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​ *They Always Look Fine… Until They Open Up* I’m learning that some of the strongest people I know are the ones who rarely look like what they are carrying. They smile the brightest, laugh the loudest, show up the most, until one day, in a quiet moment, they finally open up. And you realize… The person who looks put together is fighting battles nobody sees. The one who encourages everyone cries silently at night. The one who always says “I’m fine” has learned how to hide pain like makeup. It’s not pretence , it’s survival. Life didn’t give them the luxury of breaking anyhow. So they mastered the art of holding themselves together even when everything inside them feels like glass. But when they open up,just a little, you hear the exhaustion in their voice, you see the weight behind their eyes, and you realize how much strength it took to simply show up every day. People carry silent wars. People bleed quietly. People smile while holding their hearts in place. So before you judge anyone...

Know yourself for yourself. It sounds simple, but it’s one of the most powerful things you can ever do. I know when my wig no longer matches my face, not because anyone tells me, but because I can see it. I can feel it. I know when I’ve worn a look for too long and it’s time to change things, switch things up, or give myself a fresh start. Sometimes that means getting a new wig. Sometimes it just means fixing my hair. But the point is: I don’t need anyone to remind me of who I am or when it’s time to evolve. In the same way, you shouldn’t wait for people to tell you about yourself. You shouldn’t depend on others to confirm what God has already said about you. People can misread you. People can misunderstand you. People can under or overestimate you. But God doesn’t. And you shouldn’t either. When you know yourself, truly, deeply, you know when a season is over. You know when a mindset no longer fits. You know when a habit is blocking your growth. You know when it’s time to shift, adjus...

I used to shrink whenever someone asked, “So what are you doing now?” Because my answer didn’t sound big enough. It didn’t have the fancy title, the shiny salary, or the Instagram-worthy ring light. So, I’d smile and say something vague, not because I wasn’t growing, but because I felt my progress was too small to be celebrated. Until one day, I realized… growth is growth, even when it’s quiet. That job you’re learning to love, that small business that’s still finding its voice, that habit you’re finally being consistent with, they’re all signs of progress. Don’t let comparison make you ashamed of your journey. And don’t dim your light just because someone else’s looks brighter. You don’t have to be there to be proud of here. Progress doesn’t have to be loud to be real. Sometimes it’s one step forward after two steps back. Sometimes it’s waking up to try again, even when nobody notices. So, clap for yourself, even if no one else does. Your pace is not too slow. Your process is not too ...

Your small beginnings are not a disadvantage. They’re training.  We romanticize big beginnings, but God rarely starts big. He starts with seeds. Seeds that look insignificant. Seeds that require patience. Seeds that test your consistency. The small beginning is where God teaches you discipline. It’s where He builds endurance. It’s where foundations are laid, the kind that can carry real weight later. If you’re in your “small” season, don’t despise it. This is where the version of you that can handle greatness is being formed. What starts small with God never stays small. Temilade Alokan  Light Lamp

You’re not behind.  You’re being built in silence. Keep going.  There’s a certain type of loneliness that comes from feeling out of pace. Like everyone else is arriving at destinations you haven’t even found on the map yet. I know that feeling too well,  the quiet panic that whispers, “You’re late. You’re slow. You’re missing something.” But God revealed something to me in one of my quietest seasons: Construction doesn’t make noise until the structure is ready to stand. Your growth is happening in the unseen places, inside your discipline, inside your patience, inside the new boundaries you’re learning to create, inside the identity God is shaping in you. You are not behind. You are being built. And buildings built quietly often stand the longest. Keep going. Your silence is not emptiness, it’s preparation. Temilade Alokan  Light Lamp

​ You don’t look like what you’ve survived and that is grace.  If people knew the full weight of what you’ve lived through, they would look at you with awe. Not pity, awe. Because somehow, after every heartbreak, every loss, every disappointment, you still manage to smile. You still extend kindness. You still believe there’s goodness ahead. That’s not weakness. That’s grace. God covered you in storms that should have soaked you to the bone. He carried you through nights that should have broken you and when people see you now, they see the glory  but not the story. Grace kept you. Grace rebuilt you. Grace made you look untouched by battles you fought alone. Temilade Alokan  Light Lamp

Not every delay is denial. Some delays are protection.  There were doors I cried over. Opportunities I begged God for. Relationships I wanted to force open. Every “no” felt like rejection  but now, looking back, I see they were shields. I didn’t know that the job I wanted would have drained me. I didn’t know that the person I prayed for would have broken me. I didn’t know the path I wanted so badly would have led me into valleys I wasn’t ready for. So God delayed me. He slowed the process. He interrupted my timeline. Not to frustrate me  but to preserve me. Delays are often the fences God puts around your destiny so that nothing harmful can slip in unnoticed. If only we saw what He sees, we would thank Him more for the doors that never opened than for the ones that did. Temilade Alokan  Light Lamp

Don’t rush the process.  What God is building in you needs time, not panic.  Impatience is human,  but God works on a different clock. He takes His time because He builds deeply. He doesn’t do surface work, He changes foundations. The version of you He’s sculpting is one that will last,  not one that will crumble at pressure. So if He’s taking long,  It means the blessing requires inner strength and stability. Don’t panic. Don’t rush. Don’t force what God is still refining. Some blessings come quickly, but the ones that last… take time. Temilade Alokan  Light Lamp

