There are days when my heart needs more than reassurance. It needs alignment. A gentle returning to the truth of who I am, not as the world measures or names me, but as I am known by God. Reading through the declarations of Who I Am in Christ feels like stepping back onto holy ground. Each line steadies me, like stones placed in a river, helping me cross seasons that might otherwise sweep me away. These are not lofty ideals to strive for. They are settled truths, already spoken, already sealed. I am called by God by my name. I am engraved on the palm of His hands. I am delivered from the power of darkness and made new in Christ. When I pause with these words, my striving softens. I remember that my life is not accidental, nor is my calling fragile. I have a purpose for living, one shaped by His counsel, not by comparison or approval. I am never forsaken. I have a Father. I am the temple of the Holy Spirit, receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken. These truths ground me deeply. They explain why faith and spirituality sit at the very centre of my life. Everything else flows from there. Love, service, creativity, courage, and compassion are not things I try to manufacture. They are the natural overflow of belonging to Him. I am loved with an everlasting love. I am crucified with Christ, and yet alive with His life within me. I am the light of the world, not by my own strength, but because His light lives in me. I am more than a conqueror, an ambassador for Christ, accepted in the Beloved. This is the soil from which integrity grows. This is why generosity matters more to me than ambition, and why success has never been measured by applause. I am beloved and chosen by God. I am healed by the wounds of Jesus. I am free from condemnation and complete in Christ. When I hold these truths close, I understand my deep pull toward compassion. Love is not an abstract idea to me. It is an action, shaped by mercy, tenderness, and the desire to restore what has been broken. I know God’s voice. I have all my needs met in Christ. I have everlasting life and the power to take my thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ. These declarations speak into growth and learning, reminding me that transformation is a journey walked with Him, not a destination reached by effort. The Lord is my rock and my salvation. I have received power from the Holy Spirit to heal the sick, cast out demons, and stand firm against the enemy. I forget what lies behind and press forward with Christ. This is where courage takes root. This is why I stand against injustice and remain steadfast, even when it costs me comfort. I have received the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. I am redeemed from the curse of the law. I always triumph in Christ. These truths reshape how I view health, wellness, balance, and rest. Caring for myself is not indulgence. It is stewardship, allowing me to continue serving with grace rather than exhaustion. I value freedom, though I treasure security more. I cherish beauty, especially in creative expression, yet I know it is always secondary to love and faith. Creativity, for me, is a language of healing. A way to help others see themselves through heaven’s eyes. Achievement and ambition sit quietly at the edge of my life, never driving me, never defining me. Impact matters more than recognition. Lives touched matter more than milestones reached. All these truths weave together into one living declaration. My identity in Christ shapes my values, and my values give expression to my identity. This is the life I am growing into, gently, faithfully, one surrendered step at a time. 📖 "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: • Which truth about who I am in Christ feels most anchoring for me right now 🤔 • How do my values flow from my identity rather than from expectation or pressure 🤔 • Where might God be inviting me to rest more deeply in belonging instead of striving 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am known, chosen, and held in Christ. My life is rooted in faith, shaped by love, and guided by truth. I walk forward with courage, creativity, and compassion, trusting that God is faithfully at work in me and through me. 🙌 Prayer: Father God, thank You for calling me by name and anchoring my life in Christ. Help me to live from the truth of who I am in You, not from fear, comparison, or striving. Let my values remain aligned with Your heart, my love remain active, and my service remain gentle and faithful. Teach me to rest where You rest and to walk boldly where You lead. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

“God placed that dream in your heart for a reason, and no delay, detour, or quiet season can cancel what He has destined for you.” Hey dreamer, Perhaps you have grown quiet about it. Life unfolded, plans shifted, and somewhere along the way you began to wonder whether it still mattered. Yet deep down, you know the truth. It never truly left your heart. That dream is not gone. It is waiting, resting beneath the surface, patiently trusting for your faith to rise again. Nothing was wasted, neither the waiting nor the struggle. Every pause carried purpose, every detour held a lesson, and every silent season became sacred ground. God may have been teaching you to trust Him more deeply through it all, not just with the outcome, but with the process. He has been shaping your heart, strengthening your roots, and preparing you for what will require endurance as well as courage. If He entrusted you with the vision, He will also give you the grace, the strength, and the provision to walk it out, step by step. Not all at once, not in your own power, but in steady partnership with Him. Do not give up simply because it became hard. Keep moving, not perfectly, but faithfully. Faithfulness often looks small and quiet, yet Heaven honours every obedient step. There will be seasons of waiting, questions, and battles. His promise still stands. 📖 “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” — Hebrews 13:5 (NKJV) You are not behind. You are being prepared. Keep dreaming with God. The dream still lives, because the Giver of the dream never left. 💡Reflection: • What dream has God placed in my heart that I have grown quiet about 🤔 • Where have I mistaken waiting for being forgotten 🤔 • How might God be preparing me, not delaying me 🤔 🎺Affirmation: God’s timing is at work in my life. What He has planted in me will come to fruit in its appointed season, and I choose to trust Him with every step. I am being prepared, not postponed. 🙌 Prayer: Father God, thank You for the dreams You place within our hearts, dreams born of Your love and purpose. Faithful God, You see the dreams I carry and the seasons that have tested my hope. When waiting feels heavy and silence feels confusing, help me to trust You more deeply. I bring You my waiting, my questions, and my weariness. Renew my faith where it has grown tired, and teach me to trust You step by step. I place my dreams back into Your hands, knowing You are faithful to complete what You have begun. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Everybody is creative, because we were made in God’s image. Creativity is not a personality trait reserved for the talented or the brave. It is a birthright, woven into us by a Creator who spoke worlds into being and called them good. Did you notice, children sing🎶 before they speak🗣, paint🎨 before they write✍️, and dance💃 as soon as they can stand🧍‍♂️?🤔 Long before language forms on the tongue, expression flows from the heart💗. Art is the heart’s first language, instinctive, untrained, and fearless. The tragedy is not that we lose creativity, but that we learn to bury it. The key🗝 is often not discipline or technique, but healing the 💔heartbreak that caused us to stop creating. Many of us carry quiet lies we have come to believe: • I’m not creative! • I can’t sing! • I can’t dance! • I can’t draw! • I can’t paint! • I can’t write! • I can’t speak! These are only the visible tips of the iceberg. Beneath them often lie moments of wounding that taught us it was safer to stop trying. A parent who failed to affirm our drawing or didn't attend our school plays. A comparison to siblings that planted shame. A teacher who called our work “not good enough.” A laugh, a look, or a careless word that lodged itself deep in a tender heart. Over time, saying “I can’t” can feel easier than admitting the deeper truth. Fear of not being good enough feels less vulnerable when disguised as inability. Silence feels safer than risking rejection again. For a decades, I believed each one of these lies myself. Yet God, in His mercy, began to give me the keys to dismantle them, one by one, turning places of shame into redemptive stories of healing, courage, and restored voice. I have learnt this along the way: if you have a voice, you can sing and speak🗣. If you have hands, you can draw, paint🎨, and write✍️. If you have feet, you can absolutely dance💃. Creation was never meant to be earned or perfected. It was meant to be expressed. What often holds us back is not lack of ability, but a belief structure that whispers we should not even try. Yet Scripture reminds us that we were created to reflect Him. 📖 "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) Creativity is not about performance. It is about participation, joining God in bringing beauty, meaning, and truth into the world in ways that are uniquely ours. When creativity is healed, hearts soften, voices return, and courage quietly awakens. God is gentle with the places where we stopped. He does not demand that we create perfectly, only that we come as we are. As wounds are named and tended, creativity often rises again, not loud or impressive, but honest and free. You were never meant to be silent where God placed a song. You were never meant to hide what He called good. 💡Reflection: • When did I first learn to believe I was “not creative” 🤔 • What memories surface when I think about creating freely 🤔 • What would it look like to create without striving for approval 🤔 • Where might God be inviting me to gently begin again 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am created in God’s image. Creativity flows through me as a gift, not a test. I am allowed to begin again, gently and without fear. 🙌 Prayer: Lord, You are the Creator of my heart and the Healer of my wounds. I bring You the places where my creativity was silenced, shamed, or buried. Touch what still aches, restore what was lost, and awaken what You placed within me. Teach me to create with freedom, humility, and joy, trusting that You delight in my offering. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Fear Rises in the Chest A gentle testimony of tears, tenderness, and the God who sits with us in the ache There are days when the body speaks before the mind can find words. The tears come suddenly, the chest grows tight, and fear brushes against the heart like a cold wind whispering through familiar cracks. This morning became one of those moments. For the past few months I've been quietly observing a subtle shift in a friendship and it stirred something far deeper than the present circumstance, awakening echoes that once lived in the shadows of childhood places forgotten by the world yet remembered by my body. After the wave crashed, I cried. I slept and in that small surrender, something softened. My headache and nausea eased their grip. My nose remains blocked, almost as though grief is still finding its way out, yet the sharp edges of the moment have gentled. Clive brought me ginger beer and lunch — a quiet kindness, a reminder that love still finds me. Tearfulness lingers, a mix of sadness and fear, although fear seems the louder voice today. Fear of losing connection, fear of being quietly set aside, fear of repeating old pages of a story Jesus has been rewriting. 