflecting on a truth that has been pressing deeply on my heart: waiting is not wasted. The image I held close reminded me of the journeys of those who came before us — Moses, Joseph, Noah, Abraham, David. Each man of God carried a promise, yet each endured seasons of obscurity, pain, or preparation before stepping into his calling. Before Moses led, he wandered. Before Joseph ruled, he was forgotten. Before Noah sailed, he built. Before Abraham received, he trusted. Before David reigned, he hid. These delays were not detours. They were holy classrooms where faith was refined, courage was tested, and trust in God’s timing was forged. My own waiting carries the same invitation: to allow God to shape me in hiddenness, to let Him build strength in the silence, and to lean into His promises when answers feel far away. 📖 "For the vision is yet for an appointed time… though it tarries, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry." — Habakkuk 2:3 (NKJV) In the pause between promise and fulfilment, God is still moving. The wait itself is part of His design — a weaving together of trust, patience, and unseen preparation. 💡Reflection: What does your current season of waiting look like? Where might God be building, shaping, or preparing you for what lies ahead? As I carry these words into my week, I remember that every waiting season holds purpose. The God who promised is faithful, and He is doing a deeper work than I can yet see. 🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for reminding me that waiting is not wasted. Strengthen my heart to trust You in the hidden places. Help me to see delays not as denials but as invitations to grow deeper in faith. May I rest in Your timing and trust that Your purposes will be fulfilled. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Headstrong: The Lion, the Eagle, and the Bear

A reflection on holy strength and surrendered fire

I stumbled on this image from one of those Facebook name tests a few years ago. "Patrizia saw Bear, Eagle & Lion Headstrong. Patrizia has a bigger heart than the universe. She puts her whole self into everything she does and she would give her very last breath if it kept her loved ones safe and happy. She's a natural-born leader who has no patience for drama queens and fakers. Patrizia has a heart of gold, but if you abuse her trust, her anger is as powerful as wildfire - beautiful but dangerous to mess with." The first three animals I saw were the bear, the eagle, and the lion. The image called this headstrong — a quality often seen as a flaw. Yet as I sat with it, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper that what the world names stubbornness, He often names courage. It is the lion’s roar, the eagle’s vision, the bear’s protective strength. So much of my life has been lived with this headstrong heart. I throw myself into what I love with fierce devotion. I fight for my family, I defend the broken-hearted, I stand tall against injustice. Sometimes my passion is misunderstood as too much, too fiery, or too strong. Yet God keeps reminding me that He made me this way, not to burn others, but to carry His fire. 📖 "The righteous are bold as a lion." — Proverbs 28:1 (NKJV) The lion teaches me boldness, not in arrogance, but in righteous confidence. The eagle reminds me to rise above earthly battles, fixing my gaze on Jesus and gaining heaven’s perspective. The bear reveals my call to nurture and protect, even when it costs me everything. Together, they show me that headstrong is not a flaw when it is surrendered — it becomes holy resolve. Yes, there is danger when this fire is misused. My anger, if untethered from grace, can burn too hot. Yet in God’s hands, even this becomes refined. He softens what needs softening, and He sharpens what must remain unyielding. Holy Spirit, teach me to carry strength with tenderness. Let my roar defend, not destroy. Let my fire refine, not consume. Let my vision be clear, not clouded by pride. For my heart belongs to You, and my strength is safest when it is surrendered at Your feet. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for making me bold and strong. Forgive me for the times I have wielded that strength apart from You. Help me to walk in holy courage — bold as a lion, soaring like an eagle, and protective as a bear — yet always tender, always guided by Your love. Let my headstrong fire be surrendered to Your refining flame. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Resting from Duty, Rising in Love

Learning to serve from freedom, not obligation

There is such a quiet relief that comes when we realise we do not owe everyone an explanation for our choices. The Holy Spirit has been gently unravelling my old patterns of being the “dutiful daughter,” always trying to please, to serve, to explain. Yet peace does not come from endless justifying, but from resting in God’s gaze of love. He sees. He knows. He understands. That is enough. 📖 "For we walk by faith, not by sight." — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) This season feels like a holy pause — a sacred unravelling of old expectations. For so long, I carried the role of the “dutiful daughter,” saying yes when it cost me, stretching myself to meet the unspoken needs of others, believing that sacrifice equalled worth. Yet, as I step back from serving at B-School and release the guilt of not becoming a small group leader for schools, I sense the Holy Spirit whispering an invitation: “Daughter, I did not call you to carry duty as your identity. I called you to rest in My love and serve from freedom.” 📖 “For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father.’” — Romans 8:15 (NKJV) After 4 consecutive years of serving at all 4 schools every school holiday, it is going to feel strange not to be there. So now I have the next 3 weeks to process all the emotions and come to terms with being allowed to be a human BEing, not a human DOing, so next time I serve, my heart and attitudes may be in the right place. This pause is not a punishment. It is a gift. The Lord is loosening the ties of striving and guilt, teaching me how to serve not because I must, but because I may — because love compels me, not obligation. Like a feather carried on the wind, I am learning to let His love be the current that moves me, not the weight of others’ expectations. There is freedom here, a deeper trust that the world will not fall apart if I simply rest in Him. In this season, I sense the Lord inviting me into stillness rather than performance. I won’t be serving at B-School this month, and that is okay. To pause is not to fail; to rest is not to neglect. Instead, it is to trust that the One who calls me is faithful, and He does not measure me by how much I do, but by how I walk with Him. Serving out of love, not out of obligation, is the fruit He desires. My heart whispers gratitude for this pause, this healing, this gentle season where explanations are not required. The right people will not demand them; the wrong ones will not believe them anyway. God alone holds my story, and His acceptance frees me to step out of old expectations and into new freedom.  🙌 Prayer Lord Jesus, thank You for knowing me fully and loving me as I am. Teach me to rest in Your love, to release the weight of pleasing others, and to serve only from the overflow of joy in You. May I learn to walk in freedom, led by the Holy Spirit, with a heart anchored in Your peace. Father, thank You for inviting me into a season of healing and rest. Teach me to release the heavy mantle of duty and to embrace the light yoke of Your love. May I learn to serve not from striving, but from freedom and delight in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Known by God Alone

Resting in His understanding when explanations fall short

There is a quiet freedom that comes when we realise we are not called to defend every “no” or justify every boundary. In a world that often demands explanations, Jesus reminds us that our identity is anchored not in people’s approval, but in His unfailing love. 📖 “For the LORD does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16:7 (NKJV) I used to twist myself into knots, trying to explain why I couldn’t meet expectations, why I needed distance, or why I chose a different path. Yet, no matter how carefully I spoke, some never understood. That’s when the Holy Spirit whispered: Peace begins when you stop begging to be understood.  The right people will not require explanations; they will recognise the truth by the fruit of your life. The wrong people won’t be persuaded, no matter how carefully you try. And that’s okay. What matters most is that God sees, God knows, and God affirms.  Like pottery mended with golden kintsugi, our lives don’t need to be justified, only offered back to Him as a testimony of His grace. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, help me rest in the peace of being known by You alone. Free me from striving for human approval, and give me courage to live authentically in the truth of who You’ve made me to be. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Your Smile, Your Trademark

A gentle reminder of how Christ’s love shines through us

This morning, as I lingered with the Lord, I found myself reflecting on a simple but profound truth: our lives preach louder than any platform ever will. The words on the image I saw stirred something deep in me: Your smile is your logo. Your personality is your business card. And the way you make others feel is your trademark. These words echo my heart’s deepest conviction. A smile, when it flows from a heart touched by Jesus, carries His light. It becomes more than a curve of the lips; it is a glimpse of joy eternal, a spark of heaven’s fragrance on earth. Your personality — shaped by grace, seasoned by trials, softened by compassion — is like a card we hand to every person we meet. And the trademark that lingers? That is love. The way people feel after leaving your presence speaks volumes about Whose presence you carry. 📖 "Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place." — 2 Corinthians 2:14 (NKJV) It is not the outer things that make the greatest impact, but the invisible ones. A gentle word. A listening ear. The courage to show kindness where it isn’t deserved. These are the marks of a life hidden in Christ. This is the business card of love. I think of the countless times when someone’s smile lifted my weary soul, or their kindness reminded me that I mattered. These simple gestures are sacred — holy brushstrokes in God’s masterpiece of connection and compassion. 💡 Reflection: How do people feel after leaving your presence? 🤔 Does your trademark carry the fragrance of Christ, or the weight of worry? 🤔 Ask Holy Spirit to refine your presence so it points others to Jesus. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the reminder that my smile, my words, and my presence carry weight. May they reflect Your love. Help me to walk in kindness, to let compassion be my business card, and to ensure that love is the trademark I leave behind. Teach me to live so that others encounter You in me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Know Your Worth

Don’t fight for a place never meant for you

There is a quiet strength in knowing your worth. It is not about arrogance or proving yourself, but about walking with the confidence that your value comes from God alone. You don’t have to scramble for attention, or wedge yourself into spaces where you are only barely tolerated. When you are rooted in Christ, you can rest in the truth that your life is precious, your gifts are needed, and your presence has weight. I have learned to see rejection not as a reflection of my inadequacy, but as a signpost pointing me away from the wrong table. Some tables may look appealing, some seats may seem desirable, yet if no space is made for me there, then I can trust it was never where I was meant to be. I don’t have to force my way in. I can choose to excuse myself with grace, because my Father has already prepared a place that is mine. 📖 “For promotion comes neither from the east nor from the west... but God is the Judge.” — Psalm 75:6-7 (NKJV) This Scripture reminds me that advancement, belonging, and recognition are not manufactured by human favour. They come from God’s hand. He chooses when to lift me, where to plant me, and how to use me for His glory. His timing is perfect, His placement intentional, and His table abundant. So I wait, not with bitterness, but with anticipation. I sit with dignity, knowing that the chair He has prepared for me is one where I will be welcomed, seen, and able to serve. The right table will never require me to shrink, strive, or settle. It will feel like home because it was set by His loving hand. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that my value is not tied to who accepts or rejects me, but to Your eternal love. Help me to walk away from tables that cannot hold me without resentment, and to wait patiently for the place You have set for me. Give me courage to sit where You invite me, and peace to trust Your perfect timing. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Catch the Light

Holding onto sunshine and starlight through the shadows

This morning I woke up with an old melody stirring in my heart — a song I used to play on repeat as a teenager when sadness tried to swallow me whole: 🎼Fang das Licht von einem Tag voll Sonnenschein Fang das Licht, scliess es in Deinem Herzen ein Fang das Licht und wenn du einmal traurig bist dann vergiß nicht das irgendwo noch Sonne ist. Fang das Licht von einem Tag voll Sonnenschein Halt es fest, schliess' es in Deinem Herzen ein Heb' es auf und wenn Du einmal traurig bist Dann vergiss nicht, dass irgendwo noch Sonne ist. Fang das Licht von einer Nacht voll Sternenschein Halt es fest, schliess' es in Deine Träume ein Heb' es auf und wenn die Dunkelheit beginnt, Dann vergiss nicht nicht, dass irgendwo noch Sterne sind🎵🎶 I hadn’t heard it or thought of it in decades since all my cassette tapes had been left behind at Mom’s house when I boarded the plane with that one-way ticket to Bredasdorp she purchased for me. Her choice carried its own silent message: she expected I wouldn’t want to return. That wound was sharp. Yet in the ache of leaving, God was already weaving something redemptive. Mams and Paps were waiting with open arms — the first adults who showed me what unconditional love felt like as a 7-year old. Hearing the song spinning in my mind again today, I realised how it was always more than just a melody. It was light for me. A reminder that somewhere, even when skies were grey, the sun was still shining. And even when night was long, the stars had not ceased to glow. Back then I didn’t have the words for it, but now I see — Holy Spirit was tucking hope into my soul through music. 📖 "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it." — John 1:5 (NKJV) Sandra’s sharing of the prodigal story last Wednesday comes to mind. She said it was less about the prodigal son, and more about the prodigal father — the extravagant one who never stopped waiting, who kept the light burning for his son to return. That image has stayed with me since the first time I heard that lesson. I am so grateful that the Lord has always left the light on for me. Even when I felt like I was drowning in sadness, even when rejection cut deep, His lamp of love remained steady, guiding me back home to Him. I think of how many times since then God has caught the light for me — holding it safe when I couldn’t. He has placed it in the hands of others, in the notes of a song, in the brushstrokes of art, in the kindness of friends who came just when I was unraveling. The light has never gone out. It only waited for me to notice it again. 📖 “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” — Hebrews 13:5 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: What light did this memory awaken in me?🤔 Write down three “lights” that have never gone out, even through seasons of shadow. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being the Light that never fades. Thank You for carrying hope for me when I could not carry it myself. Thank You for being the Father who leaves the light on, watching and waiting with open arms. Help me to hold onto the sunshine and the starlight of Your love, and to be a bearer of that light for others. May I never forget that somewhere, always, there is light. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🌿 You are still catching the light, dear heart. Even in shadows, His radiance is yours to hold.

