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live, love life

You know, life is full of surprises, I’ve finally decided to embrace one of them: I’m getting a massage. Yes,! For someone who generally doesn’t like being touched, this feels like a huge leap into uncharted territory. But lately, my body has been sending out distress signals in a language I can barely comprehend, it’s time to listen.

if you been reading these little inserts about my life, you know that I drive a lot, and not just in a gentle, leisurely manner. I tend to wrestle with big cars like they’re stubborn mules, trust me, my body definitely feels the effects of my rough driving. The tension has been building up like a Netflix series that just won’t resolve, so I’ve decided it’s time to book a massage at a local Thai place. My very first time, and I’m both excited and a little nervous… who will be touching this body nkosi yam? I hope they will be gentle because I am fragile.

I’m also a planner. I like to strategise every little detail before I take the plunge into something new. This meticulous approach means before I accept change, I have to analyse it first , however growth can’t happen without a little discomfort, right? Remember when I first started driving? I made a ton of rookie mistakes. I even took midnight drives around town, praying I wouldn’t end up in a horror movie scenario. But through that learning curve, I discovered how to be prepared for whatever life throws at me, I was practicing how to drive when everyone else is sleeping, thats how much I love being prepared, this is both my strength and weakness…yes, I am self-aware.

I think we all have to remind ourselves to be open to new experiences. Growth comes from stepping outside our comfort zones, even if it’s just for a little while. You don’t have to jump into the deep end headfirst; sometimes it’s enough to dip your toes in and test the waters. Life isn’t meant to be lived in the same old patterns, why not explore new opportunities and meet new people? Who knows? You might just find yourself dancing to a different tune. And trust me, it won’t hurt.

I’ve spent too long trying to secure my footing, to create a sense of stability. My past has shaped me, and while I’ve shared the struggles, it’s time for a shift. I want to revel in the adventures life has to offer, to take a step back and let things unfold naturally. I’ve sacrificed and fought hard to get where I am, and now I want to experience those delightful feelings I didn’t think existed. It’s time to be a little softer.

I have read a book by Ms Alice Walker called “The Colour Purple” and She wrote

“All my life I had to fight. I had to fight my daddy. I had to fight my brothers. I had to fight my cousins and my uncles. A girl child ain’t safe in a family of men. But I never thought I’d have to fight in my own house. She let out her breath. I loves Harpo, she say. God knows I do. But I’ll kill him dead before I let him beat me.”

I read this as a teenager, and it didn’t truly resonate until I became a woman, understanding just how much a woman has to fight. I don’t have to fight my dad; I’m grateful for a father who listens to understand. I can’t relate to fighting with my brother; he’s a sweet boy growing into a kind man. But I have to fight men in the boardroom, reckless drivers on the road, and the fear of women disappearing and being found dead while I drive to cities I don’t even know how to pronounce sometimes. I battle the worry of being taken advantage of because of my kindness. I fight for my voice to be heard in my industry and navigate church politics tied to my position. I struggle against others’ views on how I should act as a woman of God while trying to express myself as just a woman… now thats a lot of fighting, And I am just one person.

So here’s my prayer for you: may you finally get to exhale. I hope you discover the joys of simply being sane. May your life be filled with cherished moments where nothing requires you to battle or compromise your heart. Surround yourself with people who appreciate you and allow you the space to grow. You deserve to enjoy life, to visit new places, and to connect with others who can love you just as you are.

Life can be tough, but instead of throwing lemons your way, I hope it showers you with flowers. You deserve a break—a moment to celebrate, to be held, and to feel cherished. You’ve been the friend, the supporter, the shoulder to cry on. Now it’s time for you to take a step back and breathe.

So here’s to new beginnings, to the unknown, and to the simple joy of a good massage. Cheers to feeling all those delightful sensations and embracing every beautiful moment that comes our way!

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What if it all goes right

““What if it all goes right? What if you don’t get fired?

What if you find the love you deserve and it lasts?

What if your plane lands safely? What if everyone shows up to your party? what if the recipe turns out great?

What if you don’t disappoint them? what if they love you anyway?

what if you’ve got so much time left? What if you talk just the right amount?

What if everyone had a great time because you were there? What if you take that chance and it works out?

