Living with the Decision

We make countless decisions every day, often without even realising it. Even the ones we make consciously don’t always come with clarity. There is no sign, no guarantee that the choice we make is the “right” one. The opportunity is there, and we have to decide: take it, or leave it. 

And yet, we like to think there’s a right choice. Most of the time, there isn’t. We choose with what we know, shaped by past experiences, and with who we are in that moment. Often, the quick choice we make is guided more by emotion than by reason. 

This is why the real work begins only after the choice is made. We have to live with it, without constantly circling back to the one we didn’t take. Peace doesn’t come from making the “perfect” decision. It comes from settling into what is. 

Abraham was seventy-five years old when God called him to leave everything familiar – his home, his family, his country. He had no knowledge of what lay ahead. Yet, he stepped forward, trusting God’s promise of a land, a people, and a future he could not yet see. 

“The Lord had said to Abram, ‘Go… to the land I will show you.’ So Abram went…” – Genesis 12:1,4 (NIV) 

He didn’t wait for clarity. He didn’t divide himself between staying and leaving. He chose obedience and moved. 

Isaac faced a different kind of test. Famine came, and it would have been natural to leave the land God had promised. But God told him to stay, to plant and settle, to trust without immediate reward. 

“Stay in this land for a while, and I will be with you and will bless you.” – Genesis 26:3 (NIV) 

So, he stayed. He dug wells, built altars, and lived faithfully where he was planted. Nothing dramatic at first. No immediate signs of prosperity. Just trust and steady presence, and in time, God’s blessing followed. 

Then there’s Ruth, a widow in a foreign land. She could have returned to her family, to security, to familiarity. Instead, she stayed with Naomi, her mother-in-law, choosing loyalty and love over comfort or certainty. 

“Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay; your people will be my people and your God my God.” – Ruth 1:16 (NIV) 

Her choice wasn’t about a place, but about the person she committed to, the life she chose to invest in. And once made, she didn’t waver, or stand divided between two lives. 

This is the pattern. Not one path over another, but the posture within it. Each of these Bible characters chose, and then lived fully inside that choice. 

These experiences that have been written in the Bible are given to us as an example. Today, God doesn’t speak in ways we can hear, and many people don’t believe in signs. But I believe that God is in control. When things fall into place, when circumstances align in a way that feels right and fair, it was meant to be. 

Here’s my own story as an example. 

I remember saying for many years that I needed to prioritise my health and resign from the teaching position I was holding. But I didn’t want to just leave. I needed a sign. I needed God to show me the way. So, I stayed. 

My health deteriorated, and still I stayed. There was nothing that clearly indicated it was time to stop teaching. People advised me. Friends guided me. Family supported me. Yet, I wasn’t comfortable with leaving before the time was right. 

I prayed often. I asked God to give me patience, to help me choose the right moment. And then I continued, even in ill health, to teach. 

By 11:00, my strength was gone. I could no longer function as I should. School only ended at 13:30, and the hours stretched endlessly. 

One day, I was standing by the cupboard in my classroom, searching for important documents. As I had done so many times before, I quietly said, “I can’t do this anymore.” And then, something shifted. A sense of relief came over me. I stepped back, looked again, and there they were. The documents. Right in front of me, as if they had just been placed there. I looked up and thanked God. I walked to the office and told the principal I was done. I left on sick leave immediately. From there, the process began and long sick leave became early retirement. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen without problems. I waited patiently for the Department of Education to contact me. Three months passed, and still nothing was happening. When I phoned the department to follow up, I was told I could return to school. 

I was so confused. I soon learned that my documents for long sick leave and early retirement had been filed incorrectly. Instead, I had been placed on long-COVID leave. I explained my situation again. I was then told that I would have to see different specialists again for all the tests already done, to confirm I was truly unfit for teaching. 

I couldn’t understand why I had to go through all the tests again. It took another eight months of doctor visits, tests, and document submissions before the department was finally satisfied. At last, early retirement seemed possible. 

And then, unexpectedly, my brother died. He and my mother had been living with us for almost 8 years. After his funeral, my mother moved to Langebaan to live with my sister. 

