Today feels a bit heavy

Today is not one of my strong days.

And I don’t even want to use that word…

despondent.

But that is exactly how I feel.

It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. It’s just… heavy.

The kind of heaviness you can’t fully explain.

The kind where nothing is necessarily wrong in one big way…

but everything feels a little too much all at once.

And I sit here thinking:

After everything I’ve been doing…

after all the effort… after all the growth…

Why do I feel like this?

I’ve been showing up.

I’ve been working.

I’ve been pushing through.

I’ve been choosing better.

And yet today…

I feel tired in a way that rest doesn’t fix.

Not physically.

But emotionally.

It’s like something inside of me just paused.

And I don’t have the words for it.

Because I know how far I’ve come.

I know I’m not the same person I used to be. I know I’ve grown.

But today…

it just doesn’t feel like enough.

And maybe that’s the part no one really talks about.

That you can be doing well…

and still have days where you feel low.

That you can be growing…

and still feel a little lost in the moment.

And I think what makes it harder is this:

I don’t even want to complain.

Because I am grateful.

I do see God’s hand.

I do see the progress.

But I’m also human.

And today…

I feel it.

I feel the weight of trying.

I feel the weight of holding things together.

I feel the quiet question of,

“Is all of this going to come together the way I hope?”

And I don’t have the answer right now. But maybe…

I don’t need to.

Maybe today is not for figuring things out.

Maybe today is just for being honest.

For allowing myself to feel this

without judging it.

Without rushing past it.

Without pretending I’m okay when I’m not.

Because I’ve learned something:

Not every day is a breakthrough.

Some days are just…a pause.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe I don’t have to be strong today.

Maybe I don’t have to have it all together.

Maybe it’s enough to just say:

“Today is heavy…but I’m still here.”

I am allowed to feel this…

without letting it define me.

Even on the days I feel low,

I am still becoming.

Today feels a bit heavy

Today is not one of my strong days.

And I don’t even want to use that word…

despondent.

But that is exactly how I feel.

It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. It’s just… heavy.

The kind of heaviness you can’t fully explain.

The kind where nothing is necessarily wrong in one big way…

but everything feels a little too much all at once.

And I sit here thinking:

After everything I’ve been doing…

after all the effort… after all the growth…

Why do I feel like this?

I’ve been showing up.

I’ve been working.

I’ve been pushing through.

I’ve been choosing better.

And yet today…

I feel tired in a way that rest doesn’t fix.

Not physically.

But emotionally.

It’s like something inside of me just paused.

And I don’t have the words for it.

Because I know how far I’ve come.

I know I’m not the same person I used to be. I know I’ve grown.

But today…

it just doesn’t feel like enough.

And maybe that’s the part no one really talks about.

That you can be doing well…

and still have days where you feel low.

That you can be growing…

and still feel a little lost in the moment.

And I think what makes it harder is this:

I don’t even want to complain.

Because I am grateful.

I do see God’s hand.

I do see the progress.

But I’m also human.

And today…

I feel it.

I feel the weight of trying.

I feel the weight of holding things together.

I feel the quiet question of,

“Is all of this going to come together the way I hope?”

And I don’t have the answer right now. But maybe…

I don’t need to.

Maybe today is not for figuring things out.

Maybe today is just for being honest.

For allowing myself to feel this

without judging it.

Without rushing past it.

Without pretending I’m okay when I’m not.

Because I’ve learned something:

Not every day is a breakthrough.

Some days are just…a pause.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe I don’t have to be strong today.

Maybe I don’t have to have it all together.

Maybe it’s enough to just say:

“Today is heavy…but I’m still here.”

I am allowed to feel this…

without letting it define me.

Even on the days I feel low,

I am still becoming.

Guard Your Words, Guard Your Heart

Enjoying some hibiscus tea while reflecting. 

There is something deeply destructive…yet often overlooked.

Gossip.

Not always loud.

Not always obvious.

But quietly… it divides, it wounds, and it destroys. How many relationships have ended

not because of truth…but because of what was heard?

Someone said something.

Someone repeated it. Someone believed it. And instead of going to the source, we go to everyone else.

We ask around. We listen.

We gather opinions.

But we don’t go to the one person

who could bring clarity.

And that is where the damage begins. Because when you don’t go directly to the person, you are not seeking truth…

You are feeding assumption.

And this is where it becomes even more serious:

Especially among children of God.

Because if we say we follow Christ,

then we are not only led by feelings…we are led by the Word.

And yet, so often…

Instead of consulting Scripture,

instead of seeking the Holy Spirit,

instead of doing what is right…

We believe what people say.

We accept it as truth.

We react based on it.

We make decisions based on it.

Without ever going to the person directly.

