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Reflections and regrets
Would you say that you are exactly where you dreamed you would be 15 years ago? I definitely am not. I thought that, by now, I would be touring the world on a yacht, while drinking champagne with Justin Bieber – even though I’m not a fan of champagne or floating on a large expanse of water. Minor details.
But, yes, I do sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I were still doing my own thing. Despite the dream of sipping champagne on yachts, my previous life involved drinking cheap wine in dodgy cars. The only Justin I knew was the one who sold me weed that one time at the club.
I made a bunch of decisions that I am not proud of because I was doing things out of spite, out of fear or because it made my human flesh feel good for a second. It was pretty evident that I
wantedneeded direction.So I said yes to God.
The decision to surrender was very easy. There was no booming voice commanding me to give up control. There were no stage lights and loud music. I was alone in my room and gatvol of the life that I was living. It was pretty much a matter of: “Okay you’re God, so… do something God-like in my life because, seriously, I’m running out of options here.” Self-sabotage did not look good on me.
My “yes” to God meant that I was willing to be shaped into whatever He wanted. Surrender involved a complete life change (I wrote about some of it here).
I started changing the way that I think about myself, other people and my future.
Prior to that, I thought that the most success I would achieve would be a boring office job, where I get paid an average amount of money while maintaining a fairly decent single life. Who am I to even consider achieving more than that?!
Healthy relationships, exciting hobbies, a whole family and a career – ghaaa! What do you think this is.. the movies?! I didn’t DARE dream this for me.
But God is in the business of giving you more than you ask or imagine (it says so right here). When I gave up control, He turned it around for me and I went from being a single mom with no real future plans to be a mom of many gorgeous kids, an okayish husband (kidding, he’s amazing!) and an exciting future.
And it all started on the day that I said yes.
When I gave up control, my hard heart was softened (this is not a metaphor, I now cry on command) and my thinking turned towards hope, and away from self-destruction.
And yeah, there may not be any yachts or Bieber visits in my near future, but I can honestly say that I am so thankful that I am nowhere near where I thought I’d be 15 years ago!
This may not be your life story. Maybe you have it all figured out and you’re doing all “the things”… that’s amazing, girl. But if not… if you’re looking for direction, or for answers, or for healing, escape, comfort… think about who or what you are giving your “yes” to.
And, if you’re brave enough, consider giving that “yes” to God. His plan is the best one and you may just find yourself living a life beyond your wildest dreams.
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How to talk to your kids about death
Is one ever truly prepared to talk to your kids about death? The answer is no. It is a morbid topic – one we would prefer to ignore, thank you very much.
But the truth is that our kids have been exposed to so much this past year. This Covid-19 season has changed the narrative for many. And besides for having to deal with that trauma as an adult, imagine trying to compute it, as a young child with limited knowledge about death and dying.
My 6-year old is aware that contracting the virus could potentially mean death. I needed to tell her the truth about death and that there is hope at the end of it.
I visited a few of my favorite online resources for tips on how to start that conversation. Here is what I’ve learnt:
Preparation is important
Consider introducing the topic of death before a beloved pet or loved one dies. This gives your child some time to process the information in a calm way, without needing to deal with any other emotions at the same time. One website gave a great example of using cut flowers to help explain the concept of the life and death cycle.
When placing the flowers in water, you can talk about how full of life, bright and vibrant they are. Once they start wilting, you can talk about how the body is also not designed to live forever. Reiterating that our physical bodies can die due to various causes such as accidents, diseases (like the coronavirus) and old age. You may also want to distinguish between a “big sick” (Cancer etc) and a “small sick” (the flu). This will set your child’s mind at ease the next time you have the sniffles.
Tell the truth
It is in our nature, as parents, to want to protect our child from the harsh realities of this world. But knowledge is power. One website suggests not using fluffy names for death, dying, died and dead. I’ve often made up little stories to help protect them from the truth (eg. aunty so-and-so is on holiday in heaven) but by giving them the correct terminology and the correct understanding of the concept you are empowering your child to better deal with the situation.
Avoid using euphemisms like “sleeping” or “with the angels”. You will also need to explain that death is permanent and not temporary. You must be prepared to have an ongoing conversation about this as they reach new levels of revelation on the topic.
Talk about feelings Normalise feelings of sadness and grief by sharing your own experiences and feelings. In fact, be as vocal about it as possible (“I feel so sad that Grandma died”). This gives your child (especially boys, who may try to act tough and not show grief) permission to feel all their feelings. AND – more importantly – it gives them an outlet to express it in a healthy way.
I always try to end off the conversation with a message of hope or peace. I will also bring Jesus into the conversation and talk about God being our comforter. My conversation would go something along the lines of: “isn’t it amazing that God says that He is our comforter? So even now, when we’re feeling sad, God says He will be especially close to us, to help us feel better.”