📖 “He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom.” — Isaiah 40:11 (NKJV) Yet even here, I sense Him. The One who does not rush me through the pain, the One who sits with me in the half-light and reminds my trembling heart that fear does not get the final word. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Fear may rise, yet love rises higher. Tears may fall, yet His presence falls closer. This story is not the same as the old ones, even though it brushes their edges. I am learning to pause, breathe and let Him hold the places that once held me captive. Healing comes in layers, and today He touched another. 💡Reflection • When fear rises in my chest, what memory or belief feels touched beneath the surface? 🤔 • How does my body tend to speak when my heart feels threatened or unseen? 🤔 • Where can I notice Jesus’ comfort in the ordinary kindnesses around me today? 🤔 • What truth do I most need to hear right now about my worth and belonging? 🤔 🎺Affirmation I am held, seen, and deeply loved. Jesus stays near to every trembling place within me, and nothing — not shifting relationships nor old fears awakening — can diminish the truth of who I am in Him. I am safe in His arms, steady in His gaze, and sheltered by His unfailing love. 🙌 Prayer Holy Spirit, thank You for gently easing the heaviness in my body and calming the trembling in my heart. Thank You for the tears that softened what fear had tightened. Whisper Your truth into every anxious place within me and remind me that I am never on the outside of Your affection. Wrap me in Your nearness, steady my breathing, anchor my worth, and continue healing the layers that rise unexpectedly. I trust You with the tender places. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Zoom room was alive with presence and possibility at the Speakers Tribe gathering today. Words were shared, courage was stretched, and something sacred unfolded in the ordinary act of showing up. Craig opened the space sharing on leadership and impact. One line landed deep in my spirit: “Legacy isn't what you leave behind; it’s what you awaken in others.” Then came the question that gently pressed on the future: What is it that you need to upgrade in 2026 that is going to take yourself to the next level?🤔 Everyone had an opportunity to share. As I spoke, clarity rose with the words. Early next year we are launching our community hub, and with it will come far more speaking, especially online. Videos are part of that calling, even though I have been quietly avoiding the camera. No more hiding. Not from the lens, and not from the calling God has been patiently unfolding. Prajesh then asked the question beneath the strategy, the one that always matters most: What is your why?🤔 My answer came from lived experience, not theory. Depression is one of the leading causes of disability worldwide. One in every six New Zealanders will experience it at some point in their lives. I know that pit of despair, having spent most of my life clinging to a rope so frayed and slippery it felt like someone had greased it just for fun. For many years I believed that 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 lies are heartbreakingly common, and they keep far too many people bound. Over the last few years, God has placed keys for healing hearts into my hands, and every single one of them looks like creativity. Each former I can’t has been lovingly transformed into an I can. Art, words, colour, story, and courage have become doorways back to life. 📖 “And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’” — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NKJV) My why is simple and fierce at the same time. I want others to reignite with the flame of creativity so their hearts, and their health, can be restored. I want to change the world 🌎 one broken 💔heart💖 at a time. The world is full of broken hearts, which means there is holy work to do. 📖 “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 broken-hearted, To proclaim liberty to the captives, And the opening of the prison to those who are bound.” — Isaiah 61:1 (NKJV) That is my why. Janine’s response felt like a gentle sealing of the moment. She reflected on the growth she has witnessed this year, the way I receive feedback, return refined, and keep showing up braver each time. Her words were not flattery but affirmation of fruit formed through faithfulness. This tribe does more than sharpen skills. It awakens courage, calls forth truth, and reminds me that legacy is not loud. It is lived, offered, and multiplied in others. I left this gathering grateful, steady, and quietly resolved. The camera no longer feels like an enemy, but a doorway. If legacy is what we awaken in others, then I will keep showing up, speaking, creating, and trusting God to breathe life through it all. Today I honour the hands that held me steady and the dream that rises for 2026 I'm grateful to for a wonderful year of support and growth, a year where encouragement became the quiet scaffolding that held my heart as God shaped new courage within me. This community has been a gentle place of sharpening, stretching, and learning to stand a little taller in the call God has placed on my life. I am looking toward next year with expectancy, trusting the One who authors each season. My 2026 upgrade now holds two more sacred assignments: writing my Healing 💔heARTs💖 book and a mini Ten X. These feel like holy invitations, whispered by the Holy Spirit into the deep places where purpose takes root. May every step ahead be shaped by obedience, anchored in peace, and fuelled by the grace that has carried us this far. There is beauty waiting to unfold, and I am grateful to walk this unfolding with this team. 💡Reflection: • What fears am I being invited to face as part of my calling in this next season 🤔 • Where have old “I can’t” beliefs quietly limited my obedience 🤔 • How might God be using my lived story to awaken hope in others 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am not defined by the lies I once believed. I am led by God’s truth, shaped by faithfulness, and called to awaken life in others through courage, creativity, and compassion. 🙌 Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank You for the way You redeem every broken place and turn it into a testimony of hope. Give me courage to step fully into what You are asking of me, even when it feels uncomfortable or stretching. Anoint my words, my creativity, and my willingness to be seen, so that others may find healing and freedom through You. Let my life awaken hearts to Your restoring love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. Legacy That Awakens “Legacy isn’t what you leave behind; it’s what you awaken in others.” — Craig Johns My response I once believed a long list of “I can’ts.” God met me there and turned each one into an “I can” through creativity and healing. Now my legacy is simple, to help awaken hearts, restore hope, bring joy and change the world one broken heart at a time. — Patrizia “Trixi” Schwartz

I felt a little gutted when I realised I had accidentally cancelled the recording of the word spoken over me after Freedom Day on Saturday. I wanted to savour every syllable, every cadence of the Father’s affirmation. Although the recording is gone, the essence of His voice has stayed with me, and I am grateful for the notes I managed to capture. They feel like fragments of gold gathered from a riverbed — small, yet glimmering with truth. Something in me longed to hold that moment, to replay it and let the truth of it wash over me again. Yet even without the recording, the I'm grateful for those fragments that seem to carry the weight of Heaven. “The Lord is drawing you out.” Those words rest in me like a steady heartbeat. There is a holy invitation woven through them, a gentle pulling away from the familiar and into the expansive unknown God has prepared. It feels as though He is beckoning me beyond the places where I have shrunk back, beyond the borders I once believed were fixed. There is movement in His whisper, a summons into deeper waters, and I feel it stirring courage where familiar fears once lived. Those words felt like a gentle hand beneath my chin, lifting my gaze. I have sensed His pull for years, subtle and steady, almost like a tide changing beneath my feet. Hearing it spoken aloud was like receiving confirmation of something He has already been whispering into the quiet corners of my heart. “There are many gifts He’s given you that you haven’t even discovered yet. Explore those gifts a spend time with Him.” These words feel like sunlight breaking through cloud. They remind me that God sees dimensions of me I have not yet encountered. He remembers the treasures He hid in me long before I ever knew to look for them. They have been waiting for their appointed time, like seeds resting beneath winter soil. I sense His delight in the unveiling, His joy in the becoming. They stirred something deep within me. It felt like an invitation into discovery, a reminder that the journey is far from finished. Hidden wells remain untapped. Creativity, compassion, leadership, wisdom — layers of them waiting to unfold in His presence. It felt aligned with everything the Lord has been shaping in this season, where faith becomes the wellspring for service, courage, kindness, integrity, and healing. It feels like both instruction and embrace. It is not a command born of pressure but an invitation shaped by love. Explore with Him, not for Him. Discover with Him, not alone. The presence of Holy Spirit is the lantern in the quiet corridors of my own heart, illuminating gifts that were never meant to be dormant. These gifts do not grow in striving. They grow in communion. “Speak with confidence to the one before you.” This settles into my spirit with both weight and gentleness. Confidence has often felt like something to earn, yet here the Lord seems to speak of it as something to receive. When He sends me to stand before someone, He has already anointed the moment. My voice, shaped by tenderness, truth, and the journey He has walked me through, carries an authority that is not my own. It comes from the One who heals hearts, binds wounds and speaks life into ruins. This line has kept echoing in my spirit. It felt less like instruction and more like commissioning. God was not directing me toward stages or crowds but simply toward the heart right in front of me. Ministry is not about the many. It begins with the one — the one who is hurting, the one who is searching, the one He places in my path. He was reminding me that His anointing flows just as powerfully in the quiet, unseen moments as it does anywhere else. “You are anointed.” These final words feel like warm oil flowing over the bruised places of my identity. Not anointed for performance, but anointed for presence. Anointed to carry His compassion, His creativity, His healing, His wisdom. Anointed to stand where He places me, to speak what He breathes, to love in alignment with His heart. I feel the assurance settle like dew over the hidden corners of my soul. 