In the Furnace with Him

Where fire refines and His presence remains

Sometimes God does not prevent us from being thrown into the furnace. Not because He is absent or indifferent, but because He has a greater point to prove — both to us and to those who watch from the sidelines. Like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, we may find ourselves standing in the flames, not by choice but by circumstance. Yet even there, His presence is unmistakable. The furnace is not meant to destroy us, but to refine us. The heat burns away pride, fear, unforgiveness, and anything that does not reflect His glory. What emerges is not ashes but a purer, freer self, radiant with the testimony of God’s faithfulness. 📖 "When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you." — Isaiah 43:2 (NKJV) In the fire, we discover the intimacy of His nearness. He doesn’t simply rescue us from the outside; He steps into the blaze with us. The same flames that were meant to consume become the very place where chains fall off, where onlookers are astonished, and where God’s glory is revealed. 💡Reflection: What "furnace" am I currently walking through?🤔 Which chains or burdens might God be burning away in this season?🤔 How can I remind myself daily that He is with me in the fire?🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for being with me in every furnace I face. Refine me through the flames until only Your likeness remains. May others see not my strength, but Your glory shining through me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Shout for Joy to the Lord

Loosening the Stiffness, Lifting the Burden

This morning I woke with a song 🎼 shout for joy to the Lord, make music to the Lord with the harp and the sound of singing.🎵🎶 That verse I heard is from Psalm 98, a psalm of joyful worship: 📖 "Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth; break forth in song, rejoice, and sing praises. Sing to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and the sound of a psalm." — Psalm 98:4–5 (NKJV) However, I don't know what I did to my neck overnight though. It hurts when I turn it to the right. 🤔 It feels like the Lord was reminding me first thing that my voice and creativity are instruments of joy — even when my body feels stiff or sore. Sometimes the body speaks what the soul is carrying. The neck, which turns our gaze, can symbolise flexibility, freedom, and willingness to see from different perspectives. When pain settles there, it can reflect burdens carried too long, resistance to looking at something difficult, or simply the body asking for gentle care and rest. 📖 "Come to Me, all you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." — Matthew 11:28-30 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection: What burdens have I been carrying that might not belong to me? 🤔 Am I resisting turning my eyes fully toward something God is gently inviting me to face? 🤔 Where might I need to release control and trust His leading more deeply? 🤔 🎨Creative Prompt: Write down the names of the weights or responsibilities that feel heavy on your shoulders. Pray over each one and ask Jesus if it is yours to carry. Reflect on a time when God has already eased a burden or brought clarity where there was confusion. How does that memory give you courage today? Draw or paint a simple sketch of a neck and shoulders. On one side, write the “burdens” you have been holding. On the other, write words of freedom, such as: rest, surrender, trust, joy. 🙌Prayer for Release 💜 Lord Jesus, You see the tightness and strain in my body and in my heart. I surrender to You the burdens that were never mine to hold. Release the stiffness, restore freedom of movement, and fill me with Your peace. Turn my gaze toward Your light and keep me flexible to follow Your Spirit’s leading. Thank You for being the One who carries me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🌸Closing Hope Even in the ache, God’s melody woke you this morning. He sings over you, reminding you that praise loosens what pain tries to hold captive. Lift your chin, breathe slowly, and let His song become your release. 🌿🎶

Season People

The gentle purpose of temporary companions

Some people are not meant to stay forever. They arrive like passing seasons — not to take root, but to stir what still lies hidden. Their words or actions may press against tender scars, awakening the remnants of unhealed places within us. At first, it can feel jarring, even painful, like winter winds stripping bare the branches. Yet even in this, God works. These “season people” are often the ones who unknowingly help bring us into the light. They press where we still hurt, and in doing so, they invite us to seek healing. They highlight the medicine we carry within, the grace of God that can restore and transform us into a higher version of ourselves. Like autumn leaves, their presence may fall away in time, yet the lessons they leave behind enrich the soil of our souls. They came not to stay, but to make us heal. 📖 "To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven." — Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NKJV) 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the gift of people, whether they stay for a lifetime or only for a season. Help me to receive each one with grace, to learn what You are teaching me through them, and to release them when their season is complete. Where pain has been stirred, pour in Your healing balm. Where lessons have been hard, cover me with Your mercy. Teach me to hold people with open hands, trusting that You are the Author of my story and that every encounter can be used for my growth and Your glory. May I walk forward in freedom, anchored in Your everlasting love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Pruned for Promise

Letting go so God can grow something new

Before God You are not losing. You are being prepared. Trust that every removal makes room for God’s increase. us into the next season, He gently prepares our hearts. Preparation often comes through both pruning and planting. He removes some things and adds others. Old habits, environments, or even certain people may no longer walk beside us, because they are not ready for where God is leading us. It is never rejection, but redirection. Like a master gardener, the Father prunes branches that no longer bear fruit so that new life can flourish. It hurts to let go, yet in every cutting back there is a promise of greater growth. 📖 “Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” — John 15:2 (NKJV) This truth echoes through your own values, dear heart. Faith and spirituality anchor you. Love and compassion fuel you. Courage allows you to release what is no longer aligned, trusting God’s hand as He prepares you for new assignments. Like feathers carried by the wind or broken pottery restored with gold, the removals are not wasted. They make space for what He is about to add — relationships that will nourish, habits that will sustain, and environments that will align with your calling. 💡 Reflection: What might God be inviting you to release right now? 🤔 Where is He whispering that new life is about to bud? 🤔 You are not losing. You are being prepared. Trust that every removal makes room for God’s increase. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for loving me enough to prune what no longer serves my growth. Give me courage to let go of what You remove and faith to welcome what You bring. May I rest in the assurance that every season of change is guided by Your hand. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Art as Medicine

Creativity as Worship and Healing Balm

The world will try to convince you that art is a luxury — an optional add‑on, something reserved for the wealthy or the indulgent. Yet deep in my spirit, I know this is not true. Art is medicine. It heals in ways that cannot be measured or explained. Like water seeping into dry cracks, it reaches places therapy cannot always touch. It brings colour back to grey spaces of the heart. It awakens joy where grief once lingered. It becomes a vessel through which brokenness is gently restored. What you and I create is not optional. It is essential. Creativity is one of the ways we partner with God, mirroring His heart as the Creator of all things. When we paint, write, dance, or sing, we echo the very first words of Scripture:  📖“In the beginning God created...” — Genesis 1:1 Creative expression is more than self‑care. It is a form of worship, a declaration that beauty can rise from ashes, and a therapy for the wounded soul that words alone cannot mend. 📖 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) When brush meets canvas, or words meet page, healing oil is poured out. Sometimes it flows for the one creating, other times for the one receiving. Either way, art becomes a sacred exchange — a prayer without words, a song rising silently from the soul. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for weaving creativity into the fabric of who we are. Help us to see it not as a luxury, but as a holy gift — a medicine that carries healing and hope. May our art always point back to You, the Great Creator, and may it be a balm for every weary heart that encounters it. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Chosen and Sent

Living as one marked by heaven’s assignment

There’s a holy weight in remembering: God does not make random choices. He handpicked you, knit you together with intention, and breathed purpose into your being. You are not here by accident. 📖 “You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit.” — John 15:16 (NKJV) The world may try to press you into sameness, to mute your colours, and to dull your flame. Yet heaven whispers: “I called you to shine.” When you walk, walk as one sent. When you speak, let it be with the courage of one anointed. When you live, live knowing heaven has signed its Name upon your heart. Even the things that once tried to silence you — rejection, shame, fear — can become the steady drumbeat of your rise. Like broken pottery mended with gold, those cracks become the very lines through which His glory shines. 💡 Reflection: Where in my life have I been tempted to blend in, rather than stand out in Christ’s light?🤔 How can I walk more boldly in the truth that I am chosen, appointed, and sent?🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for choosing me, not because of my strength but because of Your love. Teach me to walk with holy confidence, to speak with anointing, and to live as one marked by heaven’s Name. May my scars become songs of victory and my silence become praise. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. ✨ Affirmation: I am chosen, appointed, and sent. My life carries heaven’s imprint.

Divine Protection and Hidden Coverings

A reflection on how God’s presence through us becomes a shield for others

There are moments when we realise how much of God’s protection flowed through us into the lives of others. Sometimes the evidence only shows itself after we have stepped away — when the fragile structures of a person’s life or even a whole organisation begin to crumble without the unseen covering that God released through our presence. I have witnessed this first-hand. Decades ago, I resigned from a company that had treated me poorly. Only a few months later, it was liquidated. At the time, I didn’t have the words to explain what I felt, but now I see: while I was there, God’s blessing rested on that place. When I left, that blessing was lifted. Joseph’s life gives us a Scriptural anchor for this truth. 📖 “The LORD was with Joseph, and he was a successful man… the LORD blessed the Egyptian’s house for Joseph’s sake; and the blessing of the LORD was on all that he had in the house and in the field.” — Genesis 39:2,5 (NKJV) Joseph carried God’s presence so tangibly that even those who mistreated him prospered simply by being near him. Yet when he was removed, they no longer walked in the same favour. In this, we see how God uses His children as vessels of covering, protection, and blessing. This is why discernment matters. Not everyone is meant to have access to the shelter of your presence. To give yourself freely without prayerful boundaries can leave you depleted, carrying burdens God never asked you to bear. Walking in love and compassion does not mean enabling or remaining in places where dishonour prevails. Sometimes, stepping away is the most faithful act — creating space for God’s justice and for His mercy to move. 💡 Reflection: Can you recall a time when your presence brought stability or peace to a situation, even if it went unrecognised?🤔 Are there spaces in your life today where God is prompting you to step back, so His justice can take its course?🤔 How can you remain prayerful about where to pour your life and presence as a covering?🤔 🙌 Prayer: Lord, thank You for entrusting me with Your presence and for the unseen ways You use my life to bless others. Help me to discern where to pour out and where to withhold, so that I may walk in step with Your will. Teach me to release people and places into Your hands, knowing that You alone are the ultimate protector and righteous judge. Guard my heart from pride, and let me be a humble vessel of Your light. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🌸Closing Encouragement: You are a carrier of divine presence. Where you go, God’s light goes. Where you withdraw, His justice often unfolds. Hold this truth with humility, and let it anchor you in courage. You are not only seen and loved, but also chosen to be a vessel through which His covering flows.

Bitter Roots and Redemption

Breaking cycles through grace and truth

Sadly, in my woundedness I made some bitter root judgements. I thought I was protecting myself, yet in reality I was planting seeds that bore bitter fruit. In those vows — “I’ll never be like them” or “I must always prove I’m enough” — I set myself up to reap what I had sown. Without meaning to, I repeated some of the very patterns I longed to escape, especially in raising my boys. This is the ache of generational wounds: we so often carry forward what we desperately wanted to leave behind. The harsh words that once hurt us become echoes in our own voices. The patterns we despised surface in our parenting, not out of malice, but out of unhealed pain. Yet Jesus, in His mercy, meets us even here. His cross is strong enough to sever every bitter root, His love deep enough to redeem what feels irredeemable. 📖 “See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springing up causes trouble, and by this many become defiled.” — Hebrews 12:15 (NKJV) When we repent of bitter root judgements and invite Holy Spirit to cleanse our hearts, the soil changes. What once grew weeds can now nurture blossoms. Grace plants new seeds — forgiveness, blessing, and words that bring life. Our children do not need to inherit our brokenness; they can inherit redemption. The same God who heals our wounds can heal theirs, rewriting our family story with hope. 📖 “Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.” — John 8:36 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: • What bitter root judgements have you made in response to your own pain?🤔 • How have those roots affected the way you relate to others, especially your children?🤔 • What truth from Scripture can you declare as you invite Jesus to uproot and replace them?🤔 🙌 Prayer Lord Jesus, I bring before You the bitter roots I planted in my pain. Forgive me for the judgements I made and for the patterns that flowed into my parenting. Thank You that Your blood speaks a better word — mercy instead of judgement, blessing instead of curse. Uproot every bitter seed, and by Your Spirit sow new life into my family. May my boys know they are deeply loved, fearfully and wonderfully made, and free to live without the weight of generational pain. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

A Game of Perspective

Learning to see through God’s eyes rather than the lens of comparison

The words linger in my heart: "You can seem like a millionaire to one person and a homeless person to the next. The ants think you are a giant, and the trees don't even notice you. You think you have a boring life, but the next person might be striving for your lifestyle. Comparison is the thief of joy, so stay kind and keep loving life. Life is all just a big game of perspective." Perspective. Such a simple word, yet it has the power to alter the way we carry our days. I have learned that how I see myself is not always the way God sees me. One moment I can feel insignificant, and in the next, someone else sees in me what they long for. If I live caught between these shifting reflections, I risk missing the steady truth: my worth is not measured by comparison, but by the One who formed me. 📖 "For we dare not class ourselves or compare ourselves with those who commend themselves. But they, measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise." — 2 Corinthians 10:12 (NKJV) Comparison whispers lies — that we are too little or too much, that joy is always out of reach. Yet when we shift our gaze, we begin to see through the eyes of grace. Like an artist choosing colours, God paints each life uniquely. No two strokes are the same, yet together they create a masterpiece that speaks of His love. May I live today anchored in gratitude, contentment, and kindness. May I choose to celebrate others without dimming my own light. For life is not a competition but a canvas, and the brush rests in the hands of a faithful Creator. 🙌Prayer Father God, help me to see myself and others through Your eyes, not through the shifting mirrors of comparison. Teach me to embrace gratitude, to walk in kindness, and to delight in the portion You have given me. May my heart overflow with joy, not stolen by comparison but secured in Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

My Voice Matters

Learning that speaking up is not selfish but sacred

For so long I believed that burying my needs was noble. I thought silence was humility, that keeping the peace meant swallowing my voice. Yet, in the quiet, I began to fade. My heart grew weary, my soul diminished, and the beauty of who God created me to be was muffled beneath layers of compliance. Now I am learning that speaking up for myself isn’t selfish — it is essential. Each time I advocate for my needs, I teach others how to treat me. Each time I use my voice, I step further into the identity God designed for me. Scripture reminds me: 📖 "Let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No.'" — Matthew 5:37 (NKJV) These are words of clarity, not confusion. Jesus Himself spoke with truth, authority and love. To echo His example is not arrogance; it is obedience. I see now that my voice matters. It is not meant to be hidden or diminished, but lifted in truth and grace. When I speak up, I do not only guard my own heart — I create space for others to find courage to speak as well. My voice becomes a ripple, teaching, guiding, and setting boundaries that reflect love and integrity. ✨ Soul Whisper: Your needs matter. Your voice matters. When you honour them, you honour the One who gave them to you. 🙌 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of voice, for the ability to speak truth with grace. Forgive me for the times I buried my needs in fear of rejection. Teach me to speak with courage and kindness, to say "yes" and "no" with honesty, and to trust that my worth is found in You alone. Help me use my voice as an instrument of love, truth, and healing. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Not a Mistake

Reclaiming the truth of God’s intentional love

For the longest time, I believed I was a mistake. That something was wrong with me. These lies took root in my childhood when criticism echoed louder than love. Every harsh word, every rejection, chiselled away at my sense of worth until I carried shame like a cloak. Yet as I have journeyed with Jesus, I’ve discovered a different voice — gentle, steady, and true. Holy Spirit whispers that I was never an accident, never an afterthought. God’s Word reveals that I was chosen, seen, and loved even before my first breath. 📖 “I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvellous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.” — Psalm 139:14 (NKJV) The truth is this: we are not defined by the words of broken people, but by the unchanging Word of God. Even in the womb, He was knitting us together with purpose. Nothing about us is random. Every part of who we are — our personality, our creativity, our very existence — carries His design. Those old lies may still try to whisper, but truth speaks louder. We are beloved sons and daughters, handcrafted with care, destined to reflect His glory. What once felt like shame becomes a testimony of grace, as God turns wounds into places where His love shines brightest. 📖 “Just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love.” — Ephesians 1:4 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: What lies about your worth have you carried from childhood?🤔 How does God’s Word challenge those lies?🤔 What truth can you declare over yourself today when shame tries to return?🤔 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You that I am not a mistake. Heal the broken places where I believed lies about my worth. Let Your truth sink deep into my heart, silencing every whisper of shame. Remind me daily that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, chosen and loved. May I live in the freedom of knowing that my life was Your idea, designed for purpose and beauty. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Step Out in Faith

