Hurry Feels Heavy

There was a time when I believed that if I worked harder, posted more, spoke louder, and rushed every opportunity, success would arrive sooner. I thought that speed was the language of progress.

But I have discovered something completely different.

Hurry feels heavy.

Not because the work is heavy, but because rushing carries a weight that God never asked me to carry.

When I hurry, I begin to think everything depends on me. I start forcing conversations. I chase opportunities that are not meant for me. I compare my timeline with someone else's success. I become anxious when orders don't come in quickly enough. I start measuring my worth by numbers instead of faithfulness.

Hurry slowly convinces us that God's timing is too slow.

Yet nowhere in creation do we see God rushing.

The sun never rushes to rise. The seasons never compete with one another. Fruit never apologises for taking time to ripen. A seed does not panic because the tree has not appeared overnight.

Everything God creates follows a process.

Even Jesus, though He knew His purpose from the beginning, walked patiently through every season. He did not heal every person in one day. He did not force people to believe. He never hurried because He knew His Father's timing was perfect.

That has become my reminder.

Nothing God produces is rushed.

Not fruit. Not healing. Not character. Not businesses. Not families. Not purpose.

And certainly not me.

When I look back over the past months, I realise something beautiful happened.

The more I slowed down, the more peace I found.

I stopped posting out of desperation and started sharing from a place of gratitude.

I stopped chasing customers and began serving the ones God placed in front of me.

I stopped lowering my prices because I was afraid people would leave.

I stopped believing that every opportunity had to become my opportunity.

Instead, I remained faithful with what was already in my hands.

And quietly, God kept sending the right people.

One order became another.

One conversation became another customer.

One faithful step became another testimony.

None of it happened because I forced it.

It happened because I learned to trust.

I now believe that hurry is often fear wearing the clothes of productivity.

It tells us we are falling behind.

Faith whispers that we are exactly where God is shaping us.

When I hurry, I become exhausted.

When I trust, I become available.

There is a difference.

One is driven by pressure.

The other is led by peace.

I still work hard. I still plan. I still dream. I still build LMB Naturals with everything God has given me.

But I refuse to build it in panic.

I want to build slowly enough that my character grows with my calling.

Because what good is reaching a destination if I lose my peace along the way?

So today I choose a different pace.

Not laziness.

Not delay.

But peaceful diligence.

I will plant.

I will water.

I will remain faithful, and I will leave the harvest in God's hands.

Because I have learned one simple truth that I never want to forget:

Hurry feels heavy, but God's pace always carries peace.

When Desperation Becomes Devotion

This morning, while getting ready for work, I listened to the book of Psalms. From Psalm 1 through Psalm 37, I found myself listening more carefully than usual—not just to David's words, but to his heart.

One moment he was praising God.

The next moment he was crying out, "Lord, do not forsake me."

Then he was asking for forgiveness.

Then he was declaring God's faithfulness.

Then he was pleading for justice.

It struck me that God preserved every one of those prayers. He didn't only preserve David's victories; He preserved his fears, his doubts, his questions, his anguish, and even his moments of desperation.

That encouraged me.

For so many years I believed that faith meant always being strong. But the Psalms teach something different. Faith is not pretending that everything is fine. Faith is bringing everything to God, knowing that He can handle every emotion we place before Him.

As I continued listening, my thoughts moved to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Jesus Himself prayed,

"Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done."

Those words have stayed with me.

How many times have I prayed,

"Lord, take this burden away."

"Lord, remove this struggle."

"Lord, change this situation."

Those prayers are not wrong. God invites us to bring our burdens to Him.

But somewhere between David's cries and Jesus' surrender, I realised something.

There is another sentence that changes everything.

"Not my will, but Yours be done."

That sentence is not one of defeat.

It is one of trust.

It is the prayer of someone who has come to believe that even when God does not immediately remove the burden, He will never remove His presence.

As I reflected on my own journey, I realised that I have prayed many desperate prayers over the years.

Prayers about finances.

Prayers about my marriage.

Prayers about friendships.

Prayers about rejection.

Prayers about work.

Prayers about purpose.

Looking back now, I can honestly say that many of those prayers were answered—but not always in the way I expected.

Sometimes God changed my circumstances.

Sometimes He changed me.

Looking back, I am grateful for both.

Today I no longer wake up with the same desperation I once carried. Life still has challenges. There are still moments of uncertainty, moments when my heart becomes concerned, moments when I have questions that only God can answer.

But something inside me has changed.

My first response is no longer panic.

It is worship.

That does not mean I have become stronger than everyone else.

It simply means that I have discovered the faithfulness of God one day at a time.

One answered prayer at a time.

One ordinary day of obedience at a time.

There is something else I never want to forget.