Even if what was said is true…

You still go.

You still speak.

You still give room for clarity.

You still allow truth to be established properly.

Because truth handled wrongly

can still produce damage.

The Word of God is clear.

In Matthew 18:15–17, we are instructed:

If your brother or sister sins against you, go to them directly. Not through people. Not through whispers. Not through assumptions. Directly.

Because God is not a God of confusion…

He is a God of order, truth, and restoration.

And yet, so many relationships are broken because this principle is ignored. Instead, narratives are created.

“Don’t speak to her.”

“She said this about me.”

“This is the kind of person she is.”

And just like that…

A person’s name is shaped

in rooms they are not in.

That is not correction. That is division.

And as Scripture reminds us in

Proverbs 16:28:

A gossip separates close friends

and stirs up conflict. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

So many relationships could be preserved…or at least ended with peace…if we chose obedience over assumption.

Because not every relationship is meant to last forever.

There are seasons.

Some people walk with you for a time…and then life moves.

But there is a difference

between a relationship fading naturally…and one being destroyed prematurely.

One is growth.

The other is damage.

And part of maturing — especially as children of God —

is learning how to handle both.

To speak with wisdom.

To approach with humility.

To listen with discernment.

And as we are reminded in

Psalm 141:3:

“Set a guard over my mouth, Lord;

keep watch over the door of my lips.”

Because words matter.

They can build…or they can break.

They can heal…or they can divide.

And I have learned this personally:

Not every conversation needs my presence.

Not every space deserves my voice.

Sometimes growth looks like walking away from environments where gossip lives.

Not out of pride…but out of wisdom.

Because I refuse to be influenced

by what destroys others.

Not everything you hear is truth.

But even when it is…

handle it the right way.

I choose obedience over assumption, truth over hearsay,

and peace over division. 

Entering My Soft Era

I think…

I am entering my soft era.

Not the kind of softness the world misunderstands as weakness —

but a quiet, grounded, intentional softness.

The kind that doesn’t fight for space…but naturally takes it.

Because when I look back,

I realize something that changed me:

I have never seen a relaxed woman.

Not in my family.

Not in my environment.

I have never seen a woman who rests without guilt.

Who says no without overexplaining.

Who loves without conditions.

Who exists… without constantly proving her worth.

I have seen strong women.

Hard-working women.

Sacrificing women.

But not soft ones.

And somewhere along the way,

I became that too.

Strong…

but tired.

Giving…

but empty.

Present…but not at peace.

And now… something is shifting.

I no longer want to live in survival mode. I want to live in softness.

A softness that allows me to breathe. A softness that allows me to choose myself.

A softness that allows me to say:

“No.”

Without guilt.

Without explanation.

Without shrinking.

And what’s so beautiful is this:

My business is growing with me.

LMB Naturals is not just about products.

It is about experience.

It is about care.

It is about intentional beauty.

The soaps.

The oils.

The textures.

The scents.

They are not just things I sell…

They are things I use.

They remind me to slow down.

To care for my body.

To honour myself.

To indulge… without guilt.

Because for so long,

women were taught that care is a luxury.

But I am learning: Care is necessary.

There is something powerful

about taking time with yourself.

Touching your own skin gently.

Looking at yourself with kindness.

Treating your body like it matters.

That is softness. And this softness is not just for me.

It is something I want to give to other women.

Permission…

To rest.

To say no.

To take up space.

To stop explaining themselves.

To stop shrinking.

To start caring — deeply and intentionally.

Because being a woman is not about constantly enduring.

It is also about becoming.

Becoming whole.

Becoming present.

Becoming soft… and still powerful.

I am no longer just surviving.

I am softening.

I am choosing.

I am becoming.

Softness is not weakness.

It is the quiet power of a woman who finally chooses herself. 

When Giving Without Recognition Teaches You Your Worth

There’s a quiet pain in giving your heart, your work, or your energy… and not being acknowledged.

It feels like being invisible. Like your effort doesn’t matter. Like what you bring to the table is taken for granted.

Sometimes, you give because you see someone struggling, and your heart tells you to help. You want to be a light, a source of support, a person they can lean on. But some people don’t give you the full story — they play on your emotions, lean on your generosity for their own pity, or intentionally make you feel responsible for their pain. If you’re not careful, you fall into that trap, giving not out of genuine need, but because someone knows how to tug at your heart.

I’ve been there. I’ve given freely, trusted deeply, shared my creativity and energy… only to realize that some people are not ready to honor or recognize your contribution. And that hurts.

At first, it feels personal. It stings. It triggers old wounds you thought you had healed. You question yourself: Was I wrong to give? Did I overstep?

But slowly, you begin to understand something crucial: your value is not determined by someone else’s acknowledgment.

