I had always been the ‘quiet’ child.
Throughout my childhood years my wonderful imagination served as a safe harbor, a place void of judgement. A space where I could laugh at myself and feel OK to be silly. The love of words opened that door for me a long time ago. I learnt from a young age that a good book can take you places, but a great one has the power to keep you there for just a while longer.
I was born at the Frere Hospital in East London. It wasn’t long after that, when we relocated to the Transkei where my father was commissioned to be the Commander of a Police station. Due to unrest and rioting we moved back to the Eastern Cape where I attended the majority of my primary school years. Together with my sister and brother this coastal city produced some of my fondest family memories. From there we moved to Springs in Gauteng, (my mother was advanced in her career) and become a Police Chaplain. The last move we would embark on was to the Western Cape – Paarl. Where I completed my last high school years.
Not really knowing in which direction to study after matriculating, I persuaded my parents to send me to France, Paris where I lived for nearly two years. I celebrated my 18th birthday in a foreign country and it was in that moment that my love for traveling was born. When I returned to South Africa, I was enthralled by university studies of 1st Century BC Roman mythology and sociology which was sparked by my travels in Rome. I went on to study Theology and finally became a registered Pastoral counselor through CPSC. This was initially fashioned from my fascination with addiction and abnormal psychology.
I live in Hartenbos with my husband and two precious daughters whom I love and adore more with each passing day. I regard my greatest life’s work to be the lives of my children.
Who without fail, challenge me to be my best! At worst, I am but an empty vessel, a blank palette without the Lord, who has given me every good gift. To Him, I give all the praise and honor.
I believe, that we all have stories to tell. Some will transpire enough tears to wash away mountains, while others will invoke hope to billow into the skies. Our stories ebb and flow with the tides of time and are relevant to era’s in our lives. Our memoirs can be weapons of destruction or power tools. We need to be responsible and harness our words to make sure that we use our past to build the present, to construct bridges and not to burn them down. Our words are a testimony of the condition of our hearts.
incase you missed it, below you can read some of my latest blog posts
"My life is a testimony, that God is able to trade what was once seen as ashes and turn it into beauty!" “Did you get a chance to read it yet, was it ok?” Holding my quaking breath, I pressed my cell phone as close to my ear as humanly possible, feeling vulnerable and...
I must admit, this blog, to date – has been the most difficult to express in words. It has without a doubt, frustrated me beyond belief. Yet challenging enough, to not want this opportunity to pass me by without bringing its truth, to life, on this platform. Who...
I am not sure of the exact moment it happened, but when it did, I knew something magical had taken place. I had awoken to a world of wonder! I was able to experience words, in stupendous colours. If I dared to infuse them extravagantly enough, a perfumed fusion of...