What if time keeps passing and it’s wonderful?

What if you don’t regret telling them? What if you don’t regret any of this?  What if your griefmakes you stronger?? what if the end of it isn’t the end of you? what if you exceed all expectations?

What if the kids turn out just fine? What if your trust doesn’t get betrayed?

What if that wasn’t a waste of time after all? What if you’re not alone forever?

What if you were hopeful as often as you were worried?

What if changing the narrative changed your entire perspective?

what if it all goes right?”

-JB

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FIRST BORN DAUGHTERS- THOSE Womb-MEN ARE BEAUTIFUL

Let’s address the elephant in the room right away: Yes, the title is correct. Firstborn daughters are often described as “beautiful but tough,” and here’s why. Being the firstborn daughter is like being handed the reins of a fast-moving horse—no training wheels, no crash course. You’ve got to figure it out as you go, and that process transforms you into a remarkable blend of grace and grit.

Firstborn daughters tend to inherit traits often associated with traditional male roles accompanied by leadership, assertiveness, and a mighty sense of responsibility. We come pre-loaded with a software package called “Deputy Parent Syndrome,” which comes with benefits such as stellar organisational skills and the ability to keep your cool while the rest of the family loses theirs or lose your mind when everyone else is sane over a matter.

If you’re thinking “But wait, doesn’t being tough mean we have to be a little less… feminine?” Not at all. Here’s the kicker: Our toughness doesn’t overshadow our inner beauty, we are beautiful-unhinged-tough people and somehow we make sense. We’ve been wired to nurture from the get-go. This nurturing instinct doesn’t just mean making sure everyone’s fed and happy; it also means stepping up when the going gets tough, handling responsibilities like a pro, and occasionally muttering “It’s fine, I’ve got this” while secretly wishing someone else would step in.

But here’s the hidden gem: beneath that tough exterior lies a softness that makes firstborn daughters exceptional mothers and partners. It’s like a well-guarded secret that only those who truly understand us get to witness. We can be fiercely protective and unwavering in our dedication, yet there’s an undeniable tenderness that surfaces when we care for those we love.

Firstborn daughters are driven by a deep desire for success, not just for personal achievements, but to provide for and take care of their families. This drive can make us incredibly focused and determined, sometimes to the point where we might take on a few too many responsibilities. Being honest, our physical strength is often a topic of playful banter. Who knew being a firstborn daughter would come with the ability to single-handedly move furniture, carry heavy grocery bags, and still have energy left to run a household? My strength is something of a wonder, I am like the shorter version of amazon women.

So why do girls mature faster than boys? it’s not just because of the social pressures or parental expectations. It’s a little science mixed with a lot of life experience. Girls generally develop their emotional intelligence earlier, which helps them navigate complex social situations with more finesse.

The result? Firstborn daughters often slip into parental roles faster than you can say “family responsibilities.” This maturity doesn’t just mean that we are the unofficial referees during sibling squabbles; it also means we often take on the role of a second parent. It’s like we’ve been programmed with a “parental default setting,” and while it sounds exhausting, it’s also incredibly empowering.

Here’s a little secret I learned from Ma’am Apostle “Girl, CHILL.” It sounds simple, but it’s revolutionary advice. Even as firstborn daughters with our innate drive and “Deputy Parent Syndrome,” it’s crucial to remember that the world won’t collapse if we take a breather. Sometimes, we need to loosen up and let ourselves off the hook. The universe might not implode if we let go of that tight grip we have on every detail.

In a way, this “alpha female” characteristic isn’t a curse—it’s a badge of honor. We’re built to handle pressure, lead with compassion, and juggle multiple roles like it’s an Olympic sport. Sure, it means we’re often the ones setting the bar high, but it also means we’re setting the stage for others to follow.

So, to all the firstborn daughters out there—own your beautiful toughness. Embrace the leadership qualities that come naturally, but remember, you don’t have to be in control all the time. Every once in a while, it’s perfectly okay to just be, to relax, and to let yourself be as fabulous and free as you deserve to be.

