Tag: writing

Who Tends to the Gardener?

13.11.24

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One night, in the stillness between our laughter and longing,
I asked, with an ache —
Who tends to you?
Who waters your roots?

You paused, the way only you would pause
when the question is not about tasks
but tenderness.

And then, that smile
that always comes before your honesty:
“I don’t believe in God — But I’ve borrowed my father’s truth:
Help yourself, so help you God.”

You spoke it like a vow
not to a deity,
but to the earth you keep tilling,
to the lives you hold dear.

You tend to yourself, you said,
and Clemence tends to the heavy lifting.
You did not mention
the weight behind your eyes.
You did not mention
the softness you refuse yourself.

And I, holding that answer like a bruise,
wanted to offer my hands
as balm.
As one who kneels beside
the man who forgets he, too, is made of flesh.

So I said nothing.

I only reached for you,
the way the sun reaches for the garden —
not to claim it,
but to remind it:
you deserve light, too.

– Lele

The Goose-Gander Fallacy

10.11.24

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They sat in a deliberate silence at the dinner table as the flames of six candles danced in mock romance, illuminating the tension beneath the surface of the air around them. She spoke first.

“Regarding last night’s conversation,” she ventured, not entirely sure how she would end the sentence.

“Even though I think I might be developing feelings for you, I understand and respect what you’re looking for in a relationship.”

She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the clock on the far side of the kitchen: 19h27, it reported. Soon, he would have to leave the dinner table, as he always did for his daily commitment at 20h00.

“My feelings won’t change our dynamic,” she promised earnestly. It was an honest lie. One she repeated even to herself, as if donning a mask hoping that her face would grow to fit it.

He chewed quietly as she paused. Though she did not look at him, she knew his expression was inscrutible. She knew he would offer nothing, so she went on.

“I’m enjoying what we have,” she declared as she stared into the bowl in front of her and rearranged some mushrooms with her fork. “If at any point I feel that it’s not right for me, I’ll be honest and take a step back.”

“So, there’s nothing to worry about,” she said with finality, as if the words alone were enough to avert the danger.

“I’m fully here for things as they are.”

Her tongue carried the words with difficulty, and both goose and gander heard the truth.

-Lele

Devotion

31.10.24

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You called them duties.

I call them devotions.

Small rituals of belonging

to you.

One. No perfume.

No mask.

Just the skin you crave,

unadorned

and honest.

Two. Dress in desire—

Sheer threads that whisper your name.

Three. You want smooth,

wet—

not just ready,

but aching.

Four. Use my mouth to worship.

To taste eternity

in something as fleeting as your breath.

Five. Finish.

Often.

Forgetting restraint.

Six. Clear the table

like we clear space in time—

for this.

For us.

And seven.

Enjoy it.

Every second.

It’s belonging.

-Lele

Mine

18.10.24

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She had been absorbed in Wilbur Smith’s ‘Birds of Prey’. Now she looked up into his eyes. “You can be assured that I’ll always respect your wishes,” she said in the matter-of-fact tone she’d perfected over lifetimes.

His jaw flexed. They were sitting across from each other in his garden. It was a beautiful Sunday in the Cape. His eyes were fixed on hers, defying her to reveal herself

“My understanding,” she continued, “was that we’d take a step back from that specific conversation for now.”

She returned his gaze as she closed the book on her lap. “I wasn’t aware that getting to know you better constituted “pushing me”.

“In fact,” she inclined her head thoughtfully.

“I’d love to spend more time with you. I feel that would give me a clearer sense of where we might go from here.”

He watched her silently. His eyes seeming to charge with amused curiosity as she continued, “Though it seems that on your end, you might require some assurance of a specific return before you spend any more time exploring how this might continue to grow.”

She stopped abruptly and took a breath; as if her words had been running ahead of her and she’d finally caught up to them.

Her words hung in the air against the backdrop of Toto’s ‘Africa’ playing in the distant living room.

He reached for his glass of Windhoek beer and drank deeply. He made a joke about finally having his first sip of refreshing beer after a long day; it was in fact his second glass of beer, and the second time today that he’d told that joke.

But when he looked at her in that boyish way, full of humour and mischief, she couldn’t help but melt. She couldn’t resist. Her face shone as she shook her head and laughed generously. It was a warm laughter that took over her whole body.

