In this life, we must walk alone … There are things that we must work out on our own, griefs that others cannot grasp, blames that can never be handed to anyone. Things are what they are, love cures some things but not all things! Dawn rises and darkness falls, a cycle we must all accept. One day light will win, I hold on to that, but in my inability to overcome my ghosts, in the midst of my sin and humanity, I fear a day when there will seem nothing worth fighting for, or that at the end of it all, I wouldn’t have been one who was loosed … There are plenty of struggles no one can bear for another, they must be  carried, towards death.

What makes a person pen out goodbye letters when they are well? It’s that they have already died to this life. They have lost all hope and their hearts have been so muddied by life that they can’t see any other way. Sometimes it’s not out of revenge or anger, but out of a genuine fatigue of the soul. They say our souls don’t age, but mine has aged and fails me, but who has time for pity parties and death notes when life waits for no one? We must all carry some burden, some that no one else would understand and in their attempts at understanding and comfort, they muddy us more; so there are burdens that I understand I must carry, alone towards death

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Two 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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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.

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 🙂

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What does this even mean? I don’t know about others but it’s not something I would ever use to describe a human being, let alone another woman. I find it insulting, and have recently found myself referred to as high maintenance.

What I find interesting is the fact that the people referring to me as high maintenance do not know me, or my family, and are basing it solely on the fact that I have lived outside Zambia for the last 8 years. What’s worse is, these people call themselves Christian, and yet feel it appropriate to discuss people they don’t know, in such insulting terms.

I am no gold digger, except if by gold digger you mean I get up in the morning and head to work, sometimes working double shifts, or working 2 weeks straight. I pay my own way, and my boyfriend is under no pressure to pay for my salon visits … I have gotten my hair done in a salon three times in the last 8 years because I prefer to do it myself. If I get my nails done, it’s cheap nail polish that I paint on myself.

Maybe I am high maintenance because there are things that I absolutely will not do, like sit on my boyfriend’s lap, or kiss him, or allow people to call him their “mulamu”, which means brother/sister in law. Maybe I am high maintenance because I choose not to be referred to as his wife, or prefer to keep my relationship off of Facebook. Maybe even my insistence on maintaining natural hair, or my sometimes politically incorrect statements say I am high maintenance. Maybe it’s my refusal to enter conversations about myself that I feel inappropriate, or my refusal to join the swearing bandwagon.

Maybe I am high maintenance, but at the core of my decisions as an individual, is this fact, I know myself, and want to make decisions that are mine and decisions I can own. There’s a lot I am learning about me, and I am sure that it’s grace that has brought me this far, and high maintenance or not, grace will get me where I am meant to go.

My cousin sent me this photo about 2 weeks ago. It was meant to be funny, and maybe it is, but it had a sobering effect on me. Unlike most girls, weddings have never featured on my dream boards (mental or written). I have always had something I wanted to do more than get married and at one point, never even wanted to get married … I just never even thought of my wedding.

This is the first real inspiration I have had when it comes to weddings. Yes, recently as I go through the bible, I find myself thinking, “I want my wedding, if I get married, to show clearly, that marriage is a mirror for Christ’s love for us.” But if I have had any drawing towards any concepts or ideas, this photo says it for me. Summed up in one word, it’s “simple”. I want a wedding within our means, not something that shouts money, or extravagance, but something small, clean and crisp but within our means. No debt, fun and beautiful, within our means, keeping in mind that there are more important things in this life.

This photo would have been funny before, but it didn’t evoke that response this time. There is no shame in recognising where we are, and what we can and can’t afford and learning to live without those things that are outside our means

Pain … pain has the potential to ruin us, or grow us. I hurt my shoulder 3 months ago, and I’m generally constantly in pain. It took a while for the pain to kick in, but after it did, there’s little that doesn’t cause me pain. Things I used to do without a thought, I now have to think about, like whether my nephews and nieces are too heavy to lift onto my knee, whether holding the newest addition to our family, will aggravate my shoulder.

I sometimes wonder if people believe that my shoulder is hurt, if people are talking behind my back, whether those who say they have my best interests at heart actually do. I feel small, disposable and trapped, struggling to do things that were so simple for me, like my crazy natural hairstyles–My hair is now generally always a mess, not even a hot one. I struggle to get up each morning, and I’m no longer writing at 4 am. I come home from work and sleep (I used to do that before but it’s different), and I am emotional. Pain has a way of ruining people, and I see now, just how easy it is, to get hit by depression, at this stage of my life. I’m not depressed, I wouldn’t place where I am in that category, I think that would be a dishonour to those who actually struggle with this illness, because I think it takes a  lot of courage to live life with depression.

I have to keep fighting for life–for my life–despite my pain. I’m scared my shoulder will never be right; I’m scared the diagnosis might be wrong, or that there might be no logical explanation for my pain, but we all must endure the different seasons in our lives, and this is my lot, my season of growth, that God alone has a purpose for. I must walk this road, my cross over my shoulder and not be rude or mean or unforgiving, because pain can never be an excuse; it will either expose my evil heart and leave me broken, or it will keep me on my knees and cause me to bask in God’s goodness. Two scriptures gave me strength yesterday. Psalms 115:1 and Psalms 118:29, and I pray that God’s grace propels me to wake up and endure this pain a little while longer, if he so please.