​ If only you knew how close you are to the version of you you’ve prayed for.  There are shifts happening in your spirit long before they manifest in your life. Your growth is happening quietly, in your decisions, in your mindset, in your desire to become better. Every hard season has been carving you. Every lesson has been shaping you. Every prayer has been building you. If you could see what heaven sees, you would understand why the battle got heavier, it’s because you’re close. Closer than you think. Closer than you feel. Closer than your fears suggest. Don’t stop. You’re walking toward the very thing you once begged God for. Light Lamp

​ *HEALING* Healing is not loud.  Sometimes it looks like you choosing peace again today.  Healing doesn’t always look like breakthroughs or big victories. Sometimes healing is choosing not to pick an old wound today. Sometimes it’s choosing rest instead of overthinking. Sometimes, it’s saying, “This hurt me, but I won’t let it define me anymore.” Healing is a thousand tiny decisions, most of which nobody sees. It’s waking up and deciding to try again. It is catching yourself slipping back into old patterns and gently redirecting your mind. It’s acknowledging the pain without letting it sit on the throne of your life. Healing is quiet but quiet progress is still progress. And every small choice toward peace is a victory heaven celebrates.

I was having a discussion with a friend recently. After I opened up and shared a bit about what I’ve been going through, she looked at me and said, “Temi, you don’t even look like it. You look like someone who can employ people!” I smiled and immediately claimed it. That’s not the moment to start saying, “Ahhh, for where?” or “Me ke?” No. Learn to agree with good words. When people speak life over you, don’t reject it out of humility. Receive it in faith. Speak it over yourself. Pray it until it becomes your reality. You may not have it yet, but you can grow into it. Because sometimes, what people see in you is not where you are, it’s where God is taking you. So when next someone says, “You look blessed.” “You look like a CEO.” “You carry grace.” Smile and say, “Amen,that’s my reality loading.” Be positive. Speak positive. Claim every good word. And watch how your life starts aligning with the very things you once only hoped for. Temilade Alokan Light Lamp

ENSURE YOU READ TILL THE END. “Bisola, do you know you’re not getting any younger? When are we coming to eat wedding rice?” The question came with laughter, but it landed like a stone. She smiled politely, but her eyes dimmed for a second. People never knew she cried herself to sleep most nights, praying that love would find her too. Then there’s David, a married man whose wife has been trying to conceive for four years. Every family gathering comes with the same question, “So when will you two give us a baby?” He laughs awkwardly and says, “Soon by God’s grace.” But only God knows the pain behind that forced smile. And Tolu? She’s been job-hunting for months. Each “Any job yet?” cuts deeper than the rejection emails. She’s tired, but she still wakes up, dresses up, and tries again. We say things jokingly, casually, without realizing how heavy they can sound to someone fighting silent battles. Depression doesn’t always look like tears; sometimes, it’s the quiet friend who no longer pic...

​ She didn’t break, she transformed. And that’s why she glows differently now.  They looked at her story and expected to see someone shattered. But what they didn’t know was that pressure doesn’t always produce destruction. sometimes it produces evolution. She went through things that could have hardened her,but instead they refined her. She faced betrayals that could have made her bitter, but instead they made her wise. She walked through seasons that should have left her empty, but instead they made her whole. She didn’t break. She bent. She grew. She molted the old version of herself , the one that needed validation, the one that was afraid to speak up, the one that settled. Now she glows differently, not because life suddenly became easy, but because she finally became aligned with who she was meant to be. Her glow came from the rebuilding. From the deep inner work. From surviving the things meant to dim her. Her light is her testimony.

“Bisola, I’m tired,” Teni whispered, staring at her reflection. “No matter how hard I try, it’s like I’m never enough.” Her voice trembled, that kind of trembling that comes from fighting quiet battles nobody sees. I smiled gently. “You don’t have to be perfect, you know?” She looked at me, confused. “Then why does it feel like everyone else has it together?” I chuckled softly. “Because we all post our polished parts and hide our broken ones.” Silence. Then tears. “You can still be loved while you’re learning,” I told her. “You can be growing and still be God’s favorite. Perfection isn’t the goal, grace is.” She sighed. “So, I don’t have to keep pretending?” “No, you don’t,” I said. “Even God never asked for perfection. He asked for surrender.” We sat there quietly, letting those words sink in. It was as if peace finally entered the room, softly whispering, “You’re enough.” And maybe that’s what someone needs to hear today, You don’t have to be perfect to be chosen. You just have to ke...

​ Sometimes God slows you down so He can show you what you were too busy to notice.  There was a season in my life when everything felt like it was moving backwards. Plans that once flowed easily began to stumble. Doors I thought would open effortlessly suddenly became heavy. I kept asking, “God, why are You slowing me down when I’m finally ready to run?” But the more I struggled to push forward, the more life insisted that I pause. And in that stillness,  the one I didn’t choose  I started to see what I had been too busy to notice. I noticed the habits that were draining my strength. I noticed the people who clapped for me publicly but resented me privately. I noticed the warning signs I had ignored because I was too focused on getting ahead. I noticed me, the me I had been neglecting. God wasn’t punishing me. He was protecting me. He was whispering, “Slow down. Let Me show you what you missed.” And what I saw in that pause changed everything.  Sometimes the slowdow...

