I told myself that I wasn’t going to write about COVID or lockdown or anything remotely related to either two, mostly because I am so sick of it being all anyone can talk about and also because I wasn’t sure what I would actually say other than, “We are in lockdown in paradise and it may as well be anywhere on earth because we haven’t seen the beach since the beginning of March”.
What I didn’t realize is that my rule would cause a mental/emotional lockdown for me and I would’t be able to write about ANYTHING, never mind COVID-19 or lockdown. I have found myself trapped, physically and mentally/emotionally. I have been in survival mode, as have most of the world, and I don’t like survival mode. It goes against my entire belief system, it makes me feel strange – like out of my own body strange. So, tonight, after 41 days of official lockdown and 46 days of lockdown and self-isolation combined, when the Mauritian Government announced an extension on our lockdown until 1 June 2020 I decided it was time to break my self-imposed lockdown and start writing again. I can’t promise I will write often. I can’t promise that I will have loads to say. But, I will keep writing. I would love it if you would comment and give me some topics on what you would like to hear from me. We’ll call them them writing prompts. Perhaps you can help me find my voice again?
It is hot. Heat wraps around us like a blanket and trickles down the back of my t-shirt. Outside, I hear fruit bats calling to each other. I can smell the rotting mangos on the driveway and front lawn where they fall, bite marks perforating their green and red skin. I’m sure rats also enjoy them once they have fallen. This morning, a beheaded rat was left for us on the front doormat. A gift from the two feral cats we have been feeding. We have named them George and Cricket. I think Cricket is the mom, she is bigger than George, more wary of us humans. George is inquisitive and we leave doors open for them after their evening meal in the hopes that they will get used to us and come inside. George looks in and then runs back to Cricket, his safety net.
I am sitting in Emme and Jett’s room waiting for them to fall asleep. They have had their bedtime story and are starting to settle in. I’m eager for them to sleep so that I can go catch some alone time before I go start the evening ritual with the bigger two. We are settling in.
We are midway through January and I have yet to take a moment to give thought to the year ahead. I am not worried. We started the year off calmly, enjoying a proper holiday with Courts. We spent ten days together as a family, reading, swimming, eating, sleeping. It was such a beautiful and intentional time and, I think, exactly what we all needed.
Now, I can feel us finding a rhythm. We have some routines in place. Some rituals we are beginning to follow. I even find myself doing things in order when I wake up: get up, drag the washing basket to the kitchen where I turn on the kettle and then begin loading the washing machine. Once that is done, I unload the draining rack and dishwasher and then make my morning cuppa (or my second cup if Marc has beat me to the first one and delivered it to me in bed) and wind my way back to my bed to enjoy my cup in silence. It is the same every day.
I love this sense of rhythm, this moving easily from task to task, all the while breathing in the life around me. I like the almost predictability of doing some of the same things every day. I like hanging the washing in the sun, flicking each item out to rid it of wrinkles and smelling the new soap we use. I like making a snack plate of apples and peanut butter for Emme and Jett and hearing them squeal ,”Apples” as if it’s the best snack ever. I like setting the table while my dinner is finishing up on the stove, laying each utensil neatly, a glass above each knife, the napkin folded into a rectangle in the center of each place. I like calling my family for dinner and then checking the time, noticing that we eat around six thirty every evening, whether I am trying to or not. I like that we are finding our groove and that the honeymoon period of living on a tropical island seems to have worn off and we are starting to actually LIVE here. I like that at the end of last year we decided our family word for the year would be “flow”, and it seems to already be fitting. What I love most about it, is that it seems to have slowed us down and settled us into a simpler way of life. Into a time where we are noticing life as it happens around us. I feel as though we are more aware.
Aware. Perhaps that will be my word for this year.
