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The day I fell out of a moving vehicle
So it’s my birthday in a few days time and instead of planning birthday celebrations, I find myself catching a whole bunch of feelings. I mean, guys, life is a gift! The very fact that we are still alive means that there is purpose and value and untapped potential in us, just waiting to be… well… tapped into! There are probably 100’s of reasons why I shouldn’t be alive today, but I’m still here, and that’s got to mean something. Allow me to elaborate…
The day I fell out of a moving vehicle.
My uncle was a backyard mechanic, with stained overalls and oily hands and car parts everywhere… He was a hero in our eyes. He told the best ghost stories and made everything seem more exciting somehow. He would often take my cousins and I (all in primary school and younger) with him when he went to test drive the cars that he would fix for clients and friends.One particular day, a boisterous bunch of cousins piled into a rather ancient vehicle, to “help” my uncle test drive it. It was school holidays and we had slept over at my grandma’s place, but we were bored. So even though he was only going for a short, slow drive around the block, we were excited to be doing something with him. We jumped into the old “skadonkie”, with 7 year old me claiming my place on the back seat behind the driver’s seat, and took off on our adventurous drive around the block. Everyone was chatting away and telling “knock knock” jokes or something – I can’t really remember because I was in my own imaginary Enid Blyton fueled world (as usual) – when a couple of minutes later, I found myself rolling in the street.
Rolling… my head in sync with a passing vehicle’s wheel. I remember watching its hub caps rotate as I spin next to it. I eventually rolled down a grassy embankment, totally dazed, not realizing what had just happened. As I got up to try to make my way back to the road, I noticed that my shoe had slipped further down the small hill. I rationalised that I simply could not leave my shoe behind! So I made my way further down the hill to get my shoe, before I hiked back up, trying to get back to the road.
Funny enough, the car was still in sight (he was driving that slow) but my dear uncle had still not realized that quiet Luchae was missing. You see, the door of the vehicle had been faulty and had not closed properly. It seems, as I leaned against, it quickly snapped open, creating a gap big enough for tiny me to slip through, and then slammed shut again. So there I was, limping along the side of road, watching the beat up “skadonkie” indicate as it was about to turn a corner and disappear into oblivion. All I could think was “must I really walk home alone?” I wasn’t allowed to roam around alone. What would my mom say? I eventually burst out crying, limping my way in the direction of home, with a shoe in my hand.The “skadonkie” then came to a halt, as my uncle and cousins realized that I was gone, and I watched it make a u-turn, relief washing over me. A trip to the doctor and an injection later and I was a legend. By the grace of God there were no broken bones and no concussion! Besides for not having any injuries, the mere fact that another car did not flatten me, is a miracle in itself!
Needless to say, I pretty much made it into one of the top 10 family stories repeated at family functions. Which is not always a good thing.
Have you survived an accident, or event, in your childhood that is best described as a miracle? Please do share 🙂
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#ungratefulnessmustfall
Can we all just take a chill pill? Well, atleast, just for a couple of seconds while I try to fix my hair. I don’t know it just seems as if everyone’s so on edge lately; standing on guard, fists up, ready to retaliate if someone so much as sneezes in their direction. #feesmustfall? More like #ungratefulnessmustfall. -
My week in pics: micro fashion, bridesmaid dresses and nail art
This week feels like someone literally took a drive down to a garbage dump, chose a few items, wrapped it up and wrote “Luchae’s week” on it. But then I check out my week in pics and realize that I am being an Aunty Moana – I am blessed, God is good and I have so much to be thankful for!
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Mom vs Dad: Who works harder?
Mom vs Dad: Who works harder? Okay, so, I know that it’s a pretty general question. I’m sure that there are a bunch of different responses that can come from it, since each person’s situation is unique. And the truth is I wouldn’t even be thinking these thoughts if I hadn’t just had the day that I’ve…uhh… just had. -
Marriage, weddings and saying yes to the dress
Wedding photos taken by Donna vd Watt Photography As I’ve mentioned before, a bunch of our friends (who happened to be part of our bridal party when we got married) have said yes to the dress and are also getting married now! I’d like to think that it was our inloveness that rubbed off on them. (Shameless credit hogging)
As friendship would have it, Chris and I have both been asked to be bridesmaid/groomsmen in these weddings, so it’s kinda taking me back into “wedding freak out” mode. In a good way. I love the excitement of weddings and the thought that 2 people are about to enter into a beautiful covenant together! Part of my wedding speech, to Chris, was that although I am sister, daughter, friend to many, I am wife to only ONE! Marriage is such a beautiful thing. Good job God, good job.
Anyways, so today I went with Risa to fit on her wedding dress and lo and behold what do I spot in the dressmakers shop? My wedding dress! AACK! I had it “made to hire” because really, what must I do with a
wedding dress after the wedding? Just seeing it hang there brought back sooo much memories and emotions.The pic doesn’t do the color justice. I had purposefully chosen a champagne/goldy dress because (besides for steering away from the conventional white) I wanted something that represented where Chris and I were at in our lives. I mean, it’s no secret that we had a kid each, going into this marriage. And for me, although God has restored like only He can, wearing all white simply did not symbolise exactly what He has done in my life. He took a dream that seemed to be broken and impossible and turned it into pure gold! This dress, in many ways, was me shedding the old and putting on new robes. It is a testament to how God is able to turn ashes into beauty.