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Well, that’s too damn Bad

“When Life Hands You a Shovel: A Guide to Smiling Through the Dirt”

Ever seen that movie where a boy and his grandpa are digging forever, and finally, the boy just throws in the towel and says, “I am tired of this, Grandpa”? And Grandpa, with no sympathy and a rusty shovel, replies, “Well, that’s too damn bad,” and they keep on digging. I’m feeling like that kid right now—except instead of a shovel, I’m armed with paperwork, caffeine, and the persistent hope that my smile isn’t just a tired twitch… My colleague said it looks forced, I made it look worse because how dare he, I am trying here!

This morning, I rose at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m., more commonly known as “before the birds are even thinking about breakfast.” just to make it in the city on time for work. I trudged into the office and was promptly buried under a mountain of paperwork that seemed to grow taller with every breath I took. This was after a weekend of no rest, and now, my energy levels are somewhere between “flat tire” and “deflated balloon.” But hey, I’m smiling! Why? Because, in the grand scheme of things, life doesn’t end just because things aren’t exactly lining up like the dominoes in my head.

Sure, sometimes we run on empty, and the GPS seems to have lost signal. But here’s the thing—life doesn’t throw up its hands and say, “You’re out of gas, so you’re done!” No, it says, “You’re out of gas? Cool, keep going anyway.” It’s like life’s version of the “Well, that’s too damn bad” reply.

I had a heart-to-heart with my dad on Saturday. He had just come home from giving me a mini heart attack (don’t worry, he’s fine). As I was pouring his tea (because he loves tea even on a hot day), he said, “I don’t see that smile I made.” Oh, the audacity! My dad genuinely believes that all my best features—the brown eyes, the brown skin, the small nose, and the smile—are his divine gifts to me. And while I was busy playing doctor with him, he decided to gift me a lecture. Apparently, he created my smile, but he was too busy worrying about me to see it.

We had a good laugh, and then he got all sentimental on me, saying, “I’m sorry for scaring you, but if I had to choose again, I’d still pick you because I know you’d do everything for the people you love. I might have made your smile, but your heart was crafted by God Himself.” And that, my friends, is how you get a heartfelt pep talk with a side of guilt but above everything else, dont forget the gift you are just because life is a bit sour.

Sometimes, life throws you into chaos at work, school, or home, and it feels like you’re trying to juggle flaming swords while riding a unicycle on a tightrope. But guess what? Life doesn’t stop just because you’re exhausted, rejected, or just plain confused. It keeps moving—whether you’re dancing or knocked out on the floor.

So, when you find yourself buried under your own metaphorical paperwork or digging away with a shovel that seems endless, remember: you’re doing great. You’re worthy of a moment’s rest, a smile, and a pat on the back. Even if things don’t go as planned, keep going. Life will keep moving, whether you’re in the driver’s seat or just along for the ride. like my dad, surround yourself with people who see that even though life has been knocking you out, you are simply trying your best and may they be kind towards you.

Me and my dad? We had a bonding moment that was more about love and less about the technicalities of the stunt his heart pulled. Our parents want us to thrive, to make wise choices, and to build a legacy of resilience and love. So, even when you’re tired, overwhelmed, or just feeling like a hamster running on a wheel, remember this: life doesn’t stop. It doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. It just keeps going. And sometimes, that’s the best reason to keep showing up and giving it your all.

So, keep on digging, dancing, and smiling through the dirt. After all, life’s too short to not enjoy the ride—shovel and all.

oh and I had writers block, thank God I can write again

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❤️

This might stir things up, especially for those who admire my independence. Last night, I had a heartfelt chat with God about love. I was diving into my fears, unraveling insecurities, and adjusting my list of what I want. It was like a cosmic therapy session with my King, where I wrestled with my reflections and admitted my flaws. And then, the Holy Spirit, with its divine authority, asked me, “But what do you want?”

I couldn’t lie, even though it’s easy to pretend we don’t need love. The Holy Spirit isn’t just a whisper in your ear; it’s a powerful presence that you can’t ignore. It meets you where you are, speaking with authority and clarity that makes everything else fade. So, I got real and told the Holy Spirit:

I want peace and calm. I want long afternoon walks in the sun and Sunday morning services. I want to laugh like a child but be firm like a mother. I want date nights, movie nights, and silent nights where we just breathe each other’s silence. I want to come home ready to be soft when life pushes me to be strong. I want to run into his arms and be tender. I want to cook dinner and iron his shirts, visit his family with gifts so we can talk about the good old days and see his baby pictures.

