Someone asked me HOW DO YOU PRAY?

Someone asked me how do you pray? The question threw me because I knew that she was not looking for a textbook answer.

I responded by saying that when we pray, we have to pause our human tendency toward doubt for a few minutes and then it’s simply a matter of surrender.” #boom

My prayers are simple. 1. I often start with a VISUALISATION where I picture handing over all the things that are weighing heavy on my heart:

Anxiety

Insecurity

Physical pain

Fear

I’ve learnt over the years not to ask for specific things or outcomes but rather to leave that up to the Creative Intelligence. Often what I think I want in a moment of crisis (a specific job, house or boy) is not the “answer”. The solutions that have come in Divine Timing have always been far more wonderful than my version.

2. Then once I feel light enough, I know I am better able to CONNECT TO A HIGHER FREQUENCY and that’s when my real prayer begins. It’s always a prayer for: Strength  Opportunity. Guided Direction & a Petition for those in need

3. And then, as one should, I always end off with a THANK YOU!

“Because l may not be a subject matter expert on prayer, but I sure know alot about the power of Gratitude and if that is the only prayer you ever say, well then you’re on your way!”

She insisted on paying for the coffee:-)

xoxo

Lee

Warning: Kindness is Dope

I met someone recently who thanked me for something I did for her 20 years ago.

I kid you not.

To be quite honest, I did not recall the detail or that act of apparent kindness at all. She tells me that it came at a time when she desperately needed a strong mother figure and that young-me stepped up.

I must say, our exchanges back then never did feel like “rescue” or “help” to me. In fact, I reckon I was the one who felt good. I was the one who felt useful. I was probably the one who felt high from the endorphins that make us drunk with purpose. That’s really all I remember about our interactions ~ how lovely I felt around her.

How cool?

Her testimony has since inspired me to write some random “Thank You” notes of my own. Because the stars know that there are plenty of people who have touched me over the years. And just like that, I’m part of an energy that keeps the magical vibration of GRATITUDE in motion.

Perhaps you feel inspired to hop on the train and thank someone today too? If so, I can tell you without a doubt that the wise ones were right: It is indeed GIVING that we RECEIVE.

Try it. Thank me (29 years later).

Lee Mayimele

Chief Storyteller

Have you ever experienced PEACE? (A story about another’s faith)

The first time I heard the phrase “the peace that passes all understanding” I was sitting at the one end of a fabulous lunch table, casually popping a chunk of ice into my glass of Chardonnay. I had just lost my mom and someone asked me how I was coping.

 

Taking a big gulp of wine, I tried to explain to her that although I was utterly distraught about the void she had left with her sudden departure, I had this incredible sense of CALM that had come over me.  “At first I put it down to shock. You know? A kind of inertia that my BODY had gifted to me in order to cope with the loss. Isn’t the BODY amazing like that?” I said with a genuine appreciation for the hormones that I believed had carried me to that place of peace.

 

“That’s the holy spirit” she replied matter of factly as she slowly dipped her piece of bread into a mixture of balsamic vinegar and olive oil. “I guarantee you, that is ONLY the holy spirit who can do that!” 

 

Now, as the beneficiary of a lovely Catholic convent education (With a tonn of experience of telling fibs inside the Confessional. Judge not!), one would think that I would have been quick with something rather Bible-ly to say to her in return. Alas not.

 

The only thing I could manage was “I am so grateful!”

 

And truthfully, I still am.  Grateful for the wine, grateful for the peace, grateful for being in the presence of someone with such unwavering conviction.  God knows, that’s the kind of faith that moves mountains.

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Whilst we don’t know the origin of the pics used, all respect and due credit are hereby given where appropriate. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and A Heart Full of Stories with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All media rights and copyright for the words reserved.

The Power of “Thank You”

I have always marveled at the way mothers perform their miracles. 

To me, these superpowers seem to really come alive at Christmas, Eid, Diwali, Birthdays, Weddings and Barmitzvahs. You know, those milestone moments that go on to the mantelpiece for a lifetime. 

It fascinates me the way these moms press-on despite limited budgets and family dramas, despite the exhaustion and lack of appreciation to create something out of nothing for their loved ones. 

