Still Here

I’ve missed you.

I briefly considered moving this blog to another platform, such as Substack or Medium, but I couldn’t quite get the technical details sorted out. So for now, I’m still here. 

Monday was my birthday, and what a year it has been.

We’re mostly settled into our new state of Georgia, and life feels more contented here. It’s not really about the state itself; it’s about proximity. Being closer to family and friends. Finding my people. That makes all the difference.

When Life Looks Messy

One summer, my mum decided to teach my sisters and me how to embroider. She thought it was a useful skill we needed in our arsenal, and it was something to remove any boredom we supposedly thought we had.

So, embroidery classes started at home during the hot summer. My mom bought white pillowcases, thread, and a pattern. The pattern showed us what we were trying to achieve, the thread was the right weight and color for the pattern, and the pillowcases were a blank canvas.

She then explained how each stitch produced a certain pattern;  satin, knot, and chain stitch are some that I remember. But there were many more. The thing with each of these stitches is that they produced a beautiful pattern on the right side of the pillow, but the underside was not so appealing. The underside is where you could correct mistakes without starting over. It's

Handling Weapons

Life can be a lot. It’s messy, complicated, and honestly, exhausting sometimes. There are moments when it feels like everything is working against you: a boss who seems to have it out for you, a friend who talks behind your back, or even someone you trusted taking you to small claims court. Yeah, it gets real.

When I feel like I’m being dragged through the mud, there’s one verse that always comes to mind. It’s one of those go-to scriptures people quote when things get tough:

Surrender, Connection, and the Gift of Learning

It’s a peaceful Sunday morning. Raindrops are gently falling; not torrential, just enough to cool the air. I step outside my front door and take in the view: grass as green and lush as a carpet, shrubbery shaped like small balls, full of promise and growth. If peace had a form, I imagine it would look like this.

No swirling thoughts in my mind, just the quiet joy of basking in God’s creation. Surrounded. Surrendered. Humbled. Grateful.