Before anyone knew who Esther truly was, they already had names for her. “Stubborn.” “Too emotional.” “Troubled.” “Complicated.” People never waited to hear her story, they just reacted to her scars and Esther, she learned to shrink herself so her wounds wouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She learned to smile so her sadness stayed polite. She learned to apologize for things that were never her fault. Everywhere she turned, someone had something to say about who they thought she was. One evening, after another day of whispered judgments, Esther locked herself in her small room. She sat on the floor, back against the bed, feeling the weight of every label pressed against her chest. She cried, not because the names were true, but because she was tired of defending a story no one cared to understand. “I’m tired, God,” she whispered. “I’m tired of being explained, criticized, and misunderstood. I’m tired of carrying things You never gave me.” And in that quiet, fragile moment, a voice rest...

There are nights when the silence feels louder than prayer. You scroll, you sigh, you stare at your phone, not because you want attention, but because you just want someone to see you. Not the strong you. Not the “I’m fine” you. Just you, tired, soft, and human. Sometimes, what we call desire isn’t always lust, it’s loneliness dressed in human form. It’s the ache to be held, to have someone whisper, “You’re safe here.” But here’s what I’ve learned: longing isn’t sin, it’s proof that you were designed for connection. The danger is when we try to fill spiritual hunger with physical fixes. When the heart is empty, the body starts begging for what only peace can give. So today, if your soul feels restless, don’t shame yourself, breathe. Let God hold you in the quiet. Let His love reach the parts touch can’t heal. Because sometimes, what we really need isn’t a body beside us, it’s comfort that stays even after the lights go off. You’re not broken for wanting love. You’re just learning that ...

It’s not just advice, it’s a gentle shake from life itself. These are the little reminders we often ignore until life forces us to learn them the hard way. Each piece is written for the woman who’s trying, growing, and learning to stand strong, one season at a time. This series is for the girl who’s tired but still hopeful. For the one balancing dreams, faith, and reality. For the one who knows she’s meant for more, but just needs that push. So, dear girl, wake up. Wake up to wisdom. Wake up to purpose. Wake up to growth. Because your becoming is too beautiful to sleep through. Temilade Alokan Light Lamp

“Don’t worry, I’ll marry a rich man,” she said jokingly. We both laughed, but I knew that was how many girls actually think. Waiting for marriage like it’s an escape plan from responsibility. But here’s the truth, there’s a special kind of joy that comes from having your own before marriage. Your own income. Your own mind. Your own sense of purpose. Because when you bring something to the table, you don’t sit at it afraid. You sit with confidence , knowing you’re not a liability but a help meet. Not a burden, but a blessing. Marriage was never designed to be your financial upgrade; it’s supposed to be a partnership where two whole people come together, not half and full. So girl, wake up. Stop waiting for a “rich guy” to be your breakthrough. Work, build, learn, grow. Let your value speak before your beauty does. There’s a certain pride that comes with saying, “I can take care of myself but I’m grateful God sent me someone to share the load with.” Because true wealth isn’t just in what...

​ I once sat in a seminar where everyone kept nodding, you know that “yes, that’s true” kind of nod but months later, nothing had changed. Same people, same complaints, same stories. That’s when it hit me: Between hearing and doing lies the bridge called success and not everyone crosses it. We love motivation. We love the rush of new ideas. But after the excitement fades, most people go back to comfort. They take notes they’ll never open, say “I’ll start tomorrow,” and live in a loop of learning without doing. If you’re one of those who just listens, marks attendance, and never takes steps, you’re doing yourself more harm than good. Because wisdom without action fades into noise. Start small. Act on one thing you’ve heard today. Make that call. Send that email. Register for that course. Apply for that job. Post that idea. Don’t just be a hearer, be a doer. Because results don’t come from what you know, they come from what you do with what you know. Temilade Alokan Light Lamp

I’m not where I used to be, but I’m not quite where I thought I’d be either. I’m somewhere in between the space called becoming. Becoming is messy. It’s waking up with faith one day and fear the next. It’s learning to forgive people who never said sorry, and letting go of versions of yourself you once needed to survive. Some days, I bloom. Other days, I break. But even in the breaking, I’m learning that growth still happens in the dark, like seeds buried in soil, unseen but not forgotten. Becoming means giving yourself permission to be a work in progress. To rest when you need to. To start again without shame. To celebrate small steps that nobody else claps for. I used to think I had to have it all together. Now I know, grace holds me together even when I fall apart. God doesn’t rush the process; He redeems it. Every delay, every detour, every disappointment is still being woven into something beautiful. So if you’re in that in-between space too, breathe. You’re not behind. You’re just...