After a short silence during which she considered him keenly, she spoke.

“In the spirit of open cards,” she began.

“I recently broke off an engagement, so firstly I have no appetite for a similar kind of arrangement at the moment, I’m enjoying committing to myself instead.”

She had a detached way of speaking, balancing clarity and finality, as if she were delivering a verdict. But it was her body that always gave her away.

He observed her. She would shuffle uncomfortably in her seat, or brushed imaginary stray locks from her face.

Now she inclined her chin and continued, “And secondly, it’s been years since I’ve expected fidelity from a man.”

His brow furrowed.

“Nevertheless,” she started quickly, looking down onto the carpet where Cane lay at her feet licking his paws contentedly.

“Going into a relationship that’s founded on the principle of non-monogamy is still new terrain for me,” she continued.

“And I want to be honest with you about the fact that I have no experience here. I don’t want you to get the impression that I’ll be able to navigate it immediately.”

He looked up at her from the now-empty beer glass in his hand, still weeping from its erstwhile contents. He seemed to be searching her eyes for something familiar.

When their eyes met; he found it.

– Lele

Patience and Discipline

Every test of patience asks “In whose time will this happen?”

Impatience says “In my time.”

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In a previous season of my life, I learned that patience is not simply the act of waiting. Instead, patience is how one waits. Patience is the difference between waiting in anxious frustration, and waiting in calm equanimity.

In this season of my life, I’m learning to perfect my patience by not waiting at all. You need time? You’ve got it, but I’m not waiting. I’ll be moving ahead with something else. I surrender any expectations – a feat I owe to God’s grace. In this way, patience is an exercise in discipline.

Meanwhile, human beings are fallen and susceptible to hubris. We have desires, expectations and tend to want to control outcomes. This is why patience, which I understand as the discipline to detach from outcomes, challenges so many. Releasing control (or the illusion thereof) often means facing feelings of vulnerability, and requires courage. It is about cultivating the self-control required to surrender to the unknown.

Beyond courage, however, this manner of detachment requires faith. Faith is having such clarity about eternal truths that detachment from specific outcomes becomes possible: God is in charge; God is love; I am chosen; God is working things out for my good; etc. The question, therefore, is not just “In whose time will this happen?,” but “Who would presume to know better than the Creator?”

This understanding reveals why patience is such a powerful heart posture. The Word tells us that “without faith it is impossible to please God.” Patience, like the other fruits of the Spirit, is a posture of profound inner-strength. It is about trusting God’s Word – His love, grace, and timing. All is and will be exactly as it should be.

I know that my life unfolds in the hand of a Sovereign God and according to His perfect plan. From that perspective, impatience seems quite futile really. I don’t need to know or control everything, I only need to stay connected to the One who does.

– Lele M

Still I Write

We had broken up.

No contact; because talking would pull us back into the cycles of anger, offense, and defense.

I wrote to you; scribbling urgently on pages until I couldn’t see through the tears that made the dark ink bleed. To soothe my heart, I had committed to writing a letter every time I missed you. Every time I wanted to say something to you, I would say it on paper. After all, I did not need for you to hear or receive it. I simply needed to have shared it.

Several weeks and a full notebook later, I had accumulated a hefty stack of personal confessions, hopes, odes, and prayers. My strategy was working well enough.

And then, for whatever reason… perhaps in my naivety, I sought your acknowledgement of my feelings… I gave you those letters. In between awkward platitudes and under a sky that seemed to hang lower than usual, I handed over to you the thick envelope of my heart.

Something inside me died when I learned that you threw it away. The risk had not even occurred to me. I thought I might never write again. What you did was sacrilegious, it was final, and it was necessary.

In the wrong hands, the depth of my vulnerability is no different from used toilet paper and rotting produce.

Now I write, not to grieve, but to survive.

-Lele M

What a Fall

The fall. A narrative as old as time, woven into the very fabric of creation.

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Genesis 3 tells of a paradise shattered, of innocence lost, and of an intimacy with God interrupted by a single choice. “What is this you have done?” the Lord asks, His voice heavy with the weight of love betrayed. And in that moment, humanity’s relationship with God—and with one another—was forever changed.

