February 23 – Morning Reflection“When Silence Speaks”

This morning, I woke up already aware of a heaviness in my body — a quiet tension that I could not ignore. It wasn’t just physical. It felt deeper, like something pressing on my spirit, trying to distract me from the peace I have been holding onto.

But today, I made a choice.

I chose to lean into God’s Word.

As I stepped into my day, I carried Psalm 23:2–3 in my heart:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul…”

And I kept repeating it.

Not just as words — but as truth over my life.

Because I realized something:

Even when my environment feels unsettled, God is still leading me beside still waters.

Then there's that moment you leave your house, step into a building, you sense that not everything around me was aligned with peace. Sometimes, you walk into a room and feel a shift — an unspoken tension, a heaviness that doesn’t belong to you.

And in those moments, it becomes easy to question yourself.

Did I do something wrong?

Did I say something I shouldn’t have?

But I’ve learned that not every atmosphere is a reflection of me.

Sometimes, people are carrying their own burdens, their own emotions, their own silent battles. And if we are not careful, we can start carrying what was never ours to begin with.

Today, I had to remind myself:

I will not carry what God did not place on me.

I will not take ownership of someone else’s mood, someone else’s struggle, or someone else’s misunderstanding.

Instead, I choose to remain anchored.

Because God is not a God of confusion — He is a God of peace.

There was a time when situations like this would shake me deeply.

When I would feel the need to fix, to explain, to make things right — even when I didn’t do anything wrong.

But growth teaches you something powerful:

Not every situation needs your reaction.

Not every tension deserves your energy.

Sometimes, the most powerful response is stillness.

So today, I chose stillness.

I chose to stay in prayer.

I chose to stay grounded.

I chose to stay focused.

Because I am learning that peace is not something I find — it is something I protect.

And as I continued speaking Psalm 23 over my life, I felt a shift.

Not around me — but within me.

Because God was reminding me:

“I am your Shepherd.

Even here… I am leading you.”

So today, I will walk gently.

I will guard my heart.

I will not allow tension to take what God has already restored.

Because I know this:

I am being led beside still waters — even in the middle of noise.

Reflection:

Peace is not the absence of tension…

It is the presence of God within it.

Daily Reflection — 22 February (Early Morning)

It is early Sunday morning, just before 4am, and I am sitting in quiet time with God. The house is still, but my spirit is full.

I look back at the past few days, and I can see God’s hand in everything — in the conversations, in the connections, in the moments I chose to respond differently.

On Thursday, something unexpected happened. A woman I met only once, many years ago, reached out to me. It has been over a decade, yet when we reconnected, it felt like no time had passed. There was an instant understanding between us — a connection that only God could have orchestrated.

She invited me and my husband to a marriage enrichment seminar at her church.

In the past, when it came to things like this, I would ask my husband, and he would agree out of love for me — not always out of his own desire. And although he has grown so much, there are still areas that sometimes hurt me or leave me wanting more.

But this time was different.

When I asked him, he said yes — and I chose not to carry expectations. I chose peace.

The seminar was simple. It cost only R50 per couple, and naturally, one would expect something small. But what we experienced was more than enough. There was joy, laughter, truth, and wisdom. And afterwards, there was a feast — more than what we paid for, more than what we expected.

And in that moment, I realized something:

God does not give according to what we expect — He gives according to who He is.

Even when something seems small, God shows up in abundance.

There were moments during the session when the speaker spoke about things husbands should do — things I knew my husband used to do, things that have faded over time.

The old me would have reacted.

The old me would have pointed it out.

The old me would have corrected.

But this time, I was quiet.

Not out of silence — but out of trust.

I left it in God’s hands.

And God responded.

The next morning, without me saying a word, my husband came into the room with a cup of coffee for me. Quietly. Gently. Serving me.

And in that moment, I saw it clearly 

When you release control, God moves where your words cannot.

We spent the day together, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Laughing. Resting. Even sitting in the same room, sending messages to each other like we were dating again.

And my heart was full.

Not because everything is perfect 

But because I am changing.

I am no longer driven by the need to correct, to fix, or to highlight what is missing.

I am learning to trust God with the process.

Because when I step back…

God steps in.

And He does it better than I ever could.

Today, I understand something deeper:

It is not always about what we say.

Sometimes, it is about what we choose not to say.

Because in that space of surrender…

God prepares the table.

Psalm 23:5

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

Declaration

I release control and trust God completely.

I choose peace over reaction.

I choose silence where God is working.

I will not force what God is forming.

God is restoring, even when I cannot see it.

God is moving, even when I am quiet.

God is preparing a table for me — and my cup will overflow.