We have had some food fights recently. And by food fights, I mean fights about food and not the fun kind of food fights where things get crazy and food is hurtled across rooms. Although … there may have been an incident where some food was taken out of someone’s mouth and thrown on the floor, so that does kind of qualify. It wasn’t fun though and I didn’t feel happy or proud afterwards. And yes, it was me who threw the food. And no, I did not take it out of my own mouth.
Having five children means having five very different HUMANS. Some humans like food, all food. Some humans like to try new foods and base their decisions on whether or not they will eat these foods on the fact that they have actually allowed said food to pass their lips. Some humans genuinely don’t like certain foods, which is ok. Some humans eat large portions and others eat small portions. And then there are humans who think that seeing something and deciding that it doesn’t LOOK like something they will eat qualifies them to say, “I don’t like it”. I have some humans and they all fit into one or the other of these categories. The latter being the most fun category of all.
Moving to Mauritius has forced us to try out a lot of new food. Some of the foods we have tried, and liked, are foods we had never even heard of in South Africa. It has been a food adventure for sure. And, as with all adventures, there have been some moments where we have just really wished for the same ol’ same ol’. That said, for the most part we have enjoyed trying new things and most of the foods are delicious. I’m not sure I will ever like Jackfruit (jaquier or jacque in Mauritius). But, that’s ok.
Manioc (Cassava)Eating “Boulette” at the Mahebourg Waterfront
Delicious Coconut Pastry
At home, however, I have tried to keep it as “normal” as possible. As a family, we follow a predominantly plant based diet. The kids are used to, and enjoy, nourish bowls, lentils, vegetable stews, salads etc. They grew up on this stuff. We do make an occasional spaghetti bolognese or chicken something. But the child in question, has always been a natural vegetarian any way.
So, the food fight:
“Child” suddenly doesn’t eat ANYTHING but pasta or bread. All other food is “yucky” and child doesn’t like it. We manage on most nights to get Child to eat, sometimes we have to physically spoon things into Child’s mouth, but we generally win after a bit of conversation and cajoling.
Now, there are some factors that come in to play here. I have to understand some important things like developmental milestones, emotional and psychological factors, taste preferences, gender (I may be giving away Child’s identity a bit here. Sorry Child!) As a parent, I feel it is important to consider ALL these factors and aspects pertaining to “issues” we are having with our kids and then deal with them accordingly. And, for the most part, I am able to do this.
But, on the night of “Food Fight 2019” I had some of my own factors weighing out my rationale – I was tired, maybe a bit lonely, longing for some space of my own, feeling a bit drained by being present all the time and not carving out enough time for myself etc. etc.
This is how it went down. Child refused the food on offer. We tried our usual tactics and then “had” to deliver the “ultimatum”, “It is your choice. You can either try the food we have made for dinner or you can go to your room and wait for us to eat our own food and then you may come out. However, there will be no other food for you”. Of course we thought that this manipulation would work because parents are the boss and all that. It failed and Child landed up being force-fed a spoonful of food which Child proceeded to gag on and began sobbing hysterically. I calmly (like actually calmly) took Child’s hand to lead Child to the bedroom where I planned to have a rational discussion about food and its benefits etc.
* side note: if you know me, this is not my normal behaviour. Yes, I am calm, but I don’t usually turn things into a big drama and have power-play showdowns.
Well, we got into the room and the gagging had stopped. The food in the mouth was now clinging precariously to the lower lip and child was silently weeping. I asked Child to please swallow and Child refused. And then, I lost it. I grabbed the food, threw it on the floor and stormed out of the room after saying something mean like “Now you will stay here until we are finished eating” and some other mean things like “I’m sick of you not eating”.
I sat back down at the table where the rest of the family were silent and wide-eyed. Of course, I tried to believe I was justified in my actions. But sitting there and seeing them all looking at me like that was HORRIBLE. What I had done was just so mean, and they knew it. And, it was so out of character for me.