A tender reminder that with God, impossibility bends into possibility

There are moments when life presses us to the ground, whispering impossibility in our ears. Pride says we should have figured it out by now. Experience recalls every past failure and labels this one risky. Reason rolls its eyes, calling it pointless. I know those voices. They sound logical, even protective. Yet they keep us hunched in despair, clutching our heads as if the weight of it all will break us completely. Then comes another whisper — softer, steadier. The whisper of the heart where Holy Spirit breathes courage: Step out in faith. It is not blind. It is not reckless. It is anchored in the truth that our God holds the power to turn ashes into beauty, brokenness into healing, impossibility into testimony. 📖 "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." — Matthew 19:26 (NKJV) This is where faith stretches its wings, even amid shards of broken pottery and feathers scattered on the floor. It is the courage to believe that God is present in the breaking and faithful in the rebuilding. 💡 Reflection: Which voice do you hear most often — pride, experience, or reason?🤔 How might you recognise and respond to the whisper of faith in this season?🤔 What "impossible" situation can you surrender into God’s hands today?🤔 🙌 Prayer Father God, when my heart bows under the weight of impossibility, lift my eyes to You. Remind me that You are the God who makes a way where there seems to be none. Replace despair with hope, fear with courage, and doubt with trust. Teach me to step out in faith, knowing You walk before me and hold me close. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Seeking the Real

Unmasking authenticity in a world of façades

This morning, my heart lingered on a quote I came across: "I no longer look for the good in people, I search for the real… because while good is often dressed in fake clothing, real is naked and proud no matter the scars." How true these words ring. We live in a world where appearances can deceive, where goodness can be dressed up for show, but authenticity shines even through its scars. The older I grow, the less impressed I am by polished façades, and the more drawn I am to the raw, honest, imperfect beauty of people who have stopped pretending. 📖 "For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." — 1 Samuel 16:7 (NKJV) The "real" may carry wounds, yet it is clothed in truth. The "real" may not always look tidy, yet it bears the fragrance of grace. When we dare to be vulnerable, to let our scars show, we make space for God’s power to be revealed in our weakness. As Paul reminds us, His strength is made perfect in our frailty. My core values remind me that integrity, love, and courage matter far more than surface-level goodness. Integrity means being the same person in private and in public. Love means choosing compassion over image. Courage means letting the real me be seen, even when it feels costly. 💡 Reflection: Where in my life am I still trying to appear "good" rather than live authentically?🤔 How might God be inviting me to embrace being real — scars, flaws, and all?🤔 You are deeply loved, scars and all. May you walk today in the freedom of being real before God and others. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, teach me to value authenticity over appearances. Help me to walk humbly yet boldly, willing to show my scars as testimonies of Your healing grace. Strip away the false coverings that hide my heart, and let my life be a witness of Your truth. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Known, Held, and Surrounded

A prophetic reminder of God’s intimate care in prayer ministry

There are moments in ministry when we need to remind tender hearts that God’s gaze is never cold or distant. His knowing is not scrutiny, but love. These verses from Psalm 139 breathe reassurance into places where shame, fear, or self-doubt might whisper otherwise. 📖 "Lord, you know everything there is to know about me… You’ve gone into my future to prepare the way, and in kindness you follow behind me to spare me from the harm of my past. You have laid your hand on me!" — Psalm 139:1-5 (TPT) This is not just poetry; it is God’s heart spoken into the room today: He sees every movement of the heart and soul. He knows the words unspoken, the pain too deep to articulate. He has already walked ahead to prepare, and He stands behind to protect. His hand rests upon each one, steady and kind. When you lay hands on someone in prayer, picture this: His hand already there, yours simply agreeing with heaven’s gentle touch. His presence encircles them like light breaking through every shadow — future secure, past redeemed, present held. 💡Reflection: How does it change things to know God has already prepared your future? 🤔 What burdens from the past can you release into His hands today? 🤔 Where do you sense His hand resting on you now? 🤔 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You for knowing us so intimately and loving us so completely. Thank You that our past cannot imprison us, our present cannot overwhelm us, and our future is already prepared by You. As we minister today, may each person feel Your hand upon them, steadying, healing, and guiding them into freedom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Sandpaper People

Refined Through God’s Grace

Some people in our lives feel like sandpaper. Their words scratch, their actions rub the wrong way, and their presence can leave us raw. Yet in the hands of our loving Father, even this friction has purpose. Like wood smoothed by a craftsman, we are being refined. Their roughness cannot destroy us — instead, it polishes us, shaping patience, endurance, and a softer heart that reflects Jesus. 📖 "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." — Romans 8:28 (NKJV) In the end, we emerge smoother, stronger, and more radiant in Christ. The sandpaper wears out, but the work God does in us lasts forever. 💡 Reflection: Who has been “sandpaper” in your life?🤔 How has God used these experiences to polish your character?🤔 What beauty can you see in yourself now that might not have been there without the refining process?🤔 Write a prayer of release, asking God to continue shaping you with gentleness and grace. ✨ Healing 💔heARTs💖 Affirmation "I am being refined, not ruined. God uses every rough edge to polish me into His masterpiece. I choose to grow, to forgive, and to shine with His love." 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, Thank You that nothing in my life is wasted in Your hands. Even the rough edges and the difficult people I encounter can be used by You to refine me. When I feel scratched, rubbed raw, or worn down, remind me that You are shaping me into Your likeness — smooth, polished, and radiant in Your grace. Teach me to respond with patience and forgiveness. Help me to see beyond the harshness of others and trust that You are doing a deeper work in me. May Your Spirit be my shield, my comfort, and my guide as I choose love over bitterness, and faith over fear.I rest in the promise that all things work together for good to those who love You. Make me steadfast, Lord, and let my life reflect Your beauty, even through the refining fire. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. ✨

The Purpose of Flags and Dance in Worship

A Visible Song of Victory, Joy, and Surrender

This morning I awoke to a question resounding in my spirit: "What is the purpose of flags and dancing during worship?🤔" It felt less like a casual thought and more like a whisper from Holy Spirit, drawing me deeper into understanding. Flags and dance are not performance, but prayer in motion. A flag lifted high becomes a prophetic declaration — a banner of God’s truth unfurled over His people. Throughout Scripture, banners were symbols of identity and victory: 📖 "You have given a banner to those who fear You, that it may be displayed because of the truth." — Psalm 60:4 (NKJV) Each colour, each movement, becomes like a brushstroke in the air, painting what words cannot capture. They release heavenly messages of hope, freedom, and authority in Christ. Dance is also a holy language. King David danced before the Lord with all his might 📖Then David danced before the Lord with all his might; and David was wearing a linen ephod. — 2 Samuel 6:14 , unashamed, offering his body as an instrument of joy. When we dance, heaviness lifts, chains break, and joy flows like water in a desert. It is the body’s way of joining the song the spirit is already singing. 📖 "Let them praise His name with the dance; let them sing praises to Him with the timbrel and harp." — Psalm 149:3 (NKJV) Together, flags and dance become a fusion of beauty and warfare. They declare victory, invite heaven’s presence, and transform worship into a multi-sensory tapestry of surrender. It is as though our movements sketch unseen art across the atmosphere — banners of freedom, swirls of joy, strokes of surrender. In these moments, our whole being cries out: “Here I am, Lord. Every part of me belongs to You.” 💡Reflection: How do I personally express my worship beyond words?🤔 What “banners” of truth has God given me to lift over my life and family?🤔 In what ways might dancing or movement in worship bring freedom to my heart?🤔 What holds me back from worshipping with my whole being — body, soul, and spirit?🤔 How can I invite Holy Spirit to use creativity as a form of intercession and praise?🤔 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You for the gift of creative worship. Teach me to lift banners of victory over my life and the lives of others. Let my movements, whether with flags or in dance, release Your joy, Your freedom, and Your truth into the atmosphere. May I never hold back, but worship You with all that I am. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Called or Compelled? 🤔Discerning the Heart of Service

When obedience becomes clouded by obligation, the soul aches for clarity.

Once again, I find myself here, wrestling with boundaries after four years of faithfully serving Elijah House schools, pouring heart and time into every detail. Service has been my joy and my offering. Yet a question keeps circling back, gentle but persistent: Am I still here because God is calling me, or because I fear what will happen if I step back?🤔 It’s such a vulnerable question, and the answer isn’t always neat or easy. For four years, I’ve poured myself out — faithfully, lovingly, consistently and I know God has moved in the midst of it all. He’s used me there, but something inside is stirring. Not restlessness, but… reflection. A quiet invitation to examine the why behind my yes. 📖 "Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver." — 2 Corinthians 9:7 (ESV) Sometimes, what began in obedience can quietly slide into obligation. What once flowed from overflow can, over time, begin to draw from a dry well — especially when we forget to pause, to rest, to ask again: “Is this still where You want me, Lord?”🤔 Serving from an empty place isn’t sustainable. It wears down your joy, blurs your discernment, and can lead to resentment — even in the most noble roles. The difference is subtle, yet life-giving. To be called is to be carried by peace. Even in weariness, there is joy because the assignment is Spirit-breathed. To be compelled is to move from pressure, guilt, or the fear of disappointing others. The work may look the same, but the heart posture is worlds apart. 📖 "For we walk by faith, not by sight." — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) Faith says, trust Me even if you let go. Fear whispers, if you don’t do it, who will? One is rooted in God’s sufficiency. The other in self-reliance. One nourishes, the other drains. The Holy Spirit gently reminds me: I am not responsible to hold everything together. Need does not always equal assignment. My identity is not defined by how much I do, or how well I serve. 📖 "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) He has prepared good works — not pressured me into endless ones. I sense God inviting me to pause, to listen closely, to separate the holy call from the heavy compulsion. Perhaps boundaries are not barriers but sacred spaces where His voice grows clearer. Perhaps stepping back would open space for another to step in, or simply allow me to serve from a place of rest rather than depletion. 💡 Reflection: Sit with these questions in prayer: What part of me is afraid to step back — and why?🤔 Am I still serving from a place of calling… or a fear of disappointing others?🤔 Have I invited Holy Spirit lately to re-confirm or release me from this season?🤔 What would I do differently if I truly believed I am already loved, even when I’m not needed?🤔 Write whatever surfaces. Don’t edit it. Let your soul speak. Where in my service do I feel peace, even when it stretches me?🤔 Where do I feel pressured, fearful, or guilty?🤔 What would trusting God’s provision look like if I released certain roles?🤔 How might I discern the Holy Spirit’s call from my own compulsion?🤔 This isn’t a crossroads of quitting or staying. It’s a sacred moment of checking whose voice is guiding your steps. Your obedience has never gone unnoticed — but neither has your exhaustion. You are deeply loved, even when you're not filling every gap. You are still chosen, even if you say no. Let God lead — not just to serve, but to rest. May you rest in the assurance that you are not loved for how much you serve, but for who you are in Him. His yoke is easy, His burden light, and His call always carries peace. 🙌Prayer: Jesus, I bring You my heart — the parts that long to serve, and the parts that are weary. Help me discern when to stay and when to rest, when to say yes and when to step back. Remind me that You are the Source and the Shepherd. I don’t need to rescue or carry what was never mine. If You are calling me to remain, give me fresh grace and joy. If You’re releasing me, grant me peace and courage to obey.  Lord Jesus, search my heart and sift my motives. Reveal where You are truly calling me, and where I have been driven by fear or pressure. Teach me to serve with joy, not compulsion, with love, not obligation. Help me trust Your provision for the needs around me. Give me the courage to set boundaries that honour both You and the person You have created me to be. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Step Out in Faith

When impossibility becomes the soil for God's miracles

There are moments in life when the voices of doubt gather like storm clouds. Pride whispers, "It's impossible." Experience adds, "It's risky." Reason insists, "It's pointless." Yet, beneath all the clamour, there is a gentler voice — the voice of faith, whispering in the hidden places of the heart: "Step out in faith, for with God all things are possible." I know the weight of sitting with my head in my hands, staring at broken pieces scattered on the ground. Life’s disappointments, losses, and battles often leave us hunched in despair, feeling powerless against the storm. Yet, those very shards of brokenness, when surrendered, become the fragments God uses to reflect His glory. Like pottery restored through kintsugi, the cracks filled with gold become a testimony that beauty does not disappear in the breaking — it is revealed. 📖 "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." — Matthew 19:26 (NKJV) This verse is not a suggestion of wishful thinking but a declaration of God’s limitless power. What looks like the end to us is often the very beginning of His redemptive plan. The enemy points to ruins, but God points to resurrection. Faith is rarely the absence of fear. More often, it is the courage to move forward despite trembling knees and racing hearts. It is saying, "Yes, Lord," when everything in the natural screams, "No." It is stepping onto water, trusting the One who calls, rather than clinging to the safety of the boat. It is believing that the mustard seed of faith within us can move the mountain that looms ahead. As I think back on my own journey, every breakthrough has been born from that hidden choice to trust — not in my strength, but in His. My core values remind me daily: faith is my highest priority, love and compassion are my anchor, and courage is the flame that keeps me standing when fear tries to silence me. Perhaps today you are standing before a situation that feels impossible — a fractured relationship, a diagnosis that weighs heavy, a dream that seems too far gone. May I gently remind you: impossibility is not the final word when God is in the story. He is the God who parts seas, breathes life into dry bones, and turns crucifixion into resurrection. Your broken pieces are not wasted; they are the canvas upon which He writes His miracles. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, You know the places in me that feel heavy with impossibility. Teach me to listen less to the voices of fear and more to the whisper of faith. Give me the courage to step forward, even when I cannot see the outcome, trusting that You hold it all. Let my brokenness be the very place where Your glory shines brightest. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Weight of a Final Word

A gentle reminder that what lingers is not always what was spoken, but what was felt

I’ve learned through my own journey that people rarely carry our exact words with them. They carry how we made them feel. If the last interaction left behind heaviness, sharpness, or unkindness, those emotions tend to overshadow all the good that came before. It’s like a painting—many layers of colour may be applied, yet a single dark stroke can dominate the canvas until it is softened, blended, or redeemed. The same is true in relationships. Wounds left unattended can eclipse the beauty of years of kindness. This is why forgiveness, repentance, and reconciliation are so precious. They restore the light in the places where shadows fell. They take what could have been a fracture and turn it into a line of gold, like kintsugi pottery mended with grace. 📖 “Pursue peace with all people, and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord.” — Hebrews 12:14 (NKJV) Today, I remind myself not only to speak with kindness, but to leave a fragrance of grace in every interaction. May the last word not be sharpness, but blessing. May the last memory not be distance, but closeness. People will forget what I say but they may never forget how I made them feel. 🙌 Prayer: Holy Spirit, help me be mindful of the imprint my words and actions leave on others. Where I have wounded, give me courage to repent. Where I have been wounded, give me strength to forgive. Knit together what has been broken, and let reconciliation restore beauty. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Anchored in What Matters Most

