The Woman Who Chose Her Future

Today was Women’s Day.

And as I sat back and reflected on the day, I realised something that felt much bigger than the day itself.

I chose differently.

In previous years, Women’s Day might have looked very different for me. I would have been thinking about where I could go, what I could wear, who I could spend the day with, and whether the people around me would notice that I was there.

I wanted to be seen.

I wanted to feel included.

I wanted to feel that I mattered.

There is nothing wrong with wanting connection or wanting to celebrate with other women. But I have come to realise that there is a difference between enjoying the company of others and needing the attention of others to validate your existence.

And today, I didn't need that.

Today, I chose my future.

Instead of spending the day wondering who would notice me, I spent time building something that I hope will still be standing long after today's attention has passed.

I worked on my business.

I updated my business plan.

I worked on orders.

I looked at the things I am building through LMB Naturals and allowed myself to dream beyond where I currently am.

And somewhere in the middle of making products, planning, working and creating, I realised something:

This is what I want my life to look like.

Not because I don't want people around me.

Not because I don't value friendships.

Not because I don't enjoy dressing up, going out or celebrating.

But because I am finally learning that my future deserves my attention too.

For so many years, I gave so much energy to what other people thought.

Who noticed me.

Who didn't notice me.

Who liked me.

Who didn't like me.

Who was happy for me.

Who was competing with me.

Who understood my decisions.

Who misunderstood them.

And somewhere along the way, I lost sight of something very important:

I have a life to build.

There are dreams inside me that cannot be built by waiting for somebody else to notice me.

There is a business inside me that needs nurturing.

There are products inside my hands that I once only imagined making.

There is a woman inside me who is still becoming everything God created her to be.

And she needs my attention.

Today, I looked at these little Cotton Candy Hand & Foot Scrubs and smiled.

Because somebody might simply look at them and see a cute little children's product.

But I see evidence.

Evidence that I took a step.

Evidence that I stopped only dreaming about having a business and actually started one.

Evidence that the woman who was once afraid to begin finally began.

And that matters to me.

I also realised something else today.

Focusing on my future didn't mean I had to sacrifice my present.

I was able to work.

I was able to complete orders.

I was able to update my business plan.

And I was still able to rest.

That was important for me to realise because sometimes we think that building something requires us to constantly be exhausted.

We think we must hurry.

We must post constantly.

We must work every waking moment.

We must prove ourselves.

We must make something happen immediately.

But I'm learning that there is another way.

There is intentionality.

There is planning.

There is consistency.

There is rest.

And there is trusting God with the part that I cannot control.

I don't have to build my future in one day.

I just have to keep building it.

One product.

One order.

One customer.

One idea.

One decision.

One day at a time.

And perhaps that is what made today so special.

I wasn't desperately trying to make something happen.

I was simply participating in what I am building.

I was present.

I was productive.

And I was peaceful.

I could work on my future and still rest.

I could create and still breathe.

I could dream and still enjoy today.

And that is a lesson I don't want to forget.

Because there was a time when I thought being successful meant being busy all the time.

Now I am beginning to understand that success also means knowing what deserves your energy.

Today, my future deserved mine.

And I am proud of that woman.

The woman who chose not to spend the day wondering who was watching her.

The woman who chose not to measure her worth by somebody else's attention.

The woman who chose to work quietly on the life she is praying for.

The woman who looked at her little creations and said,

"I am building something."

And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts I could give myself this Women’s Day.

Not another outfit.

Not another invitation.

Not another person's approval.

But a decision.

A decision to invest in myself.

Because I am finally beginning to understand that I don't have to stand in the crowd hoping somebody will notice me.

I can stand in my own life.

I can build.

I can create.

I can learn.

I can grow.

I can rest.

I can dream.

And I can trust God with the outcome.

Today was not just another Women’s Day.

For me, it was a quiet declaration:

I am no longer waiting to be noticed.

I am building what I want to be remembered for.

And honestly?

That feels pretty special.

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. 

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.

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