I had to dig DEEP this week

I had to dig deep this week. So bloody deep this week. For patience. For strength. For resources. …and it was my little people who held me with their warm apple pie, fresh out of the oven, as I put my feet up after having held a sacred space for friends who lost their mother and had to bury her within 24 hours, in keeping with Islamic protocol. Apple pie, warm apple pie and my people saved me on Monday.  

I had to dig deep this week. So bloody deep this week. For restraint  For compassion. For calm.
As I witnessed one human being abuse their power over another …and again, it was my people that brought me back, reminding me that my dear Aunt who passed on (a few months back) had her birthday this week and how she made the world’s meanest chicken pie. So, I made a chicken pie, said the rosary and we celebrated her life, with cake and all!

I had to dig deep this week. So bloody deep this week. To accept the many many wonderful doors of opportunity flying open in my face; To find the words to acknowledge the phenomenal teacher my son got as a gift for his Grade 1 year on World Teachers Day; To salute my daughter for standing up for a friend who was in trouble at school; To contain the love in my heart for the beautiful bottle of red wine my husband came bearing. 

The best gift we can give to those we have passed on is to LIVE!

…But here I am this Friday, having just heard of the passing of one of my best friend’s dads.

And, so I dig deep again, to find that well of love inside me.   It’s hard at first… But sure enough it springs up!  Springs up! Springs up! Offering glimpses of light. 

Don’t you love that!? That we are able to receive the gift of LIGHT when we need it most? Do you have a name for that which is always available, which is infinite, which is always accessible?

I’m just so grateful and I wish you that and so much more, my friends!

Grateful always,


Survival 101 for the Gentle Among Us

So, I spent the afternoon at a kids birthday party recently and watched my daughter be pushed from number 2 in the queue to number 15 in a line of 16 kids.


I watched the whole thing unfold in ultra slow motion. First one push, then another 3, then another before she was standing at the back.


Now, you have to understand how that raised my blood pressure. In. Very. Slow. Motion. Until I could not any longer exercise further restraint.


So, I walked up to her and whispered in her ear “Darling, remember what mama told you….” I was referring to many a lecture I have given her about NOT allowing people to push her around, NOT allowing bullies to mess with her, speaking up for herself etc. You know, Survival 101 for the Gentler Variety?



But, the girl was not concerned with my blood pressure in the least. She didn’t mind at all as she proudly said “Mama Stop!” She continued, “Mama, there will still be enough cake for everyone, you know?” pointing to the half a face of Elsa still left on the table.


The girl clearly had a point.


What struck me is that she had absolutely no problem with being shoved to the back of the queue and frankly, neither should I she thought to herself as she plonked herself down on the grass with the melted ice cream cake slice and the biggest smile on her dirty face. I watched the ice cream melt, along with my heart and I thought: Yes my girl. There is indeed enough of everything in this world to go around and surely what’s meant to be yours will most certainly be.  Fingers crossed.


Mama learnt her lessons:


Lesson 1:

Focus on the things you CAN control


Lesson 2:

There is more than one way to get things done


Lesson 3:

Don’t sweat the small stuff


And most importantly, Lesson 4:

Vanilla “Cake” can turn into the most delightful double thick vanilla milkshake if you have the time and patience to let the universe unfold exactly as it will.


So yes, I do consider myself duly schooled.


Patience and Surrender are not courses only for the “weak” among us. They are indeed courses of PhD level, which my little Doctor of IQ aces quietly each and every day.


Aluta continua, as they say. May the quiet ones among us know that their voices are indeed very, very powerful.  © A Heart Full of Stories, 2016


My Favourite Storyteller

She was our cleaner by day and our storyteller when the floors were shone.

She only had one English story in her arsenal and it was a killer. She had perfected the art of telling it, narrowing her air passages just enough to make the little birds sound angelic and gruffing up in a way that made you feel like the big bear and the snakes had morphed and were right in the backyard.

Her storytime always left us with mixed feelings. We were terrified that if we did not “be good” that we too would be captured by the snakes.  Her story had the desired effect. I was enchanted.

One day, I came home from school crying. Some rude girls had cut off a piece of my ponytail and said “Try and tell your mother…you will see.”

I did not want to “see”, so, I didn’t tell my mother. I told my favorite storyteller instead.

As I walked out of the school the next day, I saw her talking to the naughty girls. I was horrified. When I asked her what she had said, her reply was simple: “I told them a small story. I did my job. I think they understand”.

In that moment, my skinny little self realised the power and magic of how a simple story, can be told over and over again and have the desired effect over and over again. I was enchanted.

I tried to tap into that same magic while I boarded my tram to a storytelling event in Amsterdam recently. I had a great old story to tell. I hoped that the spirits would reward my bravery.

On my way home, I looked out of the tram window and threw a “thank you” prayer to my storytelling mentor in the sky.  I had mixed feelings about how I did.  I still have no way of knowing for sure whether my story had the desired effect, but it sure felt good to take that tiny step in the direction of my dreams.

My husband sent me a text message asking about the event. I simply replied “I told them a small story. I did my job. I think they understand.” 

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Dear Reader,

At the risk of sounding like a crazy esoteric caravan-woman, my heart is urging me to  wish you bravery as you look inside at the many things that have come into your life. Those shit things, those hard things, those moments of disappointment, loss and fear.  Bless them!  Bless also the happy things, those special moments with God & with your lover, the windfalls, lucky breaks, laughs and bursts of creative genius.  Those little things make YOUR story unique. They are your biggest gift and I wish you courage as you stare your imperfect life in the face & see how damn perfect YOUR unique story is.

Aluta continua, as they say. The road is still long (for me).

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content