Your generosity, your creativity, your time — these are sacred. They belong to you. They are your gift to the world. And protecting them doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you wise.

In today’s world, where social media shows curated lives, and where emotional manipulation is subtle yet persistent, protecting your energy has never been more important. People will often expect your presence, your time, or your help — but not all of them are capable of honoring it. Some will take, some will overlook, and some will use your generosity to prop up their own image or pity.

And that’s okay. You are learning.

Learning that boundaries are not barriers. They are lines drawn in love — for yourself and for the people around you. Boundaries help you see clearly who values you, who respects you, and who is aligned with your energy and vision.

Sometimes, the hardest step is to stop trying to rescue or maintain relationships that drain you. To stop giving your energy away expecting something in return. To stop explaining yourself. To stop waiting for gratitude that may never come.

I know this because I have walked through it.

I have experienced friendships and partnerships where my loyalty, my trust, and my contributions went unseen. Where people leaned on me emotionally, financially, or creatively — without acknowledgement, without reciprocity.

It hurt. It made me feel small. It made me question my worth.

And yet… that pain became a teacher.

It forced me into the valley — the place where I had nothing left to hold onto but God and my own inner strength. The valley where surrender isn’t optional. The valley where growth begins.

In that space, I realized that the only person who needed to fully honor and value me was me. And in letting go of dependence on others’ recognition, God began to revive me in ways I could never have imagined.

He revived my creativity.

He revived my purpose.

He revived my passion.

What I thought was loss or rejection became liberation. What I thought was emptiness became freedom.

I learned that some people are part of your life for a season. Some are meant to teach you lessons. Some are meant to challenge your patience. And some are simply never meant to walk with you long-term. And that’s okay.

Because when you stop over-investing in people or situations that don’t honor you, you create space for:

Growth 

Clarity 

Opportunities that align with your vision 💛

Sometimes, giving freely is an act of love. But giving blindly, without awareness, is where you fall into the trap of pity parties, emotional manipulation, and invisible labor.

The wisdom is in knowing the difference.

The clarity comes when you realize that your contribution is sacred, and only those aligned with your energy, purpose, and values are meant to share in it.

Generosity is not diminished by boundaries.

Creativity is not limited by recognition. Love is not weakened by distance.

You can still give.

You can still bless.

You can still serve.

But now it is intentional, aligned, and empowered.

And in that space, there is peace.

There is joy.

There is revival.

“When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” — Matthew 14:13

Jesus modeled something so simple yet powerful: sometimes, you must step away — not out of weakness, but to preserve your purpose, peace, and alignment. Boundaries are not rejection; they are protection. They are wisdom. They are self-love in action.

Understanding Seasons and Protecting My Peace

Date: March 14, 2026

Reflection

Growth, boundaries, and recognizing seasons

There comes a time in life when you realize that you can no longer surround yourself with people who allow their emotions to control their entire lives.

I know this because I have lived there before. For many years I allowed emotions, disappointments, and the actions of others to influence my path. And in that place, I became stagnant.

One of the most important lessons I have learned is this: blaming others for leaving your life does not help you grow. In fact, it can keep you stuck in a place that God is trying to move you out of.

Life has seasons.

Some people do not understand this. When you become busy building your life, pursuing your purpose, or investing in your growth, they may interpret that as abandonment. They may say that you no longer care about them.

But the truth is that growth requires focus.

Sometimes the same people who criticize your progress will later surround themselves with others they once criticized. That alone shows how easily emotions can change people’s perceptions.

I have become mindful of something important: not everyone grows at the same pace, and not everyone understands purpose.

But I also see clearly now who my true friends are.

Support is not only about purchasing my products or promoting what I do. Real support can come quietly — someone who is happy for you, even from a distance. Someone who celebrates your progress without feeling threatened by it.

What I cannot accept anymore is constant negativity or subtle shade disguised as concern.

Peace is too valuable for that.

Spiritual Takeaway

Growth often reveals who is able to walk with you into the next season and who must remain part of a previous chapter.

Declaration

I will honor the season God has placed me in.

I will protect my peace and continue building the life set before me.

Those who celebrate my growth will walk with me, and those who do not will simply remain part of my past.

Numbering Our Days

This morning, I woke up feeling emotional. I was thinking about life — the way people live, the choices they make, and the pace at which time slips by. I see people close to me, living without much thought, sometimes forgetting that life is fragile, precious, and short.

Yes, my own life isn’t perfect. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve stumbled, and I continue to learn. But I try — I truly try — to let go of the past, to think before I act, and to walk in a way that honors God and the people around me.

