Hustle and Scribble

There are days when motherhood feels like a gift I don’t deserve. And then there are days it feels like a weight I’m not strong enough to carry. No one really tells you that both can be true. Some mornings, I wake up ready, grateful, patient, full of love. But on the hard days? The days when I’ve barely slept, when money is tight, when work is demanding, and everything feels one step behind… it hits differently. I look at this little human I love with everything I’ve got, and still wonder if I’m giving her enough. If I am enough. And the guilt sneaks in quietly. For snapping . For being tired. For wanting a break. For thinking, even for a second, that I just want to disappear into silence. I think about all the things I want to provide: security , joy , structure , freedom . And then I open the fridge, do the mental math, count what’s left for school fees , for rent , for tomorrow. And my heart breaks a little more, because I know love alone doesn’t fill bowls. I don’t alwa...

If you’ve ever watched Manifest , there’s a moment that might catch you off guard, not the callings or the plane returning from nowhere, but when someone refers to God as “She.” It’s subtle. One word. But it lingers. We’re so used to hearing “He” when people speak about God. It’s been ingrained in scriptures, sermons, and everyday language for generations. So when a character says “She,” it doesn’t just shift the sentence; it shifts your frame of reference. I paused. Rewound. Listened again. And then I sat with it. It’s not just for effect. It’s an invitation. A quiet one. Across so many traditions, even the ones that rarely speak of it, there’s always been room for the divine feminine . The nurturing force. The intuitive whisper. The fierce protector. In parts of the Bible, God is described as a mother hen , gathering her chicks. In African spirituality , divinity doesn’t come in a single image, it flows through balance. And for anyone who’s ever felt held by something unseen, the...