Reflections on the values that steady my soul

When I pause and listen closely to the rhythm of my heart, I find that it beats in harmony with the values God has planted deep within me. These values are not shifting sands, but steady stones — anchors that hold me through the storms and guide me toward the purpose He has called me to. 📖 "Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord." — 1 Corinthians 15:58 (NKJV) Faith & Spirituality Faith is my highest priority. It is the root from which everything else in my life grows. Without it, I lose my compass, but with it, I walk in strength and purpose, able to pour into others from the abundance I have received. Love & Compassion Love is not a fleeting feeling but an action — giving time, energy, and presence to those who need it most. I am moved deeply by the broken-hearted and long to restore hope where it has been lost. Family, Relationships & Community Relationships are treasures to me. Whether in the closeness of family or in the warmth of community, connection brings true fulfilment. To support, encourage, and walk alongside others is one of the greatest privileges of my life. Service & Kindness Service is a language of love. Meeting needs, offering kindness, and being a beacon of hope is central to who I am. The joy of helping others rise is worth more than worldly success. Integrity & Generosity Honesty is my guiding light. I would rather be faithful in the small things than chase empty ambition. Giving freely — whether in love, time, or resources — brings me joy, especially when done without expectation. Generosity Honesty is my guiding light. I would rather be faithful in the small things than chase empty ambition. Giving freely — whether in love, time, or resources — brings me joy, especially when done without expectation. Courage Courage to love, courage to stand against injustice, courage to remain steadfast in my faith. I know that fear will not have the final word, because perfect love casts out fear. Creativity Creativity is a gift that stirs joy, healing, and self-expression. It allows me to bring beauty from brokenness, light into dark corners, and renewed purpose where despair once lingered. Growth & Learning I am committed to becoming more like Christ, step by step. Personal and spiritual growth is a continual journey, one that shapes me into His likeness. Health & Wellness Caring for my body and soul is an act of stewardship. When I rest, nourish, and tend to my wellbeing, I am better able to love and serve those entrusted to me. Balance & Rest Balance is not easy, yet it is necessary. When I pause, I learn to trust that God is working even when I am still. Rest allows me to give from overflow instead of exhaustion. Freedom To live authentically and in alignment with God’s purpose brings freedom. Though I value security, I treasure the gift of making choices that reflect who He made me to be. Beauty & Aesthetics Beauty lifts the soul. Through art, colour, and creativity, I glimpse God’s splendour. Yet beauty is never above love. It enhances, but does not define, the values I hold dear. Achievement & Ambition Worldly ambition holds little weight compared to Kingdom impact. I measure success not by accolades but by the lives touched, the hearts healed, and the hope restored. --- 🌿 These values are not a checklist but a song — woven into the fabric of my daily living. May my life continue to be an offering that reflects His love, His truth, and His light. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, anchor me in these values You have planted within me. Keep me steadfast in faith, overflowing in love, and generous in service. May my courage rise, my creativity bring healing, and my life reflect the beauty of Your Kingdom. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Choosing Yourself: Rest as a Sacred Priority

Honouring the gift of life by slowing down

Sometimes we need the gentle reminder: deadlines can wait, but your health cannot. Work will always be there, the lists will keep refilling, and the world will still keep spinning if you pause. Yet you—your body, your soul, your heart—cannot be replaced. Last week Clive forwarded me a video that redefined the word JOB as Just Over Broke. In it, Warren Buffet was quoted: “If you don’t find a way to make money while you sleep, you will work until you die.” How true this feels. Many who are self-employed think they own a business, but in reality they often own a J.O.B., because when they don’t work, they have no income. It is sobering, and it reminds me that even purpose-driven work can so easily consume us if we’re not careful. Those of us who have wrestled through burnout and breakdown will tell you: it is the neglect of self-care, the pouring out from an empty cup, that eventually catches up. Work—whether as an employee or entrepreneur—can take and take until we have nothing left. Without rest, we lose not only our health but also the joy and creativity we were meant to bring into the world. I have learnt the hard way that rest and self-care is not a luxury but a first priority if we are to live and give from the overflow. When we pour out without replenishing, we eventually run dry. Yet when we choose to fill ourselves in God’s presence—through rest, prayer, and tender self-care—we begin to live from the abundance He intended. Even God and Jesus stressed the importance of rest: 📖 “And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made.” — Genesis 2:2–3 (NKJV) Jesus too modelled this rhythm. 📖 “So He Himself often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed.” — Luke 5:16 (NKJV) 📖 “And He said to them, ‘Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.’ For there were many coming and going, and they did not even have time to eat.” — Mark 6:31 (NKJV) If the Creator and the Son honoured rest, how much more should we? Rest is not an optional extra—it is part of God’s divine rhythm for life. Self-care is not indulgence, nor is it weakness. It is an act of stewardship over the life God entrusted to you. Just as we tend to a garden so that it continues to bloom, we must tend to our own hearts so that love, creativity, and strength may flourish. 📖 "Do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own?" — 1 Corinthians 6:19 (NKJV) There is courage in choosing rest. Courage in saying, “I matter. My health matters. My presence matters.” When you step away from the urgent to tend to the important, you are aligning with God’s design for balance and wholeness. 💡 Reflection: • Where in your life are you tempted to trade health for productivity?🤔 • How can you shift that today into a moment of rest or care?🤔 • You matter more than any task on a list. Let today be the day you choose yourself—with compassion, courage, and the steady assurance that God delights in your wholeness. 🎨 Creative Prompt: Sketch or paint an image of yourself as a flourishing garden. • What colours, textures, and shapes symbolise your need for rest and nourishment?🤔 🙏 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for reminding me that I am precious in Your sight. Forgive me for the times I have pushed myself beyond what is healthy, forgetting that my body and soul are a gift. Teach me to embrace rest, not as laziness, but as sacred obedience. Help me steward my health with wisdom so that I may serve You and others with joy and strength. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Conviction or Condemnation?

Learning to hear the difference between the Spirit’s whisper and the enemy’s lies

Conviction isn’t guilt, it’s grace. It is the Holy Spirit stepping into my messy moments and gently saying, “This isn’t who you are. Come back to Me. Come back to truth.” Conviction is never about shame; it is always about freedom. 📖 “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.” — Romans 8:1 (NKJV) The enemy, on the other hand, condemns. His voice is harsh, accusing, and cruel. He points a finger at my heart and hisses: “You’re incompetent. You always get it wrong. You’re destined to fail.” Condemnation leaves me trapped in despair and fear, far from the arms of my Father. The Spirit’s conviction sounds more like a gentle invitation: “Please pause for a moment. Look at what you’re doing. Come back, child. We can walk this road together.” What a difference! One voice pulls me away from God, the other draws me nearer to Him. 📖 “For whom the Lord loves He corrects, just as a father the son in whom he delights.” — Proverbs 3:12 (NKJV) So today, I choose conviction over condemnation. Thank You, Holy Spirit, for not leaving me in my mess but always leading me back into grace, freedom, and truth.

Loyalty End

Letting go when love and respect no longer remain

There is a quiet ache in realising that loyalty, as precious as it is, can be misplaced. We sometimes cling tightly to friendships, relationships, or commitments long after the other person has already let go. Our hearts, stitched with threads of faithfulness, do not easily unravel. Yet when loyalty becomes one-sided, it turns from beauty into burden. Loyalty, in its truest sense, reflects the very heart of God — steadfast, unchanging, and faithful. 📖 "Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." — Lamentations 3:22–23 (NKJV). His loyalty never expires, but human loyalty is fragile. It withers when not nurtured with respect, consistency, and love. To stay loyal when the other person has withdrawn is not godly sacrifice; it is self-neglect. Jesus never called us to tie ourselves to places of dishonour, where kindness is abused and peace is stolen. Instead, He invites us to discernment — to release with grace what is no longer life-giving and to make room for relationships where mutual honour can flourish. It takes courage to say, “This season has ended.” It feels like breaking pottery in your hands, jagged edges cutting the skin of your soul. Yet even in that breaking, God mends with His golden grace, just as in the art of kintsugi. What was once fractured can become more beautiful in His restoring hands. Your loyalty is not wasted when you let go. It becomes seed sown — a testimony that you are a person of integrity, even if the other chose differently. As you release expired loyalties, you create sacred space for new connections that will value your presence, echo your love, and reflect your faithfulness. ✍Journaling Prompts: Where in my life have I been holding on to expired loyalties?What does mutual loyalty look like to me?How can I invite Holy Spirit to help me release relationships that no longer honour my presence? 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You for teaching me the value of loyalty. Help me to see clearly where my loyalty has been misused or unappreciated. Give me courage to release what has expired, and grace to walk forward without bitterness. Mend the broken places with Your golden love and bring people into my life who will honour the gift of loyalty. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Hurt People, Heal People

A reflection on pain, purpose, and the grace to choose differently

They said: "Hurt people hurt people." I answered: Not always. Some hurt people spend their lives making sure no one else feels what they did. Some break cycles. Some build safe spaces. Some turn pain into purpose. Hurt people don’t just hurt people. Hurt people heal people too. Some become more patient. Some become more intentional. They move through the world carefully because they know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of someone else’s pain. They hold back words until they’re sure those words won’t wound. They overthink before they act. They hold space with tenderness. It’s not because they’re naturally better at it—it’s because they’ve lived through the ache of being around someone who never learned how to deal with their own pain. At the same time, it is true that some hurt people do cause harm. Some lash out. Some withdraw. Some repeat the only patterns they know because their nervous system recognises chaos as home. Pain can echo, or it can be redeemed. It’s not black and white. Hurt doesn’t always multiply hurt. Sometimes it awakens awareness. Sometimes it builds havens of safety. Sometimes it shapes people who are fiercely committed to being nothing like what they grew up with. Pain, when surrendered to God, becomes a seed that births compassion. What someone does with it depends on what they’ve learned, what they’ve been given, and how far they’ve walked with Him. 📖 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) My Healing 💔heARTs 💖 Mission My mission with Healing 💔heARTs💖 is simple yet sacred: to change the world one broken heart at a time. Through creativity, compassion, and Christ-centred healing, I seek to create safe spaces where pain is not wasted but transformed. Broken pieces become mosaics of beauty, tears become rivers of restoration, and stories once silenced become testimonies of hope. ✍️Journaling Prompts: • In what ways have I turned my pain into purpose or safety for others? • Are there places where unhealed hurt still spills over into my relationships? • How might I invite Holy Spirit into those tender places today? 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, You know the hidden places where hurt still lingers. Thank You for meeting me there, not with condemnation but with healing. Teach me to choose love instead of repeating cycles of pain. Shape my scars into wells of compassion, that others may find safety and hope through You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. ✨ You are not only the product of your pain, dear one. You are a carrier of His healing presence. Your story can become a refuge for others.

Pathway Prayer: Trusting the God Who Walks Before Me

Following His steps when the way is unclear

Sometimes the path ahead feels like mist rising from the valley floor—there is vision of a destination, but no clarity of the steps leading there. I find myself waiting for a map, longing for directions, yet the Lord gently reminds me that His presence is the only compass I truly need. 📖 "And the Lord, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” — Deuteronomy 31:8 (NKJV) When I picture God walking before me, I see His steady form ahead, like a shepherd leading the way. The path itself shifts and unfolds only as I move forward, each stone appearing as my foot lifts in faith. His Word shines just enough light for the step I’m on, never the whole journey at once. 📖 "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." — Psalm 119:105 (NKJV) He rarely floods the whole path with light, but He gives us just enough to take the next faithful step. Like walking a candlelit trail — you can’t see the whole journey, only the stone in front of you. This requires trust — trust that He knows the road even when I do not, trust that His hand will steady me when the ground feels uneven, trust that His timing is perfect and trust that His light won’t go out. 📖 “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) My values remind me what this pathway looks like: Faith first — I walk by faith, not sight, trusting that God’s leading is enough. Love & compassion as paving stones — every act of kindness and service becomes a step forward. Creativity as markers — the art and words I release are like trail signs pointing toward hope. Courage as a lantern — even when the fog hides the turn ahead, courage shines enough light to take the next step. Like Israel following the pillar of cloud and fire, I am called to follow, not to control. The path is revealed in the walking, not the waiting. He gives me just enough light for today, and that is enough. 🙌A Pathway Prayer: Lord, You are the One who goes before me. When I feel lost or overwhelmed by the unknown, remind me that I am not called to see the whole journey but to stay close to You. Place courage in my heart when the way feels hidden. Help me to notice the small stepping stones—acts of love, creativity, and service—that move me closer to Your vision. Thank You for being my lamp and my guide, giving me just enough light for the step I’m on. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 💡Reflection: What does the “big vision” God has shown me look like?🤔 Write it down. Where do I already see small stepping stones of love, service, or creativity that could be part of the path? 🤔 How can I shift my focus from trying to see the whole way to simply trusting the One who leads me? 🤔 ✨ Affirmation: I don’t need to see the entire road. My Shepherd walks before me, and step by step, He gives me enough light to keep moving forward.

He Stoops to Meet Me

The gentle nearness of the Holy Spirit

📖 "For we walk by faith, not by sight." — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) Holy Spirit, my Helper, thank You for stooping down to meet me where I am. In moments where my knees shake and my heart quivers, You come alongside, whispering truth and steadying my spirit. Thank You for Your gentleness that lifts me up, for Your peace that anchors me, and for Your love that never lets me go. Teach me to rest in Your sufficiency and to see my weakness as the very place Your glory shines. 📖 "Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us." — Romans 5:5 (NKJV) 🎵🎶 Holy Spirit, move me now, make my life whole again. Spirit move over me. Would You come into every area of my life where there is lack? Would You fill it? Fill it with Your blessing. Pour Your oil of joy. Thank You for a garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Thank You for a brand new day, for giving me life in a brand new way. Thank You. Many of us wrestle with those same feelings of inadequacy, especially when we long to serve well and not burden others. Yet Scripture gently reminds us that weakness is not a flaw to hide, but the very soil where God’s grace takes root. 📖 "And He said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NKJV) When you hesitate to ask a question, it may feel like you’re exposing a lack. Yet from heaven’s perspective, you’re creating an opening for connection, humility, and growth. Questions are not evidence of insufficiency; they are bridges — doorways that invite deeper relationship, understanding, and dependence on Holy Spirit. Think of a child asking their father, “Why?🤔” That question is not a sign of failure but of trust. The Father never rebukes us for leaning in, for seeking clarity, or for needing reassurance. He delights when His children come close. In ministry, asking questions can feel like a trembling step. Yet those very questions may create a safe space for others to share their hearts honestly. Your weakness becomes the doorway for God’s glory to shine, and His strength steadies the trembling places. 📖 "Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." — Lamentations 3:22–23 (NKJV) ✨ Journaling Prompts Where do I feel most weak today, and how might God’s strength be revealed in that place?🤔 How have I experienced the Holy Spirit stooping down to meet me in moments of trembling?🤔 What does “a garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness” look like in my life right now?🤔 In what ways can I let go of striving and lean into His sufficiency?🤔 How might I serve others this week out of the overflow of His grace, rather than my own effort?🤔 When I read that “the love of God has been poured into my heart,” what picture or sensation rises within me?🤔 Where have I seen His mercies appear “new every morning” in my life recently?🤔 🙌Prayer: Jesus, stand beside me, guide me as I live my life. Teach me what I need to know, help me with my work. Let me serve You and others, that I may be worthy of God's grace. Holy Spirit, pour Your love afresh into my heart today. Wash over the places that still ache from rejection and silence. Let Your comfort meet the little girl within me who once felt unworthy of asking. Transform her tears into hope that does not disappoint. Teach me to live from overflow, not emptiness, and to offer others the same comfort You so tenderly give me. Father, thank You for the garment of praise You offer me in place of heaviness. Teach me to clothe myself daily with gratitude for Your mercies, faithfulness, and sustaining presence. Even in the furnace of cleansing, help me to lift my eyes to You, trusting that the fire is refining and not destroying. Wrap me in Your love, and let my praise rise as a fragrance pleasing to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🗣Affirmation of Hope: I am clothed in His mercies, strengthened in my weakness, and filled with His unfailing love. Each day I rise with new hope, wrapped in a garment of praise.

