• Reflections and regrets

    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 wanted needed 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.

  • Do you take things personally

    Do you take things personally?

    “There’s a huge amount of freedom that comes to you when you take nothing personally.” I read this phrase over and over a couple of months ago, basically feeling my spirit jump around in my body with cheerleader pom-poms and a big placard that says “yaaaas queeeeeen!” (Whaaaaat? Sometimes my ‘spirit’ rocks a cheerleader uniform. I don’t choose these things, it chooses me.)

    Anyways, the confirmation in my spirit reminded me that this phrase right here is my jam. Not taking things personally is my go-to response when I read an offensive status update or when I overhear someone make a snarky comment. Not taking things personally helps me to laugh it off when you make a joke about my reproduction rate (I have a lot of children okay). It helps me to smile and wave when I am overlooked for campaigns or promotions or positions.

    But hey, I’m no superwoman. I mean, let’s get it out there, it’s not always easy to woooosahhhhh away an offence or a hurt. In fact, I don’t think that you’re suppose to simply brush off every single hurt and issue anyways. In some cases it must be dealt with, ya know, face to face by way of conversation. #adulting

    But, for the most part, the little things – the small fights – well, those are the ones that I pass right along. I mean, if I’m going to pick it up, it’ll stick. So I let it brush by me (like a bundle of poop in a river) and I move on with my life, poop-free. It’s less stinky that way.

    This wasn’t always my way of thinking though… I mean, if we’re going to be real let’s put that out there too. I had a thing for ‘fighting the good fight’. Every offence was a battle. Every hurt inflicted on me and mine, was a call to action. You know that Afrikaans saying “vinnig op haar perdtjie”? Well I was the “haar” and the “perdtjie” all at the same time. I was the personification of “Come at me, Bro.”

    I eventually learnt a bunch of lessons that can now be turned into Drake song lyrics because it is that cliche-sounding. But these are my daily reminders and it kinda helps me to assess whether or not  the situation is as big as my fragile heart is making it seem AND if the situation deserves to have as much attention as I am giving it.

    My daily reminders are:

    1. Leave the small fights for the small fighters. Yeah it feels good to respond to every single snarky comment or snub. But your silence will often set you apart. Your silence will win wars that your words never could. Also, your silence gives the offender an opportunity to think about their actions and it gives you the opportunity to calm the heck down. Step away from the pepper spray, Becky, it’s not that deep.
    2. Fight your battles like a queen and not a peasant. As a Christian woman (Karen hair flip) I believe that I am the daughter of a King. That would make me a Princess. I honestly can’t see a Princess getting into a heated debate in someone’s Facebook comments section. We fight in the spiritual realm, with prayer and praise.
    3. To not take things so personally. Because Mama’s a firecracker! Seriously though, I hate injustice. I’ve often sabotaged my own peace by taking on the battles of others. But you know what, there are ways to have open discussions about injustice and inequality that won’t leave you with 2nd degree scarring (aka an offence).

    Not taking things personally means I am guarding my heart. The Bible encourages us to guard our hearts because everything that we do flows from it. (Proverbs 4:23)

    At the end of the day, my friends, your peace is just too precious. It is too important. And it definitely is worth a lot more than a small fight.

  • An ode to 2020

    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.

    An ode to 2020We’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.

  • Four funerals and a wedding

    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?

    Four funerals and a weddingI’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.

  • social media is a lie

    My social media is a lie

    I try not to catch feelings. Mainly because catching feelings means that my hands are full. It hinders my productivity.

    But, the truth is that I DO catch feelings sometimes… and like an expert nogals. In fact, my husband would tell you that on a particularly challenging day, I’d be out here catching feelings like Mark Boucher in his heyday. So that’s, like, a lot of feelings being caught.

    Why the monologue about catching feelings?

    Well, Gladys, if you follow me on the socials you’ll know that we’ve experienced a lot of loss this year. Having to watch our loved ones say goodbye to family members, on repeat, over a span of four months, has sucked tremendously.