I find myself reflecting on the fall, not in Eden, but in my own life. A public union of hearts and lives, shared and celebrated, has ended. The first partner I ever called home is now no longer mine. The mighty have fallen, the poets say. Though I am no king, my heart feels the weight of that phrase. How fragile the human spirit is, how vulnerable we are when we give ourselves to another, laying bare our hopes and fears, trusting they will be held with care.

In the aftermath, I have asked myself: Was it love that failed, or was it simply us? Is love eternal, as scripture teaches, or is it fractured by the very human vessels that attempt to carry it? Perhaps it is both. Perhaps love remains pure, even as we stumble under its weight.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable,” C.S. Lewis once wrote. “Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.” To love is to risk the fall, to step into the unknown with faith that the one you hold close will not let go. Yet, sometimes, they do. Or perhaps it is we who loosen our grip, weary from the journey, distracted by our own frailty.

The fall reminds me of surrender—not just to love, but to God, who is love itself. What does it mean to surrender when the heart is broken? It means to offer up the pieces, trusting that the hands that shaped the heavens can also reshape the human heart. It means to acknowledge that the fall is not the end of the story. Eden was lost, but grace abounds. The mighty fall, but the humble are lifted.

In this moment, I see the nature of man: fragile, flawed, often blind to the divine within one another. I see the nature of relationships: mirrors that reflect not only beauty but also brokenness. And I see the nature of love: a call to transcend the fall, to forgive as we are forgiven, to endure as God endures.

Perhaps this is the beginning of a new story—not one of perfect love but of perfecting love. For even in the fall, there is grace. And grace, I am learning, is where healing begins.

-Lele M

You belong to God

Dear Younger Self,

I pray this letter finds you when you need it. I understand the burden you carry, so I’ll begin by assuring you of a truth which I hope will penetrate your pain, depression, and anxiety: The loving God who created you is still in charge.

This truth, indeed the truth of all truths, goes back to Genesis 1:1 “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” This verse is more than just the opening line of the Bible; it’s a foundational truth that will shape your understanding of God and the world around you. In only 10 words, the verse offers you the following encouragement:

  • Before anything else existed, God was there, initiating everything you know and see.
  • The Hebrew name used here, “Elohim,” reveals God’s nature as the powerful Creator. Remember, this Creator is not just powerful but also loving and intimately involved in every detail of His creation.
  • The phrase “the heavens and the earth” encompasses all of creation, from the vast expanse of the cosmos to the smallest intricacies of life. Everything finds its origin in God’s loving hand.

Now, why is any of this important to you? Acknowledging God as Creator forms the bedrock of your existence, and developing faith. It’s more than a theological concept; it’s a truth that will ground you in times of uncertainty and inspire awe in moments of wonder.

As you grow, remember that understanding God as “Alpha and Omega” shapes your worldview. It defines your identity and purpose. It keeps you humble by reminding you of your place in His economy.

Depend on God. Trust in His wisdom and guidance. The same God who spoke the universe into existence is the One who cares for you deeply. Let this truth anchor your prayers, your decisions, and your relationships.

I’ve created a YouTube video to explore the practical application of this teaching. In sum, pray fervently and seek God’s presence in every aspect of your life. Let His creative power and purpose infuse your thoughts and actions. Your faith journey begins here, with the profound truth of Genesis 1:1.

– Lele M

The Recovering Feminist

Her Style

“Elegance is elimination.” – Cristóbal Balenciaga

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My style journey has spanned through the full range of creative expressions. I have donned the vintage, the artsy, the casual, the grunge, the chic, the bohemian, the sexy, and the exotic fashion style. My current style borrows artfully from each of these.

My coming to faith has informed the philosophy from which I derive my style. I invoke the word here in its active form – as a verb. Styling; to give a particular style to something, to confer a flair or finesse to the way you dress. Personally, I have always liked plain solid colours in cool or neutral tones. I enforce a maximum of three different colours in an outfit. Of course, single-colour and monochrome outfits are first prize.

I never imagined that I’d fall in love with (and feel at home in) the girly and feminine too. I never imagined that my maturing in style would mean playfulness, appreciating tiny floral prints, bows, warm colours, ruffles, and stilettos. When I purchase scents I’m looking for something that smells like food – something sweet and edible.

Watch more about my style journey here:

– Lele M