His Strength, My Journey

There is a kind of heartbreak that changes you forever. Not the kind that fades after a few weeks. Not the kind people write pretty quotes about and move on from. I mean the kind of heartbreak that lives inside your body. The kind that makes your stomach tighten when someone raises their voice. The kind that teaches you to stay quiet during conflict because your mind still remembers what fear felt like. The kind that steals pieces of who you were until one day you look in the mirror and barely recognize yourself anymore. For years, I fought for my marriage. Not casually. Not halfway. I fought with everything inside me. I was married for six years, but my husband maybe lived with me for less than two of those years because of drug addiction. And before anyone rushes to judge me, let me say this honestly: I was not innocent either. I struggled too. Addiction touched both of our lives. But somewhere along the line, God changed my heart. I chose to stop. I chose my ...

Running a business is often portrayed as freedom, success, and financial stability. People see the outside — the smiling face, the open doors, the constant “professionalism” — but very few see the silent battles business owners fight behind closed doors. Especially in childcare and education, where the emotional weight is just as heavy as the financial one. There are days when being a business owner feels less like leadership and more like becoming everyone’s punching bag. If a staff member makes a mistake, somehow it becomes your failure. If equipment breaks, you are expected to magically produce a solution overnight, as though business owners have endless money hidden away somewhere. People assume because you own a school or a business, you must be financially secure. What they don’t see are the nights you go without groceries, the months you sacrifice your own salary so your staff can be paid, or the guilt of telling your own children “maybe next time” when they ask for small treats...

There are days when I sit quietly and ask God the same question over and over again: "Lord, what is Your purpose for my life?" I have spent so much of my journey believing there had to be more. More impact. More ministry. More success. More influence. Something bigger. Something visible. Something that would finally make me feel like I had “arrived.” And yet, this Mother’s Day, while watching the sermon from Christian Revival Church Port Elizabeth, something shifted deeply inside me. For the first time, I realized that maybe I had been overlooking one of the greatest callings God could ever entrust to a person: Motherhood. Not just motherhood in the ordinary sense — but motherhood as warfare. Motherhood as ministry. Motherhood as legacy. Motherhood as healing generations. As a single mom, life often feels heavy. There are moments where exhaustion whispers lies to me: You’re not doing enough. Your life should be bigger than this. You should have achieved more by no...