saturday

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.

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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.

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fear

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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.

 

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“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”.

 

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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.

 

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” 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.

 

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“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.

 

slow, slower and slower-er

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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.

 

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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.