I want rainy afternoons and sunny nights, to throw little tantrums because I miss him, and ask him to pick up milk on his way home, maybe with flowers just because he thought of me. I want to pray, worship, and explore the Bible together, maybe even argue about scriptures. I want to feel alive and pure.

It’s funny how we rarely talk about how much we crave the feeling of love and the hope of being loved back. Despite the whirlwind of emotions involved, we still choose love over and over again. It transforms us and makes us believe in things we never knew existed. I hope you get to experience this kind of love at least once in your lifetime. It’s worth every moment.

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I never wrote this.

Its a God story, I only play the physical part

I’ve been struggling to write this reflection because it requires me to delve deeply into my emotions. To be honest, it also takes me back to the past, a bittersweet place for me. While driving past Philipstown, I began reminiscing about the old days. If you had told me five years ago that I would be driving a large car, overtaking trucks, and heading to a different city, I would have laughed. I would have said it was impossible because my mind was overwhelmed by poverty. How could a girl who grew up in a small city, without a car at home, be on the highway overtaking vehicles and reaching every destination safely? The answer is God.

I had to fight for everything I have; nothing was handed to me on a silver platter. I worked hard for everything, and often, we forget to mention the role of God in our stories. I remember walking back to my rented room at 9 PM after class. I had to stay at that location because NSFAS does not fund postgraduate studies. During the day, I worked to finance my studies, and at night, I attended classes, often hungry because I didn’t have enough. It could have taken me out; I could have perished, but God was by my side. I would study until my back hurt, knowing that without wealthy parents, educated connections, or an inheritance, the only way out was to excel in my studies, secure a good job, and persevere. I missed out on being a typical young girl; my focus was solely on making it through. I worked so hard that I forgot to live, maturing quickly and losing touch with my childhood.

The God part of this story is that He continually held my hand. I made a promise never to take the credit for myself. I always tell people that it was God who saw me through. It’s not about my discipline or commitment but about having King Jesus by my side. Looking at myself now, all I see is the work of the blood (Hebrews 13:20-21). People often measure respect based on who you are and what you have, which meant that many looked down on me because I couldn’t afford to smell good, wear brands, or sport a weave. That was a standard for every girl, but I didn’t meet it, and I felt it. I suffered from self-pity. Sometimes I would walk into class and compare myself to other girls, feeling so small that even Christ had to give me a motivational talk. It was only through Him that I made it (Philippians 4:13). My confidence is rooted in God. One day, on my way to work, I felt led to confess, “I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am successful, and I am happy.” Those words changed my life. They marked the beginning of the Lee Nondeyi you know today, and this is still just a part of my story.

I had a best friend named Tumi. One day, as schools were reopening, I texted her, “I think I’m going to drop out, look for a job, and continue studying once I am okay.” She replied, “Wa hlanya jwanong,” because I was exhausted from begging. While studying for my Diploma, my bursary only covered food and accommodation for three months. During that time, we had to beg people to pay for their groceries while we took cash in return. If you know me, you know I express myself better in writing than verbally, so this was extremely difficult for me. I was ready to quit when unexpectedly, I was selected for an internship at the head office of one of the biggest TVET colleges in the Free State, an opportunity I received right after my grandmother’s passing. My results were impressive, and they chose me. I was over the moon, even though I still had an interview to pass. I believed in my spirit that this was an opportunity I would seize, even if it meant practicing answers all night. I rallied everyone for support.

