I’ve always associated weight lifting with men…until I saw women that make it look good. I normally, like most women, use dumbbells up to 5 and sometimes 10kgs but that’s not enough. There is a space in our minds between what we do and what we could do. I’m ready to explore that space. I am challenging myself. I need to step out of the treadmill comfort zone and go beyond my imagination. I’m turning 23 this coming Friday and I’ve decided to make it my best year yet (by the grace of God). I’ve lived in “What If” avenue for too long. And this goes beyond the gym. I’ve been just surviving, now I think it’s time to live 🙂
My head is full. There are about a million thoughts that I am processing every second. It is so full that I think I might just throw up…or maybe that’s the result of having seconds for dinner tonight. Oddly enough, I cannot find the right words to use to describe the storm that is brewing in my head. Bear with me…
“Until now you have asked for anything in my name; ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be made full.” John 16:24
I woke up to that verse a couple of days ago. I was surprised and overjoyed. Surprised because I had been asking God for a very particular thing quite religiously. Happy because I had hope that He wanted to give me what I was asking Him for. So I sat up that morning and started asking God. I asked Him for things that are so personal to me, typing them would seem like shouting them out on a rooftop. You know when you’re in church and everyone is praying out loud and shouting out how awesome God is but when they get to personal things the volume goes down drastically…this was that type of prayer. I received it and I thanked God for it in advance and I got ready for work.
“Ye know not what ye ask” Matthew 20:17-23
Standing next to my kitchen counter, I read that verse and I froze. It’s from TD Jakes sermon…I know this because I read the verse from a photo he shared on Instagram. I froze. If you know anything about the battle between Instagram and data usage you would know that I or anyone cannot afford to freeze while on Instagram. I froze. Having gathered myself I decided to move my post dinner body from the kitchen to my bedroom. I tried not to think about what I had just read but it kept flying across my mind…making me really want to throw up. What does He mean I don’t know what I ask??? Seriously Dad? Seriously? I couldn’t have been more precise if I wanted to. I stated what I needed and the reasons why I needed it. Can I please receive it so that my joy may be made full!?
I’m not angry…not in the least. I’m lost. I’m lost somewhere between Gods will and mine. I’m lost and I don’t know where I got lost. “God will never give you something that will take you away from Him.” My friend said that years ago but it’s like I can almost hear her voice utter those words right now. I didn’t know what I asked would take me away from Him…I actually thought it would bring me closer. I’m lost and the worst part is that my GPS (bible) is right next to me but I don’t know which coordinates to punch in…I don’t know where I am.
Outside the sky is pitch black, perfect for me to write on with some chalk. If it’s the words that come out of my mouth that made You say I don’t know I ask for then let me write it down because sometimes there’s a disconnect between my head and my mouth.
I’m not sure what You want from me anymore. I keep giving and giving but it never feels enough. I’m not tired yet, I’ll still give. I’ll give. But I need you to give me too. I need You to search my heart and let me know if what I’m asking for won’t glorify Your name. Everything under the sky belongs to You. I don’t doubt Your ability to give, I don’t. I’m asking with a heart that has no other option. I’m asking with a heart that knows that this can only come from You. I’m asking with a heart that is willing to receive correction if it be that my request is not Your will. I’m asking with a heart that’s lost but knows that You are good enough to come looking for me. Please Lord, hear my prayer. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
So every second of everyday, God is turning me into a girly girl. I like pink. In fact I love pink and I can’t take credit for that; it is the work of the blood. So a couple of weeks ago I bought myself midi rings. If you are my friend and you’ve never suggested I get midis…we have to talk. They are the cutest things since Tellitubies 🙂
What if I tell you to let go of the very thing you think you have to hold? Will you trust me?
This question from one of the songs by Donnie McClurkin keeps ringing in my ear. I’m here trying to make sense of this sudden turn around that is my life. I’m an adjuster, I adjust easily but what’s happening now….why am I not getting used to this change?
I had to say goodbye to my beloved P.E, my beloved church,my beloved friends,my beloved sisters and brothers, my parents…my people; what I’d come to call home. I was never ready for such a switch in what I’ve grown to know so well. It indeed feels as Kanyi put it, “I am not finished, not yet.” It feels like I’ve been stripped of the most sacred of gifts. Everyday I wake up and I want to take off to my home,P.E…..yet with the stern knowledge that going back is not an option. Some days I hear the voice of my Pastor echoing the words that brought me to my knees before my Potter when I finally realised what I’d have to carry; “WORLD CHANGERS CARRY A BURDEN” and I’m consistently reminded why I had to come back to this foreign land called home.
I will admit, my acceptance of my sudden fate had been prolonged possibly due to the fact that I’ve been running away a lot. It could be that deep down I’ve been hoping God will uncall me from my burden. But why would I rather God make stones do the work of my hands which through trial and tribulation, being chiseled and sharpened through fire, God made me the message the lost needs to hear. Lord knows how this is crushing me at my core. The silent sobs my heart cries that no one knows anything of in the midnight.
I’m not yearning to get my way anymore but rather yearning to be at peace with this my cup and cross. One day, maybe, someday,I’ll tell of how I left the people who were home to me, how I’d wake up yearning for their smiles and laughs and hugs because above anything, for the first time…I felt I belonged somewhere. But now, now I am stripped of that belonging back to finding my feet again, back to finding my muse, my place of belonging….yet even so, maybe contradictory to everything, I’m discovering me in the midst of the sobs and yearning for what I know I can’t have.