Is Heaven real?
You would probably want to answer questions relating to heaven according to your own beliefs. I believe that God is real and that He promises us life after death, so I will be sharing that with my child. As a Christian, a conversation regarding death is a great way to teach your child more about Jesus. His life and death on earth was God’s way of giving us eternal life in heaven.
Even though the body dies on earth, the spirit lives on, in the presence of God – free of pain. My child will learn that we have a living hope through our relationship with God. She will also learn that we are offered life, after death, if we make a decision to partner with Him. I love that we are guaranteed to see each other again, in heaven – what a wonderful reunion that will be!
“We are more than dust… that means something. We are more than just blood and emotions, inklings and notions, atoms over oceans.” – Brooke Fraser, ‘Hosea’s Wife’
References:
How to talk to your kids about death and heaven
Crosswalk: How to talk to your kids about death
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An ode to 2020
There are so many things that I wanted to accomplish in 2020. I had jotted it down in my diary, in January, planning events and strategies way in advance. You know mos – spreadsheet brain, and what not.
But, alas, as fate would have it, 2020 would be that drunk uncle at family gatherings. You know, the one that starts out all cheerful and chipper, and then later causes havoc and destruction. Kidding. Let’s not blame an actual year for all the poo that we’ve had to endure. We blame the coronavirus. 2020 is just an innocent bystander.
Anyways, blame games and finger pointing aside… it’s been a rather rough past few months. 2020 has been a journey, ya’ll.
Some may liken this journey to a pensive trip abroad – you know, ‘eat, pray, love’ vibes. Challenging, but reflective. A moment to ponder on the wonders and beauty of life. Also, a time to binge-watch Netflix shows, while eating baked goods.
For others, the journey through 2020 has been rough. Clinging to a life raft, during high tide, in the rain, oh and there are sharks, rough. Businesses closed down. Lives were lost. And no amount of baked goods could fix the heartache. Not even the type with the cream cheese frosting.
As I contemplate on 2020, I find myself somewhere in the middle.
We’ve had to say goodbye to so many people whose lives were closely intertwined with ours. Grief (even second hand grief) makes it hard to function as you normally would. I kinda gave up on nailing those goals that I had penned in January. I barely blogged, did a kaas job at homeschooling and I picked up so much weight, that my jeans ripped. (Nope, that’s not a metaphor). In many ways I feel like I took a couple of steps back.And, real talk: my failed accomplishments make me feel like a complete loser.
Madam Sucky Suck. Lady Flop-Alot. Queen of the Loser Brigade. You get the gist.Anyways, I almost ended my year on this absolutely sour note.
And then I remembered one important thing…I’m still alive!
Hundreds of thousands of people around the world have lost their lives in 2020. We’re still alive, my friend! I’m alive! And I’m so thankful for that.
It would be completely and totally foolish, ignorant and obnoxious of me to rattle off a string of superficial things that I did not achieve, when life itself is a gift.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that making it out of 2020, with an opportunity to start all over again, is all the accomplishment I need.
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2020: Four funerals and a wedding
It’s been the best of times, it’s been the worst of times.
I mean, besides for learning how to bake our own banana bread, 2020 has been showing us flames.Our “best of times” included the occasional Zoom wedding (which is pure genius, btw…). As human beings, we have somehow mastered the art of staying connected, without being in the same room. I dig that.
Our “worst of times” involved losing many loved ones over a short period of time. And, honestly friends, death had always been a far off notion, for me, until this year. We’ve become heavily acquainted with grief.
You don’t fully appreciate your time on earth until you’ve witnessed a life snuffed out without warning. Or until you’ve made plans with someone for the future, and then had to pencil in their funeral on the same calendar. So yes, experiencing loss has been something spectacular.
And I don’t use the word “spectacular” loosely.
It’s the best way to describe this glorious circle of life – a grand design that God had gifted to us, with the intention that we’d end our race well.
It made me relook at what I value most and how I spend my time. Will I end MY race well?
I mean, YOLO isn’t a hippie term reserved for people who matriculated in 2010 – a romantic notion reserved only for gangsters and those who enjoy sky diving. You only live once, Charles! That’s it!
What type of legacy are you leaving behind?
I’ve started to ask myself questions such as:
What will my children know about me? How have I left my mark – and God’s mark – on my family and on the world? Am I chasing the right things, or am I too focused on instant gratification, titles and material obsessions?Am I walking in my God-given purpose? Do I even know what my God-given purpose is? And how will I know what my purpose is, if I don’t pay attention to my relationship with God?
