the undoing
the story of a heart learning to delight again
Children are just utterly captivating. Just the other day in Church a little girl was sitting in front of me, her rainbow sequin dress casting sparkling lights to follow her every movement. Her toothy smile was daring but shy as she kept stealing glances at my sister and I. I gave her a cheeky wink (the best wink that I could give without looking like I was having a stroke) and she giggled joyously, hiding her face behind her arm. My sister, Chel, caught her eye and playfully stuck out her tongue. Immediately she started to copy Chel with unmatched enthusiasm. Her mother sitting next to her caught her in the act, appalled, and quietly shook her head as she tried to get her to stop.
A joy bubbled up in me.
I wanted this little girl to take me by the hand and show me the princesses she liked, to tell me about the broccoli her mom tried to give her last night, and about the sea that fascinates yet frightens her and triumphantly show me that she just learned to count to 20.
There is something so inexplicably wondrous about children.
We’re drawn to them in the way that Ariel was drawn to the human world in A Little Mermaid. Something in us just wants a glimpse of their universe, a taste of how they see life, unfiltered and full of abundance. We want to share in their simple delight and unbridled innocence.
It reminds us of a time when life seemed just so straightforward, when joy could be found in the smallest of things, like the little snail we found in the garden or the fact that mom allowed us an extra piece of chocolate after dinner. We want to share in their world where laughter comes so easily and ‘worry’ is a word they have yet to learn the meaning of.
Life seems to have ‘done’ a lot to us that we have come so far from this version of our younger selves. That’s what the Lord has been highlighting to me the last while. The difficulties of this year caused my focus to shift inward. Each day was a matter of surviving, keeping my head down and getting through the next mundane thing. This realisation dawned on me slowly, over a culmination of moments, as God gently nudged my heart to say,
‘Child, look around’
It’s in these three words that He started the undoing. Undoing the repeated thoughts I had about myself and others, undoing the way I see myself (that one we’re still working on), undoing the way I see Him, undoing my entire perspective. Each knot that life had made in the tapestry of this year He began to undo. Through this He wove something new, still in the making, but based on sheer delight and gratitude, always looking around for something to be grateful for. Always looking to Him to delight in. Everyday my heart sings:
‘Look how far I’ve come. Thank you Jesus.’
I stumbled upon a song the other day that just came on while a worship playlist I’d found was on shuffle. Every time I need a reminder of those three words, I just put my headphones in and play this song on full volume:
Lift your head up. Anything is possible.
This is the exact thing I see in children, this magic that they hold. They take in the moment around them, savouring all the little joys while living so authentically and freely, possibility just inexorably emanating from who they are, we can’t help but be captivated by them. And before you are a friend, a brother, a teacher, a world-changer, a creative or a problem-solver, you are a child of God, you are His.
That’s what God is teaching me to do in this undoing and unlearning of things that human instinct seems to have taught me. He is teaching me to be His child and to let my heart delight in Him and His beauty all the days of my life.
He calls us to more. He calls us to higher. He calls us to look around and believe that through Him, anything is possible. That’s why He so graciously sits and undoes the things we’ve taught ourselves when coping with hardship and struggles of this world. He doesn’t want us to remain stuck in that place of captivity. He wants us to let go and step fully into this abundant life that He has so compassionately offered us.
Let Him undo what life has taught you. Let Him weave abundant life into your tapestry.
Listen as His careful and loving voice whispers in the wind and sunsets, flowers and flavours:
‘Child, look around’
This is going to sound so cliché, but I can’t write this piece and not talk about gratitude. That’s the whole basis of looking around. Just stop. Take a breath. Take a moment and look around. To see where you are, remember where you were, and let your heart spill over in absolute gratitude.
May we never get over what He has done for us.
May He teach us to delight like children once again.
There’s a lot that God can do with a grateful heart. I’m learning that slowly but surely.
The last 6 months have been a joyful blur of finding my feet and my people as I’ve made Stellenbosch my new home. My mind just sees bursts of colour and life when the memories of the last while flash in my mind and I’m ever so grateful for what God has done. I’ll never get over it, remembering how this year started and where I’ve ended up now. It feels like a coming of age movie montage, flicking through each moment in my mind and feeling my heart swell with immense gratitude.
I’ve started making videos again, too. Oh how my creative heart has flourished with that! It’s such a dream that God has placed on my heart for the longest time and I’m having so much fun exploring it. My most recent video is really close to my heart, all about what 2024 has taught me and reflecting on my first year of university. It’s a love note to 2024.
Currently I’m living in a haze of long beach days spent reading, swimming and wasting away in the summer sun. This is my definition of holiday: no notion of time or obligation to it. I’m loving every second.
Especially being able to reconnect with my family in a way that we haven’t been able to do in what feels like forever.
And I’ve discovered that I really enjoy painting! I recently painted my Bible cover with a landscape of the sunrise over the sea (my happy place, where I feel closest to God). I so enjoyed the whole experience: the mixing of colours, the precision yet freedom of it, the sheer joy from the whole piece coming together.
It also made me think about how God paints the sky with something new everyday and His paintings are moving, ever-changing! It takes Him only a couple seconds to take our breath away.
Along with spending all this time creating I’ve also been looking ahead to the year that is upon us, twenty twenty five. A quarter of the way through the 21st century (as my dad would say: ‘dis mal!’) I’ll officially be entering my 20s next year and I have quite a few mixed feelings about that (and I’ll write about it when the time comes). But when I think of a new year, of 2025, I just get a deep sense that there is an adventure on the horizon.
That this year it’s going to be me and Jesus, learning and living His word while loving His people.
It makes me excited to go back to university. To start the year knowing everything I know now, ready to go and make the most of every moment and opportunity. Ready for what God is going to do.
I look forward to documenting the adventure of twenty twenty five on here. I look forward to many more moments of looking up and knowing that anything is possible in this abundant life.
Loads of prayers and love,
gené xx
Wow this is so beautifully written and one can easily identify and be inspired... you have a gift 💝
This was the most refreshing read… overflowing with hope, love, joy and a pure child-like faith! Thank you again for always sharing, so proud of you xx 🐬🌟🌈