📖 "Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them." — Psalm 139:16 (NKJV) They settled over me like a mantle. Not heavy, not overwhelming, simply true. They felt like a gentle affirmation from the Father, speaking identity into places where I have often doubted myself. The God who saw my unformed frame is still revealing the chapters He wrote for me. None of this is accidental. None of this is lost. Though the recording slipped away, the word remains, etched into my spirit by the One who speaks with everlasting kindness. The prayer minister’s excitement only magnified this sense of holy anticipation. She wrapped up with a bright, almost breathless exclamation: “I almost wish I was in your shoes!” as though she could see something unfolding that I have only begun to glimpse. Her joy felt like confirmation that Heaven is smiling over this season, that the Lord Himself is delighted to draw me out, to deepen His gifts in me, and to anoint the work of my hands. Although the recording was lost, the heart of the message lives on. Nothing spoken in His presence is ever truly lost. Today I rest in that truth, grateful for what He is awakening within me. 📖 "For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable." — Romans 11:29 (NKJV) 📖 "Do not neglect the gift that is in you." — 1 Timothy 4:14 (NKJV) 📖 "The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way." — Psalm 37:23 (NKJV) These Scriptures rose gently in my spirit as I pondered the word spoken over me. They seem to stitch themselves seamlessly into the message I received — a divine reminder that what God deposits cannot be stolen, silenced, or erased. Every hidden gift is held in His safekeeping until the appointed moment of unveiling. 💖Heart Reflection I find myself reflecting on how often I have sensed God drawing me beyond the familiar, beyond what I have believed myself capable of. This word felt like a tender awakening to the truth that discovery is part of discipleship, that growth is part of obedience, and that courage is what makes room for anointing. It reminds me that confidence is not rooted in my adequacy but in His faithfulness. 💡Reflection Prompts • Where have I sensed God drawing me out of hiding in this season? 🤔 • What gifts might be lying quietly within me, waiting for invitation and exploration? 🤔 • How do I feel when I hear the words “You are anointed,” and what tender places do they touch? 🤔 • What would it look like to speak with confidence to the one before me, trusting Holy Spirit to guide? 🤔 • Who is the “one before me” that God may be inviting me to speak to with confidence and grace? 🤔 • How do I feel when I hear the word *anointed* spoken over me, and what rises in my heart as I sit with it? 🤔 • What fears soften when I remember that anointing is God’s work, not mine? 🤔 🎺Affirmation I am being gently drawn out by the Lord who delights in me. There are gifts within me waiting to bloom, treasures hidden for their appointed time. Every gift within me is timed, purposed, and protected by His hand. I walk in His anointing, not in my own strength, and I speak with confidence because He goes before me. I walk forward with confidence, not because I am enough in myself, but because His anointing rests upon me with intention and love. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the word spoken over me, even in the parts I can no longer recall. Thank You that Your voice is never lost to me, that Your truth lingers long after the moment has passed. Draw me out into the places You have prepared. Reveal the gifts You planted within me and teach me to explore them with You. Father, thank You for the tender ways You confirm what You are awakening within me. Teach me to recognise the gifts that are yet unseen, and draw me into deeper places of discovery with You. Strengthen my voice to speak with confidence to the ones You set before me, knowing I am anointed for Your purposes, anchored in love and guided by Holy Spirit. Hold my heart steady as I walk into the new things You are calling me toward. Let Your anointing settle upon me with peace and clarity, and let my life echo the truth of Your calling. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There it was, arching gently across the sky as I approached the church last night — a soft, holy ribbon of colour stretched like a promise over the road. The air still held the scent of rain, as though heaven had breathed out moments earlier. The light touched everything with a quiet glow. My heart felt that familiar stirring, the one that whispers, "I am here." It felt fitting that a rainbow greeted me on the way to our Encounter Group, especially since this gathering is a space where hearts are tended, tears are honoured, and Jesus is invited to meet us in our breaking. I had prepared the room, prayed over the chairs, and waited with expectation for those who were registered. Only one arrived. Two sent apologies. The rest simply never came. I will be honest — disappointment brushed against my heart, like a cold wind sneaking under a closed door. I felt the ache of it, the wondering, the labour of love that sometimes feels unseen. Yet as I sat with that single precious attendee, a tender truth rose within me, steady and bright. Jesus always goes after the one. 📖 "What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he loses one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost until he finds it?" — Luke 15:4 (NKJV) He never measured ministry by numbers, crowds, or applause. He measured it by love. He went where the need was. He lingered with the overlooked. He made time for the heart in front of Him. Last night, I was reminded that His way is still the same. My calling is not to gather many, but to show up faithfully for whoever comes. Even if it is only one. Especially if it is only one. As I drove home, that rainbow stayed with me — a quiet arch of covenant, a reminder that God keeps His promises even when attendance is thin and hope feels small. The sky seemed to say, "Trixi, love the one in front of you. I see every seed you sow. Nothing is wasted." 💡 Reflection • Where have you felt unseen or disappointed recently, and what might Jesus be whispering to you in that place? 🤔 • How has God used moments of "smallness" to reveal His heart to you? 🤔 • What does faithfulness look like in the quiet, hidden assignments He entrusts to you? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am held, led, and strengthened by the God who treasures the one. My small offerings matter in His Kingdom. Nothing done in love is ever wasted. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for meeting me on the road with a rainbow of promise, and again in the quiet room where only one heart arrived. Teach me to honour the ministry of the small, the unseen, and the deeply precious. Strengthen me to show up with love, grace, and expectancy, trusting that You are always at work. Bless every person who longs for healing, and guide me to be Your hands and heart for whoever You bring. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. I carry this truth forward tonight: even when attendance falters, purpose does not. Jesus meets us in the one, and that is enough.

There are moments when something small brushes against an old wound and the whole heart flinches. It may be a tone of voice, a memory, a silence, or a look that echoes the ache of another time. These are not signs of failure, they are gentle indicators of where God is longing to pour His healing. Triggers reveal the places where our stories were interrupted, the corners of the heart where fear or shame still whispers, the moments where we learned to protect rather than trust. They uncover what still hurts so that mercy can enter the very fracture we once hid. Scripture reminds us that truth is not a weapon against us, it is the doorway to our freedom: 📖 "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." — John 8:32 (NKJV) The truth that heals is not cold or clinical. It is the truth spoken by the One who sees us with unwavering compassion. Jesus does not expose the wound to shame us; He reveals it to restore us. Each trigger is an invitation into deeper honesty with Him, a holy summons into the places we have long carried alone. Sometimes the shaking is not about the present moment at all. It is the echo of a younger version of ourselves still waiting to be comforted, still waiting to be held. When we allow Holy Spirit to enter that memory, that emotion, that unfinished chapter, He begins to unravel the lie and replace it with His truth. Healing is the journey from reaction into revelation, from panic into presence, from hiding into being known. It is the slow, sacred process in which God turns the trembling of our hearts into testimony. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Your triggers do not disqualify you. They are the very places where heaven is most near. They show you where the trauma once lived, so that His truth can finally set you free. 💡 Reflection • What recent trigger might be pointing to an old wound that still longs to be healed? 🤔 • Where do you sense Holy Spirit inviting you to look beneath the reaction and into truth? 🤔 • What would it look like to respond with compassion to the younger version of yourself in that moment? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I honour the stirred places of my heart, recognising them not as signs of weakness but as invitations into deeper healing. God meets me in every fracture with tenderness and truth. 🙌 Prayer Holy Father, thank You for the gentle way You reveal the places within me that still ache. Help me to see triggers not with shame but with hope, trusting that each one marks a place where Your healing is drawing near. Guide me into truth, surround me with Your compassion, and restore every hidden wound with Your love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a worship that rises from the hidden cracks of a heart that has been stretched, pressed, and undone. It is not the kind of worship that fills a room with sound, although it may. It is the quiet offering of a soul that has walked through fire and still turns its face toward God. It is the trembling yes, the whispered hallelujah, the lifted eyes that refuse to be dimmed by sorrow. This worship is not loud, yet it is honest. It is not perfect, yet it is surrendered. It is not effortless, yet it is faithful. It carries the fragrance of someone who has every reason to step back, every reason to close their heart, every reason to give up, yet chooses instead to lean into the One who has never let them go. 📖 "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart — these, O God, You will not despise." — Psalm 51:17 (NKJV) God treasures this kind of worship because it is not built on feelings; it is built on love. It is the choice to let His goodness speak louder than pain, His truth speak louder than lies, His nearness speak louder than the echoes of old wounds. This is the worship of the brave. The worship of the ones who show up even when their hearts feel heavy. The worship of those who know that obedience in the valley is as holy as praise on the mountaintop. It is the sound of trust taking root in the dark soil of adversity. It is here — in the breaking, in the stretching, in the surrender — that worship becomes pure. It becomes the very place where heaven bends low, where the Holy Spirit breathes comfort into the cracks, where Jesus Himself draws near to the crushed in spirit. 