Here’s the deal, my child’s behaviour says NOTHING about my parenting. Child is a child and is actually entitled to behave like one. As I mentioned before, there are other factors to consider that affect a child’s behaviour. If I mindfully consider these factors, I am able to rationally approach helping Child to navigate his/her behaviour better and to make his/her own mindful choices. I am able to set achievable tasks and goals for my child and when he/she doesn’t achieve them, I am able to help him/her.
My behaviour says EVERYTHING about my parenting. Now hear me, I am not beating myself up over “Food Fight 2019”. In fact, I am actually laughing as I type because in retrospect it is ludicrous and super funny. It was also a direct result of me not being completely “ok”. I apologised to Child and we were able to move forward that night. Child even ate an entire bowl of food and declared, “I’m so proud of myself” at the end. But, how I respond or react to my children says EVERYTHING about me. My greatest role model is gracious, compassionate, slow to anger and ABOUNDING in love. What is love? Who is Love? I love the Passion Translation of the well-known verse in 1 Corinthians 13:
“Love is large and incredibly patient. Love is gentle and consistently kind to all. It refuses to be jealous when blessing comes to someone else. Love does not brag about one’s achievements nor inflate its own importance. 5 Love does not traffic in shame and disrespect, nor selfishly seek its own honor. Love is not easily irritated or quick to take offense. 6 Love joyfully celebrates honesty and finds no delight in what is wrong. 7 Love is a safe place of shelter, for it never stops believing the best for others. Love never takes failure as defeat, for it never gives up”.
May I model Love in my parenting and when I mess up, may I look to Love and see that my failures are not defeats. I will never give up trying to be a better parent. I will never give up learning how to better navigate the journey of parenting, which I can assure you never ends (my adult daughter is still my daughter). I will always strive to be a better me and to turn my eyes to Him, the Author and the Bar-setter. Again, thank you for joining me on this journey and my prayer is that you will be inspired, as I am, by Love.
We are having a slow Saturday. Most days here are slow, so when I say, “a slow Saturday”, I mean slooooow. Our initial plan was to wake up and head down to the beach, but Mica and I only got to sleep after 2am because the rats, or bats, in the roof where having a Friday night party that sounded like 3 grown men were dancing up there (exaggerated, but you get the idea). Needless to say, the beach morning didn’t happen. A long lie-in happened.
Emme and Jett have been playing Playmobil all day. I have read and flicked through Instagram, done a bit of washing, sipped coffee and nibbled panne chocolat (our Saturday morning tradition). At lunch time I made our other Saturday tradition, ham rolls, for lunch (so much for being plant based) and after that I went outside to hang my washing.
These tiny rolls will be the undoing of me. They are too, too delish!
Slipping off my shoes I curled my toes around a few blades of grass and felt the tickle of them, which made me smile. I stopped. I looked around. The sun was beating on the top of my head, reminding me that summer isn’t far away and this will be our first Mauritian summer. I felt a slight breeze slide across my face and the smell of my fresh washing wafted up to me. I looked down and saw my shoes, the washing, the pegs, my feet. And it looked so good. So real. I was 100% in the moment. I took out my phone to capture the moment, in the hopes that one day, when I see it, I am reminded to live in the moments. To take great pleasure in small things.
I see her, with her floating hair and tall, straight spine. I see her with her “walk-a-little-walk”, shimmying away from me. She turns and winks over her shoulder at me and for a moment we look into each other’s eyes. She smiles that smile, the one that says “Mum, I see you too” and we hold each other’s gaze a moment longer. Then she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders and she’s off again, all grown-up and classy and sure of herself . I am FILLED with pride, yet tears stream down my face. She is ready.
Moving to Mauritius has made me acutely aware of the fact that I have an adult daughter. A grown-up child who is forging her own way in this world. A human being capable of making her own (good, because thats how she rolls) decisions and of choosing where lives, what she does and how she wants to do it. And it is a rollercoaster ride for me, as her mum, to experience this all with her and away from her.