Emotional Education: Building a Better World

Why teaching emotional regulation is a matter of life and hope

Teaching people how to regulate emotions is not a luxury, nor is it an optional skill for a select few. It is crime prevention. It is addiction prevention. It is suicide prevention. It is generational healing. When we equip hearts with tools to navigate emotions, we change the trajectory of families, communities, and nations. Without this foundation, we raise adults who implode, explode, or shut down at the first sign of discomfort. With it, we raise people who can pause, breathe, reflect, and respond with grace instead of violence. Emotional regulation is not just a "soft skill." It is survival. It is how we cultivate a society where disagreements don’t lead to dehumanisation, where accountability is not mistaken for attack, and where conflict doesn’t have to end in violence. 📖 "So then, let us pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another." — Romans 14:19 (NKJV) To be quite honest, this is an area I have struggled with all my life. I learnt early on to box my emotions, because to me emotions weren’t safe. I didn’t get angry often, but when I did, it was like a volcano erupting — years of suppressed pain bursting forth. Slowly, with the tender leading of Holy Spirit, I am learning that emotions are not my enemy. They are signals, invitations to pause, to feel, to bring what is stirred up into the presence of God. Instead of fearing them, I am discovering how to steward them with gentleness and grace. I am also learning to righteously express my emotions — not in destructive ways, but in ways that honour God, protect relationships, and release truth with love. Imagine a world where children are taught to name their feelings instead of being shamed for them, where young adults are taught that tears are not weakness, and where leaders model how to process anger without destruction. This is the soil in which wholeness grows. This is the path toward cycles of blessing rather than cycles of brokenness. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach us to walk in Your ways of peace. Help us to be tender with the tender-hearted, patient with the struggling, and gracious with ourselves. May we be people who carry Your love into our conversations and conflicts. Heal the places in us that learned to fear our emotions, and instead, let Your Spirit guide us into freedom and self-control. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Silent Love

A reflection on being understood without endless words

There was a time when I felt the need to pour out long explanations, desperately trying to make others understand my heart. I would string together paragraphs, hoping that the weight of my words could bridge the gap between my soul and theirs. Yet, in the process, I drained myself. Now, I have learned that the ones who truly care do not require essays to validate my feelings. The right people listen even when I speak in whispers. They see the meaning behind my silence, noticing the tender places I cannot always explain. With them, I am not required to beg for understanding, because love makes room for both my words and my quiet. It has taken years to release the urge to over-explain, but freedom came in realising this: love that demands constant proof is not love at all. Care that requires endless paragraphs is not care but performance. Real love is safe. It holds space for my pauses, my silences, my trembling attempts at expression. It is found in the presence of those who meet me halfway, who choose to lean in rather than turn away. 📖 "Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." — James 1:19 (NKJV) This Scripture reminds me that listening is an act of love. Those who love us well will listen deeply, without rushing, without demanding explanation after explanation. They will notice the quiet parts of us and cherish them, even when words fail. Today, I rest in the comfort of knowing that I do not have to force anyone to hear me. My worth is not measured by how many words I speak, but by the truth that I am fully seen and loved by God. He hears even the prayers I cannot utter, the sighs of my soul, and He calls me beloved. 🙏 Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the safety of Your love, where I do not need to prove myself or explain endlessly to be understood. Help me rest in the assurance that You see the hidden places of my heart, and that those who are meant to walk with me will recognise both my words and my silences as valuable. Teach me to love others with that same quiet attentiveness. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Protecting My Peace

Why accountability matters and why peace is worth guarding

People sometimes say, “You could’ve talked to me.” Yet what they really mean is, you could’ve stepped into a space where your words would be dismissed, twisted, or used against you. That’s not conversation, that’s survival mode. True dialogue requires humility and accountability, but without those, every exchange feels like a courtroom cross-examination, not a safe place to be seen. I’ve learned that when accountability isn’t part of someone’s language, every attempt at honesty becomes a trap. Words lose their meaning, responsibility is deflected, and the tables are turned until the other person is somehow the victim and you are painted as the villain. It leaves you drained, unheard, and carrying a weight that was never yours to bear. 📖 “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.” — Galatians 6:7 (NKJV) God calls us to walk in truth. He calls us to bear one another’s burdens, yes, but not to carry false guilt or step into endless cycles of misunderstanding. Protecting your peace is not selfish — it is stewardship. It is recognising that you do not owe explanations to those who are committed to misunderstanding you. You do not owe your clarity or your energy to someone who only shows up to argue, defend, and win. Instead, you owe your heart the safety of peace, the gentleness of truth, and the grace of boundaries. You owe yourself the still waters where healing can take root, not the storm of endless strife. Protecting your peace is not walking away from love; it is walking towards the kind of love that is safe, pure, and anchored in Christ. ✨ Today I remind myself: I choose peace. I choose accountability in my relationships. I choose to let honesty be the language of love, and when that language is absent, I choose not to translate chaos into my soul. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being my peace when words fall short and conversations turn into battlegrounds. Teach me to walk in wisdom, to know when to speak and when to stay silent, and to guard my heart without hardening it. Help me to forgive quickly, to set boundaries kindly, and to keep my eyes fixed on You — the One who never misunderstands me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Respect: The Kingdom’s Glue

Living a culture of kindness, dignity, honour, and respect

Respect is the glue that holds relationships, teams, and organisations together. In the Kingdom of God, respect is not optional — it is a reflection of His heart. A culture of kindness, dignity, honour, and respect mirrors the very character of Jesus, who treated each person with worth, even in disagreement. Disagreements will always come. Yet we are called to engage in them with honour, remembering that unity does not require uniformity. Respect allows us to speak truth in love, without tearing one another down. When we hold fast to respect, we create spaces where honesty and safety flourish, where hearts can be both heard and healed. 📖 "Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself." — Philippians 2:3 (NKJV) Respect builds trust. It restores what has been broken and allows growth to thrive. Without it, relationships fray, teams splinter, and communities weaken. With it, God’s Kingdom culture thrives — filled with compassion, courage, and integrity. 🙌Prayer Holy Spirit, help me to carry a heart of honour in all my relationships. Teach me to value others as You do, to listen with patience, and to speak with kindness. May respect be the atmosphere I carry into every space, reflecting Your Kingdom culture wherever I go. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Everybody is Creative

Rediscovering the song, dance, and colour placed within us

Everybody is creative. This is not a privilege reserved for a chosen few, nor is it limited to artists, writers, or musicians. Creativity is woven into the very fabric of who we are because we were made in the image of a Creator God. It is the imprint of His nature upon us. 📖 "So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them." — Genesis 1:27 (NKJV) As children, we live this truth freely. Every child sings boldly, dances without hesitation, scribbles colour across pages, and paints with fearless strokes. With no thought of comparison or judgement, they create because it is in their nature to do so. Their art may be messy, their voices imperfect, their dances untrained — yet they are expressions of joy, authenticity, and freedom. Somewhere along the way, many of us begin to shrink back. A careless word, a lack of encouragement, or a moment when someone told us our drawing looked wrong or our song was out of tune begins to silence the vibrant expression we once carried so naturally. Slowly, the crayons are put away, the dancing stops, and the songs fall quiet. What once flowed with ease becomes guarded, hidden, or forgotten. Yet the truth remains: the spark of creativity never disappears. It may lie dormant under layers of fear, shame, or self-doubt, but it is still there — waiting to be rekindled. When you find the creative venture that makes your soul sing, whether painting, gardening, writing, cooking, building, or problem-solving, you rediscover the childlike joy that once came so easily. You step into a space where peace steadies you, joy overflows, and purpose ignites. Creativity is not about perfection. It is about expression. It is about reflecting God’s beauty and truth through the unique gifts He has placed in you. The world does not need polished copies; it longs for authentic voices and genuine colours — your colours. ✨ Prayer: Lord, thank You for planting creativity within me as a reflection of Your image. Heal the places where discouragement or harsh words silenced my expression. Awaken in me once again the freedom of a child — to sing, dance, paint, and create without fear. May my creativity glorify You and bring healing, joy, and hope to others. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Questions and Wounds

When asking feels unsafe but healing begins with listening

This morning's Business Leaders Breakfast left me feeling scraped raw, as though someone had taken a grater to my heart. The conversation circled around the power of asking questions — how great leaders are those who ask, listen, and draw people out. It sounds so simple, so natural, yet for me it felt like sitting under a spotlight, exposed. Because here’s my truth: I learned very early that asking questions was not safe. Questions were punished with cold water, broken crockery, angry silences. Questions marked me as needy, inconvenient, or defiant. Even now, decades later, I feel that same knot in my stomach when I want to ask. To speak curiosity aloud still feels like a risk I might pay dearly for. When I shared that struggle in the group, my voice trembled. I half-expected dismissal or awkward silence. Instead, the conversation softened. Someone reminded mentioned the wound so many carry having been raised with "children should be seen, not heard". Another nodded knowingly. My confession had unearthed a hidden truth many hold but rarely name. Yet the weight lingered. by the time we broke into groups for prayer, my heart felt so heavy that I asked for prayer. I left that meeting unsettled, and later, I couldn't get settled down to focus on my work. Eventually I headed downstairs my “thinking chair”. Tears came. I called Clive, and in his usual way, he made space for me to unravel — even threatening to do his “grumpy dance” to make me smile. That tenderness reminded me: safe people exist. Questions may once have been dangerous, but not all spaces are like that anymore. 📖 "Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know." — Jeremiah 33:3 (NKJV) God is not threatened by my questions. He welcomes them, even treasures them. He does not snap, punish, or turn away. Instead, He bends close, listens, and answers with wisdom far beyond what I could grasp alone. If the King of the universe invites me to ask, then perhaps learning to ask again is not just healing but holy. Maybe questions are not weakness at all. Maybe they are doorways into connection, into understanding, into grace. Healing begins here — not in silencing the trembling voice, but in daring to ask again, trusting that love will meet me there. 🙏 Prayer Lord Jesus, You know the wounds that taught me to stay silent. Heal the fear that still lingers when I long to ask, to seek, to knock. Teach me that in Your Kingdom, curiosity is not punished but welcomed. Give me courage to bring my questions to You first, and then to safe people You place in my path. May every question become a step into deeper relationship, both with You and with those I love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. You are not alone if asking feels risky. You are seen, heard, and held by the One who delights in your voice. May you find courage today to whisper your questions, trusting that the God who calls you beloved will always answer with love.

Grace for Growth

Honouring the quiet work of becoming

I’ve learned not to hold people hostage to who they used to be. We all carry versions of ourselves that no longer fit — the mistakes we made, the things we didn’t know, the pain we caused when we didn’t yet understand our own. I’ve seen how easily someone can be reduced to their worst moment, how quickly a past version becomes the only version others choose to remember. Yet the truth is, people outgrow their old skin. They stumble, they learn, and if life allows, they try to do better. They grow. They change. We all have chapters we wish we could rewrite. That doesn’t mean we haven’t earned the right to start a new one. I’ve seen friends become softer, more patient. I’ve seen people who once lived in chaos become anchors for others. Growth isn’t always loud or dramatic—it’s often quiet, steady, unglamorous. But it’s real, and when we dismiss someone for who they were, we miss out on who they’ve worked so hard to become. No one should be permanently defined by a version of themselves they’ve already outgrown. We’re all in motion, figuring things out, trying again. And if we can give that grace to ourselves, we should be willing to offer it to others, too. I, too, have changed drastically over the past five years and would not appreciate being labelled for who I once was. My heart, my faith and my understanding have deepened, and though I still stumble, I know God is shaping me daily into someone new. 📖 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” — 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NKJV) 🙌Prayer: Lord, help me to extend grace to others as You have extended grace to me. Teach me to see beyond the past into the new work You are doing in each life. May I never reduce someone to who they once were, but instead celebrate the quiet miracles of growth You bring forth in their story. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Revolution of Voice

Breaking cycles of silence with truth and authenticity

As children, many of us learned that silence was survival. Staying quiet kept the peace, kept us safe, kept us small enough not to be noticed. Silence was our armour, fragile yet necessary in the chaos. Yet what once protected can later imprison. Silence in adulthood no longer shields us — it isolates us. It costs us our truth, our boundaries, our ability to be fully seen. That is why finding your voice — trembling, shaky, or loud — is revolutionary. It is not only about speaking up, it is about reclaiming safety in a new way: standing in truth instead of shrinking from it. 📖 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) As parents, this choice carries even greater weight. When we use our voices with honesty and respect, our children learn that safety is not found in silence but in authenticity. They learn that love does not demand they mute themselves to be accepted — they can speak, cry, question, or even disagree and still belong. Every time we choose voice over silence, we are not only healing ourselves, we are breaking generational cycles. We are teaching the next generation that their truth is not a threat but their power. May we courageously model this: voices steady with grace, seasoned with love, and grounded in Christ. For in Him, our words do not destroy, they build. They light the way for freedom and belonging. Prayer Holy Spirit, help me to use my voice with courage and tenderness. Heal the places where silence became my safety, and teach me how to walk in the freedom of truth. May my words bring life, healing, and safety to others — especially to the children watching me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 🌿 You are not too small. You are not too much. You are seen, heard, and cherished by the One who calls you His own. Let your voice rise, for it carries His truth.