I should be nicer to my husband. I really need to be more intentional with my marriage. How can I honor my husband? I should bake him a banana bread tomorrow.
(Disclaimer: These are actual thoughts that run through my head at 2AM, when I should be sleeping)It has been a year of introspection for me. I mean, besides for learning how to bake banana bread (and then baking it, like, one time). And while the “worst of times” may feel kinda, you know, overpowering at times, I’ve vowed that it would not leave me untouched.
Every single life lost – every tear shed – every premature goodbye… it can’t be in vain.
I just can’t continue to live my life the same way I had before. Where is the lesson in that? Where is the honor in that? What’s the point of surviving 2020 when we come out looking the exact same way that we did, at the start of the year?
So, yes… it’s been the best of times AND it’s been the worst of times. But we get another chance to try again. I’m thankful for that.
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My Covid-19 experience and why I chose to not get tested again
My run in with Covid-19 was a bit…uh…anti-climatic.
It’s almost as if the virus was playing “where’s he, there’s he!” with me. I mean, I had been totally convinced that I was Covid-19 positive, like, thrice a week, since the start of lock down. With every cough or sniff I would be on my knees asking God to spare my life. Yeah, dramatic much, right?
Except that when we lost someone who was very close to our family, to Covid-19, suddenly the dramatics were totally called for. And suddenly my every cough or sniff felt that much more deadly. Mind you, my symptoms had seemingly worsened and I felt like dog poop on a hot day, covered in mango juice. (Yes, just like that. Whaaat.)
When I eventually ended up going for a test (I’ll pop the video at the bottom of this post, in case you would like to see how they stick a swab all the way up my nostril, and into the deep recesses of my brain) it came back as negative. Woohooooo, Covid negative, party over here!!
The party was short-lived though, as my symptoms became even more severe. I mean, helooooo body, I’m not sure if you heard the news that I’m Covid negative.. if you could just calm down now, that would be great!
But alas, my body did NOT calm down. In fact, I lost my sense of smell and taste. My lungs felt as if they could not expand to it’s fullest capacity. I was fatigued and wanted to sleep all the time.
I was definitely Covid positive.
And friends, although I was displaying all of the signs, I decided to not go for another test. I mean, besides for really appreciating my nasal capacities and not wanting another swab stuck up it, I kinda figured that a test would be wasted on me.
Wasted because all it would do is tell me what I already know. A test would not heal me. A test would not make me feel better. A test would not change anything.
I needed to treat my symptoms and no test on earth was going to help me do that.
I immediately started taking meds to treat the symptoms and I self isolated. My doc also recommended sucking on a blue Disprin, since the virus forms blood clots.One thing about this sneaky virus is that it has you feeling better one moment, and as if you’re dying the next! I mean, I’m sure it has its SA colors in peekaboo. The fortunate thing about this, though, is that I was able to get up and get stuff done (you know, before folding into a sack of dilapidated pain and despair).
After about 2 weeks I began to feel like a normal person again (well, as normal as I could ever be, you know, with my my spreadsheet brain). I remember feeling this huge weight lifted, when I realised that I had fought and won against the virus. Some of the people dearest to me had lost loved ones to it and yet I lived to see another day. How thankful I was!
I try to maintain a faith-based outlook on life…. you know, faith over fear, and all of that. And I can’t say that Covid-19 has changed my mind about this. But it has most definitely rocked me! And, if anything, it has strengthened my believe that God is God.
God is God.
Noone else is. Nothing else is. When you’re breathing in (what might be) your last few breaths, trust me friends, clinging to Him will be the most valuable thing. Not your assets, or your titles, or your outward appearance.
Holding on to Him will be IT.
You see, we NEED to hold on to Him, because we NEED the hope that everything will be okay, no matter what the ending looks like. And that kind of hope and peace is something that only God can give you. He is faithful.
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Faith over Fear: The size of a mustard seed
Guest post – Fear is a powerful thing – but so is faith. And if I have to choose a stronger force, I would say faith is the strongest every time.
Fear lies to us in our weakest, most vulnerable moments. It tells us we will never be able to do this. We will never get through to the other side. We will never be loved or accepted for who we are. We will never succeed at x, y or z. Fear picks up apart, piece by piece. It rears its ugly head in the worst moments, when you are already clutching onto your last straw.
But if you know God’s love and goodness and the power that a sincere, imperfect but entirely pure faith in Him brings – then you will know that faith can move mountains. Perhaps not the literal kind – but the kind that crush lives, that shatter dreams or that squash every last bit of strength out of you as a person.
Because, you see, faith is the soft voice that gently reminds you, even if and when fear takes ahold, that somehow, you will be okay. You have got this. You are not alone. Even at your most broken, you have enough inside of you to see you through. God is with you.