I am growing.

I am becoming.

I am aligned with God’s way.

Thursday Morning Reflection – 19 February

“Pause… and Come Back to Yourself”

This morning, I found myself sitting quietly, just thinking. We are already in nesring the end of February…

and time is moving so fast.

Days are passing, weeks are slipping by, and before we know it, seasons have changed.

And in that moment, I felt it so clearly — the Spirit of God gently saying:

“Pause.”

Just pause.

Take a breath.

Be still for a moment.

Because life can become so loud.

There is always something happening.

Always something demanding our attention.

Always something pulling us forward.

And without realizing it,

we keep moving…we keep reacting…we keep responding…

without ever stopping to reflect.

But today, I am reminded of something so important:

We need to pause and look back — not to dwell, but to understand.

To reflect on where God has brought us from.

To think about situations we have faced.

How did I respond?

How did I react?

What did I learn?

Because sometimes, we only understand our growth

when we take the time to look back.

There were moments in my own life

where I reacted out of emotion…

out of hurt out of misunderstanding.

But in His grace, God brings us back to those moments —

not to shame us…

but to teach us.

To give us wisdom.

To show us how we should respond next time. And I know…

For many people, pausing feels impossible.

Life is busy.

Responsibilities are heavy.

Situations don’t always allow us to just “stop.”

But even in the middle of everything, there is still a place within you where you can pause.

Even if it’s just for a moment.

Even if it’s just one deep breath.

Because that moment

can bring clarity.

It can bring peace.

It can bring direction.

I am reminded of the prodigal son.

He had left everything.

He made his own choices.

He lost what was given to him.

But then, there came a moment…

A powerful, life-changing moment.

He came to himself.

He paused.

He reflected.

He recognized where he was…

and remembered where he came from.

And it was in that moment of awareness that his journey back began. And that is the invitation for us today.

To come back to ourselves.

To sit with our thoughts.

To be honest about where we are.

To allow the Holy Spirit to speak.

Because when we pause, we make room for God. When we reflect,

we receive wisdom.

And when we come back to ourselves, we realign with His purpose.

So today, I want to encourage you:

Even if life feels overwhelming…

Even if you feel like you cannot stop… Find your moment.

Pause.

Take a deep breath.

Speak to yourself.

Remind yourself who you are.

Remind yourself where God has brought you from.

And then… allow the Holy Spirit to lead you forward.

Scripture Reflection

“When he came to his senses, he said… ‘I will arise and go to my father.’” – Luke 15:17-18

Lord, teach me to pause in the middle of life’s busyness.

Help me to reflect with honesty and humility. Give me wisdom to respond differently, to grow, and to align with Your will.

When I feel overwhelmed,

bring me back to myself — and back to You.

Lead me by Your Spirit, step by step.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

Tuesday, 17 February — Morning Reflection

When Life Throws Curveballs

Life has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs.

It does not matter who you are — whether you walk closely with God or are still finding your way — life will come with its moments of pressure, confusion, and stretching.

The difference is not in what we face,

but in how we respond.

Some will try to fix everything in their own strength.

Some will plan, control, and carry every burden themselves.

And then there are those who pause…

who lay things before God…

who choose to trust even when they don’t understand.

I have come to realize that sometimes, we don’t actually have all the answers —

and we are not meant to.

There are situations where reasoning won’t work.

There are people who will not listen,

who will not meet you halfway,

who believe their way is the only way.

And in those moments, we are faced with a choice:

Do we fight to be understood…

or do we release, step back, and trust God?

Sometimes, the greatest wisdom is to say,

“It’s okay,”

and let God handle what we cannot.

What has touched me deeply lately is this —

the people we often admire from a distance…

the ones who seem to have everything together…

are sometimes carrying the heaviest burdens behind closed doors.

They smile.

They continue.

They show up.

And quietly… they take everything to God.

Not to people.

Not to the world.

But to God.

And I have so much respect for that kind of strength.

Because it is not weakness to be silent —

it is trust.

Trust that God sees.

Trust that He knows.

Trust that He will respond in His time.

It has also made me reflect on myself.

Why do we look at one another and judge,

when each of us is carrying something unseen?

Why do we assume we understand someone’s life,

when we don’t know what they pray about in the quiet?

We are all walking our own journey.

We are all trusting God for something.

And instead of comparison,

there should be compassion.

As a mother, I understand this even more.

There are moments where the pressure feels overwhelming —

where the weight of responsibility, emotions, and expectations feels too much.

And yet, I am reminded of something so powerful:

The process of giving birth.

The pain is intense.

It stretches you beyond what you thought you could endure.

