Loved Held

You are Loved.....

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 — 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬
As the months turned into years ( now 18 years), our hope began to mingle with frustration, and I found myself navigating a world of appointments, tests, and quiet desperation. The sterile smell of clinics, the cold hum of machines, and the endless forms became the backdrop to our lives. Each visit held the promise of answers, yet most often delivered only questions.
I prayed constantly, sometimes aloud, sometimes in silence. “Lord, guide the doctors. Give us wisdom. Give us life.” My prayers were a mixture of faith and pleading, of trust and fear. And yet, each setback, a negative test, an inconclusive result, a “we’ll try again next month”, chipped away at the fragile walls of hope I had built.
There were moments when I felt my faith faltering. How could God remain silent while my heart ached? I wrestled with my beliefs, asking questions I had never dared to voice: 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫? 𝐀𝐦 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠? 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲? The words often rose like flames in my chest, then dissolved into tears.
Even amid disappointment, though, there were flickers of grace. The love of my spouse held me when I wanted to collapse. Small victories, a supportive doctor, a supportive Pastor and his wife, a moment of laughter, a prayer that felt answered in ways I could not yet see, reminded me that life, even in its brokenness, held sparks of light.
I learned that the journey through barrenness is not just physical; it is spiritual and emotional. Every disappointment was a crucible, shaping resilience, compassion, and a deeper understanding of what it means to hope without guarantees. I began to see that God’s presence was not in the absence of struggle, but in walking with me through it, listening, comforting, and strengthening me when I could not strengthen myself.
It was a slow, painful, yet illuminating path, a journey that would continue to test my patience, my faith, and my understanding of love, yet would ultimately reveal a heart capable of profound endurance and grace.

My message to you Today, after reading this chapter!
You may be going through the same right now… take heart, hold on, and don’t lose yourself.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟗: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

Scripture: "Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28 (NIV)

There comes a point in the waiting journey when your heart feels tired—not from lack of faith, but from carrying hope for so long. Even strong believers grow weary.
Jesus doesn’t shame your weariness. He invites you to bring it to Him.
You don’t have to hide your exhaustion. You don’t have to pretend your faith is perfect. God strengthens real people with real emotions, real struggles, and real questions.
When your belief feels tired, let God breathe fresh strength into you. Rest is not quitting—it’s allowing God to refill what waiting has drained.

𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫
Lord, I am weary. Renew my strength and refresh my hope. Restore my joy as I wait on You. Amen.

𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩
Take a moment to breathe deeply. Whisper to God: “Here is my weariness. Restore me.”

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𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟖: 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐞𝐞

Scripture:"For we walk by faith, not by sight." — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV)

What you see can discourage you, but what God is doing behind the scenes is far greater than what your eyes can observe. Faith is choosing to trust God’s invisible work more than visible circumstances.

Sight says: “Nothing is happening.”
Faith says: “God is moving.”
Sight says: “This looks impossible.”
Faith says: “All things are possible.”
Sight says: “I don’t see a way.”
Faith says: “God will make one.”
When your eyes don’t show progress, let your faith hold onto the One who works in the unseen.

𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫
Lord, strengthen my faith to trust You beyond what I see. Help me lean on Your promises
more than my feelings. Amen.

𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩
List three things you’re believing God for.
1.
2.
3.

Next to each, write: “𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.”

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Monday morning came like a punch to the gut.
Amantle Bosupi sat at her desk, laptop open, coffee untouched. Her inbox blinked back at her—empty, except for a single notification: a congratulatory email for Jason Gabriel.
Jason.
Her colleague. Her competition. Her constant reminder that life was moving forward for everyone else but her.
“Promotion awarded: Senior Marketing Analyst”
She stared at the subject line, stomach twisting.
It wasn’t just the promotion.
It was what it symbolized.
The doors opening for someone else, while she kept refreshing her inbox, waiting for something she wasn’t even sure she deserved.

Tefo Kaelo had congratulated Jason earlier in the break room, her voice bright, filled with admiration and envy all at once.
“Can you believe it?” Tefo had said. “He’s amazing—well deserved!”
Amantle had nodded, forced a smile. “Yes, congratulations,” she had said.
Inside, she felt a mix of bitterness, envy, and shame.
She closed her eyes.
I’ve worked as hard as he has. Maybe harder. Why not me?
The weight of almost hit her differently today.
Not the almost in love.
Not the almost in connection.
But the almost in recognition. Opportunity. Success.
The almost that whispered, you’re good enough—almost, but not quite.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, a reminder of an upcoming client pitch she had been preparing for.
Amantle groaned. Of course. Life doesn’t stop for heartbreak, disappointment, or emotional exhaustion.
Her mind wandered to Lesego’s almosts, to Jason’s yes, to the endless balancing act she had been performing for months.
And then she remembered Saone’s words:
“Waiting has a way of convincing you that you’re the problem.”
Amantle exhaled.
Maybe this wasn’t just about Jason Gabriel getting promoted.
Maybe it was about how she measured her worth.
Maybe it was about owning her own yes before expecting anyone else to hand it to her.
Still, the envy burned. The frustration burned. The feeling of being almost enough burned.
She rubbed her temples. She had to channel it. Somehow.
She opened her notes app and typed:
I am here. I am working. I am not less. Not yet. Not almost. I will not let someone else’s yes define me.
Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard before pressing send… to herself.
No one needed to see this.
No one needed to validate it.
It was hers.
Amantle took a deep breath. The first real inhale she had felt in days.
The almosts weren’t gone.
Jason’s success wasn’t erased.
Lesego hadn’t changed.
But something inside her had.
For the first time, the space between yeses felt less like a trap.
And more like… training.
Preparation.
Growth.
And for the first time, she felt the tiniest flicker of anticipation—not for an external yes, but for the life she was slowly claiming for herself.