This is me. Not the perfectly curated version you see online. Not the girl with everything figured out, but the one still learning how to breathe through uncertain seasons. I’ve had days when I prayed and nothing moved. Nights when I cried so quietly, even my pillow stayed still. I’ve smiled through storms just so no one would ask, “Are you okay?” Because sometimes, explaining your pain feels heavier than carrying it. But this is me, unfiltered. The real version. The one who’s walked through shame, failure, and silent wars with her own mind. And yet, I’m still here. Not perfect, not polished but present. I no longer need to act strong all the time. I’ve learned that vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s truth in motion. It’s saying, “Yes, I’m still healing, but I’m still hopeful too.” The filters may hide the tears, but they can’t hide the grace that keeps me standing. Because every time life broke me, God rebuilt me quietly, piece by piece, stronger than before, softer too. So this is me...

There was a time I hid my scars. The moments I failed. The seasons I begged God in secret, and the times I smiled in public just to hide the cracks. I thought strength meant silence. That faith meant pretending everything was fine. But then life happened and I realized, healing begins where hiding ends. Now I tell my story differently. Not from shame, but from survival. Because the same God who saw me break also watched me rise. I’m not ashamed of my journey — the debts, the disappointments, the delays. They taught me dependence. They stripped me of pride and clothed me in grace. You see, the enemy loves to whisper, “Don’t tell them what you’ve been through, they’ll judge you.” But I’ve learned that what once embarrassed me has now become the evidence of God’s faithfulness. So no, I’m not ashamed, not of my scars, not of my process, not of my story. Because those scars are proof that I survived what was meant to destroy me. I’m not ashamed of my waiting season, because it taught me pat...

I used to think healing meant bouncing back quickly. Smile again, move on, don’t look like what you’ve been through. But now I know, healing is not a race. It’s a slow, sacred walk. Some days, you’ll wake up strong. Other days, you’ll wake up and feel the sting again, the loss, the disappointment, the scar that still burns. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed; it means you’re still human. Healing takes time, real time. Time to cry without shame. Time to forgive yourself. Time to breathe again after being choked by pain for too long. God never rushed the sunrise; it happens gradually. And He’s not rushing your healing either. He’s patient with your process, even when you’re not. Every tear you’ve cried, He’s counted. Every sigh, He’s heard. And while you’re trying to rush through the pain, He’s more interested in what He’s growing in you through it. So don’t compare your recovery to anyone else’s. Don’t despise your slow days — they’re holy too. You’re not broken; you’re becoming whole agai...

There was a time I thought sexual purity was just a church thing. Something pastors preached about, not something people really lived. Until I met myself in a quiet season, the season where God started asking me, “Who owns your body?” I won’t lie, i know it is not easy. It’s not easy to say no in a world that celebrates anything goes. It’s not easy to stay grounded when your flesh screams and your emotions rise. But somewhere in my journey, I discovered this, purity isn’t about shame, it’s about strength. It’s not about saying “I’m better,” it’s about saying “I belong to God.” I’ve had moments I wanted to give in. Moments I questioned, “Does it really matter?” But every time, I hear that still, gentle whisper: “Your body is Mine, and your worth is not up for debate.” So I chose purity, not because it’s popular, but because peace lives there. Because purpose breathes there. Because I want to look back and know I honoured God, even when no one was watching. If you’ve fallen before, pleas...

There’s a kind of nakedness that has nothing to do with the body. It’s the kind that strips your soul, the one where life undresses your strength, your pride, your plans, and leaves you standing there, vulnerable before God. I remember the season I was laid bare. Nothing was working, not my plans, not my strength, not my prayers the way I expected. I had no more masks to wear, no more “I’m fine” to say. Just me, raw and broken before the One who already knew. That’s the thing about nakedness, it exposes what we try to hide. It forces us to admit, “God, I can’t do this alone.” It’s uncomfortable, humbling, and yet… it’s holy. Because it’s in our nakedness that healing begins. When we drop the act, when we stop pretending, when we let the tears fall, God starts to clothe us with grace. He replaces shame with strength, and fear with peace. Sometimes, He allows life to strip you, not to embarrass you, but to rebuild you. To remind you that you were never meant to cover yourself, He is your...

Sade sat on her bed, scrolling through social media again. She saw the new phone, the new bag, the new shoes and for a moment, her heart sank. “Why don’t I have that yet?” she whispered to herself. Then a quiet thought came: You’re not the only one figuring things out. You’re not the only one who doesn’t have that money yet. You might even be surprised at what people earn, some months it’s plenty, some months it barely stretches. We all pack our lives according to our pulse, our pace, and our journey. Let me tell you something, I still buy thrift wears. There were times I couldn’t even afford to give tailors materials to sew outfits. Even in my early working days, I struggled. There are still things I can’t afford today. I check myself every time I want something: “If I buy this now, will it affect me for months?” I remember craving wigs I couldn’t afford. Not blends, not even the cheap ones and some I still can’t bring myself to buy because that money can settle bills. So here’s my ru...