Little did I know that this was just the beginning. I applied to a university for two years and was rejected because I was a college graduate. They prioritized fresh varsity graduates, but God had other plans (Isaiah 55:8-9). By the third year, I had given up on university, but my then-partner encouraged me to apply. I told him I didn’t have money for applications, but he urged me to ask my parents. Knowing they couldn’t help, I asked my aunt, who accompanied me to the university. I had 35 points, and when it came time to register, I didn’t have the money. I cried intensely; my mouth even swelled up. My partner spoke to a man he believed was a lecturer, and we were sent to the SRC. I filled out forms and waited a week for my registration status, which was pending. One day, I came home from work and cried out to God, asking for an opportunity. The next morning, I checked my status and found I was registered for an undergraduate program, which was a blessing. However, I realized I couldn’t study part-time because of work, and I had to choose between dropping out or resigning to attend school. I wrote to the dean, and the next day, he asked me to bring a parent. Since my parents were far, I asked my supervisor to accompany me. When I met the dean, he questioned why I wanted to study when I was working. I explained my situation, and he told me, “You are a very smart young girl” (Proverbs 3:5-6). The dean’s words were a sign of God’s favor. I was the first person to be articulated so much that a senior lecturer didn’t believe me. When I showed her the permission letter, she was shocked. God gave me an upgrade, and despite expectations, I excelled in every test and exam. I am not only special but chosen, and this is a testament to God’s work (1 Peter 2:9).

My first real job was in the department that articulated me, and now my current job allows me to speak to learners about articulation and admission opportunities. This confirms that God is writing my story. No human, not even with a brilliant mind, could orchestrate this. I am blessed (Ephesians 3:20). People often praise my kindness and tell my mom she did a great job raising me. She always directs them to God, explaining that she prayed for me when I left home as a young, naive girl. God dominated my mind (Jeremiah 29:11).

This is a God story. I can’t stop reflecting on two years of my life when I backslid, chasing a relationship that left me with scars, insecurities, and trauma. If God were human, He could have left me during that time, but He didn’t. He stayed, separating me from chaos and mess. God just wanted my heart, and because I am stubborn, He had to do it the hard way, for which I am grateful (Romans 8:28).

My life is a testimony, and even now, God continues to exceed my expectations because He is faithful to His promises (2 Timothy 2:13). I do get scared. Sometimes, I wake up nervous about my next move. Speaking in front of people doesn’t mean I don’t get anxious or doubt. But there is a spirit that is always with me, surrounding me and helping me excel in every presentation. It’s not an alter ego but divine power. Every time I drive or walk out of situations, I feel it around me. It’s a wonderful counselor, a friend, speaking of greatness when I feel weak. It holds me tight on days I cry myself to sleep because of overwhelming challenges. I am so glad Jesus found me. I don’t take this grace lightly. Without God, I wouldn’t be who I am or where I am today. I recently told God, “I am tired of taking care of everything. I want to be taken care of. I am tired of solving situations; I want to receive help too. I am tired of the struggle, yet I am grateful for how far You’ve brought me. Please separate me from anything or anyone that takes more than it gives. I want to receive. I want to be treated gently. I want the spoils and comfort too. If there’s any pain or struggle coming my way, please take it away. I don’t want it” (Matthew 11:28).

I’ve had my share of pain, and I don’t want any more. I have every right to stand before God’s throne and express my weariness. I have been handling business like a man for too long, and now it’s my turn to be soft, and I am glad to do so with God. I lost many years because I was surviving, not living. Each year made me tougher, stronger, and closer to God. Those were the years that asked questions; now, I want to live the years that answer. There are feelings I couldn’t allow space for because I was too focused. Now I am ready for the feelings I always wanted and won’t compromise. If anything requires further struggle, I don’t want it. Let it miss me, respectfully (Isaiah 40:31).

There were times I went days without eating, wishing I had even R50 in my bank account. Even then, I bore the weight of the world like a pair of wings. The burden was heavy, but I endured it all. Enough is enough. Of course, there are still battles I fight, things that keep me up at night, challenges requiring all my faith. I deal with matters I can’t share with anyone, prayers between me and God. Sometimes, I wish I could escape to a place where no one knows me and be normal, if only for a while. But I am not a coward, and my mother didn’t raise a fool.

This is a God Story.

That is my God story, and there is so much more still being written by the love of my life, the King of my Heart, my provider and protector. He is the source of my joy and the giver of life. He knows my flaws and still holds me close, seeing my imperfections and loving me just the same. He is the gentleman who opens doors for me, who hears every prayer and wipes my tears when I cry (Psalm 56:8). He makes me laugh, and when I am scared, He stands behind me, breathing fire and destroying every enemy (Isaiah 41:10). He tells me I am beautiful, and I believe Him because He is not a man that He should lie (Numbers 23:19). His Spirit lives in me, going before me and breaking every curse (Galatians 3:13-14). He claims me with no shame or fear, even knowing everything I have done. He proudly identifies me before the world, knowing my name and delighting in hearing from me (Isaiah 43:1). This is more of His story than mine.