    Add the ‘Zoom funeral’ element to the mix and you have the making of a really terrible, depressing TV show… but like, imagine it’s an omnibus.

    One tries to be encouraging and positive and upbeat and supportive, during these times. But grief has a way of creeping up on you. And, in our case, it’s a lot of… uh… second-hand grief (is that a thing?) because we’re kinda grieving WITH family and friends who are grieving.

    My point is that it sucks. And you literally can’t escape it. The best you can do is to go through the motions of dealing with it. Me, I often deal in silence. But after experiencing a particularly kaka day a few weeks ago, I was scrolling through Instagram and had a moment where I wondered what my life looks like on social media.

    I mean, one could look at my social media feed and marvel at how fantastic things are, with my fun updates and many gorgeous children running around. It’s very “cool Disney movie” looking.  But alas, Facebook and Instagram are not a true narrative, should you want to know exactly how things are in our neck of the woods.

    The truth is that social media is NOT the truth.

    I must admit, I’m totes guilty of checking out all of your Facebook posts and wondering when I’ll get to go on that island holiday. Or when I’ll be able to afford that giant house. Or whether I can get my hair to look like that too. “Will I ever be that happy? She probably never has a bad day.”

    Social media is a highlight reel – everyone shares their best moments. But girrrrrrl, life is messy! My best moments are usually elevated by the really challenging, crappy moments.

    Whether you’ve experienced loss too, or you’re deep in the financial popo, or dealing with relationship drama. Whether your work life is a nightmare or you have health issues or you feel as if you’re married to the spawn of Chucky. I mean, whatever your challenge is… we’re all dealing with some kind of ish.

    And yaaaaaaaa, my way of “dealing” is to just be quiet.

    “Doing it for the gram” has become secondary to my actual mental health. If I don’t feel particularly smiley, then you probably won’t find me posting anything. And although it is harmful to my side hustle (aka this social media influencer thing that I do….. yes roll your eyes Debbie, no one cares) I’d much rather “hurt” my numbers, than my actual heart, right now.

    As much as I enjoy oversharing, there are some things I refuse to talk about. And that’s okay too. I have my moments with God and He kinda is the best listener. Speaking your truth – loudly, for the whole world to see – is brave and it can bring healing. But sometimes chilling in silence and processing quietly is amazing too.

    Anyways, the point of this post is to remind you to check on your friend who seems to be living that perfect Instagram life. Heck, check on yourself too, mama! Putting pressure on yourself to be 100% okay all the time is not healthy.

    Take a moment. Put your cellphone down.

    Breathe life in. Hold for a few seconds. Then let it go.

  • Blessed are the peacemakers

    Blessed are the peacemakers

    When it comes to feuding and arguments, I kinda, uhh… don’t.
    Meaning: I don’t participate. I try not to indulge in little spats and angry text messaging and holding onto a grudge until 7de Laan’s Oubaas returns to Hilda (so that’s, like, a long time).

    I mean (honestly now) besides for being way too busy and way too lazy (at the same time nogals) to participate, I do find holding on to anger to be quite tedious and unproductive. And as you know – spreadsheet brain – my aim is to be super productive at all times. (Yes, even when I’m scrolling through Instagram Martha, thanks for pointing that out, it’s called “market research”… see? productive.)

    This topic came to mind the other day when I realised just how LEKKER it is to hold onto an offence. I mean, when someone does you wrong, regardless of who is right or wrong, you want them to FEEL your wrath, right? You also want other people to know just how crappy of a person your wrong doer is.

    I mean, where is the fun in letting go and moving on? So boring.

    Right?

    Wrong. Do you know what’s boring? Not being able to invite Sally to my son’s Barmitzvah because Susan didn’t like what she had to say about her curtains.

    Boring is having to now navigate your entire life around an argument. Boring is basing your future decisions around a past offence. I’m sorry but it’s so lame man! #sorrynotsorry

    You aren’t starting a revolution by holding on to your anger and making status updates about it. Seriously, you can justify your anger and offence as much as you want, but it isn’t changing the world for the better. You aren’t setting trends that you want your children to pick up, Harriet.