Tomi sat in her room with the lights off again. Phone in hand, tears quietly running down her face. Messages unread. Calls ignored. She wasn’t angry, she was just… tired. Tired of trying. Tired of waiting. Tired of pretending to be okay. She whispered softly, “God, if You’re still here, please give me one reason to keep going.” Silence. Then another wave of tears. But in that silence, something still small stirred inside, a whisper she almost missed: “I’m still here, even when you don’t feel Me.” It wasn’t loud. It didn’t fix everything. But it was enough to make her breathe again. Enough to choose one more sunrise. You see, sometimes healing doesn’t come in lightning bolts, it comes in small, quiet reminders that you’re not alone. When life feels too heavy to carry, that’s when grace bends low to carry you. If you’ve ever been there, numb, exhausted, ready to disappear, this is your reminder: You’re not a mistake. You’re not forgotten. You’re not beyond redemption. Your tears are pray...

Deborah was the kind of woman who believed in showing up, early, faithful, and expectant. But lately, even showing up felt heavy. She had been waiting, for a job, for love, for a change. And the longer she waited, the quieter God seemed. She watched others move forward while she stood still. “Maybe I’m not favored enough,” she thought. But grace gently whispered, “You’re not forgotten. You’re being formed.” You see, the wait isn’t punishment, it’s preparation. God hides some blessings until your heart can hold them. He delays some things not because you’re undeserving, but because what’s ahead requires a stronger version of you. One day, Deborah received an opportunity that made her forget the pain of waiting, a door that didn’t just open but welcomed her with peace. Then she realized: the wait wasn’t wasted. Every delay had direction. Every silence had purpose. So if you’re in that long waiting room of life, don’t confuse silence for absence. He hasn’t forgotten you, He’s perfecting w...

Ada sat at the edge of her bed, holding her phone, staring at yet another rejection email. She laughed, not the joyful kind, but the kind that hides frustration. She whispered under her breath, “God, what exactly am I doing wrong?” Everything felt confusing. She had prayed, done her best, believed, yet every door seemed to close. It felt like God was silent — like Heaven was on “do not disturb.” But what Ada didn’t know was that even when life feels blurry, God’s hand is still steady. Sometimes, trust means walking blind while holding onto a voice you can’t see but still recognize. That night, Ada decided to pray differently. Not “God, fix it,” but “God, help me trust You while You’re fixing it.” And slowly, peace began to replace her panic. Weeks later, one “no” led her to an unexpected “yes” a path she never planned, but one that felt like home. Then she understood: God’s silence wasn’t abandonment; it was alignment. So if you’re reading this and nothing makes sense right now, breath...

Fola was always doing something, Learning, working, hustling. She feared that if she stopped, she would fall behind. So even when she was exhausted, she kept saying, “I can’t rest now.” But one evening, after yet another long day, she broke down in tears and said, “God, I’m tired.” And in the stillness, she heard the whisper of peace, “You can rest and still rise.” Somewhere along the way, we confused rest with laziness. We thought slowing down meant we lost our drive. But the truth is even seeds rest before they bloom. Rest doesn’t mean you’ve stopped growing; it means you’re gathering strength for the next stretch. It’s okay to pause. It’s okay to breathe. You don’t have to prove your productivity to be purposeful. Even Jesus rested. Even the ocean pauses between waves. Why then do you feel guilty for resting? Fola took a break that week. She slept, prayed, journaled, and just breathed. And when she woke up the next morning, her heart felt lighter not because everything changed, but ...

Esther used to think growth would always be visible, Loud achievements, big moments, clear signs that God was moving. But then came a season where everything went silent. No new job, no big news, just quiet days that all looked the same. At first, she panicked. “God, am I stuck?” she asked. But what she didn’t know was that stillness doesn’t mean stagnation, it often means transformation. There’s a quiet side to becoming that no one claps for. It’s when you’re learning discipline, when you’re healing from what broke you, when you’re unlearning old ways to make room for new grace. It doesn’t look exciting, it looks hidden. But that’s where true growth happens. The seed doesn’t make noise when it grows. It breaks quietly, roots deeply, and rises slowly. That’s how God grows you too. So if your life feels quiet right now, no spotlight, no announcement, don’t despise it. Heaven is still writing your story, even in silence. The quiet side of becoming is sacred. It’s where God strengthens wh...

Ada used to over-explain herself. Every time someone misunderstood her, she felt the urge to defend. Every time someone doubted her effort, she worked twice as hard just to be seen. She was tired not from life, but from trying to prove she was enough. Until one day, her mentor looked at her and said, “Ada, stop trying to prove what grace has already approved.” That sentence stayed with her. The world teaches us to prove, prove your worth, prove your success, prove your relevance. But God says, “Be still.” Because you don’t need validation to be valuable. Some people will misunderstand your silence. Some will question your pace. But that’s okay. You’re not living to meet their expectations, you’re walking in divine direction. You don’t have to post it to prove it. You don’t have to rush to show results. You don’t have to match anyone’s timeline. When you know who you are and Whose you are, you stop performing for approval. You realize peace is louder than explanation. So breathe. You ar...