📖 "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) 💡 Reflection • Where has God invited you to worship through your weakness rather than your strength? 🤔 • What part of your heart feels too tender to offer, and what would it look like to bring that place to God today? 🤔 • How might your worship shift if you saw brokenness not as disqualification but as offering? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation Your worship, even in the days when it feels small or strained, is precious to God. He receives every trembling note, every quiet surrender, every lifted gaze. You are held, cherished, and met in the very place where your heart feels least capable. Nothing offered in love is ever overlooked by Him. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the places where I feel fragile and worn. Teach me to worship from a heart that is surrendered rather than striving. May my offering be pleasing to You, not because it is perfect, but because it is honest. Draw near to my broken places and fill them with Your light. Strengthen my trust, steady my steps, and let my life be a continual song of love to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There are moments when the human soul feels as though it sinks beneath its own weight, when sorrow lingers like morning mist and hope appears dim and far away. Scripture reminds us that our battles are not only flesh and blood, that the unseen realm touches us more deeply than we often realise. Depression, through the lens of Dr Henry W. Wright and the A More Excellent Way teachings, is not merely a diagnosis; it is a tender signal that something in the spirit has been wounded, silenced, or separated from the Source of life. 📖 "A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." — Proverbs 17:22 (NKJV) This understanding does not dismiss the chemical or physiological reality. It simply lifts the veil to show that behind the imbalance lies a deeper spiritual disconnection — one Christ longs to heal. Spiritual Roots of Depression Depression is not seen as a flaw or a failure; it is the soul’s cry for reconciliation. These teachings describe depression as the emotional and physiological expression of conflict within the spirit. When the heart is burdened by a distorted sense of self, unresolved fear, or broken connection, the body follows the lead of the inner life. 1. The Wound of Self-Rejection At the very centre is a fractured relationship with one’s own identity. Self-rejection, self-hatred, guilt and suicidal thoughts tear at the fabric of belonging. When a person cannot accept themselves, the body begins to interpret life through this inner war. The hypothalamus senses the emotional conflict; the limbic system interprets it; the pineal gland slows the release of serotonin. Suddenly the body bears witness to the unseen battle. The result is not weakness but deep weariness — a tiredness of the soul that spills into the body. Unloving spirits and accusation deepen this chasm, turning the heart inward against itself. 2. Separation on Three Levels Depression often arises where connection has been starved: • separation from God and the comfort of His love • separation from oneself through guilt or condemnation • separation from others through broken relationships When these distances widen, the heart feels unsafe. The body responds in kind. 3. Fear, Anxiety, and the Unquiet Heart Fear stands as a powerful architect in the unseen realm. It shapes thought patterns, alters brain chemistry, and slowly drains hope. When fear and anxiety go unresolved, the body compensates by reducing serotonin. What begins spiritually becomes encoded in neurochemistry. Yet heaven has always understood that the origin lies deeper than the brain; it begins in the story of the heart. 📖 "Perfect love casts out fear." — 1 John 4:18 (NKJV) 4. Generational Legacies Many walk beneath weights they did not choose. The absence of nurturing in childhood leaves unseen fractures. Patterns of abandonment, harshness, or emotional distance echo through generations. Familial spirits reinforce the lie: You are not wanted. You are not enough. You do not belong. Bipolar or manic depression is often described in these teachings as the fruit of many generations of men who could not, or did not, provide safety and acceptance. Christ stands ready to break every pattern the enemy has woven through bloodlines. The Chemical Component — Not Denied, but Completed Traditional medicine describes depression as a chemical imbalance involving serotonin, dopamine, or norepinephrine. This is true, yet it is not the whole story. The spiritual perspective teaches that the chemistry follows the state of the soul. Medication can stabilise the imbalance, but it does not reach the origin of the wound. Peace cannot be manufactured by pharmaceuticals because peace is a Person. The Holy Spirit does what no prescription can. Antidepressants can help a person breathe while the deeper work begins. They simply cannot offer the wholeness that comes from spiritual healing. The Pathway to Overcoming Depression Healing begins when the roots are gently lifted from the soil. 1. Reconciliation • Returning to God and receiving His love • Accepting oneself as He created • Restoring relationships where possible 2. Repentance Repentance is not punishment. It is a turning toward life. It breaks the enemy’s legal right to accuse and afflict. 3. Ownership and Authority Depression is not destiny. Taking ownership restores authority. Choosing the law of God — truth, love, and peace — uproots the spiritual forces that shaped the emotional climate. 4. Renewing the Mind Scripture becomes medicine for the soul. Gospel truth rewrites the pathways shaped by fear and rejection. The Word silences the unloving spirit and restores identity. 📖 "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind." — Romans 12:2 (NKJV) A Picture to Understand It Imagine your emotional life as a garden. Self-hatred, fear, rejection, and guilt are like invasive weeds. They poison the soil and twist the roots. The body’s chemistry responds to the condition of the soil. Medication is the fertiliser that helps a plant survive the poisoned soil. Spiritual healing — repentance, reconciliation, truth — is what removes the weed so the garden can flourish again. Christ does not shame the weary garden. He kneels in the soil, lifts the broken stems, and tends the roots with tenderness. My Testimony — Delivered From the Spirit of Heaviness There was a time when depression was the air I breathed. It wrapped itself around me so early in life that I believed it was part of my personality. I lived beneath a cloud I could not name, a heaviness that never left. Suicidal thoughts were not occasional intruders; they were familiar shadows that whispered at the edges of my days and pressed in during the nights when I felt alone and unseen. There were seasons when I honestly did not know how I would make it through another day. I carried blame that was not mine. I wore shame like a second skin. All the while I served, loved, raised a family, ministered, and showed up for life — yet inside, I was drowning quietly, believing that if people truly knew my thoughts, they would turn away. I tried everything the world offered: self-help, counselling, distractions, strength, sheer will, and years of pretending to be fine. Nothing reached the root. Everything changed when the Holy Spirit began to reveal the spiritual roots beneath the symptoms. He uncovered the layers of self-hatred I did not even recognise as such. He exposed the fear, the inherited patterns, the rejection, the silent agreements I had made with the enemy. He showed me the generational grief I had absorbed as a child. He did not shame me for it. He simply said, “This is not who you are.” As I began to repent, renounce, forgive, and receive truth, something miraculous happened. The heaviness began to break. The intrusive thoughts lost their power. The despair that once felt permanent started dissolving. The cloud lifted. For the first time since childhood, I experienced days of pure light. Hope did not feel foreign anymore. Peace became my normal, not the exception. Joy returned not as a fleeting emotion but as a steady undercurrent in my spirit. God delivered me. Not all at once, but faithfully, layer by layer, root by root. He replaced the spirit of heaviness with the garment of praise. 📖 "To console those who mourn in Zion, 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) I am living proof that depression is not a life sentence. It is not your identity. It is not the final chapter. Christ heals what medicine cannot reach. He restores what was broken before you ever knew how to name it. He delivers the captives, even when the prison bars were invisible. I once lived in the shadows. Today I live in His light. That is the power of Jesus. That is the mercy of God. That is the testimony I carry. Conclusion: A More Excellent Way The thread woven through these truths is simple yet profound: our physical health is deeply connected to our spiritual well-being. Our relationships with God, ourselves, and others profoundly influence the health of our bodies. This perspective does not reject medicine; it expands the conversation. It invites us to consider the roots beneath the symptoms, the stories beneath the pain, and the spiritual pathways that may be shaping our physical lives. It asks a gentle but powerful question: • Are you weighed down by physical issues that medicine has no answers for?🤔 • What if lasting health requires not only treating the body but healing the spirit?🤔 • Could this be the more excellent way?🤔 • May I gently encourage you to consider exploring the spiritual roots that may be influencing your health?🤔 Some profoundly insightful resources that shaped my own healing journey are: • Deliverance and Inner Healing by John Loren Sandford and Mark Sandford • Transforming the Inner Man by John Sanford • Elijah House Prayer Ministry • A More Excellent Way (https://amzn.to/4p9wJCt) by Dr Henry W. Wright • Exposing the Spiritual Roots of Disease (https://amzn.to/3XXe6pc) by Dr Henry W. Wright You can also visit Dr. Wright's Be in Health website for more teaching, testimonies, and helpful resources: https://www.beinhealth.com/ Sometimes the key we have been searching for is not in the body but in the heart — and healing begins the moment truth meets the hidden places we did not know were still hurting. 🙌 Prayer Father God, thank You for being the One who sees into the deepest parts of my heart. Thank You for lifting me out of the heaviness that once defined me and for breaking the chains that held me captive for so many years. I praise You for replacing despair with hope, darkness with light, and confusion with clarity. I ask that You continue to heal every place within me that still needs Your touch. Wrap me in Your peace, renew my mind through Your Word, and anchor my identity in Your unfailing love. May my testimony bring comfort, courage, and deliverance to others who are walking through the valley of heaviness. Let every word point back to Your glory, Your goodness, and Your redeeming power. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Today I felt a gentle stirring in my spirit, reminding me that I am sitting right in the middle of God’s goodness. Not because everything around me is easy, predictable, or comfortable, but because His presence has been carrying me in ways I have not always recognised. As I look back, I see the quiet trails of His mercy woven through the details of my days. The whispered prayers I prayed through tears, the ones I thought evaporated into the air, found answers in unexpected ways. People appeared at the exact moment my heart felt fragile, as if heaven nudged them toward me, offering comfort, truth, or simply presence. The heartbreaks that once felt like they would undo me somehow became places where healing eventually found me, even when I didn’t know how to begin. Even on the nights when fear felt too heavy, something in me kept breathing, kept trying, kept reaching. None of that was accidental. Every moment was held. His goodness has never been reserved only for the comfortable seasons. It has lived just as faithfully in the disorienting ones. The hard places shaped me, deepened me, and strengthened the core of my faith in ways peace never could. His grace has been the reason I survived what should have broken me. It is the reason I stand where I stand today. Now, as I begin to notice His fingerprints in the places that once felt chaotic or confusing, I understand something profound: I have not walked a single moment alone. His goodness has been my shelter, my strength, my unseen support. I see now how His hand was present even in the chaos, weaving redemption through threads I once thought were fraying beyond repair. I see how He never left me for a single heartbeat. And something in me whispers, If His goodness carried me this far, it will also carry me forward. 📖 "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." — Psalm 23:6 (NKJV) Tonight, I rest in that. His goodness behind me. His goodness beneath me. His goodness ahead of me. His goodness all around me. 💡 Reflection • Where have I seen small or hidden signs of God’s goodness in this season? 🤔 • Which answered prayers have I overlooked because they arrived quietly? 🤔 • What difficult moments shaped me in ways I now recognise as grace? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am surrounded, upheld, and gently led by the goodness of God. Nothing in my story has been wasted, and nothing in my future is without His care. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the goodness that holds me even when I cannot see it. Thank You for every quiet mercy, every unseen protection, and every answered prayer that carried me to this moment. Teach my heart to recognise Your hand in all things and to rest in the certainty that You are with me. May Your goodness continue to lead me forward, shaping me with grace and strengthening me with hope. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The body is more honest than the tongue. It carries what the heart cannot voice and what the mind has learned to hide. Every ache tells a story. Every tight place remembers something the soul once survived. Yet none of these messages come to shame us. They are invitations — tender signals that a loving God is ready to meet us in the places we have buried the deepest. 📖 "For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm 139:13–14 (NKJV) This body map is not meant to diagnose but to illuminate. It is meant to restore the language between your heart and your frame, so healing can flow where pain has made its home. 1. Hips — The Deep Wells of Grief & Held Emotion Some emotions sit so deep they never find words. The hips, with their strong protective muscles, often cradle grief we did not feel safe to release. Tears stored here create pressure, tightness, and unexpected weeping when stretched. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) Jesus comes to the hips to loosen what sorrow tightened. He whispers, “You are safe now. Let the tears fall.” 2. Shoulders — Carriers of Burdens Never Meant to Be Yours Responsibility becomes heavy when it is carried alone. The shoulders clench when life feels like a weight, long before the mind admits its exhaustion. 📖 "Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you." — Psalm 55:22 (NKJV) Jesus invites you to lay down what was never yours to carry. The weight lifts when the heart returns the burden to its rightful place — His hands. 3. Lower Back — Fear of Instability & the Ache of Uncertainty When the foundations of life shake — finances, relationships, belonging — the lower back braces. It stiffens as though trying to hold up a crumbling world. 📖 "My God shall supply all your need…" — Philippians 4:19 (NKJV) Jesus steadies what feels fragile. He becomes the support you feared you lacked. 4. Jaw — Silenced Anger & Words Never Spoken The jaw tells the truth about what we never said. Clenching at night is the soul’s attempt to voice emotions that were never welcomed. 📖 "Let all bitterness, wrath, anger… be put away from you." — Ephesians 4:31 (NKJV) Jesus meets the jaw with permission. Permission to feel, to speak, to heal, to release. 5. Chest — The Chamber of Heartbreak & Sorrow The chest tightens to guard unprocessed sadness. Shallow breath. Constricted ribs. Protection born of past pain. 📖 "Hope deferred makes the heart sick." — Proverbs 13:12 (NKJV) Jesus breathes new life into constricted places. He restores hope where disappointment made a home. 6. Neck — Misalignment, Inner Conflict & Truth Unspoken The neck connects what you think with what you live. Tension here often reveals the cost of self-betrayal or the pain of living against your convictions. 📖 "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." — John 8:32 (NKJV) Jesus aligns the soul with truth. He breaks the bondage of silence. 7. Stomach — Anxiety, Dread & Trauma Stored in the Gut The stomach is the second place emotions speak loudly. Nausea, knots, churning — signs that the nervous system is carrying more than the heart can hold. 📖 "Be anxious for nothing…" — Philippians 4:6–7 (NKJV) Jesus calms storms hidden beneath the ribs. He speaks peace into the places fear has lived longest. 8. Hands — Control, Overwhelm & the Fear of Letting Go Clenched fists. Restless fingers. Hands that cannot relax often belong to a heart afraid of losing control. 📖 "Be still, and know that I am God." — Psalm 46:10 (NKJV) Jesus gently unfurls the fists. He teaches the heart that surrender is not loss — it is freedom. 9. Knees — Resistance to Change & Fear of Surrender The knees bend so we can move forward… and so we can bow. When change feels threatening, the knees stiffen. 📖 "Trust in the Lord… and He shall direct your paths." — Proverbs 3:5–6 (NKJV) Jesus strengthens knees that tremble. He leads you into new seasons with holy courage. 10. Sinuses — Tears you were never allowed to release This tender region often holds the sorrow we learned to “hold together” for the sake of others. Congestion, pressure, or recurring sinus discomfort can reflect grief that was stifled, emotions pushed down, and moments where you were expected to stay strong when your heart longed to weep. The face carries the ache of what was never expressed, while God gently calls those hidden tears into His healing light. 📖 "You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book?" — Psalm 56:8 (NKJV) As I sit with this tender truth, I recognise how deeply my own body once spoke the language of unhealed pain. This visual map is not distant or theoretical for me. It mirrors my lived experience. For so many years, my body carried the weight of trauma in the hips that ached without reason, shoulders that felt permanently braced for impact, and a lower back that tightened whenever uncertainty came near. My jaw clenched through the nights, my chest held sorrows I could not yet name, my stomach churned with anxieties I didn’t understand, my hands gripped the world as though everything depended on me, and my knees locked in fear whenever change approached. This is exactly how my body carried most of my trauma. Yet as I have walked with Jesus through healing over these past five years, something holy has unfolded within me. Each area of pain has softened. Each knot of fear has loosened. Each burdened place has slowly begun to breathe again. Healing has not been instant; it has been sacredly gradual. Layer by layer, the Holy Spirit has touched the hidden corners of my story and brought release where there was once tension, hope where there was once dread, and comfort where there was once silence. I stand today with deep gratitude, knowing I have experienced huge improvement in all these once-painful places. My body is no longer a battlefield. It is becoming a sanctuary. This journey is a reminder that God wastes nothing. Even the body’s cries become pathways to healing when placed in His gentle hands. 💡 Reflection Prompts Sit quietly with the Holy Spirit and ask: • Which part of my body speaks the loudest today? 🤔 • What emotion might be stored there that I have not acknowledged? 🤔 • Jesus, what truth do You want to speak into this place? 🤔 • Who or what do I need to release into Your hands? 🤔 • What memory do You want to heal as You touch this part of my body? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation My body is not betraying me; it is revealing where my heart needs gentleness. Jesus is healing me from the inside out. I am safe, held, and deeply loved. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, my Healer, Thank You for crafting my body with such wisdom and tenderness. Thank You for the way it speaks when my words fall silent. I invite You into every tight place, every ache, every story written beneath my skin. Touch the grief in my hips, the burdens on my shoulders, the fear in my back, the silence in my jaw, the sorrow in my chest, the misalignment in my neck, the anxiety in my gut, the control in my hands, and the resistance in my knees. Heal me layer by layer, memory by memory, breath by breath. Restore my body to peace, my soul to wholeness, and my heart to the freedom You designed for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