But often, when fear takes ahold of us with its iron grasp, like a snare biting into your flesh, faith seems an impossible ask even for the strongest or staunchest of faith.
I have never been a good example of a Christian. I know I am horribly flawed and I have hurt myself and others more often than I should – often enough to not be worthy of a love He gives.
But I also know, that in spite of my shortcomings as both a person and a Christian, I have incredible bounds of faith. Not the bold, ‘I got this’ kind of faith that some people exude – but the quiet, fierce and determined kind that refuses to give up, even when my heart and spirit have reached their most fragile state.
It is faith like a mustard seed. The kind that gets me through even the worst calamities – but which I know that, without this simple faith, I would be truly lost. I would be utterly hopeless. Maybe I would not even still be here.
My first few years as an adult have pushed me to my breaking point more than a few times – but never more so than in 2018 when my life, quite literally, fell apart.
I have, by no stretch of the imagination, had an easy life. In 25 years, I have had more thrown my way than some people endure in a lifetime. And I am painstakingly aware of this, just as I am aware of how I dismiss big things because, even if they are serious, I have been through worse. It’s a simple, unrefuted fact.
But as with anyone, there are standout moments of fear and confusion that are more poignant or unbearable than others. And this particular example is one that feels like that. It feels heavy. It feels, when I look back on it now, like another lifetime ago.
I can’t tell you how I got through that time of my life to be here today – but I can tell you that faith in God and myself, as well as trusting a few select and inherently good and kind people, got me to this point.
If you dumped me back there now, I know I would be wiser – but I would be no better prepared to handle it than I was back then. Because we cannot prepare – even in retrospect – for our worst personal battles.
To put it into context, I had moved (twice in less than a year) to a new part of Cape Town. I had changed jobs – but not just changed jobs, I had changed career paths and industries. I felt wholly unequipped in my new role and totally unprepared to be patient and see the fruit that my own efforts and determination would yield. I was racked with trauma from a past abuse but carefully shoving it down and pretending it never happened. I was in a new, tender relationship with someone I loved very much but who I was, at that current point of my life, totally incapable of being able to support and love in a way I should have.
To put it simply, I was treading water every day – and floundering by nightfall.
My faith in myself and my God-given abilities, which has always been shaky but consistent at best, became nonexistent. Fear beckoned to me daily, with exaggerated enthusiasm, “You can’t do this. Look, look – you aren’t worthy of happiness or love. You don’t deserve this new job or role. You aren’t good enough. You won’t learn fast enough. You will get laid off. You aren’t the perfect girlfriend – why are you such a bad girlfriend and worker? Why are you tired and anxious all the time? Why aren’t you getting all this right? Why, why, why?”
For a few months, fear was the only constant. I knew nothing else. Internally, I questioned myself – but outwardly, I cried and despaired every single night.
And then, as so often happens in life, when it rains, it pours… My mum’s health (which has been increasingly bad ever since I was 12) deteriorated. I wasn’t sure she would pull through this time – but fear tightened its grip around my heart all the more. My own health started spluttering, my anxiety spiralled… And eventually, I sank.
My relationship ended. I had to move out. I had no car so I had to find a new way to get to and from work. I had very few friends I knew well on this side of the city. I was scared and alone and every day, I found a new way to fall apart as a human. I broke multiple times a day, in multiple, pitiful ways.
Fear took ahold. And I didn’t know how to fight it.
But one thing I did find, like a blind man searching for something in an impossibly black and bumpy night, was my faith. It didn’t come back to me with trumpets and angels singing… But like every other time when my life has been at its hardest or its worst, it settled on me and gave me quiet strength.
It became the prayers I beseechingly uttered to God, as I fumbled over words and tears and feelings.
It became the force that propelled me to get through each day – to simply exist at the barest minimum human capacity – and show a brave, put together face (like some carefully drawn on mask) so that you might never know how broken I was inside.
It became my war cry, the thing that pushed me to get up in the morning when depression settled on me like a thick, impenetrable cloud.
It encouraged me to trust, not just God and myself, but others, too. To show them the thing I feared most: my own fragile, broken humanness.
The first time I did it, I thought the person would run screaming from the room. Repulsed by the sight of my tears or the signs of me visibly breaking in a way that only a heartbroken, lost soul can break. But then, the funniest thing happened: no one ran. No one judged me or told me to pull myself together. Instead, they stayed. They comforted. They encouraged. They believed.
And in time, that small faith – that dared me to let people in and stop facing the brokenness alone – led to a stronger, more tangible faith. The kind that brought new strength reserves and vulnerable trust with it. The kind that gave me the courage to leave my home and start anew – as a new version of myself.