I waited another four months before my early retirement was approved. 

Of course, my brother’s death opened the door for my move to Langebaan. It wasn’t my first choice, but it became the only choice. My husband and children agreed that we could move as a family to the Western Cape so that I could be near my mother. This gave me a sense of purpose to move across the country. 

What I’ve learned over the years is that it’s not just about opportunity. It’s about accepting the choice once it is made. That’s where calm is found. Not in avoiding consequences, or knowing the future, but in refusing to live divided – half in the present, half in the imagined alternative. 

Go, and go fully. Stay, and stay fully. 

  

When the Work Is Too Heavy

More people, regardless of their position, are feeling overloaded with work. Everything seems to rest on them. The deadlines, the decisions, the responsibility. Do you feel the same?

You show up, you push through, you keep going, but under all of that, exhaustion begins to settle in. It doesn’t always show on the surface, but it’s there all the same. By the time you realize it, it’s too late. You suffer from burnout, which is a profound, chronic exhaustion of mind, body, and spirit. 

This isn’t new. One of the most well-known leaders in history, Moses, found himself in that exact situation. In Exodus 18, we see how he leads the Israelites after their journey out of Egypt. His role isn’t just symbolic. He’s the person everyone goes to for guidance, judgment, and answers. Every issue, every dispute, and every question finds its way to him, and from morning until evening, he sits while the people stand in line and wait to see him. He carries it all. 

When his father-in-law, Jethro, arrives, he doesn’t rush in or try to fix anything straight away. He just watches. And what he sees isn’t strong leadership, but strain. The kind that can’t last. So he asks Moses a simple question that cuts through everything: “What is this you’re doing for the people?”

What follows is a truth that still feels relevant today. “What you’re doing is not good. You and these people who come to you will only wear yourselves out.” Exodus 18:17–18 NIV. 

There’s something in this lesson that lands deeply, because it challenges a belief many of us carry. If one person can hold everything together, then they should. But that’s not what Jethro sees. He sees the cost.

He doesn’t stop there. He offers a way forward. He tells Moses to focus on what really matters and to choose capable, trustworthy people to share the responsibility. The smaller matters can be handled by others, while the heavier ones can still come to him. It’s not about reducing impact, but about finding a way to carry it that can last. 

“That will make your load lighter, because they will share it with you.” Exodus 18:22 NIV.

Moses listens, and everything begins to shift. The people are helped more efficiently, leadership becomes healthier, and Moses no longer carries a weight that was never meant for one person alone.

This story speaks directly to how we work today. We often mistake being overworked for being valuable, and we see taking on everything as a sign of strength. But Exodus 18 challenges that way of thinking. Burnout isn’t dedication. It’s a signal that something’s out of balance.

Healthy leadership and healthy work environments are built on shared responsibility. So if you find yourself overwhelmed, stretched thin, and carrying more than your share, take a moment to sit with this. It’s not good to do everything alone, and it isn’t sustainable to be everything to everyone. Sometimes the most responsible thing you can do isn’t to take on more, but to allow the load to be shared. 

Moses had to learn that. And maybe, we do too.

So if this feels close to home, don’t keep carrying it on your own. Talk to someone you trust. Ask for help where you need it. And give yourself permission to make the adjustments that protect your health.

Because not everything is yours to carry. And you were never meant to carry it all.

If you could value yourself

If you could see the constellation within you, understand how much of the universe lives under your skin, would you love yourself more?

There is stardust in your bones, a tidal pull in your blood, a quiet orbit in your heart, an atmosphere in your lungs that rises and falls. Electric stars fire in your mind, while minerals and crystals form and dissolve softly within you.

If you could fathom this inner galaxy working without rest, faithfully keeping you alive, would you see creation differently? Would you look at people with more admiration?

If you could measure life, would you stand in awe of the vessel that holds you, and find worth in the person it contains?

Because if you could value yourself a little more than gold or platinum, a little more than even the oxygen you breathe, you might value others too, and feel less frustration at their existence.

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