When God brings us out of despair, we can become so comfortable in His blessings that we forget the valley where we first learned to trust Him.

I do not ever want to forget those moments.

Not because I want to relive them.

Not because I want to keep telling stories about my pain.

But because I never want to lose my gratitude.

The valleys taught me to pray.

The waiting taught me patience.

The disappointments taught me surrender.

The silence taught me to listen.

Those seasons were never wasted.

But I also refuse to build my life around my past struggles.

God did not rescue me so that I could spend the rest of my life staring back at the pit.

He rescued me so that I could keep walking forward.

I can remember the valley without living there.

I can honour the lessons without carrying the weight.

I can tell the story without reopening the wound.

That, to me, is maturity.

Perhaps this is what spiritual growth really looks like.

Not a life without tears.

Not a life without questions.

But a heart that has learned where to take those tears and questions.

Today my prayer is simple.

Lord, may I never forget the days when I cried out to You in desperation. Those moments taught me that You are faithful. But also help me never to become so attached to yesterday's pain that I fail to see today's grace. Let me remember Your faithfulness more than I remember my fear. Let me carry gratitude instead of grief. And above all, let my life become a quiet testimony that You have always been enough.

"Never forget the valley that introduced you to God's faithfulness, but never make the valley your permanent address. God walks us through valleys—not so we can live there, but so we can discover that He never left our side."

Friday, 17 July 2026 — Daily Manna

Reflections from Daily Encounters

This morning, I can honestly say that I am mentally drained.

My body is tired.

Not because this week was bad.

It was actually a good week.

Finances were incredibly tight, yet every single day there was provision.

Every single day there was daily manna.

This week taught me something that is far more difficult than I imagined.

It isn't always difficult to trust God once.

Sometimes the greatest challenge is trusting Him again tomorrow...

and again the next day...

and again after that.

I realised that much of my tiredness came from resisting the temptation to worry about tomorrow's needs.

Jesus said not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.

Living those words requires far more faith than simply reading them.

This week I chose, day after day, to return my thoughts to God instead of allowing fear to lead them.

It wasn't easy.

But here I am.

Still standing.

Still grateful.

Still trusting.

I also have customer payments that are only due at the end of the month.

I made a conscious decision not to pressure anyone for payment before it is due.

Not because I don't need the money.

I do.

But because I want my business to be built on integrity rather than fear.

God has never asked me to build my future through anxiety.

He has asked me to remain faithful.

And today, that is enough.

Sometimes the greatest miracle is not receiving everything you need at once.

Sometimes the miracle is discovering that God has faithfully provided just enough every single day.

That is daily manna.

And daily manna has never failed me.

And I'd leave you with this thought for today:

Faith is often exhausting because it asks us to release tomorrow into God's hands while remaining faithful with today. Yet every evening becomes another testimony that today's manna was enough.

When I abandoned Me.

It’s been a while since I’ve written like this…

And today, as I sit at my desk,

I find myself reflecting.

There are real needs… real pressures.

But even in that… I had a realization.

Nothing I’m facing now compares to what I felt before.

Last year — especially around November 2026 —

I was not okay.

Not financially…not emotionally… and definitely mentally.

I felt weak.

I felt overwhelmed.

And if I’m honest… I FELT SMALL.

There was a moment I will never forget.

When my colleague called me in

to speak about my work.

She spoke about mistakes I continued to make.

Pointed out everything that was going wrong.

And I remember standing there…

So nervous.

So shaken.

I couldn’t even gather myself properly.

And then I said it…

Words that came straight from a place of fear:

“You make me nervous…

I don’t know how to hold myself together around you…

You make me scared…

I don’t want to lose my job.”

And in that moment…

I felt like I was nothing.

Like I was the tail…and she was the head. I felt this all because of one

person, an individual just like me. The difference is, she is in a highter position only at our workplace but, a sister in Christ.

That moment stayed with me.

Because it revealed something deeper:

I had given my power away.

I literally abandoned myself. 

And from there…

Everything started to fall apart. I have never in my life prayed for time to just fly. 

I made more mistakes.

I couldn’t think clearly.

I carried fear into everything I did.

I had terrible headaches and drank more pain tablets than I normally would. I literally felt ashamed of myself and just wanted to die.

I felt I couldn’t speak to anyone but God and record everything in my journal. 

I would sit at my desk…

crying inside. Not wanting to come to work. Feeling like a cloud was hanging over me. Until eventually…

I received a verbal warning.

Look, work is work. The leader in the workplace also has pressure but believe me they will always make sure they are above you no matter what the cost.

And looking back now…

I see it clearly:

It wasn’t just the situation…

It was how much power I had handed over.