And besides for all that spiritual stuff, I think that amidst all the wedding planning and preps, choosing your wedding dress and fitting it on for the very first time kinda gives you the best kind of “this is actually happening!” feeling. I obviously cried when I fit my dress on the first time (obviously) and I remember feeling like a princess in it.
Sigh
Don’t mind me, I’m just going to sit here and wallow in some nostalgia….
What is your wedding dress story, friends?
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So there’s a biter in my toddlers class
Curly’s teacher calls me aside yesterday afternoon and I’m thinking “uh oh, what did I do.” I know, right? It turns out there’s a biter in Curly’s class. The biter got into my kid TWICE, on the arm, 2 days in a row.
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What’s in your mouth
I’ve been so aware of negative words for the past few months, that I found myself gravitating away from sources who only spewed negative talk. It made me ask myself: “What’s in your mouth?” Actually, I think this is one of my favorite topics! I spoke about it a few times on this here blog, so no, you’re not living in the Matrix, it’s just me, repeating myself.
Fortunately for me, my Hubstopher feels the same. He says that when people complain or moan then it makes him “tired”. (So descriptive). He has developed a way of giving me ‘the look’ that says UH OH MOANER UP AHEAD and I then have to find a way past the moaner, or, if we’re stuck in the middle of a moan-sesh, we cleverly maneuver the convo so as not to get caught slap dab in the middle of what is better known as gossip. We avoid it. We’re allergic.
This made me so aware of stuff that people say… about each other, their work places, their churches, the people they are related to or hang out with, their leaders or bosses. Yoh but we are good at criticizing! And so very understanding when it comes to ourselves and our own situations. But others? Oh no sister, you don’t get off THAT easily!
It really made me check my own heart. I mean, I’m not perfect. I do this stuff too. After listening to yet another person moan about something I sat there and thought to myself: What good is this doing? What GOOD comes from your critiquing and moaning? What GOOD comes from your gossip disguised as good intentions? What GOOD comes from it if I sit and nitpick other people’s actions or decisions? And if I’m not doing it, is it not the same thing when I allow another person to do it while speaking to me?
Do you know the difference between being wise enough to say NOTHING and being bold enough to say SOMETHING?
Ah another week, another opportunity to grow.
Happy Monday! -
How to give your kids a gift that isn’t theirs
We love our children, as is expected. We want to give them the best that we can and never want them to experience lack or limitation. But I’m often faced with the “it’s not all about you!” challenge, when I find them taking things for granted, and find myself bringing out my inner beast parent, to show them that the world certainly does not revolve around them and their latest game or fad.
It is with this in mind that we diligently and joyfully partake in the Santa Shoebox initiative each year. It is a great initiative where you sign up, choose a child (or children) in your area, who live in poverty stricken homes or at institutions where they may not have as much as we do. You then put together a Christmas box of sorts, that will contain a variety of essentials. The box is prettily decorated for reuse (which is a big deal for these kids already) and you are always welcome to add more than what the list stipulates – special items that you feel would mean a lot to your sponsored child.
We Santa Shoebox every single year. I have made it a habit for us to choose 1 boy who is close in age to our boys and for the past few years, we have been quite fortunate to be able to choose the same boy every single year. The boys know his name already and they’ve written him letters before, so I am sure he might feel as if he knows them too. Last year, with the loom bands craze going on, the boys added tons of loom bands and loom makers for him to use. The year before that we added some books that they loved.Every year we try to make the box special, because he is special and he should feel loved and not as if we threw things in a box because we feel sorry for him. I have found that since the boys are able to relate to our pledge (because he is a boy too and close in age), it has made the packing and deciding of what goes in the box so much more special and important to them.
I’ve also decided to sponsor a little girl, who is close in age to our Curly. I would love to apply the same concept to this little girls box and hopefully would have the honor of being her sponsor until Curly is able to understand it all.
Not only is it our responsibility to look after orphans and those who are unable to fend and provide for themselves (that’s what the Bible says yo), but it is a huge privilege to be able to speak into the lives of children – even if it’s through a simple Christmas gift box.I appeal to you: Please check out the Santa Shoebox website and consider pledging a child. The closing date is looming and there are hundreds of children who are still not sponsored and your box would mean the world to them. If you are unable to physically pack a box and get it to the drop off centers in time, there are easy peasy virtual boxes available for you to purchase. You are blessed to be a blessing!
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Mean Girls: Are you one of them?
Mean girls. You know who they are. The “know it alls” disguised as “better than” human beings, with the overbearing amount of opinion and the distinct desire to share it (to your face or behind your back). They know better. Scrap that: They know BEST. And they have a group of friends who agree. If you aren’t doing things the way they do it, then you are SO outdated/dumb/naive that surely the main dinosaur from Jurassic Park is more “with it” than you.