It’s hard not to feel pain when I see those I love making reckless choices, living as if tomorrow is guaranteed. Life can pass in an instant. We hear of so many who are gone suddenly — friends, acquaintances, even family. And it shakes you. It makes you realize how fleeting our days are, and how quickly opportunities to love, forgive, and live well can slip through our fingers.

This is why I believe so deeply that God must teach us to number our days. To truly understand the brevity of life, and to live with intention, kindness, and wisdom. Every interaction matters. Every word spoken, every act of love or patience, is a seed sown in the short soil of our time here.

Life is too short to live carelessly. It is too brief to hurt, neglect, or forget the impact we have on others. My prayer today — and every day — is that God will help us walk carefully, love intentionally, and live in a way that counts for eternity, not just for the moment.

Let’s cherish our days, treasure our people, and let our lives reflect the heart of God, who made us for purpose and love.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12

March 1 (Sunday Morning Reflection)

This morning, my heart is full.

It’s the first of March, a new day, a new month, and I am deeply aware of how grateful I am for my life. Not because everything is perfect, but because I have God. And that alone is enough.

I sat and listened to “Jireh”, and the words settled deep into my spirit:

“I’ll never be more loved than I am right now.”

What a powerful truth.

God’s love is not based on my performance. It’s not measured by my achievements. It’s not increased by my striving.

I don’t need a trophy to make Him proud. I don’t need to prove myself.

I don’t need to overwork or overextend just to feel worthy.

He loves me — right now, as I am.

And that changes everything.

Because so often, I find myself wanting to do more, be more, achieve more… thinking that somehow, that is what will make me “enough.” But this morning, God gently reminded me that I am already enough because I am His.

His love came first.

Before my effort.

Before my growth.

Before my becoming.

He loved me first.

So today, I choose not to strive out of pressure, but to live out of love.

I choose not to exhaust myself trying to earn what has already been freely given.

I choose to rest in the truth that I am already accepted, already seen, already loved.

And from that place, I will do my best. Not to prove anything.

But because I am loved.

There is a difference.

When I move from love instead of striving, there is peace.

There is grace. There is freedom.

And that is where God wants me — not burdened, not overwhelmed, but anchored in Him.

Today, I honour that. Today, I slow down. Today, I remember who I am.

A daughter of God.

Fully loved. Fully seen. Fully held.

And that is more than enough.

Morning Reflection — The Cost of Humility

Real Talk with Leslene

This morning, I have so much on my heart. It feels like a mass of concern — not only for myself, but for the people around me.

I am reminded of the scripture that says:

“Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.”

And I am also reminded of something just as important —

to remain humble when you say yes,

and to remain humble when you receive a no.

There is a discipline in both.

The Bible teaches that people change, but Jesus never does. And that truth brings me to a place of reflection. Because I look around and I see how, in our moments of need, we reach out to people. And sometimes, those people are willing and able to help us.

But what happens when that help later turns into something else?

What happens when a “yes” becomes a “no”?

Or when a helping hand becomes a burden?

There are times when people help you, but later hold it over you — almost as if you are in debt to them, not just practically, but emotionally. And there are also times when we receive help, and once we are out of our situation, we forget humility. We become proud. We move as if we no longer need anyone.

This morning, my prayer is this:

May I never become that person.

May I never become arrogant when I am lifted. May I never forget the hands that helped me.

May I never lose humility when my situation changes.

Because the truth is — every single day, we need each other. But more than anything, we need God. And yet, I find myself asking:

Why does God use people to bless us, knowing that sometimes those same people may turn against us?

But as I sit with this, I feel the answer settle in my spirit…

It is for learning.

We are not just going through life — we are being taught through what we see, through what we experience, and through what we feel. So that when it is our turn — when we are in the position to help, to say yes, or even to say no — we do it with integrity.

With consistency. With humility.

Because what has happened before, will happen again.

And if we do not learn from what we have seen and experienced, how will we respond differently the next time?

How will we carry ourselves when we are the ones with the power to help?

How will we treat others when we are no longer in need?

These are the questions that matter.

When I reflect on Jesus, I see the ultimate example of humility.

When people praised Him, He remained humble. When people followed Him, He remained humble. And even when people turned against Him — when He was betrayed, rejected, and no longer loved the same way — He still remained humble.

That is the cost of humility.

It is not only humility when things are good.

It is humility when you are misunderstood.

It is humility when you are hurt.

It is humility when you are elevated.

It is choosing the same posture, no matter the season.

And that is not easy. But it is necessary.

So today, as I see people around me going through these things — as I remember my own journey — I choose to learn.

I choose humility.

I choose consistency.

I choose to let my yes be yes, and my no be no.

And above all, I choose to remain grounded —

not in people,

but in God.

Because He never changes.

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.