🌿 Papa, Mama… But What Do We Mean?

Nairobi’s air was thick with worship during the week of 31 August to 4 September. Yet somewhere between the messages, the music and the many voices, I found myself returning to a question I had tucked away years ago: 

What exactly do we mean when we call someone “Mama” or “Papa” in the Church? It was an old muse, but the Feast simply stirred it awake.

I have noticed a particular kind of authority today that calls itself family but functions like a fiefdom. It borrows the language of Scripture: father, mother, son, daughter, but strips out the very things that made those relationships honorable: time, transparency, accountability, freedom, etc. Since I process well through the written word, I am putting my thoughts and convictions in writing.

Is discipleship and "spiritual parenthood" the same thing? Has the church let the second masquerade as the first?

 

1.  Discipleship Isn't Optional; It's the Assignment

Before I say anything about titles, let me say this plainly: we need mentors, and we are called to mentor others. This is not the extra-credit portion of the Christian life. Scripture calls mentorship discipleship. Matthew 28:19–20

"Go and make disciples of all nations… teaching them to obey everything I have commanded. “

•  Paul hands the baton to Timothy, who is to hand it to "faithful men who will be qualified to teach others also" (2 Timothy 2:2).
•   Moses poured forty years into Joshua.
• ­  Naomi shaped Ruth into a woman who would be named in Jesus's own genealogy.
• ­ Barnabas took a chance on a young, unproven, formerly persecuting Paul (Acts 9:27) before Paul ever mentored anyone else. 

Perhaps, in contemporary language, what Scripture describes through these relationships is what we would today call mentorship

2.  The Relationship Was Never Instant

ª  Paul did not meet Timothy on a Tuesday and call him “my true son” by Friday. 😏.  

Their relationship was forged over time. Timothy joined Paul in ministry, travelled with him, served alongside him, and endured the demands of the Gospel. Paul knew his character and had witnessed his growth before writing: “Unto Timothy, my own son in the faith…”  1 Timothy 1:2

The word Paul uses for Timothy is the Greek teknon—“child”—a relational word that conveys affection, formation, and belonging. Paul is describing a relationship that has been shaped by his investment in the Gospel, not conferring a rank or ecclesiastical title.

And this distinction matters. 

Paul does, in fact, describe himself as a spiritual father to the Corinthians: “I have begotten you through the gospel” (1 Corinthians 4:15). But notice the context: he is describing his role in bringing them to faith and discipling them, not establishing “father” as the influence through which he acquires control over their lives.

When Paul gives instructions about how the Church should function, he speaks instead of elders, overseers, deacons, teachers, and shepherds (1 Timothy 3; Titus 1; Ephesians 4:11–12). He does not establish a formal church hierarchy of spiritual fathers over spiritual children.

For me, the distinction is important because Paul uses fatherhood language to describe a discipleship relationship.

ª  Elisha's story is even more physical. He wasn't called with a title; he was called with a cloak thrown over his shoulders while he was still plowing (1 Kings 19:19). 

Then came years of quietly serving Elijah (2 Kings 3:11), unglamorous, faithful, unseen service, and it was long before he ever cried out, "my father, my father!" as Elijah was carried up to heaven (2 Kings 2:12). 

Notice, too: he never called him that while receiving instructions, but it surfaced as grief, not as a form of daily address used to secure obedience

3.  Same-Sex, Same-Season, Fully Visible

• Notice, too, who disciples whom…..
• ­Paul poured into Timothy and Titus, men.
• ­Elijah poured into Elisha, a man.
• And when Paul writes to Titus about the women in the church, he doesn't ask for a "mother in Israel" to gather daughters unto herself. He asks for something far more ordinary, and far safer: Titus 2:3–5 "…older women… train the younger women to love their husbands and children." 

Men discipling men. Women discipling women. Not as a rigid biblical rule, but as a wise and intentional safeguard. 

I believe that Scripture gives us this pattern in Titus 2, where older women are instructed to teach younger women, and in 1 Timothy 5:2, where Timothy is told to treat younger women “as sisters, with all purity.” When intimacy and authority become blurred, the language of “Mama” and “Papa” can sometimes provide a family label for relationships that lack the transparency and accountability they require. 