Discovering my tenacity, my anchor, my untapped reservoir of dreams and visions ’cause in the thick almost tangible silence that is my life…I face my inadequacies, my thorns and chaff and even though I find my imperfections I’m amazed how from an ordinary ragged and broken piece of cloth, God saw it fit that He turn this rag into a beautiful gown for nations to behold its beauty.
Though I sob, I’m submitting to His will for His will brings fullness of joy…so yes, I will trust in Him as I begin to let go of the very thing that was…is to me…my place of comfort. I thought I would cling to P.E till death but great are the plans which my heart had planned…It’s the Lord’s will that always prevails. Farewell P.E. Till we meet again my love 🙂
As winter is knocking on our doors, my kitchen has slowly but surely started to transform. I am making more soup than I normally would. One soup I’m loving is butternut soup. I was first introduced to this cuisine about two years ago while watching the food channel; watching Nigella to be precise. I then decided to try it out and I’ve never looked back. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do 🙂
1 (or more) medium butternut squash (cubed)
1 medium potatoes (per
2 large onions (chopped roughly)
garlic (to suit taste)
3 tablespoons cumin
1.5 litres vegetable stock
1. Saute onions and garlic and two
(heaped) tablespoons of Cumin in a little oil
2. Add butternut and potatoes and let them sweat for a while, approx
10mins then add stock and simmer until butternut and potatoes are soft
3. Puree until no lumps, or, mash well very well.
4. Add another tablespoon of Cumin and a large dash of milk then Salt and pepper to taste
5. Fresh Coriander to garnish
It’s 09:57 on a Monday morning and I’m still in bed. Freedom Day. That’s what today is. Today in South Africa we are celebrating 21 years of democracy.
You know how your mind gets super busy in the morning… Like I think of one thing and then another comes up and it links itself to another ‘til I don’t know where I started. That’s me right now. I’m trying to figure out where I started; I’m trying to figure out how I got here…
I’m sitting in an awkward yoga position on my bed (which is now starting to cramp my right leg) facing the window letting whatever sun ray gets to me hit me on the face. I figure that’s enough of a distraction to make me not focus on this hollow space in my heart. It’s been there for a while and I’ve been trying to get it filled with something or someone but I keep getting distracted and I keep letting myself get distracted because somehow I know that figuring out how it got to be so empty and hollow will hurt. I don’t want to hurt. I’ve been hurt a lot in my short life and today I really don’t want to be hurt. Not at 9am.
I used to be a dreamer. I used to dream that I’d be rich in my early 20’s and that I’d live a life filled with adventure and that I wouldn’t need anything but I’d be a giver of everything. And then I grew up and realised that though it doesn’t cost you to dream, disappointment will come knocking at your door once in a while. I don’t like disappointment. I don’t . So for a long time I stopped dreaming and just started living. Until I realised that I had to dream again in order to live with purpose.
There is so much that I want to accomplish but sometimes I just don’t know where to start and sometimes I’m just plain scared. Scared of starting and not finishing. Scared of starting and failing and not getting the courage to continue. Scared of starting and being rejected. I’m scared of being rejected. I’m scared of putting myself out there and not being good enough. I’m scared of exposing myself only to be turned down. I’m scared. Heck I’m petrified!
Last year September I packed my bags and moved out of a city that had become so dear to me. I fought countless battles in that city. Some I lost but some I was victorious in and having won the last battle (by the grace of God), God saw it good for me to move. I didn’t want to go. Moving meant starting over. I didn’t want to start over. Ironically, a few months before I moved I asked God to let me start over. I shared that with a friend of mine. I wanted to move and go somewhere where nobody knows me so I can start over. I wanted to run away from a can of worms that I had opened and couldn’t deal with any longer. I wanted to escape. I forgot about that request. And when the time came for me to move I didn’t want to go.
“Whatever you run away from will always be around to chase after you.”
I can attest to that. Though the last battle was won in Port Elizabeth, not all of them were. And the ones that were not conquered are now sticking their heads out trying to signal their existence.
There was a boy. There’s always a boy. Handsome young man full of zeal and potential. There’s something about potential that makes me go weak in the knees. I buckle at the sight of potential (help me Lord). We never dated, never even tried to even though there was something there. His nature was very broad; very loving yet stern, very childish yet manly, full of intent yet soft. Reading him was never easy. But in my heart I knew that there was something there. I couldn’t put my finger on it but there was something there. But because there was no way we could date, I never made it obvious that his presence made my stomach have a million knots.
I never made it obvious that his mere existence gave me hope. And because I knew the type of woman he goes for, I made it my mission to disqualify myself. I made it a point to look in another direction when he would come running my way. I made it a point to not allow myself to be disappointed. Sadly that is one of the battles that I am yet to conquer because as much as he didn’t exist 100% in my space, he had shares to my mind and my heart. So while running away from him physically was successful, mentally and in my heart he is running towards me and I don’t always have the strength to take my eyes off him and look in another direction.
My dreams have changed. I’m no longer focused on just being a billionaire. Things changed. Things happened and made my dreams change. Now I dream about freedom. I dream of the day when I will look back and think “Thank God for grace and mercy.” I now dream about listening to other girls speak and my heart smiling because I not only know what they’re talking about, but I also know that it can be conquered. I dream of the words “I used to”. I dream of a flourishing heart, a prospering mind and the purest of spaces behind closed doors. I dream. And that’s a good thing; that I’m dreaming again.