I have begun to notice something tender and unsettling within myself, a truth rising quietly from beneath the surface of everyday conversations. Whenever I feel unheard or dismissed, my voice lifts without thought, as though volume could carve me a place in the moment. It is not anger that drives the sound higher; it is longing — the ache to be seen, understood, and held with care. Arguments often begin long before words are spoken. They start in the hidden places where emotions run amok after feeling invalidated, overlooked, or pushed aside. Conflict becomes the language we slip into when connection feels too far away, and sometimes the trembling of our raised voices is simply the sound of a wounded heart reaching outward. In those moments, my husband hears fighting, although my heart is quietly pleading, "Please hear me. Please see me." I never set out to battle him; I simply want to bridge the gap between us. It is striking how so much of our tension has nothing to do with disagreement and everything to do with longing. Scripture reminds me that our words carry profound weight, shaping the spaces between us: 📖 "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." — Proverbs 15:1 (NKJV). I am learning that the softness Scripture speaks of is not weakness; it is wisdom. It is self-awareness. It is the gentle strength of pausing long enough to ask, "What is my heart really trying to say?🤔" The Holy Spirit continues His faithful work in these areas, drawing me inward before I move outward. He reminds me that healing invites honesty, yet also invites humility; that I can stand in truth without needing to shout; that I can share my feelings without fearing dismissal. Healing teaches us that volume is often a form of self-protection and that the fundamental transformation begins when safety grows in the relationship. When I look beneath the raised voice, I find tenderness. When I look beneath the frustration, I see fear. When I look beneath the conflict, I find longing for connection. These discoveries do not shame me; they free me — showing me that the deeper story is not about anger, but about yearning. 💡 Reflection • Where have I raised my voice this week because my heart felt unseen or unheard? 🤔 • What emotions sit beneath my loudest moments, and what do they say about my needs? 🤔 • How might I communicate my pain with gentleness rather than volume? 🤔 • What would it look like to slow down and recognise the longing beneath another person’s defensiveness? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation I am learning to speak from my heart rather than from my hurt, and God is teaching me how to create connection instead of conflict. I am held, understood, and strengthened as I grow. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the gentle ways You reveal truth within me. Teach me to recognise the tender places that rise when I feel unheard. Fill my words with grace, patience, and clarity. Help me to respond with wisdom rather than reaction, and to see the needs beneath the voices of those I love. May my home become a place where understanding grows and connection deepens. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Silence is not always a shutting out. Sometimes it is a trembling "I need a moment" whispered by a soul trying to breathe again. It is emotional self-protection, a pause to steady the heart when old wounds flare and the past rises louder than the present. The difficulty is that our silence, though meant to shield us, can feel like rejection to someone else. Human hearts interpret absence through the lens of their own history, so what we intend as retreat for safety may be received as abandonment or dismissal by others. This is the tension we carry when brokenness meets relationship: our wounds do not stay contained within us, they ripple outward and touch others too. There is mercy when we recognise this. Healing begins when we bring our inner world into the light with gentleness, inviting understanding rather than leaving others to guess. There is grace when we say, "I am quiet because I am tender, not because I am turning away." There is restoration when we choose compassion for ourselves and compassion for the one who misreads our silence. 📖 "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." — Proverbs 15:1 (NKJV) Softness is not weakness. It is the courage to speak truth with kindness, to name what hurts, and to remain present without hiding behind walls that feel safer than connection. You are learning to steward your heart with wisdom. You are learning that boundaries are not barriers, and that healing invites honest conversations, not silent suffering. May God meet you in the quiet, steady you with His peace, and teach you how to navigate both vulnerability and love in ways that honour Him and bring life to your relationships. 💡Reflection • Where have I mistaken someone’s silence for rejection, and what deeper story might have been hidden beneath it? 🤔 • When do I withdraw to protect my heart, and how might I communicate that tenderness more gently? 🤔 • What does God want to teach me about giving and receiving grace in the quiet spaces of relationship? 🤔 🎺Affirmation I am learning to navigate silence with wisdom and grace. My heart is held, understood, and guided by God, who brings clarity where confusion once lived. I am growing into deeper compassion for myself and those I love. 🙌 Prayer Jesus, thank You for meeting me in the quiet and giving language to the places I struggle to express. Teach me to honour my heart without causing unnecessary pain to others. Grant me courage to share gently when I am tender, and wisdom to discern when silence is necessary for healing. Let Your peace govern my responses and Your love fill the spaces where misunderstanding once lived. Restore connection where distance has formed and guide me into relationships marked by truth, grace, and compassion. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Silence is not the cold shoulder; it is emotional self‑protection. 💫 It is the cave we crawl into when our inner landscape feels too overwhelming to expose. It is the trembling pause where we try to steady ourselves, hoping the world will wait long enough for our breathing to return to normal. Silence can be a shield, a soft retreat, a way to survive when the heart feels too bruised to speak. Although I know silence can be a form of self‑protection, it has also been the very thing that pierced me most deeply. Over the years, Mum and Dad’s silence has not felt peaceful or neutral. It has felt like being ignored, rejected, and abandoned. Their quietness became a language of absence, a message that whispered, You are too much, you are unseen, your feelings do not fit here. A child does not interpret silence as exhaustion or uncertainty; a child interprets silence as unworthiness. That kind of silence weaves itself into the soul. It becomes the lens through which we view every pause, every unanswered message, every moment when connection feels distant. It shapes how we protect ourselves, how we relate, how we love, how we hide. The very silence that wounded me became the silence I later used to survive. Yet the sad reality is that in our wounding, we wound others. Silence, meant to guard our fragile places, can land as rejection. Withdrawal, meant to bring calm to the storm within, can be felt by others as abandonment or dismissal. This is something I may have inadvertently done to those closest to me — especially my husband and children — when I retreated into my pain. I never meant to shut them out; I was trying to keep myself from falling apart. My silence was not punishment. It was a trembling attempt to find ground beneath me. 📖 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 (NKJV) 📖 "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me." — Psalm 27:10 (NKJV) These verses sit together like gold lines of kintsugi, mending what broke long before I had words for it. God sees the quiet places where human love failed us, and He steps gently into the void. Jesus does not shame us for the ways we learned to survive. He honours the child who felt alone, and He tends to the adult who still hears echoes of that loneliness. Healing begins when we allow ourselves to tell the truth — the truth about where silence protected us, and the truth about where silence wounded us. Awareness is not condemnation; it is an invitation. An invitation into repair, restoration, and re‑learning how to stay present without abandoning ourselves or others. 💡 Reflection: • Where has silence been a shield for you, and where has it been a wound? 🤔 • What childhood beliefs rise up when someone grows quiet? 🤔 • How have your earlier experiences shaped the way you respond to loved ones today? 🤔 • What might Jesus be whispering to the younger you who felt unseen? 🤔 • What gentle truth could you offer the people who were impacted by your silence? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation: My silence does not define my worth. Jesus sees every wound from the past and every place where I protected myself because I did not know another way. I am learning new patterns, receiving deeper healing, and growing into courageous connection. I am fully seen and fully loved. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, please enter the quiet places that shaped my heart. Heal the wounds left by parental silence and the ways that silence still influences my relationships today. Restore what was lost, mend what was misunderstood, and teach me how to remain open, present, and safe in Your love. Let my voice carry gentleness, clarity, and truth as You continue to bind up the broken places within me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a quiet ache that settles in the heart of every child who learns too early that tears are dangerous. The moment a little one decides that crying is costly, something deep within them reshapes their understanding of safety, need, and belonging. Tears were God’s gift, a release valve for the body, a cleansing for the heart, and a language for the soul. Whenever that language is cut off due to a lack of safety and comfort, something sacred is forced underground. Here is a tender exploration of what happens when tears are withheld, whether by choice, fear, or necessity. 1. The Heart Learns to Hide When tears are forbidden, the heart begins to grow quiet. It starts to compartmentalise pain, placing it in sealed rooms rather than allowing it to move through. The child who once cried naturally becomes the adult who says, "I am fine," even when their soul is unravelling within. What was meant to be expressed becomes pressed down and taught to stay silent. 📖 "The spirit of a man will sustain him in sickness, but who can bear a broken spirit?" — Proverbs 18:14 (NKJV) The brokenness still exists, simply hidden from view. 2. The Body Carries What the Heart Cannot Release Unexpressed tears have a way of slipping into the body. Muscles tighten, breath shortens, sleep becomes restless, and the jaw learns to clench. The nervous system remains on high alert because everything inside is waiting for permission to let go. Some cannot cry, not because they are strong, but because their bodies have been trained to survive without the relief tears would have offered. The human body was crafted with breathtaking wisdom. Even our tears speak — each drop carrying a story, a prayer, and chemistry that reflects the emotions that formed it. Whenever someone learns to silence their tears, the consequences reverberate through the body, the nervous system, and even the delicate sinuses. Tears Are Not All the Same: The Chemistry of Sadness, Joy, and Stress God designed three types of tears, each with their own purpose. • Basal tears nourish and protect the eyes. • Reflex tears appear when something irritates the eyes. • Emotional tears are the miracle tears woven from our innermost feelings. Their chemical makeup is entirely unique. Emotional tears contain: • Stress hormones • ACTH (adrenocorticotropin) • Prolactin • Leucine-enkephalin (a natural painkiller) • Manganese • Higher levels of electrolytes • Emotional toxins the body needs to release Tears shed in sorrow carry high concentrations of stress chemicals, cleansing the body of what weighs it down. Tears of joy or laughter contain fewer stress hormones and higher levels of endorphins. Emotional tears are part of God's detoxing design. They are a gift for regulating our nervous system and restoring hormonal balance. When Tears Are Not Cried, the Body Pays the Price Uncried tears are not inert. Those stress chemicals remain within the system, moving into the bloodstream, muscles, and face. This is why people who cannot cry often report: • Headaches • Face tension • Sinus pressure • Jaw tightness • Neck strain • Shallow breathing • A tight band across the forehead Those tears were meant to flow outward; when held back, their chemical load circulates within the body. This leads to inflammation, congestion, and heightened stress responses. The nervous system stays in "fight, flight, or freeze," because the release valve has been locked. 