4.  Honor That's Earned Shouldn't Wear the Costume of Honor That's Owed

"Honor your father and your mother" (Exodus 20:12) sits inside the Ten Commandments, and it's unconditional in a way almost nothing else in our faith is. A child doesn't get to withhold honor because a parent had a bad week. That honor is built into the relationship at creation (Genesis 2:24) — it isn't earned, and it can never be revoked.

In my few years as a believer, I have observed that abuse rarely looks like a wicked person seizing power by force. It looks like someone being granted a category of trust that quietly exempts them from ordinary questions, and a title does that work beautifully. Once someone is "Papa," asking them where is mummy, or where did the money go? or why is there no oversight, sounds like betrayal. 

But surely honour does not mean the absence of questions. Even as adult children, we question our earthly parents, respectfully, lovingly and honestly. 😏 How much more should spiritual relationships make room for truth, transparency and accountability?

Jesus saw this coming and named it directly, aimed at religious leaders who had built entire systems of deference around themselves (Matthew 23:5–7). He was not undoing Paul's warmer, later use of "son.", but He was forbidding the version where the title is used as leverage.

"Do not call anyone on earth your father, for you have one Father, and he is in heaven." 

 

5.  In Closing

1.  Let us honor our spiritual leaders. But, like the Bereans, let us also keep our Bibles open. Respect and accountability are not enemies. 

2. Church leaders, please do not demand the honour of a parent while resisting the accountability that comes with spiritual leadership. Paul could say, “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1) because his teaching and conduct were not beyond examination. He invited scrutiny, welcomed correction, and consistently pointed people beyond himself to Christ. If we ask people to follow our example, we must be willing for our example to be examined. Spiritual authority should never be a shield from accountability. It should make us even more willing to live transparently. 

3. Mentor generously. Be mentored humbly. Call it discipleship. Call them pastors, teachers, disciplers, shepherds. Scripture already gave us the words.

Lots of Love,

Shikoh 💕

Dear God, I Ordered for Jericho, Not River Jordan

I have received feedback about my last post, which tells me at least some of you are reading carefully 😊. Do not worry. The details of the Asherahs, the Baals, the memorial stones, and yes, even the mysterious “things in the fire,” are still coming. This season has layers. We are not done.

But before we tear down ancient idols and light metaphorical fires, allow me to tell you how my attempt at a profound family devotion was dramatically derailed by a small, confident human being who believes spiritual warfare requires immediate access to a sword.

I asked my children, quite innocently, “Do you know what a battle is?” Without hesitation, our resident extrovert stood up and declared, “A battle is when you need swords to fight Amorites and Canaanites and Girgashites. Mummy, I need a sword because I know some Amalekites.” I paused. Needless to say, the devotion pivoted, and we abandoned live theology and enlisted the Good News Guys on YouTube for animated assistance, the Battle of Jericho. Somewhere between animated priests and collapsing walls, I realized that to my children, battles are cinematic, with plastic swords and dramatic shouting, with the walls of Jericho collapsing on cue. But to us adults with responsibilities, battles look very different. They are quieter. They are fought in prayer or in conversations. They sit inside difficult decisions. They stare at you in a hospital bed. They are often fought at the edge of rivers that look far too wild to cross.

My children are ready for Jericho. Trumpets. Walls. Drama. But God often starts with the Jordan......

By the time we arrive at Joshua 3, Moses is no longer in the picture. The voice that unsettled Pharaoh. The staff that stretched over the Red Sea. The steady presence they had leaned on for decades. Gone. The leader they trusted. Grief was in the camp, and yet movement was required. God had already spoken. “I have given you the land.” The spies had walked through Jericho and had seen the fear in the city. The promise was not vague; it was vivid, tangible, and within reach. But, between the promise and possession was a river at its worst. It was springtime, and snow from Mount Hermon was melting. The Jordan was swollen, loud, overflowing its banks. It was a raging and unapologetic flood, yet God placed them there deliberately. He led a grieving people, carrying fresh loss and fragile faith, and parked them right in front of something that looked impossible.

 

I wrestle with this. Why does a good God show us Jericho, the promotion, the expansion, the answered prayer, the breakthrough we’ve been journaling about for 7 years, and then say, “Great. Now camp right here… in front of this impossible situation”? Why give us destiny in 4K resolution and then buffer the loading screen? Why call so clearly, speak so loudly, confirm it through sermons, random aunties, and three different Scriptures… and then lead us straight to what feels like a foggy, dead end with a roaring river?