“Delete that one, my hair didn’t sit right.” “That one too, my skin looks too rough.” Sade had taken twenty pictures and didn’t like any. She sighed and said softly, “Nothing about me feels perfect anymore.” Her friend smiled and said, “Maybe that is the point, maybe grace isn’t supposed to be filtered.” And that’s when it hit her. We have been taught to present only the polished parts of our lives, to edit out the flaws before anyone can see them. But God’s grace doesn’t edit, it embraces. Unfiltered grace is messy. It’s falling and still being loved. It’s crying and still being called chosen. It’s failing and still being covered. Sade realized she didn’t need to look perfect to be purposeful. Her story, with all its cracks and pauses, was still worthy of being told because that’s how light shines through. So, she stopped deleting. She posted one photo. Imperfect, real, raw and wrote, “This is me, unfiltered. Still growing. Still loved.” And that’s the beauty of unfiltered grace, it r...

Tola used to post every milestone, Every new job, every answered prayer, every small win. But lately, she went silent. No updates, no long captions, no “God did it” posts. People began to wonder, “Is she okay?” But she was. She had just discovered a different kind of peace, the kind that doesn’t need to prove, just to exist. You see, there’s a glow that doesn’t come from filters or flashlights. It comes from a quiet place — where you stop explaining and start trusting. Where you realize you don’t need to announce what God is still building. Sometimes, silence isn’t emptiness, it’s growth in progress. God often does His best work in hidden places, where applause can’t distract you and comparison can’t reach you. Tola stopped trying to prove her light and started protecting her peace. And slowly, she noticed something, she was glowing differently. Not loudly. Not publicly. But inwardly. Deeply. Beautifully. Because there’s a kind of glow that comes only from surrender, from knowing your ...

“Smile, don’t let them know you’re struggling.” That’s what Kemi whispered to herself before taking another selfie. She smiled brightly, clicked “upload,” and within seconds, hearts and comments flooded in. “Pretty!” “Soft life!” “You’re glowing!” But nobody knew she cried that morning over unpaid bills. Nobody saw the anxiety behind that beautiful picture. She was glowing but not from joy, from exhaustion. That’s the pressure of appearance, looking fine while falling apart. Trying to prove you’re okay because the world only applauds success stories. We’ve made life a stage performance, smiling in public, breaking in private. We filter our pain but post our progress, forgetting that healing happens when we stop pretending. Dear one, it’s okay not to glow all the time. It’s okay to have silent seasons where nothing looks beautiful but everything is being built. Because the truth is, real growth doesn’t always look attractive; sometimes it looks like waiting, praying, and crying your way...

Tomi sat scrolling through her phone again. Another girl just got a new car. Someone else just announced a relocation. And there she was, sitting on her bed, holding a phone with a cracked screen, wondering if life forgot her. She sighed. “God, I’m tired of feeling behind.” But what she didn’t realize was that her heart had been quietly competing with screens, chasing illusions wrapped in filters and hashtags. We don’t say it out loud, but comparison creeps in silently Through likes, stories, and reels. You see someone’s highlight and forget it’s just a frame, not the full film. Behind every glowing picture is a reality that doesn’t always shine. Behind every “soft life” caption is someone fighting unseen battles. Yet we scroll, compare, and shrink, not realizing that peace cannot coexist with constant competition. God doesn’t rate you by your online timeline. He measures growth by what happens when no one’s watching Your persistence, your patience, your prayer. So, stop competing with...

“Ehn ehn… so I heard you now judge your worth by the kind of phone you use?” Those words replayed in my mind the day I saw a young lady hide her phone, not because it was broken, but because it wasn’t a Pro. It was an iPhone 11, but she felt embarrassed. “People might think I’m broke,” she whispered, smiling awkwardly. And I sighed. When did we start tying our value to pixels and megapixels? When did the glow of a screen replace the glow of peace? We’ve become a generation that measures success by what can be seen, the brand of your phone, the car key in your photo, the luxury background behind your mirror selfie. But some of the loudest pictures hide the quietest pain. We are chasing appearances more than growth, spending to impress instead of investing to progress. But here’s the truth, your worth is not defined by your device. You can still dream, build, and rise with a cracked phone but a clear vision. Because wealth isn’t in what you post; it’s in the peace you carry when no one’s...

There was a time Sarah thought God had gone quiet. No open doors, no answered prayers, just silence. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months of waiting, and she began to wonder if her name had somehow been erased from Heaven’s list. She did everything right She prayed, fasted, showed up but nothing seemed to move. Every time she scrolled through social media, someone else had a testimony, someone else was sharing “God did it,” and she whispered softly, “What about me, Lord?” But here’s what she didn’t see, even in that silence, God was working. Not in the way she expected, but in the way she needed. Sometimes, the most powerful seasons in your life are the ones where it seems nothing is happening. Because in silence, roots are growing. Character is forming. Faith is being stretched. And Heaven is preparing a stage that eyes haven’t seen yet. You may not see movement, but the foundation is being laid beneath the surface. God’s silence is not His absence, it’s His strategy. Sarah d...