It also fascinates me how “thank you” seems to be the spark that ignites their hearts and gives them enough energy for another 600 rounds of madness. Those two little words seem to be the magical formula. 

I had sat down to write a story about Gratitude for these mothers (and my own miracle worker mom) when another story fell right into my heart. 

He was drunk. No, he was pissed. He said that he was drinking because he was sad but I thought that he was sad because he had been drinking.

The man told me about the loss of his kids to drugs, the loss of his cash to gambling and the fact that the red wine in his hand was his only real friend. 

His wife was home preparing Christmas Eve dinner for 20 people. He told me that she always went “overboard” and that it was a complete “waste of time and money.”

I would have loved to listen to the rest of his story, but I had to dash. My husband sent me a text message telling me that the coast was clear to go and set up the “milk and cookies” scene at home.  

As I left, the grumpy man proudly showed me some pictures of his family. I noticed that they were all special occasion pictures of birthdays, Christmases and graduations gone by.

I prayed that one day he would remember how to say “Thank You!”

© 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 t

Trust Issues

I walked into the room and I could tell that they had been talking about me.

The tension told me that it was not good things.

One of the girls was my friend. The rest of the people I hardly knew.  Someone said “So, how was your weekend?”

The spotlight was on me. 

I saw a few shoes shuffling, heard a few throats being cleared.  The anticipation of my response was causing shifts in the room’s energy.

I said “It was relaxed. I did a bit of reading.” 

The next day, my friend called me up and told me that she was “concerned”.

She had been hearing rumours. Over tea, my friend began to unpack her concerns.  She started with my account of my weekend.  The truth is, I had donated some money to a charity and they had published a picture of me in the local newsletter. I did not know this.  She did and the fact that I did not see it fit to tell a group of strangers how charitable and wonderful I was, was a clear red flag for her.  She ended off by sharing with me that she had spent “some more” time counselling my boyfriend. They were near a breakthrough and hopefully he would “change”.

 

I was stunned. 

Firstly, I believed in my right to privacy, especially around philanthropy. I also knew nothing of my friend and boyfriend’s Dr Phil meetings and I most certainly knew nothing of MY hand in “pushing him over the edge”.

I was seriously stunned.

Fortunately for me, that chapter ended many years ago and I was both friendless and boyfriendless at the end of it, by no proactive choice of my own.

But who knew that in my middle-aged days of nappies and botox considerations that I would have to revisit the story.

You see, last week I sat in a room where everyone was talking about someone else’s husband and she walked in.

Someone asked her a leading question. The spotlight shone brightly. The energy in the room became greyish brown. There was shuffling and throat clearing. The tension made me start peeling the gel off my nails.

I was stunned.

Although they were all complete strangers to me and I was merely an observer sitting at the next table, I was seriously stunned.

So I closed and eyes and said “Thank you” for every weed that removed itself from my garden.  And then I continued to watch the dear woman proceed to answer to her audience.

© 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.

Car Crash in Tunisia

We were involved in a car crash in Tunisia.  All 15 of us should have died that day.

None of us did.  And ALL of us were shocked.

The bottom line is that even though we survived the burst tyre, the bus continued to spin out control.  It hit a concrete barrier on a highway and put us in the line of another danger.  Oncoming traffic.  It was a horror movie.

We had 4 kids traveling with us.  One of the babies was nursing at her mother’s breast and those screams (and Italian swear words) from the mother still ring in my ear many years on.

Once we managed to get over the danger of the oncoming cars all going 200km/hour, the danger of fire became real.  The bus was smoking and we needed to escape.

That’s when the magic happened.  Our driver, threw off his old grey T-Shirt and changed into his superman cape.  The 60 year old dodged oncoming cars, screaming in Arabic, and ushered each one of us through 3 lanes and safely onto a grass landing.  One by one.  He was calm and gentle.  So in control.  To me, he was a hero!

What a pity, he didn’t FEEL like a hero because once he had evacuated each one of us, he sat down, lit a cigarette and he burst out crying!

Together we watched the smoke engulf the car and destroy his life.  The vehicle was not insured.  It was all he owned.  It was his life.

Once we all regained some level of sanity, we had two concerns, 1. The kids and 2. The groom.  Yes, the groom! We were on our way to his wedding and his bride was concerned with our two hour delay.  He had left his mobile phone in the car and there was no way we could retrieve it.

