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. That felt like a quiet affirmation from heaven — a nudge that love’s labour, though tender, was enough. 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.

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 such an 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. Moments later, she returned with a whole container full of flags for me to use during worship.

In that small, spontaneous exchange, I felt deeply seen and 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.

The team chose to share their own stories rather than play the Healing the Hearts of Our Children videos. Hearing their testimonies brought such warmth and connection — evidence of God’s redeeming grace at work through each one of them. I loved how they 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.

It has has always been to be first responders for the broken, those in the gutters, the ones standing at the edges, who won’t step into a sanctuary because theyre too ashamed or the Church once wounded them. Our calling is to create a safe space where people can be loved back to life… and then released — healed, whole, and ready — into the local churches around them.

We want to create a safe space where people are loved back to life, healed throughth 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.

💡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.