I do not fit into a box.

it took

me

a lifetime to realise

that it is perfectly

ok

to walk away from

the people

who would bruise

the soft roundness

of me,

with their

square boxes.

—I do not fit into a box.

Walk a mile.

I was going to

tell

you

how to walk

this road,

but then I found

that

your shoes

didn’t fit

me.

—Walk a mile.

Raw.

With every

word

that I write,

I remove

another

layer of skin.

One day,

I shall

find myself

again.

—Raw.

A gentle reminder—feed your family, first.

I am a writer, poet and a blogger.

There is no greater joy than having a piece of my writing accepted for print, or hearing that someone was touched by one of my poems.

Writing is a healing process for me, but sometimes it feels as if I spend my day flinging snippets of myself all over social media—Instagram, Twitter, Submittable, my website and Facebook—all in the hopes that some of it will take root somewhere, and grow.

And in that process, where I am feeding the world—feeding myself to the world—my family starve, because they don’t get the best of me. They are the ones who deserve the very best of my time and my presence.

So, my heart today is to remind you, no matter WHO you are, remember to feed the most important people in your life first.

Everything else will then fall perfectly into place.

Much love,

Liezel

Choosing to walk gently.

This morning my little boy and I took a lovely long walk in the woods.

Homeschooling affords us the luxury of escaping to the outdoors and soaking up nature whenever we want to.

The last few days I have been mulling over a thought that keeps tugging away at me.

If I only had one month left to live, what would I do differently?

Of course, I have experienced this before, except I was 25, not a Mum and I was given three months to live.

God graciously saved my life that first time.

But that was several years ago and there are days that I forget just how precious every, single moment of life *really* is.

I get caught up in the stressful minutiae of the day and before I know it, my joy is struggling to rise up against the heaviness that always walks hand-in-hand with stress.

So, I am making a conscious effort to slow down and look for the beauty that is all around me—to actively look for the little things that bring joy. And the good news?

They’re usually free, and freely available.

A walk in the quiet of a sun-dappled wood this morning, hearing my son chatter away—filled my heart with peace and joy.

Might I encourage you to do the same?

Walk gently through your day and collect those beautiful moments.

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