And here is the part of the Christian walk I struggle with: I do not want my body “wasting away outwardly” like Paul described, I would very much prefer abs, biceps, quads, good lighting, and excellent makeup while still gaining inwardly, thank you very much. If we are being honest, I want visible flourishing and invisible depth at the same time. I want a soft life on this side of eternity — and in the real eternity too. Boarding passes, not wilderness treks. Cruise ships, not flood-stage rivers. Celebration dinners, not tables prepared in the presence of enemies. I want comfort. I want ease. I want the blessings in Deuteronomy 28 without the refining that so often precedes them. I know suffering is part of the Christian faith; I simply do not volunteer for it enthusiastically. Yet Scripture stubbornly refuses to cooperate with my soft-life theology, and I, mostly, stubbornly submit.

God is more committed to formation than comfort. More invested in depth than ease. More concerned with who we are becoming than how smooth the journey feels. And that tension? That’s where the real battle lives. If this is your camping season, camp well. The Jordan will not sweep you away. When Israel stopped at its banks, after days of trekking from Shittim, dusty and probably exhausted, God spoke. He gave instructions. He reassured them of His presence. He told them exactly what would happen to the river. He did not leave them guessing, and the camping place became a place of clarity.
It became a space for recalibration, for intimacy, for courage to be rebuilt. It was not punishment, but it was preparation. It was not abandonment, but alignment. Sometimes, the bank of the Jordan is where God slows us down long enough to remind us who He is. It is where striving softens into listening. Where anxiety is interrupted by assurance. Where He whispers, “I am still with you. And this will not end the way you fear.” 

Until next time, please take heart because this is not where the story stalls; it is where faith grows roots. And when it is time to step, because that time will come, may you move with quiet courage. May you remember that grace meets you in the water, and promise is waiting on the other side.

And no, you probably will not need a sword!!!!

 

It is a Bit Hot in Here

“For our God is a consuming fire.” Hebrews 12:29

In 2025, I heard God. Not with thunder or angels or dramatic signs, just a loud but grounded conviction that settled into my spirit and refused to leave. It did not shout, it stayed. So I fasted. And I told my husband we were fasting too, because this kind of leading needed witnesses. It needed Gideon-level confirmation, dry wool drenched and drenched wool dried. No confusion. No emotional hype. No maybe it is just me. I needed to know this was God, not ambition, not adrenaline, not imagination. When the confirmation came, steady, quiet and undeniable, I obeyed. Afraid. Peaceful. Excited. Terrified. All at once.

Fast forward to February 2026, and obedience did not deliver me to Goshen with milk and honey and the soft life. Weuh, it has escorted me and my few goats straight to Midian. Full desert mode, burning bush vibes, character development fully activated. God pulled a proper Moses on me, He removed the palace comfort, handed me red Umoja pati pati, and asked that I flip flop. In this heat filled walk, I have no shadow of doubt that God is a consuming fire, I now know that He first takes us into furnaces heated seven times and not candlelight dinners, He takes us into blazing fires, and His fire is intense, Mt. Carmel like. He has been consuming my bulls and Baal, my Prophets, my Altar stones, aka as my plans and my timelines and my spiteful little intellect and everything that has unknowingly pointed to self. I still smell like smoke, a bit charred, but I will be out soon. Everything has met the refiner’s heat, at the family level, He has been exposing and burning the sneaky Asherahs, the subtle patterns and cycles that we did not notice until God says, “Hiyo pia.”

Some days I am God fearing and demon chasing and faith filled and steady and surrendered, but on other days I am like Jonah, bald headed on a hot day under a leaf because the weight of being reshaped is not light work. The good thing is that I can tell that purification is happening.

I find peace in Malachi where scripture says God sits as a refiner of silver and does not throw the silver into the fire and walk away. He sits, He watches, He remains close because the purpose of the fire is not destruction but purification. So I have confidence in knowing that God is not burning down my life, He is burning away what cannot go where He is taking me. 

I don’t have a polished testimony yet, but I can sense that something is being formed in me that comfort could never produce.

If you are in a similar place where obedience feels both peaceful and painful, I want to encourage you that the fire does not mean you missed God. The Refiner is still seated, and He has not stepped away. He is making us more like Himself, and that is always worth it.