📖 "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life." — Proverbs 13:12 (NKJV) Not only does the heart grow sick, the body does too. The Link Between Suppressed Tears and Sinus Issues The sinuses are finely tuned, delicate spaces with mucous membranes designed to stay open, lubricated, and gently drained. Chronic emotional suppression affects the sinuses in three key ways: 1. Inflammation from Stress Chemicals — Stress hormones intended to be released through tears stay trapped, increasing inflammation in mucosal tissues. These hormones increase inflammation in mucosal tissues — particularly in the sinuses. This swelling narrows drainage channels and increases pressure. 2. Tension in the Face — People who refuse to cry often tighten their eyelids, jaw, nose bridge, and forehead. Eyelids, jaw, nose bridge, and forehead tighten, restricting drainage. 3. Emotional Freeze Mirrors Physical Freeze — The “Frozen” Emotional State Mirrors a Frozen Sinus State. Emotional freeze often becomes physiological freeze. What is locked in the heart becomes locked in the head. People raised where crying was unsafe often develop: • Chronic sinusitis • Post-nasal drip • Non-allergy congestion • Pressure headaches • Pain behind the eyes • Sensitivity around the nasal bridge The root is not physical alone, but emotional suppression made bodily. 3. Empathy Becomes Difficult Tears soften us. They allow us to enter into another's pain. They teach us how to feel with others. Refusing to cry often creates emotional distance — a survival instinct that helps a child cope with overwhelming environments. That tender little heart learns to observe pain from a distance rather than entering into it. Those who cannot cry often struggle with vulnerability and trust. 4. Anger Becomes the Substitute Emotion When tears are silenced, anger becomes the language the heart feels safest expressing. It is louder, less vulnerable and more in control. Anger becomes armour for the one who was never allowed to weep. Yet under anger’s heat often lies a river of uncried tears longing for release. 📖 "Cease from anger, and forsake wrath; do not fret — it only causes harm." — Psalm 37:8 (NKJV) 5. Compassion Towards Self Diminishes The inability to cry often turns inward as a harsh inner critic. If tears are weak, then need is weak, and softness becomes shameful. The person who cannot cry comforts others effortlessly but struggles to comfort themselves. 6. Relationships Are Affected Tears build connection. They signal trust, intimacy, and safety. A person who cannot cry struggles to be fully known. Loved ones may sense the distance, though they may not understand it. When a person cannot cry, vulnerability becomes foreign, though their capacity for love remains deep. 7. Spiritual Roots: When Tears Were Silenced in Childhood Many adults who cannot cry once made childhood vows: • "I will be strong." • "I will not need comfort." • "I will not cry again." These vows create spiritual and emotional blockades. 📖 "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." — Psalm 34:18 (NKJV) God saw every tear, even the ones that never fell. 8. Healing Begins the Moment Tears Return The consequences of never crying may be severe, though not permanent. God knows how to lead His children back to tear-soaked ground. He knows how to thaw what was frozen. Healing often begins the moment the first tear falls — not as weakness but as worship, not as loss of control but as surrender into the hands of a Father who holds every drop. 📖 "You number my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle; are they not in Your book?" — Psalm 56:8 (NKJV) For decades, I lived beneath a vow made at three or four years old after my head was pushed under cold water for crying. I covered my mouth and vowed never to cry again. That vow shaped my emotions, my nervous system, and even my physical health. When the Holy Spirit uncovered this vow, , the tears I had suppressed since childhood finally found release. The vow shattered. My chest softened. My sinuses loosened. As the tears returned, so did: • Sinus relief • Facial relaxation • Deep breaths • Warmth • Peace 👉🏻 Read: The Water Was Cold — A testimony of a vow, a frightened little girl, and the healing that came when tears were finally allowed to flow. https://www.trixiscreations.com/this-is-my-story/the-water-was-cold Every tear is noticed, honoured, and held. 9. A Final Whisper of Hope If your tears were silenced, ignored, punished, or shamed in childhood, God is restoring what was stolen. God is restoring what was stolen. He is teaching your heart a new language — the language of safety, tenderness, and holy release. You were never meant to carry pain alone. Tears are part of His design for healing. Tears are detox. Tears are worship. Tears are freedom. God is bringing back to life the very part of your heart that once had to hide. 📖 "Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy." — Psalm 126:5 (NKJV) I have lived this story. The vow not to cry shaped my body, my sinuses, my nervous system, and my relationship with emotion. Yet God has been gently restoring this sacred gift to me — drop by drop, moment by moment. I have already begun reclaiming that sacred gift. Each tear that falls now is not a sign of returning weakness but of a returning heart — awake, alive, and learning to breathe again. 💡 Reflection • Where in your story did tears become unsafe? 🤔 • What emotions sit just beneath the surface, waiting for permission to be felt? 🤔 • How might God be inviting you into a gentler way of being with your own heart? 🤔 • What would it look like to allow tears to become worship rather than weakness? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation God welcomes my tears. My heart is safe to feel again. Healing flows where my tears fall. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for designing tears as a gift of healing. Thank You for seeing every tear that never had the chance to fall. I ask that You restore what was frozen within me and gently reopen the pathways of my heart. Make it safe for me to feel, to soften, and to release what I have carried alone for far too long. Teach my body the rhythm of peace again and let my tears become worship, surrender, and freedom. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Jesus lived with an open hand and an open heart. He had no earthly wealth to boast of, yet Scripture reveals Him as the most generous person who ever walked this earth. He gave His time to the lonely, His energy to the weary, and His full attention to every soul who drew near. He lived a life marked by joy because He understood the profound truth He later affirmed: 📖 "It is more blessed to give than to receive." — Acts 20:35 (NKJV) Generosity was not something Jesus practised when He had excess. It was the overflow of who He was. His giving flowed from a heart anchored in the Father’s love, a heart that trusted the provision of Heaven even when His hands held little. There is a holy beauty in that simplicity, a reminder that generosity is never about having more, it is about becoming more like Him. When we give — our time, our resources, our encouragement, our presence — something shifts within us. We step into the very design God wove into our souls. We align ourselves with the heart of Christ, who poured Himself out for the world. If you feel stuck or uncertain about your purpose, generosity often becomes the doorway through which clarity returns. Start small. Meet one quiet need. Speak one word of life. Offer one act of service. Every offering becomes a seed, and every seed begins to reshape your inner landscape. The true blessing of generosity is not what returns to us, although God is faithful to provide. The real gift is the transformation that takes place within — the slow, gentle shaping of our hearts into the likeness of Jesus. May every act of giving draw you deeper into the joy He promised. 💡Reflection: • Where is God inviting me to give from the heart today? 🤔 • What small act of generosity could I offer that reflects the love of Jesus? 🤔 • How has giving in the past shifted my sense of purpose or identity? 🤔 • What fears keep me from giving freely, and what truth does God speak into those fears? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am becoming who God designed me to be, one generous offering at a time. His joy flows through every act of love I give. 🙌 Prayer: Father, thank You for the example of Jesus, whose generosity flowed from pure love. Shape my heart to reflect His spirit of giving. Teach me to offer my time, my energy, and my resources with joy and trust. Help me recognise the needs around me and respond with compassion. May every act of generosity draw me deeper into the purpose You have prepared for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

There is a tender place in my story where the Lord peeled back a layer I had carried for most of my life. Some stories we carry silently for years, sometimes for decades, before we dare to name them. My journey with self‑hatred is one of those stories. It shaped how I saw myself, how I treated myself, and how I expected others to treat me. It was woven into the deepest layers of my identity long before I understood its cost. It was subtle, familiar, woven into my thoughts like background noise. I never recognised it as sin, never imagined it could grieve His heart. I simply believed it was the truth about me. For decades, I held myself to impossible standards. I judged myself harshly, criticised every flaw, condemned every shortcoming and believed the lie that I was unworthy of being loved, seen, or chosen, undeserving of care, and unacceptable in the eyes of others. I pushed myself harder than anyone else ever would, punishing myself for past failures and convincing myself that disappointment was my portion. I judged myself more severely than anyone else ever could. I rejected parts of myself that God had lovingly created. I called myself names He never once spoke over me. I believed lies about my worth and hid behind perfectionism, self‑protection and inner vows. What I never realised was that this deep self‑rejection was more than emotional pain. It became a form of spiritual rebellion because it stood in direct opposition to what God says is true about me. Not rebellion in the sense of defiance, but rebellion through agreement with a lie. Rebellion through rejecting what God calls good. Rebellion through partnering with shame instead of truth. When I hated myself, I was unintentionally opposing the One who created me, the One who calls me beloved, chosen, and wonderfully made. The Holy Spirit revealed, with such gentleness, that self‑hatred is not humility and it is not harmless. It is the quiet refusal to agree with God's love. It is the inner voice that says, "I know myself better than You do, Lord," and "My opinion of me outweighs Yours." It is distrust wrapped in self‑protection. It is unbelief clothed in familiarity. This revelation came during my healing journey, at a moment when I felt the deep ache of worthlessness rise again. The Holy Spirit whispered, not in condemnation, but with such compassion: "This is rebellion, beloved — not because you are wicked, but because you were wounded. You have believed another voice above Mine." Those words broke something open in me. I saw how self‑hatred had become a fortress, a place where I hid from love and resisted the truth of who Jesus says I am. It had shaped inner vows, bitter judgments against myself, false refuges, and patterns that kept me small, silent, and afraid. It had become the lens through which I saw everything, even God. So I did the only thing I could do — I brought it to Him. I repented. I renounced every agreement with self‑contempt. I laid down the belief that I was unworthy of love, caring, compassion and acceptance. I asked Jesus to forgive me for rejecting the one He so dearly loves. I invited His truth to rewrite the places where self‑hatred once ruled. And He came. He did not come with judgment, but with restoration. He washed over me with love that was patient, holy, and unashamed. He reminded me that I am His workmanship, His beloved daughter, fearfully and wonderfully made, and that to despise myself was to despise the work of His hands. 