It pushed me to conquer my fear of being, travelling and living alone. Of living alone, above all, with myself. Of being broken and yet still having to throw myself into work before that went south too…
It made me grow, as it stripped away every last trace of the old, scared and needy Tamlyn. Before, gradually, it moulded me into someone else entirely.
I stopped letting myself and others tell me what to do. I stopped listening when fear (or doubt) told me I can’t do it. I stopped absorbing the words that had been ingrained in my heart since I was a child: you are not good enough.
I stopped being afraid of love and vulnerability and human connections. I stopped entertaining people who only knew how to cause destruction and emotional pain; I stopped putting up with things period, like I had no other option in life.
But most of all, I stopped giving into fear and all its many emotional embodiments.
Instead, I felt the fear, felt it like crazy… But I did it anyway. Why? Because my faith in God had proven once again that, even at my worst, most broken self – I would be okay. My faith in Him would overcome every fear. I would heal. I would grow. I would survive.
And I did. Yes, it is still a daily fight – keeping that fear at bay, silencing those doubts – but I am better equipped to handle it now. I have risen from the ashes – and my faith in Him has made me a stronger and more beautiful version of myself than I ever thought possible.
So when fear surrounds you – remember that you have a force inside of you that is stronger than anything… And that sometimes, even the simplest, most minute faith like a mustard seed, is enough. You got this.
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For the purpose of this story, I would like to remind the reader of Matthew 17:20 – one of my favourite verses – which says:“So Jesus said to them, “Because of your unbelief; for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”
AuthorThis guest post is part of my Faith over Fear series. The author, Tamlyn Ryan, blogs over at Tamlyn Amber Wanderlust, where she chats about travel and lifestyle related topics. You can check her out on social media: Facebook, Instagram -
Faith over Fear: The back up plan
Guest post – Fear is my middle name. We are well acquainted. So are many people living in this country. Fear follows you when you leave your house at night. Fear breathes down your neck when you see protests flash on the T.V. screen. Fear drives people onto one-way flights. But in my case, the state of this country does not inject fear into my veins. Sure, it’s not pleasant. Sure, I’m sometimes scared. But my fear is driven by something deeper. It’s fuelled by a frightening uncertainty and, frankly, a lack of trust.
Allow me to put you in the picture. I’ve dreamed of being a stay-at-home mom all my life. It was never “not an option” for me. Ever.
After my first year of teaching, I was ready to give up and, due to a number of circumstances, I left my job. Then I assumed God would give me something else. Which He did. It was only a term. But it was something. I fully expected Him to give me another job but I sat on the first day of the second term at home and unemployed. Yet, before the end of the week, I had another short-term job lined up. And so each month went. Just when we were running low on cash, I got a phone call or someone would leave an envelope in my husband’s pigeon hole or on my dad’s desk containing some life-saving notes. And that’s how we coped that year on “one salary”. Purely by God’s grace.
Fast forward a few years. I had a good job that paid a pretty good salary. And, I was happy. All except for one thing. I desperately wanted to start a family. But the more we reviewed our financial state, the more we realised that it was going to be hard to live off one salary. Because, technically we hadn’t done it before. It had been supplemented by the goodwill of other people. I’ll never forget someone saying that if you wait to have enough money, you’ll never have kids – you’ll never have enough money to have kids.
I had to convince my husband. He, despite being the one to generally trust the Lord, was the one holding back. I, on the other hand, was ready to jump forward in faith with both feet!Around the same time, we started baby talk, there was talk about our inheriting a decent sum of money. But that’s all it was and, in fact, it seemed too good to be true.
On the last day of October, we sat in the kitchen after church and I brought up the baby debate again. My husband told me that he wanted to wait another 6 months until we knew if we were going to inherit this money or not. He must have mentioned something about trusting God for the right time. I looked him in the eye and responded simply,
“When you have the money in your hand, it’s no longer trusting God.”
And, after he paused for a few moments, he looked at me without another argument and said,
“Okay.”
A month later, I was pregnant. Two months later I resigned.
It was quite a scary moment to be asked the school principal whether I was sure I wanted to resign. I was sure! But now my salary had an end date and I couldn’t change my mind if things became turbulent and we needed an income. I wouldn’t be able to wake up and decide that thank you very much but I’d like my job back please. A week later, I tapped out the resignation letter and handed it in as a mere formality. My teaching days were now numbered and the countdown began.
We were two months away from due date and I was lounging, if one can, in a chair with the other staff at work. A message came through and I glanced at it half-heartedly. Then, as fast as a pregnant woman can, I sat bolt upright and studied the massive amount that had just been transferred into my husband’s bank account. I honestly thought I would never see the day that we inherited money like this, nor did I think God would provide in this way for us. It seemed too good to be true!