Today, I am grateful that I have lived to tell the story.  I am grateful for my life.  I am grateful to the 60 year old hero.

As for the wedding, it was amazing!  What a pity they didn’t serve alcohol, because God knows, Tequila mixed with Vodka would have been the real hero of that day.

© 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 www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Twenty Something & Crazy

I arrived at the office at 6am. I rehearsed my speech a few times.  First at my desk.  Then in his office. I was planning to do that a few times more before my boss arrived at 8am sharp. But, as life would have it, he arrived early.   He neverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr arrived early.

“Oh!  You’re early too?” he said.

That’s when I had to make the decision.  I could either talk to him right away or let my nerves win and postpone the chat to another day.

I dived right in.

I asked him to let me take leave of 1 week.  No, not to go to Thailand.  I wanted leave to go and try out at another job while keeping the safety net of my current job!

Mad, right?  Who does that?  

The background is that I had just received an offer for a great new job!  It was a new company and everyone was talking about them.  They wanted someone IMMEDIATELY, so I told them that I would negotiate that with my current employer.  And, that’s what I planned to do.  Negotiate.  I came armed.

He said “Well, I can let you go for 1 week”.  I heard angels!  “But, if you want my honest opinion…..”   The angels stopped.  (I hate those words.  “Honest opinion?” What’s that supposed to mean?  Are some of the opinions not your honest ones?)

Anyway, he said “If you want my honest opinion, I don’t think you are good enough for that sort of environment.  Maybe in a few years’ time.  Of course you are very bright, don’t get me wrong (another phrase I loathe) but it needs someone a lot more mature and….ummmm…..I don’t know.  I just don’t think you are ready”.

I put down my weapons.  Negotiation over.  I hurt. For two seconds. Then, I smiled.  I did it!  I did it, I thought.  I just did the scariest thing my 20-something old self could imagine!

After a Strawberry Daiquiri in the sun after work that afternoon, I proceeded to buy my first designer pin-striped suit and I marched on into the unknown.

But hey, if you want my “honest opinion”, I do think I was pretty damn crazy!  But look at us now, sitting and writing stories about those wild days of youthful guts.

Aluta continua, my friends!  The road is long (for me).  Allow me to wish YOU many beautiful moments of crazy ideas, mad leaps of faith and unconventional routes to your scary hallways too.  

Lord, bless our weekend (Jealousy)

Lord, bless our weekend

Remind us that jealousy only happens when we count someone else’s blessings instead of our own.

Keep us looking inward and saying THANK YOU

Rejection is NOT Fatal

Many years ago I met a new woman.

I was immediately drawn to her.  I liked her presence.  She walked into a room and you knew she was there.  

Unfortunately the feeling was not mutual.  Regrettably, the woman with presence dismissed mine.  More than once.

I didn’t feel good about it. 

And no, I could not “just move on” or “just ignore her”.

I was drawn to her light.  This fact remained. 

Now anyone who has ever been rejected would know.  It’s an addictive drug.  Once you’ve had a hit, you don’t just STOP. No way Jose!  You get hooked. You need to go back.

So, back I went. 

Now, the first few times her rejections were subtle.  This time, she went big!  She arranged an office party for 6pm and did not invite me.  She was kind enough to tell me her sweet reasons.  She knew that I would need to use a bus.  And gosh, those buses really “don’t wait for anyone”! “But listen” she said “You won’t miss anything.  You’ll be fine!”

She was right.  Those buses did not wait for anyone.  Certainly not when you walk slowly because you are blinded by tears.

The bus left me that day.

But, what girl with presence was not right about was, I was not “fine”. 

I was not fine but those tears broke the spell of addiction. I was no longer the same girl.

Once the tears were over, I thought to myself “What a bitch!”.  That release was beautiful!

I arrived at the office the next day and her light had dimmed.

I was over her.  I was over her silver Mercedes too.  It suddenly didn’t look as shiny as I had always thought.

It has been many years now, and I remain sober. Sober with beautiful stories to tell. 

So, I say THANK YOU. Thanks for the material, Girl with Presence.

Who do YOU want to thank today?