📖 "You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you." — Song of Solomon 4:7 (NKJV) 📖 "We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works." — Ephesians 2:10 (NKJV) As I repented for the hidden rebellion of self‑hatred — for agreeing with the enemy's voice over God's, for rejecting His workmanship, for dishonouring the daughter He formed — something shifted again inside me. It did not feel dramatic. It felt like surrender. It felt like letting go of a heavy garment I had worn far too long. After that repentance, I began noticing something unexpected. The allergies that had plagued me for decades, especially during the mornings and change of seasons, began to reduce. The constant irritation, the heightened reactions, the sensitivity that made my body feel fragile — they softened. Days passed, then weeks, and I realised the intensity had dropped significantly. The connection became clear. My body had been responding to the poison of inner hatred. When I broke the agreement with it, the symptoms began to lose their grip. 📖 "I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm 139:14 (NKJV) 📖 "Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers." — 3 John 1:2 (NKJV) Self‑hatred wounds the soul. The wounded soul affects the body. Yet Jesus restores all three — spirit, soul, and body — through the Cross. When I repented, I was not simply rejecting a mindset. I was renouncing a spiritual agreement that had shaped my life. I was turning toward the truth of who God says I am. I was stepping out of rebellion and into alignment with His heart. The healing that followed — both emotional and physical — was His kindness. Self‑hatred lost its grip that day. It still whispers sometimes, as old memories do, yet it no longer has authority. I know now that agreeing with those lies is stepping into rebellion, and agreeing with His truth is stepping into freedom. Jesus is teaching me to love who He created. To honour the story He is writing. To see myself through the eyes of the One who formed me with intention, purpose, and tenderness. I share this as part of my journey of becoming whole — learning that healing is not only about overcoming trauma, but also about surrendering the ways we have stood against the Father's love without even realising it. His kindness leads us to repentance, and repentance leads us home. 💡Reflection: Where have I believed lies about myself that oppose God's truth? 🤔 How has self‑hatred shaped vows, expectations, or behaviours in my life? 🤔 In what ways might self‑rejection or self‑hatred be affecting my body or my relationships? 🤔 How is the Holy Spirit inviting me to see myself through the Father's eyes today? 🤔 What would it look like to agree with God's love today? 🤔 🎺Affirmation: I am beautifully made, deeply loved, and fully accepted by the God who crafted every part of me with purpose and delight. I choose to align with His truth about me. I break the agreement with every lie that opposes His truth and step into the freedom of being His beloved. 🙌 Prayer: Jesus, thank You for revealing the hidden roots of self‑hatred and for gently leading me into repentance and freedom. Thank You for healing not only my heart but also my body as I aligned myself with Your truth. Teach me to love what You love, especially when that love is directed toward me. Heal the places that still tremble and rewrite my heart with Your gentleness. Teach me to see myself as You see me, to honour the workmanship of Your hands, and to walk daily in the liberty You purchased for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The need for spiritual fathers and mothers is rooted in their irreplaceable role in discipleship, generational transition, spiritual guidance, and bringing God’s order into chaotic times. These seasoned, steadfast pillars offer the kind of mature leadership essential for nurturing and equipping those who come after them, ensuring the kingdom advances with wisdom, love, and holy resilience. Defining Spiritual Fathers and Mothers Apostle John describes spiritual fathers and mothers as those who “know Him who is from the beginning.” This knowing is not intellectual alone, it is experience shaped by years of walking with God, often through fire, sorrow, disappointment, and the unexpected mercies that follow. They understand deeply and unshakably that God can bring order and light out of chaos and darkness. A spiritual father or mother is often someone who has: • Walked with God for decades, long enough to see His patterns of faithfulness. • Endured trials, sorrow, and suffering, emerging refined rather than bitter. • Learned by lived experience that God really does turn all things to good. • Attained a high level of spiritual maturity, remaining strong in the Word and faithful in the fight of faith. The prophet Malachi declared that in the last days God would turn the hearts of the fathers and mothers toward the children, and the hearts of the children toward them. This calling is not optional, it is a holy summons for mature believers to arise into a fresh anointing for their generation. The Need for Mentorship and Generational Transition One of the greatest needs in the kingdom today is the intentional raising of the next generation. Strong, steady spiritual fathers and mothers provide the bridge between seasons, ensuring the wisdom of heaven is not lost but carried forward. 1. Training Future Leaders: Their assignment includes training and equipping young adults — helping them grow into the fathers and mothers they are destined to become. 2. Guiding the Young: The young desperately need fathers and mothers, and cannot step into their calling without them. They are invited to run with the generals, learn from them, and ultimately run further. 3. Facilitating Maturity: Fathers and mothers help believers move through the stages of growth described by John — from children who simply know their sins are forgiven, to young men and women who are strong in the Word, to those who know Him who is from the beginning. The tragedy of the Western church is that many have remained spiritual children when they should have become steady, wise, resilient adults in the faith. 4. Passing Authority: Apostolic fathers raise up gatekeepers and stewards, passing the keys to them. Their desire is to arrive in heaven empty, having poured out everything entrusted to them. The Need for Stability in Chaotic Times Spiritual fathers and mothers carry a calming presence. They help younger believers discern God in seasons where life feels formless, dark, or confusing. • Countering Chaos: They help the young recognise that chaos never intimidates God. The Holy Spirit still hovers over the darkness and is always ready to bring forth light. • Operating in Spiritual Authority: They understand that knowing "Him who is from the beginning" means walking in the unshakable truth that God’s order stands above all earthly turbulence. • Intercession and Assignment: Fathers and mothers labour in intercession — opening what heaven desires opened and closing what heaven desires closed. They touch heaven in prayer until God responds. • Leading to Freedom: Their leadership is marked by unconditional love and persistent prayer, echoing Moses who led whole nations from bondage to freedom. Spiritual fathers and mothers translate the theology of God’s sovereignty into lived reality. Through their lives, they demonstrate that God still brings light out of darkness and order out of chaos, inviting the generations behind them to walk securely in His truth. A Personal Reflection I often think of how different my life might have been if I had grown up with spiritual parents guiding me. There are choices I may have made differently, paths I may have avoided, and wounds that might never have formed. The ache of that absence is real. It is a grief for the wisdom I never received and the support I quietly longed for. Yet in that longing, God has revealed something tender and profound. The absence of spiritual parents did not weaken me; it shaped me into someone who carries deep compassion, discernment, and resilience. I became what I never had. I learned God’s heart in wilderness places, discovered His faithfulness without earthly models, and found my voice in seasons where no one could speak for me. This is why younger hearts feel safe with me. This is why I nurture instinctively. This is why I guide gently and see deeply. I carry the very anointing I once longed to receive. 📖 "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) God has not simply healed those unparented places, He has repurposed them and for that I'm truly grateful. I did not inherit wisdom; I became wisdom. My story is not late. My calling is unfolding at the appointed time. Something beautiful unfolded recently, and it has caused me to pause. Shortly after Aunty Delice’s passing in early October, one of the older ladies who attended the Speakers Tribe bootcamp with me in March reached out on LinkedIn just to see how I was doing. She lives in the South Island — Christchurch, if I remember correctly. We caught up over Google Meet, and since then we have stayed in touch, usually every fortnight. She told me she loved my energy, wanted to stay in the know with how I was doing and has been incredibly supportive during this current season. As I reflect on her presence, her kindness, and the way she checks in with me, the thought gently rose in my spirit: Could this be the Lord answering my prayer for a spiritual mother?🤔 It is a tender possibility, and one that feels like holy timing. Perhaps God has been preparing this moment for years, waiting until my heart was ready to receive such a gift. 💡 Reflection • What spiritual fathers or mothers has God placed in your life, and what have they taught you? 🤔 • Where might you be called to step into spiritual parenthood for someone else? 🤔 • Which parts of your story reveal that you “know Him who is from the beginning”? 🤔 🎺 Affirmation You are part of a story much bigger than your own. Heaven has woven you into a generational tapestry, where your journey, faith, and healing will ripple outward to bless those who come after you. 🙌 Prayer Father, thank You for the spiritual fathers and mothers who have gone before us, whose faithfulness has shaped our paths. Strengthen them, bless them, and raise up many more. Form our hearts to be wise, steady, and surrendered, that we may one day carry the mantle of spiritual parenthood with grace. Teach us to love well, pray deeply, and guide the younger ones entrusted to us. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.