The house we had built and now struggled to afford became affordable. And we were able to pay for much more. If that wasn’t “enough”, my provident fund paid out a nice sum too when I left work a month later. We decided to use it as my “salary” until it was no more. To make things even sweeter, I unexpectedly managed to score UIF even though I had resigned! For the next year, finances were secure. In twelve months, I fully expected to have something on the go.
Man, were we so thankful that the Lord provided so abundantly. At the beginning of June, only a month away from our baby arriving, we hadn’t known how we would cover our costs. By the end of June, we had an impressive figure in our bank account and enough money over and above that for day-to-day living. I worked out that we would manage until February just fine using my provident fund.
We didn’t expect the Lord to answer our prayers with such an incredible amount and with no work on our part. Sure, we had to be careful. And yes, there were times when the amount looked so spectacular that we thought it would be just fine to splash out.
In the January of the following year, I decided to start up a small home industry project and make gluten free goodies. I thought I’d hit the jackpot when small shops, with very little effort on my part, agreed to stock my goods. God had come through yet again! I made sure I’d set this up before money ran out. And although I seriously disliked the rigmarole of keeping everything separate and free of cross-contamination, I had an extra income.
But as the last of the money dwindled and the reality of tedious baking hours between chasing a crawling tot around sobered me up, I realised that we would not make ends meet on a meagre few hundred rand extra each month. And I couldn’t increase my baking hours. Reality began to set in again.
We began to pray more earnestly.
As God often does, He came through at the eleventh hour. Tax season, baby! We got a tax rebate. It would tide us over for another few months. Just when that was about to run out, it was December again and my husband got his bonus. Again, the Lord had come through.
There were often times when our faith wobbled and wavered. It was scary. But we always had enough. There were some weeks when I wondered how we would buy milk the next week. But God came through, time and time again!
January 2019 saw me heavily pregnant again and finances low. We couldn’t afford one child never mind two but Baby 2 was about to make an appearance. Praise God February would bring in another tax rebate and help us over the next few months. My gluten free goodies were no longer a possibility now with two “tinies” and only one me. It was way too time consuming.
I silently hoped that someone would throw us a second baby shower and ease the pocket of nappy expenditure. A few weeks before, God heard my silent wish and my husband’s work spoilt us. And just when I had made peace with the fact that my friends probably didn’t plan on one, I was surprised with one less than 24 hours before the birth. (Many were none the wiser about the scheduled caesar date.) I could breathe a little easier knowing we had a decent stock of the essentials and wouldn’t need to find money to diaper our baby.
I started a blog, hoping to soon earn money from it. But, it proved harder than I thought; in fact, just about impossible.But yet again, as He had done before, God prompted people to gift us with the odd bag of groceries or an envelope.
But yet again, money vanished. So far, we had managed to steer clear of our savings account. Based on our current track record, I assumed God would continue to protect our savings. But, here we were and I assumed wrong. We began to dip into savings. And soon, savings were looking sad. And suddenly panic that had consumed me many years ago began to rear its ugly head. I had no idea how we were going to manage. Reserves depleted and way past Plan C, we had no idea how we were going to keep on. It was a scary place to be.
There have been several moments in my life when I’ve thought we couldn’t trust God any more than we were with our finances. There have been many times when I’ve felt a deep-rooted fear. Fear in the face of uncertainty. Fear because there was no assurance of an income. Fear driving decisions we made instead of trusting God. There have been other times when I’ve felt complete peace, complete trust and have been completely at rest. But then, we are always pushed a touch further.
When is it really trust? Are we really trusting God if we have a back-up plan in case He doesn’t come through? I think you know the answer as well as I do. God had brought us to a place where we had nowhere else to turn but to Him. There were no more back up plans, no more secure pockets of cash. We now had two choices – trust Him and believe that He would provide or try and make a plan for ourselves. My husband often prayed that I would trust God more. Now I was having to put my faith into practice – I had nothing left and control was now beyond me. God had brought me to the end of myself and had made me solely reliant on Him. The real test now lay before us.
The lyrics of Oh my Soul sang softly in my head,
Oh, my soul
Oh, how you worry
Oh, how you’re weary, from fearing you lost control
This was the one thing, you didn’t see coming
And no one would blame you, though
If you cried in private
If you tried to hide it away, so no one knows
No one will see, if you stop believingIt was true. I didn’t see God bringing us to this. But maybe, just maybe I was exactly in the place He wanted me.
Oh, my soul
You are not alone
There’s a place where fear has to face the God you know
One more day, He will make a way
Let Him show you how, you can lay this down
‘Cause you’re not aloneAll He wanted me to do was to put one foot in front of the other. He was holding out His hand to me (I always think of Aladdin when I hear this) and asking me,
Do you trust me?