    In a nutshell, and to put it politely: Your resentment is boring.

    Blessed are the peacemakersDo you know what IS exciting and ground breaking and world changing? Forgiveness.

    It’s ground breaking because it takes a lot more motivation and courage to forgive and move on. Unforgiveness is a comfort zone. Being offended is EASY. Show me the guy who addresses the issue with the intent of solving the problem and moving on, and I’ll show you a champion!

    Now, I have been offended a gazillion times over. Like, I’m sure someone made me naar as recently as today. I say this to make you aware that I know that I’m not perfect.

    But my point, Vanessa, is that none of us are. And by choosing to stay angry with someone, like, for long periods of time… by justifying your unforgiveness… you’re kinda saying “uhhh yes I AM perfect, bish!”
    And to that I’ll say “is your name Jesus?”
    And then you’ll say “no, it’s Vanessa”
    And then I’ll say “okay so then you’re not perfect, sit down”
    And then you’ll be angry with me for a long period of time too… and so it goes on and on
    *Que: Circle of Life – Elton John*

    Anyways, Mufasa, what I was trying to get at is that putting your pride and ego aside is a lot more exciting than holding on to your boring resentment. Walking around like you are Perfect Polly isn’t fooling anyone.

    Say what you need to say girl – speak your heart! Do it loudly and out of complete love. And give the other person the chance to do the same. And hey, who knows, by the end of the convo you may have sparked true healing and restoration for both of you.

    Love yourself enough to NOT walk around hating/resenting people. That sort of hatred lives buried in your heart but it eventually has to manifest someway or the other. Eventually someone has to lose.

    “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9)

  • size of a mustard seed

    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.

    ***

    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.”

    Author

    This 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 believing

    It 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 alone

    All 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 end

    I’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!

    Author

    This 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
  • The law of attraction

    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)

  • Faith over Fear: Trusting God for sight

    Guest post – From as far back as I can remember, I have struggled with my vision. I started wearing spectacles at the age of six and I remember the very first day I proudly brought my new apple-shaped glasses home. I stepped out of the car with a ginormous leap onto the pavement and a smile stretched from ear to ear because I could actually see where my foot was landing, for the very first time!

    You see, my father had glaucoma – a terrible eye disease which often leads to blindness. As an offspring, not only was I extremely nearsighted with an astigmatism in both eyes, but the pressure in my eyes was abnormally high, making me a high-risk candidate for developing glaucoma myself.

    As a Christian from a very young age, I had always prayed to God about my eyes but also always carried around an undesirable guilt that there were far worse problems in the world than a young girl with bad eyesight. I realized, albeit sheepishly, that I was okay with or without spectacles – and I made the decision that my vision would never hamper me from fulfilling my purpose in life.

    However, one defining moment seemed to challenge my self-doubt. As an adult, I remember sitting in my home church in Cape Town one morning when our former pastor – who has since passed on – prepared a special sermon on healing. There were four specific conditions that he felt the Lord wanted him to speak about and pray over that morning. I wasn’t sure where the sermon was going or what our dear pastor was going to pray about that day, but I remember a nervous feeling brewing in my belly from the very moment he opened his mouth, and before he even spoke the words ‘glaucoma’ I found myself standing up and weeping before the entire congregation.

    I’m not entirely sure what happened in the physical realm that day, but I most certainly felt something lift off me in the spiritual. My follow up with my ophthalmologist confirmed that, after 25 years, my eyes were finally beginning to stabilize and that my eye pressure seemed stable and contained – albeit still higher than the average – but within a safe, normal range.

    Four years later, in March 2019, I ventured back to my ophthalmologist for what I thought would be a normal visit for a new spectacle prescription and to check that things were still as good as they appeared previously. Not only had my eyes pretty much stabilized and remained unchanged in the last four years, but for the first time in my life, I was eligible for eye surgery to correct both my nearsightedness and astigmatism.

