It’s Saturday morning, and I’m standing in the rain on the edge of the Rondebosch rugby field. The pitch is a mud pit. The Bosch opposition look like they’ve been raised on steroids. A few meters away, the boys in blue are in a huddle with their coach. Clear and bold, his voice carries to those of us standing on the side-line, “BOYS! PRE-paare (stretched out Blighty drawl) your MINDS! Pre-PAARE your minds! It’s going to be messy as kak out there. PREPARE your minds!”

Bravo coach. Life Lesson 101. What you believe matters. Remember what you’re made of. Don’t let the sumo wrestling Afrikaners overwhelm you. You’ve got this.

This morning, I (gleefully) poured water over my teenage son to wake him up. Why? I believed his reaction would make me laugh. It did. Afterwards, I exercised. Why? I believed it’d give me a to- die- for body. Alas. Later, I snapped at a store assistant. (In my defence, I was dehydrated, coupled with subhuman bloodstream caffeine levels) Why do I do the things I do? Because I’m a believer. And what I believe, changes my reality.
Belief: Mop slippers! Genius. Win – win. Slouch around house whilst cleaning floor. Must have.
ACTION: ENTER SHOP. TAIL CLUELESS SHOP ASSISTANT AROUND ENTIRE STORE. HE (ONLY THEN) DECLARES THEY STOCK NO SUCH ITEM.
Belief: It’s this guy’s job to know his store. He’s wasting my time. Time wasters will not be tolerated.
ACTION: DECAPITATE ASSISTANT. EXIT.
Belief: The poor guy tried. I, on the other hand, blew it.
ACTION: RETURN TO SHOP. FIND SHOP ASSISTANT HIDING BEHIND TOWER OF BAKED BEAN TINS. AWKWARDLY APOLOGIZE.

There aren’t any lonely beliefs or actions. I make my beliefs, then my beliefs make me.

Hackney, London, 2007. I’m kneeling on the floor in my office on the first floor of our 3 bed Victorian Terrace. My 1-year old Jesse sleeps in the room next door, my 5-year-old Jaden is at nursery. Outside, snow blankets the roofs and chimneys; last night’s snowmen are starting to droop. The house is still, but not my heart. A recent trip to Russia has left me shaken with memories of the orphans, and how they live. What to do? Go? Stay? I don’t recall how long I knelt there as I searched my heart and faced my fears. A few times I planted my hands on the carpet, ready to push myself up, then… uh uh…no peace… back down I’d go. Finally, I stood. Tiptoed downstairs. Behind me, in the office, I left a wet patch on the carpet where my tears had fallen, and my doubts. In our grueling adoption journey that followed, not once did I hesitate. I just kept going until we got them. Conviction lifted me up off the floor, down the stairs, and 4 years later, into the arms of my children.

Mark Twain said,”The two most important days in your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why.”
As I mum, I look at my kids and know the storms are coming in their lives, as they have in mine. And I want to protect them and cheer for them.
But, something more…..
In the ceremony for creating a knight, the King presents the knight-to- be with several items, fitting him for his calling to loyalty, honour, defence and justice. Believing the Knight now equipped for purpose , the king delivers a mighty smack to the subject, along with the words, “Let this be the last blow you receive unanswered”. Lol. Way to go, King.
The movie Madagascar is one of my kids’ favourite. One scene shows the penguins preparing for an octopi attack, with a command from the exhausted Skipper, “Alright, boys, battle stance!” Together they plant their feet firmly – and stand.
I want that for my kids.
Like the knight- having all they need to become all they are.
Like Kowalski and Skipper – unswayed, resolute.
Because I don’t think it’s loss or pain that undoes us – as agonizing as those stampedes on our hearts are.
I think it’s doubt – when I’m no longer sure of who I am and what I’m for.
When I have no conviction, I will fall for anything.
And with conviction, I can endure anything.

And when they look at me,what do they see?

Do I live mindfully- trying to understand, and pass my understanding on.

Do l learn humbly – with openness, allowing myself to be enlarged and changed by truths bigger, and others wiser, than I am. Do I seek out those who think differently., asking why.

Do I think reasonably – showing them a world of reason, beyond science.

Do I choose freely – living not out of duty, but conviction and passion. No guilt, or fear.

Does my testing lead to trusting – eventually, do I leap?
I remember so clearly the day I met my daughter. Who wouldn’t? My husband and I were waiting in a large room in the orphanage in St Petersburg, for her carer to bring her to us. On one side of the room was a pile of stacked up unused future. The rest of the room was bare. I was kneeling to retrieve my camera from my bag, when the door opened and there she was. All 5 years of her. They’d dressed her in a black and white checked pinafore, and a pair of too-big, knee-high black boots. Her little face was framed by a thick fringe and her hair tied in a pigtail. Although she’d been told we were to be her new parents we were strangers, and I expected her to be initially tentative.10 meters away across the large room, my daughter locked eyes with me. Her smile lit her whole face. With door barely open, she let go of her carer’s hand and gaze still fixed on me, took off. Her too- big- boots just stayed on as she charged across the room, and launched herself mid- sprint into my arms, knocking me over.
One conviction – “This is my Mama. I’m hers” – and she leapt.

When felled, do I get back up?
I think of Someone, body  broken, who staggered and fell,-yet because of His conviction, got back up.
The One, with face like flint, who came, that I might become.

The only measure of my life is this -will I search for truth with all of me , and when found, allow it to make me.

Get up Me.
Get up beautiful You.
Know who you are, and what you are for.
And then, with all your heart, mind and soul, leap.