But today… 8 months later, sitting 

in the same space…

I realize something has shifted.

I am not that person anymore.

Yes, challenges are still there.

There are still pressure all over the place. Work is still challenging most of the tim. My colleague  is still above me in the workplace but the difference is…

It no longer controls me.

Because I’ve learned something powerful:

No one has power over me

unless I give it to them.

And today…

I no longer shrink.

I no longer feel like “nothing.”

I no longer carry fear into every moment.

I am aware.

I am grounded.

I am steady.

Because now I understand:

My power does not come from people.

It comes from being aligned with God.

And when I stay aligned…

No voice around me

can overpower the voice within me.

Reminder

The moment you feel like nothing…

is often the moment you’ve forgotten where your power comes from.

Declaration

I take back my power.

I will not shrink for anyone.

I am no longer who I was — I am stronger, aware, and aligned.

From "What Do I Have?" to "Who Am I Becoming?"

There was a time in my life when I measured everything by what I had.

Did I have enough money? Did I have enough recognition? Did I have enough support? Did I have enough opportunities?

When those things were missing, I felt as though something was missing from me.

But somewhere along the journey, God quietly began changing the question.

Instead of asking, "What do I have?" He began asking me, "Who are you becoming?"

That question changed everything.

Life has not suddenly become easy.

There are still financial challenges. There are still disappointments. There are still people who misunderstand me. There are still moments when I have to choose silence instead of defending myself.

But something inside me has changed.

I've learned that I never want to abandon myself again.

Not by chasing people's approval. Not by allowing someone else's behaviour to determine mine. Not by compromising my values just because someone else compromised theirs.

One of the greatest lessons I've learned is this:

Don't build with revenge. Build with integrity.

Revenge may feel satisfying for a moment, but integrity builds a life that can withstand every season.

I've discovered that peace doesn't come when everyone starts treating me fairly.

Peace comes when my heart, my words, and my actions agree with one another.

There is a freedom that comes from knowing you've done the right thing, even when no one notices.

If you've been treated unfairly... If you've been misunderstood... If you've been overlooked... If someone has wounded your heart...

Don't allow their actions to shape your character.

Let them shape your wisdom.

One Scripture has become an anchor in my life:

"Barricade the road that goes nowhere; grace me with Your clear revelation."

Psalm 119:29

Every day I pray those words.

Lord, don't just change my circumstances.

Change my direction.

Block every road that leads me back to bitterness, resentment, comparison, and self-abandonment.

Lead me onto the road where integrity is more valuable than being right. Because at the end of the day, the greatest victory isn't proving someone wrong.

It's becoming the person God is calling me to be.

Today, my prayer is simple:

"Lord, guard my heart while I walk among them."

May I never stop choosing kindness. May I never stop choosing wisdom. May I never stop becoming.

The Strength of a Gentle Man

Lately, I've noticed something beautiful.

More and more men are quietly stepping into a season of looking after themselves.

Not because someone told them to. Not because they're trying to impress anyone. But because they are beginning to understand that caring for themselves is not weakness—it is wisdom.

As the owner of LMB Naturals, I've been surprised and encouraged by how many men have started purchasing my products. Some of them are the very men people would describe as "hardcore"—strong, hardworking, practical men.

Yet they choose to care for their skin. They choose to look presentable. They choose to invest in themselves.

And I think that's wonderful.

Somewhere along the way, many men were taught that they always had to be tough, silent, and carry everything alone. That asking for help, showing emotion, or taking care of themselves somehow made them "soft."

But I don't believe gentleness makes a man weak.

In fact, it takes confidence to care for yourself without worrying about what others might think.

I've seen this in my own home, too. Marco has started using my skincare products. I can encourage him, but ultimately he has to make the choice for himself. Watching him take that small step reminds me that growth often begins with the simplest decisions.

A strong man isn't someone who ignores himself.

A strong man knows that he cannot keep pouring from an empty cup.

Looking after your health... Looking after your appearance... Looking after your heart... Looking after your peace...

These aren't signs of weakness.

They are signs of maturity.

To every man reading this:

It's okay to take care of yourself.

It's okay to wear clothes that make you feel confident.

It's okay to look after your skin.

It's okay to rest.

It's okay to grow.

You don't become less of a man by caring for yourself.

You become a better steward of the life God has given you.

Strength and gentleness can live in the same heart.

And I believe the strongest men are often the ones who quietly choose both.

— Leslene Britz

LMB Naturals – Gracefully Made. Naturally Yours.

Some Days Gratitude Feels Heavy

Daily Reflections in Real Time

Today, I am tired.

Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes overnight.

The kind of tired that sits in your chest.

The kind that makes your body heavy and your mind quiet at the same time.