Tomi sat in front of her laptop, staring at a blank page. She used to write effortlessly, words flowed like water. But lately, fear had tied her fingers. She whispered to herself, “Maybe I’ve lost it… maybe it’s too late.” She closed her eyes, remembering all the times she’d started something and stopped halfway, the business idea that failed, the overwhelming debt, the friendship that broke, the dream she buried because disappointment hurt too deeply. One evening, as the rain tapped softly against her window, she felt a gentle nudge in her heart “Try again.” Not because she had it all figured out, but because God hadn’t changed His mind about her. Starting again doesn’t mean you failed, it means you’re brave enough to believe that new beginnings still exist. Even if your last attempt ended in tears, even if the world moved on while you were healing, grace still waits for your “yes.” The truth is, we all have moments where life resets us. And that’s okay. Because God never runs out of ...

Tola almost didn’t check her email that morning. She was tired, discouraged, and close to giving up on applying for jobs. But there it was, an invitation for an interview she had prayed for months ago. Her heart raced. And as she walked into that room days later, she realized something: Every late night of studying, every quiet season of self-doubt, every “no” that taught her perseverance was preparing her for this moment. God had answered but only when she was ready. Sometimes it feels like heaven is delaying, but it’s really aligning. Because opportunity without readiness becomes wasted favor. We often pray for open doors, but God waits until our hands are strong enough to hold what’s on the other side. Preparation may feel lonely. It may look like nothing is happening. But behind the silence, God is equipping you for the stage you prayed for. When opportunity finally meets readiness, you won’t have to strive, you’ll just fit. Because you’ll realize that while you were waiting, God w...

It was a quiet morning when Ada got the message: “Thank you for checking on me last night. You saved me from doing something stupid.” She froze. All she did was send a message “Hey, how are you holding up?” But those few words became a lifeline. Sometimes we underestimate the power of our presence. We think we’re too ordinary, too small, too unseen, yet somewhere, someone is whispering a prayer that your obedience will answer. You may not have everything figured out. You might still be trying to make sense of your own journey. But even in your uncertainty, God is still using you. Every smile you share, every word you write, every act of kindness, it carries the potential to heal someone’s unseen wound. You are God’s response wrapped in humanity. Your compassion is someone’s comfort. Your story is someone’s survival guide. So, when you feel unseen, remember this: You are seen by God and sent for someone. Keep showing up in love. Keep being kind even when it’s unnoticed. Because sometime...

She prayed passionately that night, tears soaking her pillow. “Lord, bless me. Open doors. Change my story.” And heaven heard her. But heaven also whispered something she almost missed: “You can’t pray and stay unprepared.” At first, she didn’t understand. But as days turned into weeks, it became clearer, Faith is not folding your arms; it’s rolling up your sleeves. Many times, we pray for rain but don’t dig ditches. We ask for opportunities but don’t learn the skills to manage them. We want to be seen, but haven’t built what’s worth showing. Prayer without preparation is like planting without watering, you’ll have seeds but no growth. Yes, God answers prayers, but He also honors readiness. When Joseph was in the prison, he didn’t just sit and sulk; he interpreted dreams, building a gift that would later speak before kings. David didn’t become a warrior overnight; his training started in the fields, facing lions before facing Goliath. So, girl, don’t just pray for the platform, prepare...

It started with a phone call. “Temi, can you handle this project?” Her heart leaped, this was the kind of opportunity she had prayed for. But as she stared at the requirements, her excitement slowly turned into fear. She realized she wasn’t ready. She wanted the stage, but she hadn’t learned the script. She wanted the blessing, but hadn’t built the capacity to carry it. That day, she learned a hard truth: God doesn’t just bless your prayers, He blesses your preparation. Many times, we pray for more without preparing for more. We ask God to enlarge our territory, but we don’t stretch our minds. We pray for open doors, but our skills, discipline, and mindset aren’t ready to walk through them. Building capacity means growing before the breakthrough comes. It’s studying when no one’s watching. It’s practicing when no one’s clapping. It’s learning, refining, and stretching yourself quietly because when the opportunity finally arrives, there’ll be no time to start learning. Girl, don’t wait ...

The day it hit her, she was scrolling through her phone again, watching people announce new jobs, online certifications, and fresh wins. She paused for a moment and whispered, “God, what am I even doing with my life?” Not out of jealousy, but realization. The world was moving, and somehow, she was standing still caught between comfort and fear. She had dreams, big ones. But dreams don’t grow if you don’t feed them. And then came that gentle nudge in her spirit: “Educate yourself. Add more to your knowledge.” It wasn’t just about school or certificates. It was about stretching her mind, growing her confidence, and refusing to let stagnancy become home. Because truth is, you can’t keep being on the same spot while others are progressing. Learning doesn’t end after graduation. Every new skill, every book, every course, every conversation adds a layer of wisdom that shapes who you’re becoming. Girl, the world is evolving. You can’t keep saying, “I don’t know how to,” when there are free re...

There was a time I thought being still meant being weak. I believed movement was proof of progress, and if I wasn’t constantly doing something, I was somehow failing. Until life slowed me down, painfully. I remember those quiet evenings when everything in me wanted to fix things. The unanswered prayers, the financial weight, the unspoken fears. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing shifted. And that’s when I heard it. Not audibly, but deep within my spirit: “Be still.” Still? When everything is falling apart? Still? When there are bills waiting and dreams hanging? It didn’t make sense right? But over time, I realized, stillness isn’t weakness; it’s strength. It takes courage to be calm when everything screams, “Do something!” It takes faith to rest your heart when the answers haven’t come. It takes trust to wait when you could worry instead. Stillness doesn’t mean idleness; it means surrender. It’s where God does His deepest work, in quiet hearts, not frantic ones. When you stop stri...