Holy Spirit, House Girls & Hustle

If you’ve ever prayed in tongues while reheating tea for the third time, welcome, sis—you’re in the right place. Nairobi motherhood is not just a role; it’s a full-blown spiritual assignment. Between dodging traffic, decoding toddler tantrums, and discerning whether your house girl is genuinely confused or just pretending not to know where the mop is, life can feel like a cross between a revival meeting and a reality show.

I’m a working mum, a woman of faith, with a certificate in multitasking under pressure. I’ve sent work emails with one hand while disciplining my toddlers and with my feet wiping porridge off the floor. I’ve rebuked imaginary demons from under the bed and negotiated peace treaties between siblings over stolen crayons. And through it all, I’ve learned that survival requires The Holy Spirit (because therapy is expensive)

So grab your lukewarm tea, lock the bathroom door for five minutes of peace, and let’s talk about the beautiful chaos of raising kingdom kids in a city that never rests. 

In my early motherhood days, I was that mum: judgmental, self-righteous, perched high on my ivory tower of good intentions. I'd watch families rotate helpers faster than Safaricom data bundles and think: "Shish......., not me! My house girl will be treated with dignity and respect. She'll call me 'siz,' we'll read the Bible together, and she'll practically become family."

Well... life, in all its comedic timing, decided to serve me the largest slice of humble pie with extra sauce 😂....

House Girl One: The Two-Week Disaster 🚩

She came. I saw, I fired. She vanished. Two weeks in, and my house looked like a post-election rally. 'Siz' disappeared faster than Safcom bundles during a Zoom call. 

I learned quickly: Nairobi house girls don’t play. They come with humility lessons, free delivery, no warranty. 😅

House Girl Two: The Mid-Zoom Salary Warrior 💸

My second one started off wonderfully. She was sweet, caring, and seemed like an answered prayer. But soon, the clouds gathered. She developed an attitude 

One day, she packed her bags, put the baby to sleep (God bless her), knocked on my bedroom door mid-client call, and said, “Madam, nataka pesa yangu sahii. Kuja uone kama nimeiba.” She left like a boss. I stared at the door like, “God, you giveth and you taketh away.” 😂

House Girl Three: Hope Restored

My third one restored some hope. She was wonderful. We had a good rhythm, mutual respect, and genuine care for Mumo. But then she got a baby of her own, and we released her to go nurture her newborn. It was bittersweet. I was happy for her, but also suddenly aware that I was back to square one.

It was after this 'siz' that things began to go reeeeally south. Let’s just say… I have since lost count of the number of house girls who have passed through my door.

House Girl Four: The "Angel" with Hidden Wings 😇

This one was everything: timely, neat, respectful, consistent. She would answer before I called her. She was perfect, and for 18 months, my home finally breathed. 

But then, my spirit became unsettled with her. At first, I brushed it off. After all, life was happening at a dizzying speed. My career was on overdrive (side note: I am now firmly convinced that mothers to young children should avoid consulting jobs at all costs, it’s the surest way to cook yourself alive). Wema joined the family, I fell sick, and eventually, I was clinically diagnosed with depression brought on by burnout. The mild depression did a number on me and it even affected my memory for close to 12 months. 

In the midst of all this, I convinced myself that I was being delusional about the help. I doubted the small, still voice that kept whispering, “Something is not right.” I doubted my own eyes. Mostly because I was tired, foggy, and my mind was unsettled.

Then one day, God pulled back the veil and we discovered that our “angel siz” had been stealing from us. Suddenly, the scales fell off my eyes. Things started making sense. Our food budget had quietly tripled, yet our rate of consumption had not. I used to wonder how two adults, a toddler, and a baby could consume 20 kgs of rice in a month. Meanwhile, she was also dabbling in some rather questionable spiritual practices, sorcery and divination, to be precise. But God... 🙌🏽

I was grateful, but confused. Grateful that the truth had finally come to light. Grateful that God had protected us despite my tiredness, blindness, and hesitation. But then, I was back to square zero, a crazy career, no house help, with a preschooler, a toddler, and a recovering brain.

The Sorcery Chronicles Continue 😳🧹

The spiritual warfare wasn't over. I've encountered a few more dabbling in the dark arts. 