I am sitting in the bus after work, and I honestly feel like when I get home, I just want to throw myself down and disappear into silence for a while.

Work has actually been going better lately.

The tension has eased.

Things have settled down.

But somehow, after carrying so much emotionally for so long, I think my body is finally feeling everything.

The audits.

The ......

The ......

The ......

The constant responsibility.

The mental load of trying to do everything correctly.

It all catches up eventually.

And what struck me today was thinking about children.

How children become emotional when they are overtired. How they cry easier. How they become quiet or frustrated because their little bodies and minds simply cannot carry anymore for that moment.

And I thought to myself: Maybe adults are not that different.

Maybe sometimes we are not angry. Not bitter. Not ungrateful.

Just exhausted.

And today, I also realize that I am filled with emotion.

Not one specific emotion. Just… full.

Full from carrying. Full from thinking. Full from trying to stay strong. Full from constantly processing life, people, work, responsibilities, faith, finances, expectations, and the quiet battles nobody really sees.

And when a person becomes emotionally full for too long, the tears sit very close to the surface.

Not because you are weak. But because your soul is overloaded.

And I think many people carry guilt when they are tired.

Especially when they love God.

Because we tell ourselves: “There are people without jobs.” “There are people struggling more.” “I should be grateful.” “I should pray more.” “I should give thanks.”

And yes, gratitude matters.

But today I am learning that exhaustion does not make me ungrateful.

It makes me human.

Sometimes you can love God deeply and still feel drained. Sometimes you can be thankful and still want to cry. Sometimes you can appreciate your job and still feel overwhelmed by it.

And maybe grace also exists for days like this.

Days where worship is quiet. Days where prayer is simply: “Lord, I am tired.”

Not every prayer has to sound powerful. Not every moment has to be spiritually strong.

Sometimes strength is simply continuing to show up while carrying weariness honestly.

And tonight, I think I need to allow myself rest without guilt.

Because constantly surviving without resting eventually empties the soul.

So today, I choose softness. I choose honesty. I choose rest. And I choose to believe that even exhausted hearts are still held by God. 

Confidence Was Never Meant to Be a Certain Size

Seasons of Alignment

I was sitting and thinking today about confidence.

Not the loud kind.

Not the kind people perform online.

But the quiet kind — the kind a woman feels when she walks into a room and does not spend the entire day trying to shrink herself.

I am a plus-size woman.

Sometimes I wear a size 42.

Sometimes a size 44.

My arms are thick. I have thighs.

A bit of a stomach.

And there are days when I look at myself and feel unsure.

Then I watch other women online — beautiful plus-size women doing their “get ready with me” videos, wearing outfits confidently, smiling, moving freely, existing so comfortably in their bodies.

And for a moment I think: “What is the difference between them and me?”

And honestly… I do not think the difference is always the body.

I think the difference is confidence.

Because confidence changes how a woman carries herself. It changes how she stands. How she smiles. How she wears the outfit. How she enters a room. How she allows herself to be seen.

And maybe for many women like me, confidence was never naturally taught to us.

Some of us grew up around women who were always criticizing themselves. Always covering up. Always apologizing for taking up space. Always comparing themselves. Always trying to lose weight before allowing themselves to feel beautiful.

So we learned that beauty was something postponed.

“I’ll feel beautiful when…”

“I’ll wear that when…”

“I’ll take pictures when…”

“I’ll be confident when…”

But life keeps moving while we wait to finally approve of ourselves.

And yes, there are women who lose weight and suddenly become more confident, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to become healthier or wanting to feel better in your clothes.

But sometimes, if we are honest, confidence can slowly turn into arrogance.

Sometimes people start feeling that because they lost weight, they are somehow more worthy, more beautiful, or above the next woman who is still curvy or plus-size.

And I do not believe beauty works like that.

Because I have seen plus-size women who absolutely glow. Women who know how to dress themselves beautifully. Women who wear the right clothes for their body shape. Women who carry themselves with grace, softness, elegance, and confidence.

And they look stunning.

Not because they are a certain size — but because they are comfortable within themselves.

I am slowly learning that confidence is not pretending you love every part of yourself every single day.

Confidence is allowing yourself to live anyway.

To still get dressed. To still show up. To still wear the outfit. To still take the picture. To still care for your body. To still see softness, beauty, femininity, and worth in yourself — even while growing.

And maybe that is part of the season I am entering now.

Not becoming a different woman. But becoming gentler with the woman I already am.

Learning that softness is not weakness. Learning that beauty is not reserved for one body type. Learning that confidence is not arrogance. Learning that I do not have to hide until I become “perfect.”

Because confidence was never meant to belong only to smaller women.

It belongs to women who decide: “I deserve to feel beautiful too.” 

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.