It is a really weird feeling to know that “my work here is done”. It gives me a funny bubbling in my chest – an almost heartbroken yet excited feeling. I am torn between complete awe and total devastation. I look at this human I created, this beautiful (like really, really beautiful) creature I spent almost every waking moment with for almost 20 years and I am just gobsmacked and gut-wrenched all at once. She is magnificent and she is not mine any more (even though she is and always will be). It makes me want to run and hold on to her forever and at the same time, I want to release her and see her do wonderful things, because I know that is what she is destined for.
I prayed for her, this daughter of mine. From the day I knew she was coming, I prayed. I asked for wisdom in raising her and for the strength to do a good, a Godly job. I didn’t succeed a lot of the time, but many times, I did. I prayed for her to be strong (“She is clothed with strength and dignity, she laughs at the things to come – Prov 31:25). I prayed that she would know God and seek him with all of her heart (“Seek first the Kingdom and His righteousness and all of these things will be added unto you” – Matt 6:33), I prayed that she would be wise and kind ( “She opens her mouth with wisdom and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue” – Prov 31:26). I prayed that she would know who she is (“By the grace of God, I am what I am” _ 1 Cor 15:10). Mostly, I prayed that she would know Love and that in return she would show love (“Let all that you do, be done in love” – 1 Cor 16:14). And she is all of these things. And I continue to pray. For all of these things, for all of her days. And for my other daughters, for all of their days.
I am grateful I have this time. This time to learn with Courts and this time to still enjoy with Ry, Mica, Emme and Jett. I pray that I can mindfully navigate parenting an adult while I traverse these fields of parenting children, preteens and teens. I pray that I can let go and hold on at the same time. I pray for the wisdom to stay present, to drink in the moments. To not allow time to be a thief but rather, to allow it to be a giver of good gifts. I pray that I never forget that the attachment theories I parented my babies with are the same theories that will grow well adjusted and healthy adults (as much as is possible). I pray that in all of it, that my children feel loved. Beyond measure. Always.
And so to you moms with daughters, a day is coming when you will have to face what I am facing (and it creeps up so quickly). I can not prep you adequately for this. But, I can say to you – what you put in now matters! The amount of love you LAVISH on her, means everything! The hours of sleepless nights, the tedious Barbie movies and shared popcorns, the fighting over homework or the late night chats over tea … they all matter. Every word you utter, matters. Every thing you teach her, good or bad, matters. I would encourage you to mindfully continue this journey, knowing that when your time comes, your words and actions and LOVE have a lasting impact. None of us can give our children a perfect childhood, none of us can be perfect. But, we can be mindful of the way we are equipping our girls (and boys). She will one day be someone’s friend, someone’s student, someone’s girlfriend, someone’s employee, someone’s wife, someone’s mother, someone’s employer, someone’s aunt and on and on it goes. Everything we do now matters. And then one day, it is done.
Raising strong girls is something I am passionate about (I am also passionate about raising a strong, kind boy) . I have four daughters, so I guess its a good thing I am. I would love to hear some of your thoughts on raising women and would absolutely love to answer some of your questions, if you have any. Pop me a message in the comments section and lets start a little series on “Daughters”.
In closing, the lyrics to the song “Daughter” by Sleeping At Last:
If only you knew
The sunlight shines a little brighter
The weight of the world’s a little lighter
The stars lean in a little closer
All because of you
I want to see
You lift your chin a little higher
Open your eyes a little wider
Speak your mind a little louder
’cause you are royalty
This is your kingdom
This is your crown
This is your story
This is your moment
Don’t look down
You’re ready, born ready
And all you gotta do
Is put one foot in front of you
Our ceiling is your floor
And all you gotta do
Is put one foot in front of you
If only you knew
If only you knew
The forests grew a little greener
The roots reach in little deeper
The birds all sing a little sweeter
All to welcome you
I want to see
Your happily ever after
That you know in your heart that you matter
This little thing we carry around with us. Its like an ugly purse we sling over our shoulder and then we start filling it. And when it starts getting too heavy, instead of putting it down, we shift it and readjust how we are carrying it, all the while it is getting more and more cumbersome and uncomfortable. Pretty soon it’s all we can think about. And still we don’t get rid of it. In fact, we start to tend it, like a bad dog. We hope that if we pay it the right amount of attention, it will get better. It’s kind of crazy, this nurturing of something bad.