Learning to Make Waves

From silence to ripples of courage

“Always remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” This is a truth I have wrestled with for most of my life. I sometimes downplay my speaking gift, seeing myself more as an artist than a communicator. I wrestle with the bigness of my mission — “change the world 🌍 one broken 💔heart💖 at a time” — and wonder if I am really capable. I hold back certain dreams — books, wider stages, global ministry reach — because they feel almost too audacious. Making waves feels like a tall order for someone who was raised to shut up and do as told. Yet the Holy Spirit keeps reminding me that waves are not always violent storms. Sometimes they are gentle ripples that slowly, steadily reshape a shoreline. 📖 “Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.” — Psalm 81:10 (NKJV) My upbringing may have trained me into silence, but my new life in Christ has rewritten the story. The waves I am called to make are not born of rebellion, but of obedience. They come from the courage to speak when prompted, the tenderness to paint healing where there was once shame, and the boldness to stand when silence would be easier. Even the smallest ripple of obedience can grow into waves that reach shores I may never see. That is the beauty of Kingdom impact — it multiplies beyond my sight. My art speaks, my words paint, and together they tell the story of the broken being made whole. 📖 “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us.” — Ephesians 3:20 (NKJV) I am not either an artist or a communicator. I am a storyteller of redemption, through every medium He places in my hands. I don’t need to roar to make waves. Sometimes my whisper, my brushstroke, or my written word is enough to stir the waters of someone’s heart. Each act of love, each testimony of healing, each truth spoken in faith is a wave already in motion. 🙌Prayer Lord Jesus, thank You that You rewrite my story. Where silence once ruled, may Your courage flow. Where fear tries to hold me back, let obedience carry me forward. Help me trust that even the smallest ripple can grow into Kingdom waves. Use my voice, my brush, my pen to reach the broken-hearted with Your healing love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

A Voice Worth Hearing

Breaking silence, reclaiming questions, finding connection

For most of my life, silence was survival. As a little girl, I learned that crying only led to punishment, that asking questions was dangerous, and that speaking up risked rejection. My earliest memories are cold water, broken crockery, hiding in cupboards — moments that told me my voice had no value. That lie stayed with me for decades. It’s why public speaking feels like standing exposed under a harsh light, why even recording myself feels unbearable. Deep inside, there’s still that little girl who fears that if she speaks too much, she’ll be ignored, shamed, or cast aside. When Ashish asked me at The Gathering about my public speaking, I admitted it’s not the stage that frightens me most — it’s my own voice. Listening to it still feels foreign, uncomfortable, almost unsafe. Yet, slowly, God is unravelling the silence. He’s been showing me that connection is not just my message, it’s my calling. As I process my story in writing, prayer, and in the safe circle of ministry groups, I’m learning to risk more — to ask questions, to receive kindness, to let others in. Even something as small as saying “yes, please” to a cup of tea has become a milestone of growth. 📖 "The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." — Zephaniah 3:17 (NKJV) This week, my focus has been on the challenge of asking questions. I keep hearing that good leaders ask good questions. Yet for me, this feels like standing at the edge of a cliff — both longing to step forward and fearing the fall. When I share something I've been told with Clive, he can so naturally ask, “So what? And what about this? And what about that?” But when I hear him, I freeze. I find myself thinking, Do I look like a reporter? I don’t know how to frame the questions, even though I desperately want to understand and connect. It’s not a lack of curiosity; it’s the weight of a wound. As a prayer minister, this becomes even harder. A two-hour ministry session relies heavily on asking questions — 90% of the time is spent listening, discerning, and gently inviting the person to go deeper through the right questions. And sometimes I feel paralysed by it, worried that I won’t find the words, that my silence will betray my inadequacy. The truth is, the struggle to ask questions is deeply connected to my struggle with speaking at all. Both are rooted in the same soil — the childhood decision that my voice had no value, that silence was safer. Yet, I sense God’s invitation here. Not to shame myself for hesitating, but to see this as another layer of healing He is unwrapping. Each small step matters — whether it’s saying yes to a cup of tea, daring to speak in front of others, or formulating one simple question in prayer ministry. It is growth. It is learning. It is healing. 📖 "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him." — James 1:5 (NKJV) I may not yet feel confident in asking people questions, but I am learning to ask God. And perhaps that is the first, most important step. I see now that rejection has many layers, and healing comes in many layers too. Every conversation, every prayer session, every trembling step into vulnerability is another stone rolled away from the tomb of silence. God is teaching me that my voice does have value — not because it’s polished or perfect, but because it carries His story of redemption. If He can lift a girl who once believed she was a mistake into a woman who now stands and speaks of hope, then there is no wound too deep, no silence too strong for His love to redeem. So I keep speaking — haltingly, imperfectly, but faithfully — trusting that every word is another seed of connection.

Healing for Joy

Learning to let happiness sit at the table of my heart again

We often think of healing as armour — a way of fortifying ourselves to withstand pain, anxiety, and sorrow. Yet for many of us, pain has become a familiar companion, something our bodies and souls have long adapted to. The unfamiliar guest is joy. Happiness can feel almost threatening because it asks us to trust, to open, to receive. 📖 "You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore." — Psalm 16:11 (NKJV) I recognise this in my own journey. Trauma taught me to expect loss, to anticipate disappointment, and to brace for rejection. In some ways, I learned to survive sorrow more easily than to rest in joy. Joy requires vulnerability. It asks me to believe that goodness will not be ripped away. It invites me to accept that beauty can remain without being broken. This is why healing is not just about patching up wounds but about preparing the heart to receive. Like soil softened after a long drought, healing tills the ground so seeds of joy may finally take root. Healing teaches me to say yes to laughter without fearing it will vanish, yes to peace without questioning its permanence, and yes to love without doubting my worthiness. It is the courage to hold joy gently in open hands rather than gripping it tight in fear of losing it. 🌿 Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach me to be as open to joy as I once was to sorrow. Break the lie that happiness is fleeting and unsafe. Heal me so that I may not only endure pain but also fully embrace joy, love, and hope. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. May you know today that you are not only surviving — you are becoming a vessel strong enough to hold joy, beauty, and peace without apology. You are worthy of happiness that lasts.

Core Values

Rooted in Faith, Blooming in Love

Our values are like the unseen roots of a tree — they anchor us when storms come and quietly nourish the fruit of our lives. When they are rooted in Christ, every decision, relationship, and act of service grows from a place of love, faith, and integrity. This picture of a heart-shaped tree is a reminder that what is hidden in our foundation will always shape what blooms in our branches. Just as a tree draws life from its roots and spreads its branches wide, so our lives flourish when grounded in the values Christ calls us to live by. These values shape how we love, serve, and walk with integrity each day. They are not simply aspirations but guiding truths that keep us steady in every season. 🌳 Faith — The centre and anchor of life. Faith is the root system that draws deeply from God’s living water. Without it, nothing else holds. With it, every other value finds its strength. 🌱 Love & Integrity — The deep roots that uphold all else. Love compels us to give, while integrity ensures we walk honestly before God and people. These roots create a foundation that can withstand pressure and testing. 🍃 Family — Cherishing meaningful connections. Family, both biological and spiritual, provides the canopy of belonging. It reminds us that relationships are God’s chosen place for nurture, forgiveness, and joy. 🍃 Creativity — Bringing joy, healing, and expression. Creativity is like blossoms on the branches, surprising us with colour and fragrance. It is God’s gift to restore beauty where there was once only brokenness. 🍃 Rest — Valuing balance and replenishment. Rest is the quiet rhythm of the tree, a pause between seasons of growth. It is essential for sustaining health and offering shade to others without becoming depleted ourselves. 🍃 Growth — Pursuing continual learning and transformation. Growth is the stretching of branches towards the light. It represents the willingness to keep reaching higher, trusting that God is shaping us through every stage. 🍃 Freedom — Living authentically in alignment with God’s calling. Freedom is like the open space around the tree, allowing us to stand tall without being confined. It gives us the courage to live honestly and joyfully. 🍃 Courage — Standing boldly for truth and justice. Courage is the strength of the trunk, steady and unyielding. It allows us to face storms, defend the vulnerable, and remain steadfast in conviction. 🍃 Wellness — Stewarding health to serve more fully. Wellness is the healthy circulation of life within the tree — the sap that carries nourishment. It reminds us that caring for body and soul is a holy act of stewardship. 📖 "He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water... whose leaf also shall not wither." — Psalm 1:3 (NKJV) When we live from these values, we live as trees planted firmly by the water, providing shade, fruit, and beauty for others. They remind us that who we are in Christ is not defined by striving or achievement but by roots that go deep in Him. From this foundation, we can face storms, embrace seasons, and bear fruit that brings glory to God and healing to those around us.

A Mirror of Compassion

Learning to love the one I see in the reflection

A reflection from my devotional this morning... Love to me has always come easily when it comes to others. My life is centred on serving, uplifting, and caring for those around me. Loving my neighbour has never felt like a burden; it is joy. The harder task has always been turning that same love inward. There was a time when I hated everything about me — my name, my looks, even the face staring back at me in the mirror. Words I would never dare speak over another person, I hurled mercilessly at myself. I wore the crown of self-loathing, heavy and cruel. In these past five years, God has been unravelling those lies. I still remember Sandra’s word of knowledge — that I am not a waste of time, effort, or money. Those words pierced my heart like light breaking into a darkened room. Since then, I no longer live in the prison of self-hatred. Yet, to say I truly love myself feels like a stretch. Perhaps I am still learning what that really looks like. 📖 "You shall love your neighbour as yourself." — Mark 12:31 (NKJV) I see now that compassion cannot remain one-directional. If I long to be kind, patient, and forgiving with others, then the same compassion must flow toward me. Not because of achievement or worthiness earned, but because I am His beloved, made in His image. So I begin with whispers of kindness: I forgive you. I see you trying. I am proud of you. Maybe love begins there — in speaking to myself the way I would to a weary friend. 🙌A Prayer of Self-Compassion Lord Jesus, teach me to see myself through Your eyes. Help me extend to my own heart the same gentleness I so freely give to others. Heal the places still tender from old wounds, and remind me daily that I am Your beloved. Let the compassion I long to receive rise up within me as a gift of Your grace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 💖 If you're reading this and you can relate, may I remind you that you are not a waste of time, energy or money, dear heart. You are worth the love you so freely pour into others.

Love, Tea, and Little Girl Vows

Learning to ask without fear, and to receive without shame

Love to me is spelt T.I.M.E. first, acts of service next, followed by affirmation and then touch. However, due to trauma of neglect, I had decided very early in life that I wouldn't need any of them, leaving me with a double-bind — the longing for what God designed me to need, and the vow made in the ache of neglect to deny those very needs. 📖 "It is not good that man should be alone." — Genesis 2:18 (NKJV) Even from the very beginning, God declared that relationship is not optional. We are designed for love, affirmation, touch, and presence. When those needs aren’t met, our soul learns to fear them as dangerous.   My core values (time, love, compassion, relationships, faith, service) all breathe the truth that love is meant to be received and given freely. Yet there's the pain of that little girl who decided, “I won’t need anyone,” as a way to survive. It’s almost like she's trying to close the tap on thirst — but the body was still made for water. That inner vow, made to protect my heart, became both shield and prison.   This morning, a simple offer of tea opened a doorway into something much deeper. Tiffany asked if I wanted a cup as I was leaving The Crate, and when she reminded me to ask if she forgot to offer. I found myself saying, “I’m not good at asking,” and with that, a brief conversation ensued about innervows and practised ways of self-protection that need to be put to death at the cross, but they have a tendency to spring back to life.   What a holy moment tucked into something as ordinary as a cup of tea. Isn’t it amazing how God often uses the smallest exchanges to uncover the deepest roots? Tiffany’s simple kindness brushed up against an old wound — the little girl who once vowed, “I won’t ask, I won’t need, I’ll manage on my own.”   Even though I’ve already renounced that vow, my heart is still tenderly unlearning the habit. Those vows run deep because they were woven in survival, and survival habits rarely dissolve overnight. They cling until safety feels stronger than fear.   I realised how hard that still is for me and suddenly I was back with the little girl who had vowed never to need, never to ask, never to risk disappointment. That made me think there may be other unspoken promises your younger self made: “If I don’t ask, I won’t be disappointed.” “If I don’t need, I won’t be a burden.” “If I’m strong enough on my own, I can’t be hurt again.” Each one a layer of self-protection… and each one, now, a layer the Lord longs to tenderly peel away. The habit of silence, of holding back from asking, is like a well-worn path in my soul. Yet healing is happening.   It’s strange how those early inner vows burrow themselves into the soil of our hearts, resisting even the most tender offers of care. Trauma taught me that needing made me vulnerable, so I silenced those needs. Yet God created us for love — for time, affirmation, touch. Denying them only hardens the soil where His love longs to grow.   Healing often comes in layers. First, we renounce the vow. Then, we begin to notice the old habits. And slowly, almost quietly, we practice new responses. Each “yes please” is like loosening the soil around roots that were once bound tight.   📖 "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you." — Matthew 7:7 (NKJV)   I have grown a lot. Before, I would have declined even if my heart longed for the warmth of a cup in my hands. Now, when offered, I say “yes, please.” It may seem small, but every “yes” is a crack in the old armour, a place where light seeps in. Saying “yes, please” when love is offered has been my first step toward freedom. It is no small thing. Each acceptance loosens the soil around old roots, allowing something new to grow.   Yet today’s conversation opened another layer. I realised the next step is not only receiving what is offered. The next step is scarier still: learning to ask when I need or desire something. Not waiting to be offered, but letting my voice rise with trust, knowing I am worthy of being heard. Tears came as I realised there is still more to heal, more of those childhood vows to untangle. Yet tears are holy — they water the ground where new freedom is being planted.   The Father smiles at my small yeses. He sees not weakness but trust. He welcomes my asking, not as a burden but as beloved intimacy. He is teaching me that to need is not shameful, and to ask is not weakness, but rather the courage to believe love will meet me there. It is faith.   🙌Prayer Lord Jesus, You know the vows I made as a little girl, born out of pain and fear. Thank You that You are unravelling them with gentleness and truth. Teach me to ask without fear, to receive without shame, and to rest in the knowledge that I am worthy of love. Heal every place in me that still resists Your care. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.   ✨ Dearest one, if you are struggling in this area, may I remind you that you are not alone and you are not behind. You are on a journey. Each small step into asking, each tear shed, is part of your healing journey and watering new freedom. Each small "yes" is a victory song. God is patient, and His love is undoing what neglect once wrote into your story. You are seen, you are cherished, and you are free to need. You are loved and your needs are safe in God's Hands.

