This weekend, I was reminded that some of life's richest moments don't come with the biggest price tag. It's the school holidays, and my daughter kept insisting on a mother-and-daughter day. I loved the idea, but almost immediately my mind went somewhere familiar. How much is this going to cost? I started calculating. Activities. Outings. Lunches. Entertainment. Before we'd done a single thing, I'd already convinced myself that creating a meaningful day together would require

Last Sunday, after church, we did what we always do at the end of every school term. We went for lunch. Nothing fancy. Just our family, gathered around a table, raising our glasses to another season completed. Somewhere along the way, this became one of our family traditions. For years, I told myself I didn't want to create traditions. I associated traditions with obligation and routines that had to be followed. But I've come to realise that not all traditions limit us.

There were moments during this journey when I wasn't sure I would finish. In fact, I went as far as talking myself out of completing the course. "Surely the certificate is not that important." "I am already coaching through a neuro-lens." "I know this work." The noise in my head was loud. Yet, every time I considered walking away, I came back to one question: Why did I start this journey in the first place?

I am no longer carrying the weight of needing him to be different. The Difference Between Presence and Connection. Not everyone who is present is connected. Not everyone who occupies a role fulfils it. Not everyone we call father feels like Dad. And yet, life asks us a difficult question - What do we do with the spaces that were never filled?

Some of the most meaningful things we build begin long before anyone else can see them.

Sometimes the hardest thing to recover from is not the financial loss. It's the identity that was built around surviving it. I remember January 2019. Everyone seemed excited about the year ahead. New Year Resolution. Returning to work. Setting goals. Talking about opportunities and possibilities. And there I was. Trying to hold on to hope while quietly feeling crippled by uncertainty. Losing my job didn't almost feel like losing my identity. It did. I genuinely didn't know wh

Keke Mothibi | Age 11 | Grade 6 Some children grow up too aware. Too aware of financial stress. Too aware of tension in the home. Too aware of what their parents are carrying emotionally. They learn early how not to ask for too much. How to shrink their needs. How to become helpful, easy, independent and understanding. Not because anyone explicitly asked them to. But because they could see. I think about this often now as an adult. How many of us became emotionally responsibl

A Sunday Soul reflection on motherhood, emotional healing, resilience, and the quiet ways love continues stitching us together through life.

A reflective Sunday Soul post on self-trust, behaviour change, resilience, and the quiet inner work behind personal growth and leadership wellbeing.

Mothers' Day feels different when your mother is no longer here. There’s beauty in the day. But there’s also an ache that arrives quietly.