There is a legend that lasted exactly 10 hours. Not 10 days, 10 HOURS, 7pm to 5am. When she arrived that evening, my heart got unsettled, and I decided to pray, and God started to reveal things.  Fake name, fake work history, fake everything.  This woman had fabricated everything: name, backstory, references, probably her entire existence. Her story, and that of her referee was pure fiction, I confronted her at sunrise. She confessed, I fired!!

There was the one who kept us sleepless, afraid, and everything fear. The kids were getting nightmares, the parents were not sleeping, we were suddenly very fearful of the night in our house, an experience that we had never had. 

You know, when you've been burned, you learn to smell smoke from the next county. This one I fired very fast. The day I terminated her employment, I offered to drop her at the stage as I headed to work. But honestly? I was terrified. God had revealed some deeply unsettling things about her spiritual activities. So I demanded she sit in the front passenger seat where I could keep an eye on her.

Then, in a moment that still gives me chills, she said: "Nimeona hawa watoto venye wanamuogopa Mungu, na nimeamini Mungu amewazingira. Wakiendelea hivi, Hakuna kitu itawadhuru maishani. Hii Imani ya hawa watoto nimeinona na wewe sana sana. Mama Mumo unamuogopa Mungu".

With that, I asked her to get out of my car immediately. But I was amazed that the enemy also acknowledged God's protection!!

Lessons from the Battlefield:

1.   Divine HR is Non-Negotiable; Forget CVs. Forget glowing reviews. If the Holy Spirit says “No,” don’t argue. He’s saving you from drama that would make a documentary: 

“The Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7.

2.   Fast and Pray Over Major Decisions; You’re not just hiring help. You’re inviting someone into your spiritual space. Pray. Fast. Ask God to vet them for you: 

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.” Proverbs 16:3 

“By prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” — Philippians 4:6.

3.   Listen to the Still, Small Voice; That small voice? That unease? That “hmmm something’s off”? Don’t ignore it. It’s Divine Intel. God whispers before He shouts: 

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

"Isaiah 30:21 “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” — John 10:27.

4.   Consider Career Flexibility; Here's where Erica Komisar's research becomes personally convicting. If you’re raising littles, consider work that allows you to be present. Your kids don’t need perfection. They need you. Calm. Centered. Prayed up. This doesn't mean abandoning professional aspirations, but rather choosing paths that don't require you to be perpetually stressed, distracted, or absent from your life. 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”  Ecclesiastes 3:1

Final Thoughts

Motherhood in Nairobi is not for the faint of heart. It’s a spiritual sport. You need God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. You need discernment, prayer, and a sense of humor that can survive lukewarm tea and spiritual warfare.

 

 

Laughs, Love, and Lessons from a Faith-Filled Decade - 10 years of wifery

Time flies when you are adulting, and let me tell you, these past ten years of marriage have been a rollercoaster of joy, faith, growth, wonder, and laughter. As I look back on this adventure, I'm filled with gratitude for the incredible journey the husband and I have ridden.

We met at Lower Kabete Campus, UON in 2008, and I think we clicked instantly. First, because we enjoyed talking about our faith, and second, because I was just irresistibly cute and chatty 😊. Fast forward to 2012, we finally started dating, and by September 2014, we decided to jump the broom on a rainy day. Yes, we literally jumped over puddles to get to the altar! It was like a romantic comedy with a splash of rain – quite literally
Then came NDOA, and my greatest desire was to be ONE, in the literal sense of it. I imagined us praying together always, reading the Bible together always, driving to work together, driving back home together after work, visiting our families together... basically, everything together. But then reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Turns out, he's an evening person, and I'm a morning person. Our togetherness, especially in praying and Bible reading, was not together-ring 😒. Hanging out together all the time started to feel like being stuck in a never-ending episode of a reality show. I suddenly found myself wanting time away from this husband of my youth! Picture this: me, sneaking out of the house like a ninja, just to get a moment of peace. Who knew that "together forever" could sometimes feel like "together too much"?

Kidogo kidogo…..we navigated this togetherness madness and learnt that it is perfectly okay to give each other space, but to be very intentional in reconnecting many times to pursue ONENESS. Being the chatty one, I always share my thoughts, ideas, fears, frustrations, office gossip, with the husband, and this forces him to listen and share his nothing box with me. Also, praying together in our house is a must, but unlike most families, we make it short and precise because one of us is nocturnal. We also serve together in church and just hang out. It's like a sitcom where the characters finally figure out how to live together without driving each other crazy!!