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11 322

All I remember is trying—trying so hard to make you happy, sacrificing pieces of myself to simplify your world. I gave and gave until I forgot who I was.

I would peel off my skin if it impressed you, swallow fire just to hear a word of praise. But your compliments never came. My heartache was eclipsed by my love for you, so I bled willingly, hoping you’d see me as enough, hoping it would mean something to you.

I walked miles in agony, craving a standing ovation that never arrived. Silence was my reward, but I convinced myself it was okay—because I love you.

Even when your indifference cut deep, I made excuses for you. I swallowed the unfairness, blaming myself instead. I thought if I could be better, stronger, more like the person you wanted me to be, maybe then you’d notice—because I love you.

I became everything you ever hoped for, though you never said the words. But I know, deep down, you’re proud. It’s just that you never show it.

So, I’ve learned to stand before the mirror and whisper, “I’m proud of you,” filling the void you left. I say it for the both of us, but still, I long for the day those words would come from your lips. It would give me wings, make me feel alive. But I understand—that’s just who you are. Kind words don’t come easily to you.

The only time you speak from the heart is when something’s wrong, or when I am wrong. But even then, I accept it—because I love you.

It’s taught me to be my own cheerleader, to understand and accept that it’s too late for us to bond. It took 11,322 days for me to finally accept that I could strip my soul bare, fashion a garment from my skin, and it would still never be enough. But I would still take a bullet for you—because I love you.

Speaking of bullets, sometimes I wonder—would you even miss me if I disappeared? I toy with the thought of vanishing, just to see if my absence would stir something in you. But deep down, I know it wouldn’t. And still, that’s okay—as long as you’re okay.

I guess it will always be like this. I’ve made peace with it, though the pain lingers. Even though it hurts, I will love you anyway.

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You made me this way

It’s funny how you joke about my tears, how I easily cry
I guess you know me well by now…How nice of you to see me and never you
You’ve learned the rhythm of my fears, you are used to my tears
And what I do when you break your vow, over and over again..come back to you! I am so stupid

You lie, and I listen because my heart so dry,
Thirsting for love that will never come by.
Though truth stares me right in the eye,
I choose the silence, where I’m numb. you make me numb. I have done everything I could, I cant do no more

I make excuses for you like my life depends on it ,
And if my friends ask, I play the part even though they warned me about you
Pretending I’m the one who bends, like you are not to blame
That I provoked your heavy heart, that its always me who starts the fight.

I hide the bruises with makeup’s art,
Show up to work with cuts on my hands.
From bottles broken by your drunken darts,
While stabbing at the pain love demands.

I’m becoming you, thinking like you,
Hating what you’ve made of me.
Drifting so far from who I knew,
Even my own body’s rejecting me.

My life feels like a horror show,
Held hostage by the thoughts you plant.
Every time I try to go,
You convince me that I just can’t.

You looked at me with your cold eyes,
Said no one would love me because I’m “crazy.”
And foolishly, I believed your lies,
Though you spun the chaos that made me hazy.

You made me feel like an angry storm,
When it was your chaos spinning me.
Next time they ask, break from the norm,
Tell them the truth, how you shaped me…you made me this way

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Your Pretty little heart

It’s been a while since I’ve checked in, but you know I only disappear when I’m busy handling serious business. And let me tell you, I’ve been standing so firmly on business that my shadow started taking notes! Through it all, God has been my rock, my guide, and my very generous GPS. I have to say, His grace has been my portion from the moment I moved back here to right now, as I’m typing this and enjoying a good snack. (Spoiler alert: it’s not manna from heaven, but it’s close.)

Now, let’s talk about my heart—it’s been under spiritual attack lately. Picture this: the Holy Spirit decided it was time for my heart to do things it’s never done before. Imagine trying to dance the cha-cha when you’ve only ever done the Macarena. It was a bit scary at first; I was like, “Heart, what are you doing?!” But now, we’re gliding smoothly across life’s dance floor.