I carried fear with me for too long. I knew it was there, so I slept with the light on in the hopes of not seeing it. Then I started reading late at night to make my eyes tired so that I could fall asleep. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was I was afraid of, but I think at the core of it, it was the unknown that scared me. I was scared of what I couldn’t see. Scared of possible bad things, failures and tragedies and scary things. And the more I tried to ignore it, the more attention I paid to it. Nursing it while it festered and started to eat away at me.
I had kids and the fear became focused on any unknown outcome for them. Would they be safe at home with a babysitter, would they accidentally kill themselves, would I ride over them in my car when reversing, would they get sick and die? And then so many fears became realities: I had scary pregnancies and premature babies, my daughter (then 11) was held at knife point by an intruder, I experienced the loss of a baby at 16 weeks pregnant, severe illness plagued me, I had some scary moments with kids not breathing and them getting terribly ill where we thought for sure we would lose them, my marriage went through some serious lows and I wondered if we would last (we did, thank God) … and I survived.
And in surviving, I slowly started to loosen my hold on the fear I had slung over my shoulder that was weighing me down. Pretty soon it was just a little thing I dragged around with me. I stopped paying it as much attention and perhaps I became a bit cocky. My name means “Victorious, Overcomer” so I started to live up to that name. Meanwhile, fear was following me, waiting for a chance to reestablish itself on my shoulder and start weighing me down again. Every now and then it nipped at my heals, but for the most part it just was “there”, dragging.
And then in a moment it was back. We suddenly came under some vicious attacks – my kids were living in so much fear that they suffered emotionally and physically. The fear I had thought was gone, was right there. Only this time, it threatened to take me down completely. The final straw came in the form of a personal experience that left me completely shaken and completely exposed. It was in that moment that I realised I couldn’t rely on my own strength to protect me (not only physically but also emotionally and spiritually). I admitted defeat and high-tailed it to “safety”. I was in a place where I felt safe again.
And then slowly, the fear started to creep back in. This time, it wasn’t fear of the physical harm we had endured. It was fear of being alone, fear of not having enough, fear of being unhappy. Our closest friends suffered a major tragedy that completely shook us. It was fear on a deeper, darker level and I knew that outside of surrender, I would never make it out.
“Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine” – Isaiah 43:1. Jessica Kastner, in an article she wrote for Huffpost, says “God actually commands us not to fear, or worry. The phrase “fear not” is used at least 80 times in the Bible, most likely because He knows the enemy uses fear to decrease our hope and limit our victories“. All this time, the enemy was actually attacking what I knew to be true about myself – he was attacking my “Victorious, Overcomer”. And all this time, I was trying to be just that, but in my own strength. The thing is, I wasn’t LISTENING to God, I was just BEGGING Him to help me. And through it all, He was saying “Fear not”.
Fear not. I began my surrender there. Any time I felt that fear, it was a “fear not” moment. I began to mindfully lean in to His voice and in so doing renew my mind. My load began to lift. And what is crazy is that as this was happening, my world around me began to shift so much – we faced some HUGE decisions as a family, we faced financial strain like never before, we faced difficulty that under “normal” circumstances would have destroyed us. But the “Fear not” became a way for me to stop. To pause. To exhale. To let go. And to turn my eyes to the One who says “I have called you by name; you are Mine”.