But when the child is born…

the pain fades in the presence of purpose.

And isn’t that how God works?

He allows the stretching…

not to break us,

but to bring something beautiful out of us.

If everything was easy,

if everything was instantly fixed,

we would never learn to trust Him.

We would rely on outcomes,

instead of relying on God.

So today, I choose this:

To trust God in the unknown.

To release what I cannot control.

To walk in wisdom when people do not understand.

And to have compassion — for myself and for others.

Because we are all carrying something.

And God is working in ways we cannot always see.

📖 Scripture for Today

“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.” — Proverbs 3:5–6

and

*“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy

Even in moments of...

God’s goodness continues to run after me…

Even in moments where I feel weak,

where my strength feels limited,

I am reminded that His goodness is not based on me —

it is based on Him.

His grace finds me.

His mercy carries me.

His favour surrounds me, even when I feel undeserving.

I don’t have to earn it.

I don’t have to strive for it.

It is His unmerited favour —

freely given, deeply felt, and faithfully present.

And today, I choose to rest in that truth:

God is good… and His goodness is pursuing me.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…” — Psalm 23:6

Sunday, 15 February 2026 – Morning Reflection

This morning feels heavy.

Not just in my body, but in my spirit too.

My back is sore, my body is tired, and my heart feels overwhelmed.

There is so much to do, so much expected of me, and yet I feel like I have very little strength to give today.

Even the small things felt big this morning.

The car not starting.

Having to make a plan.

Having to provide when I myself feel empty.

And in those moments, I felt it —

the frustration, the weariness, the quiet question…

“Who is carrying me?”

Because I am so used to being the one who carries.

I show up.

I give.

I help.

I respond when others call.

But today, I felt what it is like

when I need help…

and it is not there.

And it hurt.

Not deeply in a way that breaks me,

but enough to make me pause and realise:

Even the strong get tired.

Even the ones who pray.

Even the ones who serve.

Even the ones who love deeply.

But in the middle of all of this,

I am reminded of something gentle:

God never asked me to carry everything.

Some of the weight I am feeling today

is not from Him…

it is from always trying to be everything for everyone.

And maybe today is not about doing more.

Maybe today is about learning to pause.

To breathe.

To rest.

To release what is not mine to carry.

I also realise that I cannot expect others

to always meet me at the level I give.

Not everyone has the same capacity.

Not everyone shows up the same way.

And while that can hurt,

I choose not to let it harden my heart.

Instead, I ask God to teach me

how to give with wisdom, not exhaustion.

Today, I will be gentle with myself.

I will not try to prove my strength.

I will not force my body beyond its limit.

I will not carry what God did not give me to carry.

I will do what I can…

and trust God with the rest.

📖 “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28

📖 “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

Prayer

Lord, today I feel tired — in body, mind, and spirit.

Help me to release the weight I was never meant to carry.

Teach me to rest without guilt and to trust You in my limitations.

Strengthen me where I am weak, and cover me with Your peace.

Amen.

Saturday, 14 February 2026 — Valentine’s Day Evening Reflection

 

Today, I would call a day of rest.

After two full weeks of pouring myself into every order, every detail, every package prepared with love… my body is feeling it. The bending, the kneeling, the sore feet, the tired mind — it all reminds me that purpose requires effort.

And yet, even in the tiredness, my heart is full.

I look back over these past two weeks, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

Grateful for the strength God gave me when I felt like I couldn’t do more.

Grateful for the ability to create, to build, to serve through something I am so deeply passionate about.

Grateful that my hands were busy with purpose, and not empty with doubt.

Every order collected and delivered carried more than just a product —

it carried thoughtfulness, love, intention.

Seeing the excitement on people’s faces, hearing their kind words, receiving their feedback… it reminded me that what I do matters. Not just as a business, but as a gift.

And today, my reward was simple…

REST

But tonight, my gratitude is also extended to my husband.

I am truly grateful for his help, for his patience, and for the way he supported me through this busy season. There were moments when I was tired, stretched, and overwhelmed, yet he stood alongside me — encouraging me, motivating me, and showing up in ways that mattered.

And something that touched my heart so deeply…

he even shared our business, and through that, brought in an order.

How amazing is that?

It reminded me that support does not always have to be loud — sometimes it is seen in the quiet actions, in the willingness to stand beside you, and in believing in what you are building.

I do not take that for granted.

Because I know — it wasn’t by my strength alone.

It was God’s grace that carried me through the long hours.

It was His provision that brought the customers.

And sometimes, He uses the people closest to us as vessels of that provision.

And in this moment, I am reminded that growth is not always loud.