    I carefully listened to the doctor’s every word, completely shocked and humbled by this positive news. In my 29 years of wearing both spectacles and contact lenses, I had never been a good candidate for surgery. The downside of this news was that the surgery would cost R21500 which was not covered by medical aid. Money I simply did not have. A little deflated but ever hopeful, I decided to take the quotation home and pinned it up on the fridge so I could look at it each day and be reminded of how far I had already come.

    Over the months that followed, life seemed to go on as normal. As a wife, a mom of two and a freelance writer from home, life has a way of moving forward, whether you’re ready for it or not. However, one morning, my dear husband suddenly had the inclination that I should go back to my doctor and find out about starting the process towards surgery and how we could both pay it off and possibly set a date for the future. I checked my accounts and together we could muster up about half of the costs as a deposit and a future date would give us time to plan and save.

    Previously it had taken me almost six weeks to simply get an appointment with my ophthalmologist so at the very least, I could now get an appointment and we could figure things out as they went along.

    The next morning, I called the surgery to try and book an appointment in advance and get the ball rolling. To my surprise, the kind receptionist informed me that they had had a cancellation for the next morning and that I could come in immediately to discuss my options. Oh dear… suddenly things were moving at a rapid pace.

    I went through all the vision tests for laser and before I knew it, I found myself booking a date that was just four weeks away. That meant that we needed over R10000 in just under a month. Gulp.

    I climbed behind the steering wheel of my car as I left the surgery that morning and I immediately turned the radio off so I could have a heart to heart with God. This was my quiet time with Him, and I began to wrestle with God in the car. I told Him that I wanted this surgery; that I had booked a date and that there was no going back now. (Cheeky I know). I told Him that He needed to come through because well, how was I supposed to pay for it all.

    I called my husband and we thought for a moment about how we would possibly move around funds but that things would be very tight, if not impossible. I went home and sent out a message to my prayer group to explain the situation and to ask for prayer and guidance. I remember telling them that on the inside I was laughing because I was a little broke, but I knew that God had come through for me many times before.

    That evening we sat together at the kitchen table and tried to process the day’s events. At this point, my husband had full confidence that God was leading us to have this surgery and that He would take care of it. Minutes later my phone buzzed. It was a potential client calling about a quotation I had sent through a month previously. He wanted to let me know that they were accepting my quote for a year of service, and if possible, if they could pay me in advance for the year…

    I put the phone down and burst out laughing. What had just happened? In one day, God had orchestrated a divine appointment that had otherwise taken weeks to secure, and then He provided every last cent and more to ensure that this surgery was going to happen and that my family would be taken care of.

    A few days prior to my surgery, a wise gentleman prayed for me at church and told me that He felt that God was aligning my physical sight to that which He had already begun to unveil in my spiritual sight. I knew then that my decision to wrestle with God was me choosing faith over fear and trusting that He would come through for me.

    On 2 October 2019 I walked into the Cape Eye Clinic and I walked out without my spectacles. For the first time in my life, I can now sit and type on my computer with no corrective lenses. I can drive without spectacles. I can read without spectacles. I can do life without feeling like I have been hiding behind glass for most of my existence. The goodness of God leaves me speechless and ever thankful.

    My eyes are currently in the process of healing and it may take up to 6 months before they stabilise, but I am trusting that God will continue to do what He said He would. My faith over fear journey is therefore far from over, but each day I’m reminded of where I come from and I look ahead to where He is leading me.

    If you’re feeling as though you are unworthy of the fullness of God and His blessings, I am here to tell you that God can and will do infinitely more than you or I could ever hope or imagine.

    Now more than ever, the Scripture in Proverbs rings true for me which says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight,” (3:5-6).

    What are you trusting Him for today?

    Author

    This guest post is part of my Faith over Fear series. The author, Tamsyn Cornelius, owns TC Editorial Services where she touches on topics of faith. You can check her out on social media:  Facebook, Instagram and Linked In