His Strength, My Journey

There is a small moment in the story of Noah that I’ve been thinking about lately. It’s easy to skim past it, but the more I sit with it, the more I see myself in it. After the flood, Noah sends out a raven. Then he sends out a dove. And eventually, the dove returns with an olive leaf in its beak. It’s a simple detail—but it holds a deep spiritual truth. Going Out on Our Own When Noah first sends out the birds, the earth is still flooded. Everything familiar is gone. The world is quiet, broken, and uncertain. That feels a lot like life when we try to navigate it on our own. So often, we “go out” into the world searching for fulfillment—answers, comfort, belonging, relief. We try to make things work in our own strength. Sometimes we even convince ourselves that we’re fine, that we’ve got this. But we come back empty. Tired. Unfulfilled. Restless. Like the bird that finds no place to land, our souls hover over chaos with nowhere to truly rest. When the Holy Spirit Begins to W...

This morning began differently.... At 5:30am, while the world still slept, I sat in church for early morning prayer. No rush. No noise. Just stillness, surrender, and the quiet presence of God. Last night I was also in church, and in between those two moments—night worship and dawn prayer—I realized something had shifted in me. I’m fasting at the moment, but not struggling. That alone feels like grace. Instead of weakness, I feel clarity. Instead of heaviness, peace. And as I opened Luke 16 and 17 today, I saw why. Faithful in the Small Things (Luke 16) Luke 16 speaks deeply to anyone carrying responsibility—especially as a single mom and business owner. Jesus reminds us that faithfulness in little leads to faithfulness in much. This isn’t just about money; it’s about stewardship of time, integrity, obedience, and trust. Every unseen choice matters. Every early morning. Every honest decision when no one is watching. Running a business while raising children often feels like...

Today, I stand in awe of what it truly means to have God’s peace. I woke up with a knowing deep in my spirit—that no matter what today holds, it is going to be okay. Not because life is suddenly easy, but because God has already carried me through worse. He continues to carry me through every trial, every storm, every unknown. He is with me when I walk. He is with me when I sleep. He is with me when I cry. He holds me when I am weak. He strengthens me when I stumble. And when I fall, He catches me. Giving God complete surrender is hard. I won’t pretend it isn’t. I am still unlearning old habits and behaviors—still laying down parts of myself I know He is asking me to change. Yet, every single day, I feel Him making me stronger. I see His hand shaping me gently, patiently. I feel the God I call Father pouring grace over my life—and over my children. When I look at who I was two years ago compared to who I am today, there is no comparison. I am walking in freedom. Real freedo...

To childcare providers, educators, minders, and centre owners around the world — this one is for us. January has become one of the hardest months in early childhood education, and not because we don’t love what we do. It’s because every year, many of us start the year unpaid, unsupported, and blamed for simply asking for what is owed. After December — a month of holidays, celebrations, spending, and “jollies” — January arrives with silence. Invoices that were sent in November are suddenly “not received.” Calls are ignored. Messages go unanswered. Payments arrive short — if they arrive at all. And when we follow up? We are told we are attacking parents. We are accused of being unreasonable. We are sworn at. We are lied to. Or worse — completely ignored. Let’s be very clear about something: Childcare is not a charity. It is not optional. And it is not something you can delay paying for without consequences. When fees go unpaid in January, it doesn’t just affect a business on paper. It me...

There’s a moment in Luke 10 that hits a little too close to home for women like me — women who are always “on,” always needed, always carrying someone else’s world on their shoulders. Martha is rushing around doing everything right. She’s serving. She’s preparing. She’s making sure everyone is fed and comfortable. She’s the heartbeat of her home. But she’s also exhausted… anxious… stretched thin… and quietly breaking. Sound familiar? Sometimes life turns us into Marthas without our permission. The responsibilities pile up. The kids get sick. Work demands more than we have. The bills keep coming. The body gets tired (hello GLP-1 side effects). The heart gets weary. And suddenly, we’re running, serving, fixing — all on an empty tank. In the middle of her overwhelm, Martha finally snaps. She goes straight to Jesus and says, “Lord, don’t You care?” Oh, how many times I’ve whispered that same question in the chaos of life. But Jesus doesn’t scold her. He doesn’t shame her. He sa...

Being a leader in my church — guiding people, discipling them, helping them grow — is one of the greatest honors of my life. But sometimes, that responsibility feels heavy. Sometimes, being the one who encourages others means people forget that leaders get tired too. And today… I’m tired. I’m a mom of three. I’m running a business. I’m trying to keep my home together, keep my children fed, keep my spirit strong, and serve God with everything in me. Most days, I don’t know how I do it except for one truth: If I didn’t have God, I would not cope. But today, as I sit here looking at my home — messy from a busy weekend — with payday still not here, and my heart feeling stretched thin… I feel overwhelmed. And a quiet question whispers: “Does anyone care about me?” I know God does. I know He sees me. But when you’ve been praying for financial help all month and nothing seems to shift… it’s hard. When you’re budgeting as tightly as you can, and still a few school items cost over R1000, it’s h...

Tonight, as I ended Homecell with my pastor’s message, my heart was stirred in a way that words can barely capture. I realized, with a sobering clarity, just how much I need to do for God—and how little I have truly done. There is no room for excuses, no room for delay. If God requires it, I must obey. I cannot be the person who delays someone else’s salvation, someone else’s blessing, simply because I have been slow to act or hesitant to serve. The weight of that truth presses on me, and I cannot ignore it. From this moment forward, I will make decisions with faith, and I will stick to them. I will step forward, even when it is uncomfortable, even when it requires courage beyond what I feel I have. I will go and tell the world about the God who saved my life—the God who healed me, restored me, and gave me hope when all seemed lost. I am reminded that faith without action is incomplete. It is not enough to love God quietly in my heart; I must serve Him boldly in the world. I must speak...