Then there was an issue with how romance was expressed by the husband. Sijui prepare her before you meet in the evening, rose flowers, candle-lit dinners – all rumors and motivational speeches. First, the husband was and is a busy finance guy, and I was/am a busy auditor. Second, I had married a young man from a village in Mbooni, and he had married a ghetto girl from Mwiki. Mapenzi za preparation for evening mchana could not work for us, and we quickly navigated this romance thing like the Pokot bandits. We had to get creative with our romance – like turning our power outages into candle-lit dinners (thanks, Kenya Power!) and using our car rides to work as our version of date nights.

We disagreed about everything in our early years, including how the house was to be arranged. We are 2 choleric firstborns, a bit stiff necked & headstrong and we were building a little Gaza of a home, but thank God for His Word, it deals with the hard hearts and aligns us.
In our third year, through to our seventh, we experienced a monster of a season. For seven long years, we yearned for children, our hearts aching with every passing day. By the seventh year, we had joyfully coupled with four families, each blessed with beautiful children. For seven years, we faithfully served in the family ministry at church, surrounded by families, children, and pregnant friends and strangers. Yet, we were struggling with a seemingly endless wait. We were a whirlwind of emotions—anxious, hopeful, angry at and with God, fearful, and our faith wavering. We questioned God, believed in His Word one moment, and doubted it the next. It was a difficult and overwhelming time, but through it all, God graciously blessed us with the gift of parenthood in 2021 and again in 2023. Today, ‘gently parenting’ Mumo and Wema

My journey in 10 years of marriage has been nothing short of an adventure. Imagine a ride on Kenyan roads: some parts are flood-filled potholes that make you question your life choices, some bits are dusty and bumpy enough to give you an impromptu massage, and then there are those rare stretches like the expressway where you feel like you're gliding on air. Through it all, God has been my gracious chauffeur, navigating me through the chaos and the calm. Enter Mumo & Wema, my little bundles of joy who have taught me that parenting is often romanticized. These two have shown me that parenting toddlers requires an abundance of grace and a gentle heart. I'm praying for a gentle heart because, let's face it, parenting toddlers is like trying to herd cats – adorable, but utterly chaotic
 

To many untold stories ahead..........4 years post my last blog

It's been four years since I last published a blog post. Life's been pretty wild with lots of changes, challenges, and growth opportunities keeping me busy and away from writing.
When I first started blogging, it was my way to share my thoughts and experiences with everyone. It was my creative outlet, a way to heal, connect with like-minded folks, and express myself outside of the daily grind.

Even though I took a break, my love for blogging never went away. I often thought about what I wanted to write, the stories I wanted to tell, and the conversations I hoped to start. Now, in 2025, I'm super excited to get back into it with new energy.

Last time I blogged, I wasn't a parent yet. But now, I've got two awesome kids: a four-year-old son and a two-year-old daughter. They've added a whole new level of fun and craziness to my life.

Looking back at these four years, I am grateful that God has faithfully carried us through. I've made strides in my career, built stronger relationships, and had amazing new experiences. Even without writing, I’ve been growing so much personally and professionally.

As I dive back into blogging, I'm thrilled to reconnect with all of you. There’s so much to share, and I can’t wait to continue this journey together.

Here’s to new beginnings and all the untold stories ahead!

Anxious Thoughts, Anyone?

I have, in a previous blog shared how I overcome fear and anxiety in late 2017. 

 A few weeks ago, I found myself in a new murky cycle of anxiety and fear with bouts of high blood pressure, and that really freaked me out. 

If you are waiting on God for anything: could be healing, or salvation of a loved one, or a job, or a spouse/child to turn around, or a pregnancy, or like me adoption, and you have been praying and the heavens seem quiet on you, find encouragement in the below: 

•  God is a good Father. He will not with-hold any of His gifts from us. 
• God is with us, we should neither fear nor get dismayed because He has strengthened us for the wait, He is helping us, He is upholding us with His righteous right hand.
• When the timing is perfect, the Lord will make it happen. The healing/salvation/job/spouse/child, whatever it is you are trusting God for will happen/come when the timing is right. 
• God has supplied us with joy, peace and grace for the waiting season. We only need to meditate on scripture and as the Word transforms us, the peace that surpasses human understanding will transcend on us. 

  May you have a joyful and peaceful 2nd week of December ♥️♥️