On April 25, 2024, fresh from a trip to Zastron, I found myself telling my bestie how I had lost all emotions. I was confessing to my best friend that my heart had enough and wanted a vacation, a break or even a grave, I was ready to bury it, it has done no good and I didn’t feel like I will be needing it for anything anymore. The plan was simple: travel, get distinctions, and climb the corporate ladder with the emotional range of a teaspoon. Who needs feelings, right?

I rarely buy groceries because I’m hardly home, but that day I needed some essentials like salt and milk. My fridge and cupboard looked like ghost towns. As I was unpacking my modest haul, filling my cupboard with treasures, I felt the Holy Spirit giving me a spiritual pep talk. One scripture that hit me was Psalm 103:5, where God reminded me, “I am the giver of beautiful things, and I am the only one who can give them to you.” It was like God was saying, “Yes, even in the grocery aisle, I’ve got your back.”

I, at that time uploaded and made a fantastic Facebook video about God,  with Over 5,000 views, about 100 shares, and a bunch of replays. Facebook even tossed me some coins for it! But spiritually, I was drier than a desert. I was preaching as part of my promise to God, but I felt like I was turning into an emotionless robot. Then God, through Psalm 103, reminded me that all the beautiful things I want—like that dream car, wealth, and career—are only found in Him.

I felt like my heart was a target for life’s sucker punches. I told God, “Take away my caring heart; turn me into Teflon.” Why do I care so much? Why am I so sensitive? Why do I feel everything like a sponge? It seemed like all the bad guys were winning, like the savage women who betray without blinking. But there I was, with my oversized heart and foolish grin.

I remember telling God, “The world is about to see why you had to save me.” And because God is the best Father ever, He gently reminded me that He saved me not because of who I might become, but because of who He is. Ever since that revelation, God has been showering me with love. From the kids who call me their sister to my church tribe who gives the best hugs, God has even sent strangers to compliment my spirit. It’s like He’s saying, “Look at this heart you wanted to get rid of—pretty awesome, right?”

Love and its completion are found in God, whether it’s friendship, colleagues, church mates, study buddies, or the countless learners I meet every day. I’m surrounded by so much love that sin has no weight on me. I pleaded for God to change me because I felt out of place, like a friendly dolphin in a sea full of sharks. But God, in His infinite wisdom, showed me that I don’t need to change just because some people can’t appreciate the blessing I am and they misuse my kindness.

Listen: everything God has done in you, every little quirk and trait, is perfectly crafted for His glory. You don’t have to change who you are because some people need better glasses to see your worth. God will send you people who see your true value, and when He does, recognise it as God’s handiwork, not your stellar decision-making skills.

Embrace your kindness, and may God send you a tribe who will protect your good heart and make you laugh so hard you forget about groceries. Amen!

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SURRENDER

I wish to seize each moment with you, crafting memories that linger, to halt time in its tracks.

I long to witness our story unfold anew, to relive it like a cherished melody, on repeat.

I yearn to encounter you as if for the first time, our gazes meeting, to recall the day life transformed.

I seek to understand your silence, to quiet the doubts that rise against you.

In times of sorrow, I want to share your burden, to transcend the vows of sickness and health with you.

Each word you utter whispers of eternity, as if I could conquer oceans for you. Though it may sound cheesy, let’s begin humbly—I’ll be the bearer of your legacy.

I’ll gift you nights that make you feel invincible, I’ll pray and fast for you, recite the Lord’s Prayer in your place. When asked of my heart’s desire, it’s you I’ll point to.

When you seek refuge, I’ll whisk you away, and when you need strength, I’ll be your anchor.

I’ve heard tales of curses, of obsessions and desires unchecked, but your name brings joy to my heart, and I’m grateful for who you are.

I can’t envision you as anyone else, for you are perfect as you stand.

It feels as though I possess everything, everything, everything, everything! yes, I said everything.

It’s as if heaven itself smiles upon me, urging me to flee, yet I’m rooted in place.

I wish to resist you, but you’re too precious to let go.

Can I remain here, where you make me feel secure?

I attempt to escape you, only to find myself drawn closer. Indeed, I’d rather run into your arms.

I struggle against you, yet it feels like a victory and a defeat all at once,

I offer you what I’ve never given before, a madness that delights in how you welcome me.

I’m no longer fighting… YOU