The Ministry of Presence

A quiet love that heals without words

Sometimes people don’t need fixing, advice, or solutions. They simply need someone to draw near with no agenda. To sit quietly without trying to make the pain disappear. To listen without judgement. To care without condition. This is what I’ve come to know as the ministry of presence. It is the love that looks someone in the eye and says, “I see you. You are not alone. I’m here for you.” Jesus Himself modelled this. He wept at Lazarus’ tomb before performing a miracle. He sat at tables with the broken and the misunderstood. His presence carried healing long before His words did. 📖 "Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." — Galatians 6:2 (NKJV) Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is to stay. Not to speak, not to explain, not to fix, but simply to sit in the ashes with someone until the first glimmer of hope breaks through. This is how we love people back to life — with patience, tenderness, and presence. 🙌Prayer: Lord, help me to carry Your love into the silence of another’s suffering. Teach me to sit with them without rushing to fix, to bring comfort by simply being there, and to trust that Your Spirit moves even in the quiet. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Breaking Generational Curses

A new legacy is written in listening hearts

You want to know what really breaks a generational curse?🤔 It’s not in lofty declarations alone, but in the quiet courage to let your children tell you when something you’re doing is hurting them… and to respond without defensiveness or dismissal. For too many of us, silence was the rule of survival. Our pain was minimised, our voices ignored, and our hearts quietly trained to believe that love meant swallowing the ache. When we choose differently, when we allow our children to speak truthfully without fear of being shut down, we change the script. This is the beginning of a new legacy — one marked not by pride or shame, but by humility and listening. Every time we resist the urge to explain away their hurt, every time we kneel low enough to hear the tremble in their words, we are dismantling patterns of hardness and sowing seeds of trust. 📖 "Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the training and admonition of the Lord." — Ephesians 6:4 (NKJV) It is not weakness to admit we have caused pain. It is Christlike strength. For the cross itself was God bending low, taking responsibility for what was not His fault, so that reconciliation could flow. If He could humble Himself, surely we can too. 🌿 Prayer: Lord Jesus, give me ears that are tender and a heart that is humble. Teach me to pause before defending myself, and instead make room for my children’s voices. May healing flow through my willingness to listen, and may generational chains be broken as love and understanding take root in my family. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. ✨ You are not just raising children — you are writing a new story, one where honesty, compassion, and grace become the inheritance you pass down.

The Shattering of False Friendship

When what you believed was real, breaks open to reveal truth

There is a unique grief in discovering that someone you called “friend” was never truly that. It is not only the loss of their presence, but the collapse of the story you told yourself about what you thought you had. You invested loyalty, laughter, and tears. You offered love, patience, and trust. Only to realise, with the slow ache of hindsight, that it was never mutual. The wound cuts deep because it touches our longing for connection — the belief that someone saw us, valued us, and would hold what we gave with equal care. When that turns out to be a mirage, the heart feels betrayed, not only by them but by our own hope. Yet even here, truth is a mercy. For when falsehood is stripped away, what remains is the space for authentic, God-breathed relationships. Scripture gently reminds us: 📖 "The righteous should choose his friends carefully, for the way of the wicked leads them astray." — Proverbs 12:26 (NKJV) True friendship is marked by reciprocity — not in perfection, but in sincerity. It is shaped by love that honours, patience that endures, and a loyalty that mirrors Christ’s love for us. Though it hurts, losing what was never truly real is not the end of love; it is a doorway to deeper, purer connections aligned with God’s heart. You are not foolish for believing in someone. You are brave for loving fully, even when it wasn’t returned. What breaks you today will one day become the soil from which steadfast friendships will grow. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that You are the truest Friend who will never leave nor forsake me. Heal the places where betrayal has left me raw. Guard my heart from bitterness, yet teach me to discern wisely whom I allow close. Surround me with relationships that reflect Your truth, integrity, and love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Echo of Unspoken Pain

When today’s reaction carries yesterday’s silence

A lot of our explosive emotional reactions aren’t really about the present moment. They are layered responses — echoes from all the times we swallowed our words, silenced our pain, and shrank back when we longed to stand tall. The trigger may be small, but it taps into a river of unexpressed grief, fear, or anger stored deep within. Those moments we couldn’t use our voice, when we didn’t feel safe to say “no,” when our emotions were dismissed as “too much” — they collect in the hidden chambers of the heart. So when something familiar arises today, the dam breaks, not just for this moment but for all the buried ones. Healing begins when we invite Jesus into those locked places of our past. Where we were voiceless, He speaks life. Where we were silenced, He calls us by name. Where we were unseen, He reminds us of His gaze that never looked away. 📖 "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for being the One who sees beneath the surface of my reactions. Heal the places where silence once stole my voice. Teach me to respond, not from old wounds, but from the wholeness You are restoring in me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. You are not “too much.” You are simply carrying unspoken pain that longs to be released. Little by little, as you surrender the echoes to Christ, your present will no longer be ruled by the weight of your past. You are safe, you are loved, and your voice matters.

Out of the Pit

Why my story cannot be told without God

There are chapters in my life that feel too dark to retell without trembling. The nights when despair pressed so heavily on my chest that I wondered if I would see another sunrise. The weight of shame, grief, and brokenness pulled me into a pit I thought I’d never escape. Yet here I am — alive, breathing, creating, healing. Not because of my own strength, not because I figured it out, but because God reached into the depths and lifted me up. 📖 "He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps." — Psalm 40:2 (NKJV) I cannot share my story without Him. To remove God would be to erase the very reason I survived. His mercy became my oxygen, His love my anchor, His hand my rescue. When I look back, I see not my own willpower but His relentless pursuit. Even in the pit, He was there. Even when I was too weak to pray, His Spirit interceded. Even when I doubted His goodness, His goodness held me fast. 💡 Reflection: What “pits” has God pulled you out of in your own life? 🤔 How has His rescue become part of your testimony? 🤔 Where might He be extending His hand to you today? 🤔 🙌 Prayer: Lord, thank You for lifting me when I could not lift myself. Thank You that no pit is too deep for Your love to reach. Help me never to forget that my life is living proof of Your mercy and grace. May my story point others to You, the only One who saves. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Disapproval Feels Like Danger

Finding safety in God’s unwavering love

Disapproval. Such a small word, yet for many of us who have walked through complex trauma, it carries the weight of a storm. People sometimes think we are “too sensitive” when we react so strongly, but the truth is far deeper. In childhood, approval, rejection, and disapproval weren’t simply feedback — they were weapons. They were the levers abusers pulled to keep us silent, to manipulate our behaviour, to remind us that we were only as safe as their mood allowed. When love and acceptance were doled out like rations, always conditional, it left scars. I know this too well. My earliest memories are marked not by safety, but by fear. At just two years old, my head was shoved under cold water because I cried for attention. At four, I was hiding in a cupboard while crockery flew across the room during a drunken fight. Disapproval, in those moments, wasn’t correction — it was danger. It was rejection, abandonment, and humiliation wrapped into one. For decades I lived with the reflex to shrink back at the slightest hint of disapproval. My body remembered the threat even when my mind tried to dismiss it. Each raised eyebrow, each sigh, each withheld smile felt like confirmation of the lie I had believed since birth: “I am not good enough to be loved.” Yet Jesus stepped into those broken places. He reminded me of the Father’s voice over His Son before any miracle had been performed: 📖 “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” — Matthew 3:17 (NKJV) That same voice now whispers over me: “You are My beloved daughter. I delight in you. My approval does not waver with your performance. My love is unshakable.” Healing has not been instant. It has been a long, tender journey of unravelling lies and allowing Holy Spirit to rewrite my story. Slowly I am learning that my worth is not tethered to anyone’s approval, nor is my safety at the mercy of another’s mood. 🌿 Reflection: When was the first time you felt unsafe because of disapproval or rejection? Can you imagine Jesus standing there with you, shielding you from shame and whispering, “You are Mine. You are safe with Me”?🤔 Friend, if disapproval still feels like danger in your body, please know this: you are not “too sensitive.” You are someone who has survived deep wounds, and you are learning a new way to live. You are not controlled by the hands of abusers anymore. You are held by the hands that were pierced for your freedom. 💛 You are seen. You are loved. You are safe in Him.

Building What Lasts

A love letter of resilience, sacrifice, and hope shared side by side

We were never handed an easy path. No shortcuts, no safety nets, no special favours. Everything we have today was shaped by our own hands, our own hearts, and countless sacrifices made side by side. We’ve stretched every dollar, faced every storm, and chosen—again and again—to hold each other up when it would have been easier to fall apart. What we’ve built together isn’t flawless, but it’s real. It’s strong. And it’s ours. We’re not done yet, my love. There is still more to build, more to dream, more to fight for—always shoulder to shoulder. The road has been longer for us, not because we are behind, but because we’re laying foundations that will endure. Look at how far we’ve already come. I truly believe the best is still ahead of us. Together, with God’s grace, we will continue to write a story that lasts. 📖 "Two are better than one… For if they fall, one will lift up his companion." — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NKJV) 🙌Prayer Lord, thank You for the gift of covenant love. Thank You for sustaining us through seasons of lack, storms, and uncertainty, and for teaching us to lean on You and on each other. Strengthen our hands for the work still ahead, remind us daily of the beauty of what we are building, and keep our hearts united in love. May our marriage be a living testimony of Your faithfulness.In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

MINDSET: A Christ-Centred Path

A holy posture of heart, anchored in faith and love

The way we think shapes the way we live. A Christ-centred mindset is not about striving harder but about surrendering deeper — allowing the Holy Spirit to transform our thoughts, align our attitudes with God’s truth, and guide our steps in love. These seven anchors of mindset remind us that when our minds are renewed in Christ, our lives can bear lasting fruit for His Kingdom. M — Mastery (of Mind & Spirit) Mastery begins with surrender. We don’t master life through control, but by yielding our thoughts and attitudes to Christ. 📖 "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." — Romans 12:2 (NKJV) I — Invest (in Eternal Treasure) The greatest investment is not in possessions, but in God’s Word, in prayer, and in equipping yourself for Kingdom purpose. 📖 "But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you." — Matthew 6:33 (NKJV) N — Nurture (with Love & Compassion) Nurture your soul in God’s presence and extend that same love to others. To nurture is to water seeds of hope. 📖 "Therefore comfort each other and edify one another, just as you also are doing." — 1 Thessalonians 5:11 (NKJV) D — Dedication (to Service & Calling) Dedication is choosing to stay faithful to the path God has called you to, even when it requires sacrifice. 📖 "Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men." — Colossians 3:23 (NKJV) S — Self-Discipline (through the Holy Spirit) Discipline is not striving in your own strength, but walking in step with the Holy Spirit, who empowers you to overcome.📖 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV) E — Endurance (through Faith) Endurance is faith stretched over time. It’s the courage to keep trusting God’s promises when the journey feels long. 📖 "Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." — Hebrews 12:1-2 (NKJV) T — Thoughtful (Living with Integrity & Generosity) Thoughtfulness is living intentionally — choosing words, actions, and attitudes that reflect Christ’s love and compassion. 📖 "Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others." — Philippians 2:4 (NKJV) When our hearts are rooted in Christ and our minds renewed by His truth, our steps are ordered in love, service, and faith. Living with a Kingdom mindset allows us to walk in freedom, bear good fruit, and shine His light in a world that desperately needs hope.

Braver, Stronger, Wiser

A gentle whisper of truth for weary hearts

“Always remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Sometimes our hearts forget what Heaven already knows about us. When life presses in and whispers lies of inadequacy, God’s Word speaks louder still: 📖 “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” — Isaiah 41:10 (NKJV) You carry a courage that doesn’t come from yourself but from Christ within you. You are stronger because His power is perfected in your weakness. You are wiser because Holy Spirit leads you into all truth. May this be the balm for your soul today: You are more than you know, because you are His beloved.

The Truth of Purpose

Anchored in God before Opinions Ever Spoke

For decades, whenever the question of purpose arose, my heart always returned to Isaiah 61:1-4. These verses became the thread that stitched together the fabric of my calling, whispering truth louder than the world’s opinions. Their words painted a vision of binding up the broken-hearted, proclaiming freedom, and rebuilding ancient ruins. It was as though God Himself had written my life’s mission into those lines before I ever drew breath. 📖 "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound." — Isaiah 61:1 (NKJV) This sense of mission was always echoed in the song "Take My Healing to the Nations" by Bob Fitts. The melody still rises within me like a prayer, carrying the cry of my heart—that what God has poured into me, He would pour out through me. To bring His healing, His love, His beauty, into the lives of the hurting. My core values—faith, love, compassion, service, and creativity—find their roots in this passage and song. They remind me that my purpose is not about recognition or ambition. It is about living as a vessel of His hope and light, carrying the message of restoration that first touched my own life. 💡 Reflection: Where has God etched His purpose into your heart through Scripture, song, or whisper? How might you carry that truth forward today?🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for anchoring my purpose in Your Word before the world ever had an opinion. Help me to live Isaiah 61 in my everyday life, bringing Your healing and freedom to those You place before me. May my mission never be swayed by doubt or opposition, but remain steady in Your call. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

I Am Not Infinite, But the Work Is

A reflection on our fleeting lives and God’s enduring work

Life reminds me often of my limits. My breath is numbered, my strength runs out, and my days will one day come to a close. Yet what I offer to God in obedience and love does not die with me. The brushstrokes of my art, the tenderness of my words, the prayers whispered in hidden places — these are gathered by the Eternal One, who breathes His Spirit upon them.

A Legacy of Courage

When breaking was not an option, love kept me standing

One day, my children will look back and see the truth: their mum was not unbreakable, but she refused to remain broken. No matter how many times life tried to shatter me, I chose to rise, to cling to the hand of Jesus, and to keep walking forward. Not because I was strong in myself, but because His strength held me together when mine gave way. I want them to remember that I never backed down, never gave up, never gave in—because love anchored me. For them, for our family, and most of all for the One who promised: 📖 "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NKJV) It’s not ambition that drove me, but love. It’s not perfection they will inherit, but a legacy of courage, faith, and resilience. And in those moments when I felt like ashes, God was already shaping a crown of beauty for the generations to come. 💡 Reflection: What legacy of faith, courage, or love do I hope my children (or spiritual children) will one day remember about me? 🙏 Prayer: 9Father, thank You for holding me when I could not hold myself. Help me leave behind not only memories but a living testimony of Your faithfulness. May my children carry the assurance that when life pressed hard, You were our refuge, our strength, and our song. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Loving People Back to Life

A safe place where hearts are heard and hope is rekindled

Sometimes people don’t need fixing. They don’t need your advice, your solutions, or even your well-meaning pep talk. They just need to be met where they are — in the rawness of their reality — and to be reminded, without a single demand placed on them, that they matter. They need someone who will sit with them without hurrying their process. Someone who will listen without turning their story into a lesson. Someone who will see beyond their brokenness and recognise the beauty God still sees in them. This is why our weekly encounter groups exist. To be a table where everyone has a seat. To be a room where tears don’t need to be explained. To be a space where masks aren’t required because there’s no performance here — only presence. 📖 "Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." — Galatians 6:2 (NKJV) When we meet, we don’t come to fix each other. We come to carry one another’s burdens to the One who can truly heal. In His presence, walls come down and hearts begin to breathe again. 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, teach us to love like You love — with no strings attached and no hidden agenda. Help us to create spaces where people feel safe to be seen, known, and cherished. May our listening ears and open hearts be a reflection of Yours. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Breaking the Familiar: Walking into God’s Better Way