Sometimes, growth looks like tired hands and a full heart.

Sometimes, success looks like quiet gratitude after a long season of sowing.

I am learning to honour both the work and the rest.

To give my all when it is time to build…

and to step back when it is time to breathe.

Because even rest is part of the journey.

Tonight, I choose gratitude over exhaustion.

I choose contentment over striving.

And I choose to trust that this is only the beginning of what God has in store.

Grace carried me, and purpose sustained me.

“The Lord will give strength to His people; the Lord will bless His people with peace.” — Psalm 29:11

Saturday Reflection 14 Feb'25 — The Distance We Don’t Always Understand

There are moments in life where someone you once walked closely with…

suddenly begins to create distance.

Not abruptly.

Not harshly.

But quietly… subtly… intentionally.

And if you’re not careful, your heart will ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

But as I’ve grown, I’ve come to understand that not every distance is rejection.

Sometimes, it is something much deeper than that.

Sometimes, people withdraw not because of who you are…

but because of how they see themselves.

There are seasons where people are fighting silent battles.

Battles of health.

Battles of identity.

Battles of self-image.

Battles of feeling “less than” who they once were.

And in those moments, being seen can feel like exposure instead of connection.

So instead of allowing themselves to be known in their weakness…

they choose distance.

Not because they don’t value the relationship…

but because they don’t know how to show up in it anymore.

And if we are not careful, we will interpret their silence through our own lens.

We will call it rejection.

We will call it avoidance.

We will make it personal.

But sometimes, it is not personal at all.

Sometimes, it is someone trying to hold on to dignity…

while they are still learning how to stand again.

I’ve also come to realise something about us as people —

we often expect others to be open with us…

while we ourselves are still learning what vulnerability feels like.

Some people can talk easily.

Others cannot.

Not because they don’t trust you…

but because they have never learned how to carry their story out loud.

And so they retreat.

Not everyone processes pain in the same way.

Not everyone heals in the same way.

And not everyone feels safe enough to be seen while they are still in the middle of becoming.

And maybe…

just maybe…

what looks like distance is not rejection —

but protection.

Protection of their heart.

Protection of their image.

Protection of a version of themselves they are still trying to understand.

And this is where maturity comes in.

Because growth is not only about how we respond when people draw near…

but also about how we respond when they step away.

Do we chase for answers?

Do we assume the worst?

Do we allow offense to grow in our hearts?

Or do we choose something deeper?

Do we choose grace.

Grace that says:

“I may not understand your distance… but I will not misinterpret it.”

Grace that says:

“I will not take personally what may not be about me.”

Grace that says:

“I will give you space without withdrawing my heart.”

Because love does not always look like closeness.

Sometimes, love looks like allowing people to walk their journey…

without forcing them to explain it.

And I’ve learned something else…

We should be careful not to underestimate how safe we are to others.

Sometimes people pull away not because we would reject them…

but because they fear we might.

Sometimes they assume we are too strong, too put together, too grounded…

to understand their broken places.

And so they choose distance… instead of risking being misunderstood.

But the truth is this:

You don’t have to hide your struggles to be accepted.

You don’t have to withdraw to protect your worth.

And you don’t have to become “perfect” before you allow yourself to be seen.

The right people will not love you only in your strength…

they will also honour you in your healing.

Today, I choose not to be offended by what I don’t understand.

I choose not to assume what hasn’t been spoken.

And I choose to trust that God is working in every heart… even the ones I cannot reach.

Because sometimes, distance is not the end of a relationship…

it is simply a different season of it.

And in that season…

love becomes quieter,

grace becomes deeper,

and understanding becomes intentional.

Not every distance is rejection… sometimes it is someone learning how to face themselves.

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” — Ephesians 4:2

When Things End Abruptly

There was a time when certain endings broke me.

Relationships. Friendships. Connections that felt meaningful — and then suddenly, they were gone. No proper closure. No long explanation. Just an abrupt end.

And I remember how that felt.

The confusion.

The replaying of conversations.

The wondering, What did I do wrong?

The ache of something unfinished.

When something ends suddenly, it shakes you. Not only because of what was lost — but because of how it was lost. We grieve the memories. We grieve the future we imagined. We grieve the attachment.

But growth changes perspective.

Over time, I began to realize something deeper:

Just because it didn’t feel good to me does not mean it was not necessary for both of us.

Sometimes, when things end abruptly, we see it only through the lens of our pain. But what if that person was also entering a new season? What if God was requiring their focus in a way that our attachment could not allow?

We don’t always consider that the other person may have been called into growth too.

Maybe they had to move forward.

Maybe they had to shift.

