Sister love

20150919_110942 20150919_112623 20150919_110906 20150919_110628Two weeks ago, my sisters and I went to South of Perth and spent the night just outside of Dunsborough, then, the following day, we went down to the Mammoth cave and did a self-guided tour; this was by far, the highlight of the trip, especially the bush walk at the end. We then drove down to the Margaret River Chocolate Factory, and the Cheese Factory not before heading back to Perth.

Just four girls on the road, not really knowing what we were doing, maybe that was why it was so fun. I didn’t even sleep as much as I expected I would. It was good to get away, and be filled with a sense of nostalgia as we zoomed past the bush, feeling at home as we walked through the bush trail after our cave tour, with some people jumping because a twig brushed their leg. Walking down the beach, in the cold, wondering what snakes were possibly around (I promise you, if there were no snakes in this world, I would gladly live in the wild, with no care at all). Yes I know they have been given a place in this world, but I can’t stand to even look at them on TV.

Hunting for places to buy food and preparing a meal, took too much of our time, but girls gotta eat! Then there was the candy at the reception of the place we were staying. I’m the type of person who eats the sweets while the others make enquiries and then take some for the road … shamelessly. Let’s admit, we all like free stuff, I’m just honest about it.

I have to admit, that on this trip, I was struggling for joy, and I had to keep reminding myself, not to ruin the trip for everyone, especially considering I have done that before. In the end, we all ended up having fun, and I can say, that I’m grateful for those around me, who can cheer me up without even realising the power they have.

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Imperfect Father Painting a Perfect One

Today was my father’s birthday, and I deliberately didn’t wish him a happy birthday because I was sure we would come home with a gift. The gift didn’t happen. I’ve never been great at getting gifts for my father, and leaving it till the last-minute usually results in a fail.

My Father, is a quiet man, a loud man, a man with a weird–but great–sense of humour. My dad is loving and caring, and I have to take back my words on Facebook where I refered to him as the greatest man of the 21st century. There are many great men, who have achieved more than my dad has, but the truth is, my father is the best man for the calling on his life. No one else can do what he alone was created for. 

My father is a flawed human being and like most paintbrushes; he comes with his flaws and he paints Christ. I look at my father and wherever he goes, he paints Christ. Sometimes, he paints Christ with his flaws, showing that no saint is beyond failure, and that for all of us, Christ always covers His own. Most times, he paints Christ in gentle strokes, or hard lines; in his lovely smile, in his grace and love, in his discipline and forgiveness. In his humility that says “sorry”, he is teaching me to own my failures, and in his hard-working hands, he is teaching me to work. He is ever so wise and I have gotten to know my late grandfather ba Zachiluka, through him. He carries a legacy started before him and set beyond.

My father is an imperfect father, painting a perfect one, regardless of what he does or says. He is an imperfect head, leading imperfect people, painting a perfect Head, Christ the Lord. Happy birthday dad, Atate, Tata. So blessed to have you, and may you never cease to paint.

Living under Grace

I’ve been living under Grace my whole life.

Grace has always been there, always been home.

Grace has diciplined, Grace has picked me up when I fell, Grace has given me strength.

Grace has dried my tears, Grace has provided for me.

Grace has always been there to pick up the pieces when everything crumbled.

Grace has fed me, clothed me, enriched me, encouraged me.

Grace has always welcomed me, welcomed and loved my friends.

Beautiful Grace has been gracious, and I think was appropriately named,

Grace’s prayers have meant that I have always lived under Grace.

My mother’s name is Grace … so I’ve been doubly blessed to have always lived under Grace 🙂