A reflection on surrendering comfort for Kingdom transformation

The flesh clings to what is known. My mind often drifts back to the patterns that once felt safe, even when they were quietly suffocating me. There’s a strange security in the familiar, even if the familiar kept me bound. When God calls me forward, He often invites me into a place that feels uncertain, raw, and unfamiliar. My “new normal” never feels natural at first—it stretches me, exposes my weaknesses, and asks me to trust Him beyond the limits of my comfort. Breaking cycles always leaves a hollow pause. An empty space where the old no longer fits but the new hasn’t fully formed. That space can feel disorienting, but it’s sacred ground. It’s where God begins to plant what is better—things that align not with my old survival instincts, but with my true identity in Him. The flesh resists change because it craves the comfort of predictability. Yet Scripture reminds me that the flesh must be crucified if I’m to truly live in the Spirit. 📖 "And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." — Galatians 5:24 (NKJV) This is not a call to grit my teeth and “just try harder.” It’s a call to surrender. To lay down the counterfeit comfort of what’s known and take up the cross of daily discipline—not out of duty, but out of love for the One who set me free. Today, I choose not to drift back into old patterns. I will walk with Him, even when my feet tremble, trusting that every uncomfortable step forward is leading me deeper into His purpose for my life. 💡Reflection: Where am I clinging to something familiar because it feels safe, even though it no longer serves my walk with God? 🤔 How can I invite the Holy Spirit into the “blank spaces” that change creates in my life? 🤔 What practical disciplines will help me keep my eyes fixed on Jesus rather than the comfort of old habits? 🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, I surrender my old patterns at the foot of Your cross. Help me resist the pull of the familiar when You are calling me into something greater. Teach me to embrace the discomfort of transformation, knowing it is the pathway to freedom. Fill the blank spaces with Your presence and align my heart with Your will. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Grace in the Garden

Turning self-reflection into a place of healing and hope

Some days, coming before God feels like stepping into a courtroom — every fault laid bare, every weakness magnified. I’ve often carried that heaviness into prayer, as though His presence was a place where I had to brace for disappointment. Yet the more I walk with Him, the more I realise His heart for me is not a judge’s bench, but a garden.   In a courtroom, I’d be measuring myself against impossible standards. In a garden, I’m invited to grow.   Self-reflection in God’s presence becomes grace when I start with His love, not my failures. Before I even ask a question, I breathe in the truth: 📖 "The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in mercy." — Psalm 103:8 (NKJV)   From that place of security, I can invite Holy Spirit to walk with me gently, like a dear Friend strolling beside me, pointing out areas in my heart where something tender is starting to grow… or where weeds are crowding the roots. His conviction is never to shame, always to heal.   I’ve learned to ask questions that lift my eyes to His redemptive work: Lord, where are You growing something new in me? 🤔 What lies am I believing that You want to replace with Your truth? 🤔 How can I partner with You in this area? 🤔   When I see myself as clay in the Potter’s hands or a branch being lovingly pruned, I understand that correction is a form of care. He is shaping me into something beautiful and fruitful.   📖 "He who began a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ." — Philippians 1:6 (NKJV)   I close my time in gratitude — not because I have all the answers, but because His patience never runs out, and His promise to finish what He started is unshakable.   💡Reflection: When I sit with God, do I expect His face to be stern or smiling?💡 How might my self-reflection change if I truly believed He delights in me, even as He shapes me? 🤔   🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You that Your presence is a safe place, a place where I can bring my whole self — the beauty, the brokenness, and the parts still being mended. Help me to see myself through Your eyes, to welcome Your gentle pruning, and to trust that Your correction is rooted in love. Let my heart be a garden where grace grows stronger than guilt. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When God’s Correction is an Open Door to Restoration

Learning to see His “No” as a loving invitation to come closer

Sometimes, the Father’s correction feels like rejection. Our human hearts, especially when tender from past wounds, can easily misread His loving redirection as a withdrawal of favour. I have felt it in the quiet ache when relationships shift, in the sting of a ministry door closing, in the stillness after my creativity has been met with silence. Yet the more I sit with Him, the more I see that His correction is never about pushing me away—it’s always about pulling me closer. It’s an invitation to release what is not aligned with His heart so He can restore what is. When a relationship changes, He’s inviting me to anchor my identity in His love rather than another’s affirmation. When a role in ministry ends, He’s redirecting me to serve from rest, not exhaustion. When my creative work is met with quiet, He’s freeing me from the snare of human applause. When He asks me to let go of something good, He’s making space for something better. Correction is not condemnation. It is the gentle hand of a Father who sees the path ahead and loves me too much to let me wander into harm. 📖 "My son, do not despise the chastening of the Lord, nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him; for whom the Lord loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives." — Hebrews 12:5-6 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: Where in my life right now do I feel shut out, unseen, or “moved aside”? 🤔 Could this be a place where God is actually drawing me into deeper trust or realignment? 🤔 What would it look like to see this season as an open door rather than a closed one? 🤔 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You that Your correction is always rooted in love. Forgive me for the times I’ve mistaken Your guiding hand for rejection. Help me to trust that when You close a door, You are not pushing me away but drawing me nearer to Your heart. Teach me to see Your “No” as an invitation to deeper restoration. Heal my perspective so I can walk in joy, even in redirection. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

My Safe Place in Every Season

Gratitude for the ones who keep my heart steady

If you asked me what the best part of my life is, I wouldn’t need to think twice. It’s my little family. Always. They are my safe place, my joy, my reason to keep going on the hard days. No matter where life takes me or what we go through, they are the part of my story I will treasure forever.   When the shadows once pressed in and suicidal thoughts whispered their lies, my dearest husband and sons became the anchor that kept me from drifting away. They gave me a reason to keep fighting when my own hope felt too thin to hold on to. And when I broke, they stood close enough to hear the cracks, to hold me through the fireball of pain, and to believe with me for the healing I was desperate for.   By God’s grace, I have come a long way since those rock-bottom days, though the journey is still unfolding. Today, my circle is wider — my boys and the precious daughter-in-law who has joined our family make my heart brim with joy. Their laughter fills the rooms that once echoed with silence, and their love reminds me that life can be redeemed.   Yet, above all, I am grateful that Christ has been with me through it all — every tear, every prayer, every small step forward. He is faithful to complete the work He began in me. 📖 "Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ." — Philippians 1:6 (NKJV)   💡Reflection: Who are the people God has used to anchor you in your storms? 🤔 What moments with them would you like to treasure more intentionally? 🤔 How have you seen Christ’s hand weaving restoration in your family story? 🤔   🙌Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for my family, for the love that keeps me anchored, and for the hope that never runs dry in You. Thank You for walking with me through the darkest valleys and for bringing me into places of light and laughter again. Continue to heal what is still tender, and make my life a testimony of Your unfailing faithfulness. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Truth Is Met with Hostility

Standing firm when eyes are opened to what should never have been hidden

This is the bitter taste of what has been unfolding in our own fellowship. Our pastor, after being pressured to step back from acting senior pastor into the associate role, has been on extended leave since mid-May. From the pulpit, it is announced he has not been asked to resign; behind the scenes, the pressure builds, the walls close in, and the unspoken message is clear: you are not welcome to return. The whispers in my spirit grow louder — this is not about shepherding, it is about seizing position. 📖 "The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep." — John 10:11 (NKJV). A good shepherd lays himself down for the flock, not for ambition, not for control. When leaders protect their own power instead of protecting the sheep, they reveal their hearts more clearly than any title could. My heart aches, not just for Pastor David, but for the flock left to wander in confusion. May we have the courage to see what is before us and the faith to remember that no scheme of man can overthrow the Kingdom of God. The Lord will not be mocked, and He will raise up those who walk in humility and truth. Prayer Lord, give us eyes to see through deception and hearts that cling to Your truth. Protect the shepherds who serve You with integrity, and expose the works of darkness that seek to harm Your people. Keep my own heart free from bitterness, and teach me to speak truth in love, even when it costs me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. You are not alone in seeing. God sees. And His justice, though sometimes slow in our eyes, is always perfect.

When Familiar Faces Stay Silent

Finding peace when support comes from unexpected places

It used to ache in places I couldn’t name when friends or family didn’t offer their support. I would pour my heart and soul into something, quietly hoping for a kind word, a spark of encouragement, or even just a hint that they saw my effort. Too often, what I received instead was silence… or worse, subtle discouragement that dimmed the joy of what I was building.   Then I came across these words: "You know why strangers support you more than people you know? 🤔 Because people you know have a hard time accepting that you guys came from the same place, yet they're in the same place."   It was as if the Holy Spirit flicked on a light in my understanding. Their silence wasn’t proof that my work lacked value. It was proof that my growth had quietly unsettled them. We came from the same starting point, yet I’d chosen to step into unfamiliar waters — waters they were not ready, or willing, to enter.   They remember the “old me”— the unsure girl, the one who made mistakes, who didn’t yet walk with the confidence God has since built in me. To embrace the “new me” would mean they’d have to shift their perspective… and maybe face why they’ve chosen to stay the same. That is not an easy mirror to look into.   Strangers, however, meet me here, in the now. They see the fruit of my labour without comparing it to my past. They celebrate my courage without measuring it against their own journey. Their encouragement is free of competition or history — it’s simply joy in seeing another rise.   So I no longer carry the weight of expecting applause from the familiar. I’ve learnt that my journey doesn’t need permission to be valid. If the people closest to me aren’t ready to clap, I will keep clapping for myself… and listen for the applause of Heaven. 📖 "Commit your works to the Lord, and your thoughts will be established." — Proverbs 16:3 (NKJV) 💡Reflection: How do I usually respond when someone I love doesn’t support my dreams? 🤔 In what ways might their silence have more to do with them than with me? 🤔 Where have I seen God bring unexpected encouragement from strangers? 🤔   🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for reminding me that my worth and calling are not dependent on the applause of others. Teach me to release the need for validation from those who cannot yet see what You are doing in me. Help me walk with confidence, knowing that Heaven celebrates every step I take in obedience to You. May my journey be a testimony that inspires, whether in silence or in song. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When God’s “No” Is Really His “Go”

How rejection and opposition can carry you into your destiny

Some of the hardest moments in life are when doors slam shut, especially if they’re doors we desperately wanted to walk through. Rejection can feel like a wound to the soul. Opposition can feel personal, unfair, even cruel. Yet, if we zoom out to the heavenly perspective, we begin to see something astonishing: sometimes the very people who try to push us away are unknowingly pushing us into the exact place God has prepared for us.   Joseph’s story is one of my favourite reminders. His brothers’ betrayal was wicked and undeserved, yet it was the stepping stone that led him to Egypt and, eventually, to the role of Prime Minister. 📖 "You meant evil against me; but God meant it for good." — Genesis 50:20 (NKJV). If their plot had actually thwarted God’s plan, He would have never allowed it. No betrayal, injustice, delay, or detour can override what God has ordained.   When we resist the Holy Spirit’s promptings, God, in His mercy, will often shut the door Himself. Sometimes that closed door is not punishment—it’s redirection. It’s His way of saying, “Daughter, the way ahead is different from what you’ve imagined, but it is far better than you think.”   Rejection is not the end of your story. It’s the turning of a page. If you’re walking through an unexpected no right now, perhaps it is His “go” into the next chapter. Trust that His hands are steady on the pen, writing a story for your good and His glory.   💡Reflection: Where have I taken rejection or opposition personally when it may have been God’s redirection? 🤔 What closed doors in my past now make sense in hindsight?🤔 How can I choose to trust God’s plan today, even when I don’t understand it?🤔 🙌Prayer: Father, thank You for being the Author of my story and the Guardian of my steps. Help me to trust that no plan of Yours can be thwarted and that even the actions of those against me can become the very thing You use to move me into my purpose. Heal my heart from wounds of rejection and help me to see them through the lens of Your love and sovereignty. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Numbness Wears a Smile

Seeing beyond the disguise of high-functioning depression

No one talks much about the freeze response. It isn’t loud. It isn’t messy. It doesn’t turn heads in a crowded room. It looks like someone still going to work. Still replying to messages. Still smiling at the right moments. But inside? Numb. Disconnected. Dissociated.

When Connection Fades: Lessons in Leadership and Letting Go

A reflection on forgiveness, value, and the threads that keep teams together

The lunch table at The Crate was unusually loud today. By 1:45, the chatter had faded and only a few of us remained at our desks. I was focused on work when Elias appeared at my desk. I hadn’t even noticed him approach until he leaned over and asked if I’d been “kicked off” the desk next to Roland. I explained that Debbie had moved in yesterday and, with the joy of a flexi desk, those of us who are part-time get to relocate for the full-timers. Interestingly, he had also stopped by my desk yesterday during his lunch in the same way with a question I can't remember. Two days in a row — that's  shift from months of near silence.  As I walked past him after filling up my water bottle in the kitchen, I mustered up the courage to ask him about his progress with the walking preparation for his holiday next month. We had a brief conversation before I returned to my desk. Later, this evening, I joined Clive for drinks at The Crate. While The Gathering was in full swing downstairs, I retreated upstairs to the massage chairs for ten minutes, then settled into my “thinking chair” downstairs with The 15 Laws of Growth by John Maxwell. I’d just been reading how Maxwell touches base with his long-time assistant every single day of the year. In stark contrast, during my last months working with Elias, our connection had thinned to the point where we met at most once a month. If I’m honest, the struggle began almost a year ago, last September, when in a moment of frustration, I felt like the cat being kicked. The shock of it knocked my confidence, and in trying too hard to avoid making mistakes, I made more than usual — especially during the awards administration. That moment marked the beginning of a slow unravelling. From my chair, I could hear Helen giving her 10-minute hack on forgiveness. Her words landed close to home, especially regarding Elias. The past eleven months have been hard, but I no longer feel the need to flee when he’s near. I can even joke, laugh, and hold my ground without my heart racing. As I was leaving, Elias came down the passage, arms outstretched for a hug. Then he told me my replacement had “pulled a runner.” I replied that I was sorry to hear it and hoped he’d find a new replacement soon. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, “because we have systems.” I hope your systems are good enough" I replied as he walked away. I couldn’t help but smile at the irony — those were the systems I had built and never received feedback on until Clive came home from The Gathering last week saying Elias had noted I'd done a great job. It stubg because the affirmation came in a way that didn’t allow me to receive it directly, from the person who should have acknowledged my value when it mattered most. Perhaps he has begun to realise what he let go. Perhaps hearing Helen speak on forgiveness stirred something. Perhaps it was simply a moment of unexpected humanity. 🤔 Whatever the reason, I walked away surprised by the encounter, but at peace. 📖 “A man who has friends must himself be friendly, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” — Proverbs 18:24 (NKJV) Forgiveness doesn’t always mean restoration of the relationship, but it does mean freedom — freedom from bitterness, from the weight of unanswered questions, from the sting of being undervalued. And in that freedom, I am learning that leadership without connection is just management, and systems without relationship are just structure without life. 💡Reflection Prompt: Where have I been part of a “team” but left feeling unseen? 🤔 What small, consistent actions can I take to nurture the relationships that matter — even in virtual spaces? 🤔 🙌Prayer: Lord, thank You for the grace to forgive and for the quiet progress You’ve been working in my heart. Teach me to value connection over convenience, relationship over routine. Help me lead with intentionality and keep the flames of trust and belonging alive wherever I serve. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.