Maybe God had something in store for them that required separation.

Maybe — without even realizing it — we were holding each other back.

That realization requires maturity.

It requires asking God, not “Why did this happen to me?” but “Lord, what were You doing in both of us?”

Healing deepens when you can acknowledge that seasons end not only for your protection, but sometimes for the progression of the other person as well.

And when you step back and look at it from a broader perspective, you may even see that they have grown. You may see external prosperity. You may see expansion. And instead of resentment, you feel understanding.

Because growth is not betrayal.

Movement is not rejection.

Separation is not always punishment.

Sometimes it is divine alignment.

Yes, you grieve.

Yes, you feel the loss.

But maturity allows you to release with grace.

I no longer grieve those endings the way I once did. I honor the memories. I bless what was. And I trust that if God allowed it to end, He was writing something greater — for both of us.

Healing is when you can say:

That season mattered.

That connection shaped me.

But it was not meant to stay.

And that is not loss.

That is growth.

Midnight Praise, Broken Chains

This morning my alarm went off at 03:25. I switched it off, lay still for a moment, and then felt led to worship. I searched for a song, and an album by Benjamin Dube started playing. As the music filled the room, I began to pray. One song after another carried me into the presence of God — but one moment stood out deeply: Paul and Silas in Acts 16.

They were thrown into prison after casting a spirit out of a woman. What struck me again today is this: she spoke truth, yet her spirit was not from God. Paul discerned that. It reminded me how important it is in life to test the spirits. Not everyone who says the right words carries the right spirit. Some come like wolves in sheep’s clothing — they soften you with words, but their intentions are not pure. Discernment is protection.

Paul and Silas were beaten and placed in the innermost cell — chained. Yet at midnight, instead of complaining, they praised. They worshipped. And while they worshipped, the ground shook. An earthquake hit the prison. Chains fell off. Doors opened. Freedom came.

That is what worship does.

I’ve been experiencing this in my own life. When I praise, I feel chains breaking. I feel freedom rising in my spirit. Whatever tries to bind my business, my home, my mind — it cannot stay when worship fills the room. God’s presence shifts atmospheres.

The scripture that speaks to my heart is Matthew 18:18:

“Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

So today I choose to loose freedom. I choose to loose peace. I choose to loose breakthrough.

I also hold onto Jeremiah 29:11 — God’s plans for me and my family are good. Not to harm us, but to prosper us and give us hope and a future. That truth anchors me.

And forgiveness — forgiveness is freedom. If you do not forgive, you are not keeping someone else prisoner. You are keeping yourself chained. Worship and forgiveness go hand in hand in releasing what binds us.

So this morning I declare:

I bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name.

I command my day to align with God’s will.

I am a child of God.

I am free.

My chains are breaking.

When Judgment Hides Pain

There was a time when I wanted so badly to belong.

To be accepted.

To be part of certain circles.

And if I am honest, there were seasons where comparison and even envy tried to sit in my heart.

I did not hide my struggles well.

They showed.

And for a long time, I felt judged for them.

Not always through words.

Sometimes judgment has no voice.

It lives in body language.

In silence.

In the way someone’s presence grows cold.

Attitude speaks long before lips ever do.

But something has changed in me.

God has been doing a deep work in my heart. A work that started with correction, then healing, and now clarity. And with that clarity came something unexpected — compassion.

Recently, I saw something that shifted my perspective.

I realized that sometimes the loudest judgment comes from the deepest hidden struggle.

The very thing someone criticizes in you… may be the very thing they are fighting in secret.

And instead of feeling hurt, I felt sorrow.

The kind of sorrow Scripture describes when Jesus looked at the crowd and was moved in His spirit. Not anger. Not pride. Compassion.

Because pretending is exhausting.

Living behind an image is heavy.

And judging others can sometimes be a shield people use to hide from their own reflection.

This is not written to expose anyone.

It is written to remind all of us — including me — of the importance of self-examination.

Before we judge a life, a journey, a process… we must ask:

What am I hiding?

What am I avoiding dealing with in myself?

God has taught me that transparency brings freedom. I have laid my flaws before Him and before people. Not because it is comfortable, but because healing cannot happen in hiding.

Alignment with God sharpens discernment.

When you stay connected to the Vine, your spiritual eyes open.

Not to criticize — but to understand.

Not to condemn — but to pray.

So today, instead of defending myself against judgment, I choose compassion.

Because we are all in process.

And sometimes the one pointing the finger is the one hurting the most.

May we learn to look inward before looking outward.

May we trade judgment for mercy.

And may God heal the hidden battles we are too afraid to admit.

REMINDER:

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” — Ephesians 4:32