Mean girls. They are everywhere. Cleverly disguised like Leon Schuster. You know you’ve been “mean girl’d” when you suddenly feel the need to fabricate the truth behind where you bought your jersey (Mr Price. On sale. 4 years ago.) Or the times when you address a group of people and it’s as if they’ve all suddenly gone deaf… at the same time… because no one acknowledges you. Or worse, they do acknowledge you, in the worst kind of way, and you feel as if you’re an insect underneath a magnifying glass.
On a hot day. In Durban.If I am allowed to keep it real, and I shall, allow me to point out that “mean girl syndrome” is not only a high school thing. I was “mean girl’d” all through my 20s and did not even know it until I got home one day and thought of a clever answer to someone’s reoccurring snarky remarks (don’t you hate it when that happens?). It got me thinking: why am I still fighting this battle?! Adults shouldn’t have to be mean girls. We are adults for goodnessakes! We have other things to think about! (Bills, kids, supper, is Madonna STILL releasing albums?!) But nope, it’s still there.
Like a ninja. Hidden, but everywhere.Now a days you’ll find the “mean girl syndrome” strewn all over social media in the form of “wisdom”. You know what I’m talking about… It’s the people who seem to be sitting around, waiting for someone to update their status so that they can leave a snooty comment, explaining why your thinking is of a lower intellectual level than a spoon. Sometimes they’ll go that one step further and update their status with subliminal messages aimed at putting others down or “on their place” (as is the aim). Everybody is wrong. Except them.
Yep, mean girls. You’ve either felt a little less of a human being because of them OR (let’s be honest) you’ve been one of them. Hey I’ll put my pride in my pocket and admit that I’ve been ‘mean girl’d’ AND I’ve been the mean girl on many occasions.Let’s think this one through… Have you purposefully avoided someone because they’ve annoyed you or did and said things differently to how you do? Or maybe you snicker behind someones back, with one of your friends, because “does she even know how weird her hair style is”? Or maybe you have the innate desire to ‘school’ people on Facebook… in the queue at the shops… while you’re driving… At the parent/teacher meeting (and you’re not even the teacher). Hmmm… a bit of self-reflection is needed.
So how do we nip the “mean girl” spirit in the bud? I think it all boils down to identity and being secure in who you are. It is such a big lesson to teach our young girls. Value yourself! You are important! You are unique!
Getting these foundations down will help them to grow into confident, bold, women who are aware of other peoples emotions. You don’t need to break some one else down, in order to feel bigger. I always ask Hubstopher: “Do you KNOW who I AM?” – Meaning, I am aware that I am precious, valuable, intelligent and a child of the King. Knowing who I am leaves no room for ANYONE to make me feel bad about myself. But it also makes me aware of the little things that do not add value to me (eg. when I act like a poophead = not adding value).
Anyways… so there you have it. Oh and yes, Mean Girls happens to be my most favorite movie of all times. It’s like SO fetch!
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There. That’s better. Whew! This post was suppose to be about complaining. But as I began typing, I realized that I was complaining about… well… complaining! It was a full circle moment for me. A little voice inside asked me: Luchae, but did it kill you? And no, it did not kill me. I’m still very much alive, thanks. But it got me thinking about how easily we allow our emotions to spill out of our mouths.
We have SO much to say about life, the economy, the government, our next door neighbor, our bosses, and the beat goes on. We’re not living in the easiest of times (although, hey, I’d take today over 600 years ago’s wiping your bum with a banana leaf situation) and yes, there are many reasons why it’s easier to feel more negative than positive. But my question to you is: but did it kill you?
Chances are, it did not kill you. (My reasoning is that you’re still alive right now, so I’m pretty sure that I’m right about this one.) And if it did, in fact, NOT kill you, what’s the point in moaning about it? You’re alive! You still have air in your lungs and purpose running through your veins! That should be motivation enough to be the best you can be.
In my attempt to avoid speaking (and thinking) negatively, I try to stay away from negative conversations. You know, the whole “accept the things you can’t change, change the things you can, and know the difference between the two” and “stay silent if you don’t have anything nice to say” shpiel. It’s actually not bad advice.
I’m also so mindful about what I consume on social media. I mean, social media has wonderful perks but, when used incorrectly, it can be such an easy way to spread hatred, lies and negativity. Not a good look.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that life and death is in the power of the tongue – the Bible says so in Prov 18:21. This means that you have the power to create with your own mouth! You can choose whether you want to speak blessing or curses – which may seem a bit “Liewe Heksie”, but by that I am referring to speaking positivity vs speaking negativity… speaking life verses speaking death!
Not sure whether you can pull this whole “speaking life” thing off? Well, here are a few filters you can use, before letting your words misrepresent you.
Ask yourself
Does, what I have to say, build up or tear down?
Are my motives for saying this good or bad?
Is this meant to be confidential?
Is this truthful, partly truthful or do I have no proof at all?
If the person I am talking about was present, would I still say this?
Something to think about today! I, certainly, have a lot to repent about and am definitely going to be more aware of what comes out of my mouth. How about you?