Lyrics of What if I Gave Everything ring true…
So why am I still standing here?
Why am I still holding back from You?
You’ve given me a faith that can move a mountain
But I’m still playing in the sand
Building little kingdoms that’ll never stand
I hear You call me out into deeper waters
But I settle on the shallow endI’m so tired of standing here
What if I gave everything to You?And when I reluctantly put my hand in His and I couldn’t see through the fog of impossibility, He was walking the uncertain road ahead of me and willing me to put one foot in front of the other on the sure ground He had already walked on – He was busy making my path straight. I might hear scary things along the way – not the sound of wolves howling in the valley of the shadow of death but the subtle doubting questions of distrusting sceptics. I may wander off the path thinking I know better from time to time. But when I slip, He will be holding me. When I doubt, I will feel the reassurance of His presence one step ahead of me as He guides me with His right hand.
All I need to do is put my hand in His, have faith and not fear and just…trust!
AuthorThis guest post is part of my Faith over Fear series. The author, Kate Botha, blogs over at Wearing All My Hats where she chats about the crazy, messiness of life and how to find balance. You can check her out on social media: Facebook, Instagram -
Faith over Fear: The law of attraction
For a long time I would send myself into a crazy anxiety attack, as I lay in bed at night thinking that every single sound I hear is out to get me and my family.
Did I hear someone at the door? What if a gang of tsotsi’s are breaking in, what happens to my kids?! Am I smelling smoke? What do I do if there’s a fire?! Did I switch off all the plugs in the kitchen? What would my family do if there’s an explosion?! Is the baby breathing? Did I just hear Jonah choke on something? Is someone at the window?
… and the beat goes on…Guys, I literally lay in bed for hours obsessing over the safety and well being of my family, feeling completely inadequate and helpless as I consider all the dangers of this world.
It was only after fervent prayer and repentance (because, hello, fear is the opposite of faith) that I soon realised that my fears were eating me up inside. Fear had me offering up my peace on a platter, and all I was left with was angst and incoherent thoughts. Fear had me one-up.
I then read a scripture in Job 3:25 that says: “For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.”
It reminded me about the law of attraction. I mean, we all know the sayings “what you put into the universe will come back to you” etc, but here in the Bible, it basically confirms that the things Job feared were attracted to him.
I had to take a step back to reassess what I was fixing my thoughts on. I mean, if words have the power to create, then how much power lies in the stuff that we think? And if we believe that thinking good thoughts will yield good results… then what happens when my thoughts are fear-filled and negative?Now, I’m not saying that we should live in fear because we are afraid that our fears are going to come on us. (My goodness, mental asylum, anyone?) But, what the Bible was trying to teach us is that fixing your mind on what is good and noble and pure yields way better results than obsessing over what is bad and evil. Fear cannot be your comfort zone.
I literally had to take my thoughts captive and cancel fear and every negative emotion, with the realisation that it is NOT my portion and it was NOT going to be my go-to response anymore!
I mean, I’m not saying that we musn’t be wise and aware and alert. BUT allowing fear to control the way I feel, and letting it manipulate me in such a way that I can’t even sleep at night, is the opposite of living in faith.These days I say a prayer whenever I feel the all too familiar blanket of fear grip me. I pray that God will protect my family and I. I plea the blood of Jesus over all of us, and come against attacks, assaults and accidents. I pray for a hedge of protection around my children – their bodies AND their minds. I ask God for peace, wisdom and clarity to help me make the best decisions for us, according to His will. And I declare that God is bigger than all things.
Because, at the end of the day, the only surety I have is that He’s got my back. And that’s enough to make me sleep soundly at night.
The world is unprincipled. It’s dog-eat-dog out there! The world doesn’t fight fair. But we don’t live or fight our battles that way—never have and never will. The tools of our trade aren’t for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture. We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity. 2 Cor 10:3-6 (Msg)
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Thoughtful communication: talking to your spouse
“Baaabe, I want to say something but I don’t want you to get upset…”
Those are the words I use when gently letting my Hubstopher know that he is speaking a load of nonsense and I’m about to set him straight.After a few years of marriage, he is aware of my tactics already (the joke, after witnessing my C Section, is that he knows me inside and out) so he would call me out on it halfway into my pre-speech, nudging me with a “say what you want to say…” while I fumble around trying to find words that won’t hurt his heart or offend him.
And then, one day, in mid “Baaabe, I want to say something” he stopped me and asked why I am setting up the convo, without simply saying what I feel. He didn’t appreciate that I felt the need to prepare him for what I was going to say… almost as if I thought he isn’t able to handle my commentary.