Our decision to leave South Africa, strangely (or not), had very little to do with fear. For most South Africans, the choice to leave is often driven by fear. For us, we are finally leaning in to His voice and in so doing, seeking to move our family into more of what He has planned for us. Part of that plan, we believe, is to set up and “leave an inheritance for our children’s children”. Mauritius is Marc’s inheritance through his own father and therefore an inheritance for our children and so, we will sow as wisely as we can into this new season as we seek to leave an inheritance for OUR grandchildren. Fear has nothing to do with it.
” Fear not” is a big exhale. And with each exhale there is an inhale. I know life will not be plain sailing. I know there are still so many challenges and struggles that I will face. Sometimes I feel that fear tickling in my core, sometimes I even entertain it a little. But now, now I am not doing it alone.
“I have told you these things, so that in Me you will have peace.In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have OVERCOME the world.” – John 16:33.
From the blur of the past two weeks to the complete slowing down and exhaling in order to inhale. Things have got a whole lot slower around here and I have to say I am loving it. We wake up and start our days slowly, we linger over meals and take our time with our schoolwork. Emme and Jett play for HOURS with their Playmobil or Enchantimals. And it is good.
If you know me, you know I live by the “Live simply, simply live” motto and that I am fairly close to being a “minimalist”. I love the freedom having less brings. I love that in order to have “more” we have managed to declutter our lives and simplify the way live so much so, that moving to another country hasn’t required a huge shipping container of “stuff”. Instead, we have set aside some special items, like art work and books, to come across in a crate when we have found a home and settled in. Before I left South Africa I bought new bed linen for the kids which came with us in their bags. They each brought some treasured items and Emme and Jett each brought 2 medium sized tubs of toys. Thats all we have with us aside from clothes, right now.
We have always believed in not only living more simply in terms of our material goods, but also in terms of the way we run (or slowly jog) our lives. We believe in slow mornings, taking time to be mindful of our present moments, stopping to smell the proverbial roses etcetera etcetera.
So, you can imagine that if I am saying that things are slow here, that they must be really slow. It feels almost as if we have more hours in the day. As if time is actually going more slowly. Not in a “I’m so bored this day is dragging” kind of way either. It’s more a, ” This day is so lovely and long, I wish it would never end”. I feel unhurried. I feel like I could walk across a lawn and actually take time to feel every blade of grass under my feet and still have a day stretching out in front of me. It seems almost weird. And oh so wonderful!
I am reading my FIFTH book since arriving here. The kids have done more school work than ever before (and have started their Mauritian curriculum). We make it down to the beach almost every day. We feed the chickens and play in the garden and look for eggs and have snacks. I cook dinner with the windows wide open and a breeze blowing in. After dinner I wash the dishes slowly while the kids shower and have some tech time. We all read before bed.
I am finally exhaling.
Taking time to have time is an invaluable lesson I am learning on this journey. Thank you for taking time to be with me as I traverse these waters and this land. The lessons are unfolding and I feel a new me coming on.
I love this sense of rhythm, this moving easily from task to task, all the while breathing in the life around me. I like the almost predictability of doing some of the same things every day. I like hanging the washing in the sun, flicking each item out to rid it of wrinkles and smelling the new soap we use. I like making a snack plate of apples and peanut butter for Emme and Jett and hearing them squeal ,”Apples” as if it’s the best snack ever. I like setting the table while my dinner is finishing up on the stove, laying each utensil neatly, a glass above each knife, the napkin folded into a rectangle in the center of each place. I like calling my family for dinner and then checking the time, noticing that we eat around six thirty every evening, whether I am trying to or not. I like that we are finding our groove and that the honeymoon period of living on a tropical island seems to have worn off and we are starting to actually LIVE here. I like that at the end of last year we decided our family word for the year would be “flow”, and it seems to already be fitting. What I love most about it, is that it seems to have slowed us down and settled us into a simpler way of life. Into a time where we are noticing life as it happens around us. I feel as though we are more aware.
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