You see, in my attempt to not offend him, I ended up offending him more than, uhh, actually offending him with the original offense that I was trying not to offend him with. (Now say that really fast)
I’ve had to learn that thoughtful communication looks different to each of us.In our marriage, thoughtful communication is all about vulnerability and efficiency. (Efficient, because we honestly don’t have the time to beat around the bush anymore.) And even though we push to be raw and real with each other, we still have to remain mindful of the other person’s heart.
And friends, let me tell you, it’s especially hard to say honest words KINDLY when you believe that the other person is being a world-class idiot and needs to be set straight. Sometimes you’re angry or frustrated and you’re just not in the mood to be kind. You don’t always want to like each other… but you always have to choose to love each other.
I mean, I know exactly which buttons to press, to win the fight. But loving him – even when I don’t like him very much – means that I choose not to press those buttons. (And sometimes I totally choose to press all the buttons, at the same time, as if I’m playing Tekken at the corner shop arcade. Let’s not even front.)
I suddenly understand why aunties and uncles mention the importance of communication during their speeches at weddings. Finding your “thoughtful communication mojo” is what marriage dreams are made of.
And hey, the beauty is that we have our whole lives to figure it out together. So, even if we don’t get it right today, there’s always tomorrow.
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An ode to the end of maternity leave (it’s also a celebration)
The other day, my friend Ella remarked that it’s especially hard to blog when you’re going through stuff. Because, quite simply, you’re not always lus to air out your issues on your social platforms, man. I mean, I’m totally not one of those aunties, in the hood, who skels in the street.
But, also, some of us aren’t that good at faking the happy. Like, if I’m upset, I’d rather talk about it. In a super descriptive blog post. Like a normal person. (hahaha)
This is a huge problem when you’re all about promoting “being the light” and all that jazz. I mean, it’s hard to be positive/happy/not a turd when you’re saying exactly how you feel and how you feel is miserable.
Anyways, I found myself in this very spot during my maternity leave. Man, friends, it wasn’t so lekker. My body was broken (like, in literal pain every single day).
Needless to say, I didn’t feel like being the light. I was in a bad head space. And then, to add insult to injury, someone’s voodoo ensured that my maternity leave falls over the school holidays. So I basically spent what was meant to be a relaxing holiday, uhh, not relaxing and alone at home with 3 small children (and pain, don’t forget the pain) for 6 long weeks. It was the opposite of fun.
Friends, I know I don’t need to tell you that I love my kids. I love the buggers… yep, they are beautiful and a blessing and the fruit of my loins and all of that… but I was exhausted and mizzy.
I tried to chat about it on the blog a couple of times but it felt like I was complaining (I was though). And I didn’t want to be that blogger, you know?
But, now that I’m on the other side of the storm, I can safely and securely say that: GUYS, MATERNITY LEAVE WITH KIDS EN TOW IS ROUGH! Do not try this at home! I repeat, do not try this!
I found myself resenting the very concept of motherhood and giving birth and maternity leave and husbands who get to go to work. When people would mention how lucky I was to be home with my kids, I wanted to, you know, roundhouse kick them in the face. (But ever so gently, so that I don’t come across as too aggressive.)I found myself waking up at 6am each morning and wishing that everyone else could remain asleep until, like, 6pm that evening. I didn’t want to have to deal with anyone’s anything for another second. The burden and sacrifice of parenthood kinda hit me in the nuts. (If I had nuts.)
Returning to work has been the biggest blessing, you guys. For starters, I actually enjoy seeing my kids now because I had the chance to miss them while I sit alone at my desk, sipping on hot coffee and thinking thoughts that don’t involve which boob needs to be emptied next. And also, I kinda am excited to wake up at 6am because my day has purpose now.
With that said, your day could totally have purpose if you’re a stay at home mom. But maybe I wasn’t designed for that purpose. You know? And I’m okay with that.
Anyways, I guess I came here to say a bunch of random, cliche-sounding ish that you would hear in an episode of Dr Phil and Oprah. Random, cliche-sounding TRUTHS, I’ve learnt. Stuff like:
This too shall pass (just like gas, and your youth, nothing stays forever)
Joy comes in the morning (in my case, it was the morning when my maternity leave ended)
Kids grow up so fast (but painfully slow, when you’re at home with them every single day)
Love on your family as much as possible (even when they annoy you)
Look both ways before you cross the road (seemed fitting, but also, it’s a metaphor… ooh deeeep…)
If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all (words have power, yo)
Live your truth (because it’s super tiring putting on a mask and we’re already drained as it is folks)
When all else fails, pray.



