The waiting season can feel like a slow ache, you’ve prayed, believed, done all you know, yet it feels like heaven is still writing your story in pencil. There was a time I thought waiting meant doing nothing. But I’ve learned, waiting isn’t passive; it’s preparation. It’s what you do while you wait that shapes what comes next. While you wait, worship- even when it feels hollow. Because worship reminds your soul that God is still worthy, even when life feels weary. While you wait, work- not out of panic, but with purpose. Learn, grow, build. Don’t bury your talents because you’re waiting for the big stage; the lessons you learn now will sustain you when the light finally shines. While you wait, watch- for the quiet ways God is moving. He might not change the circumstance yet, but He’s changing you, teaching you patience, faith, humility, trust. And while you wait, rest- not in defeat, but in assurance that God’s hands never stop working. Even silence is strategy. Even delay has directi...

The waiting season feels like standing in a long queue you never planned for. You’re watching others being called ahead of you, someone gets the job, someone gets the promotion, someone shares the testimony you’ve been praying for. And there you are, still waiting, still holding your number, still whispering, “Lord, am I a stone? How long will it take?” Waiting isn’t easy. Sometimes it feels endless, like your prayers are stuck in traffic. It tests your patience, your peace, and your belief in God’s timing. It exposes the parts of you that crave control and teaches you to surrender what you can’t change. The waiting room is quiet, but it’s not empty. That’s where God works behind the scenes, aligning hearts, shifting circumstances, and preparing you for what’s ahead. Sometimes the delay is divine protection. Sometimes it’s redirection. And sometimes, it’s simply growth. If God gave you what you prayed for too early, you might lose it trying to manage it. So He waits, until your faith i...

That night, Peju couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came without warning-hot, heavy, uncontrollable. I knelt beside my bed, not with bold faith this time, but with a broken heart. I cried. I prayed. I begged. “Lord, please… just this one thing.” But the heavens stayed silent. No sign. No shift. Just quiet. I remember staring into the darkness, whispering, “God, are You still listening?” Because how do you keep believing when nothing seems to move? How do you keep praying when your words feel like echoes that never return? It wasn’t that I stopped believing, I was just tired. Tired of holding on. Tired of explaining to people why things still weren’t changing. Tired of pretending that I wasn’t breaking inside. You see, no one talks enough about the waiting room of faith — that sacred space between prayer and manifestation, where silence feels like rejection, but it’s really preparation. In that quiet pain, God didn’t answer my prayer the way I wanted but He answered me. He strengthe...

It’s always in the midnight. Iffy turned from one side of the bed to the other, chasing peace like it was hiding in the corners of her room. No matter how she tried to quiet her mind, it kept shouting- bills, disappointments, unanswered prayers. She whispered, “God, I just want peace.” But even that prayer felt too heavy to finish. You ever get to that point where peace feels like a luxury? Where your thoughts run faster than your faith? You smile in the daytime, but when night comes, your chest feels heavy and you start to wonder if peace is meant for people like you, or if you somehow missed it. I’ve learned something, peace isn’t something you chase; it’s something you receive. Peace doesn’t always mean silence. Sometimes, it’s the strength to stand in the storm. It’s the calm that settles in your heart when everything around you is still chaotic. God never promised a life without noise, He promised His presence in the middle of it. And sometimes, peace doesn’t come in the absence o...

No one sees it, do they? That silent weight you carry every day, the one that doesn’t show on your face but sits heavy on your heart. You wake up, dress up, and show up, smiling like everything’s fine. But deep down, you’re tired. Not just tired, weary. There’s a weight that doesn’t make noise. It’s the burden of being the strong one, the dependable one, You’ve learned to hide it so well that even your tears have learned silence. Sometimes, you wish someone could just see through your strength and say, “You don’t have to be okay today.” But everyone assumes you’ve got it figured out. They don’t know you cry in between victories, that some nights you whisper, “God, I can’t do this anymore.” And yet, even in that exhaustion, grace still finds you. God sees what others don’t. He knows how long you’ve been holding on, and He’s not distant from your pain. He’s been walking with you, quietly carrying the part of the weight you couldn’t bear. So, take a deep breath. You don’t have to hold eve...

I was pacing again. You know that restless walk you take when you’ve prayed, but nothing seems to move? That “God, are You sure You’re hearing me?” kind of pacing. I wanted results. I wanted answers. But heaven felt quiet, painfully quiet and I was running out of patience. Until one morning, a gentle whisper settled in my heart: “Be still. I’m still working.” It stopped me. Because I realized I’d been treating God like an employee, someone I expected daily progress reports from. Every time nothing changed, I assumed He’d forgotten me. But He hadn’t. God doesn’t forget. He just works differently. He builds quietly, behind the scenes, while we’re busy panicking. He’s not in a rush; He’s in control. Sometimes, the delay you hate is the protection you need. Sometimes, the silence you fear is the setup for a testimony you’re not ready to handle yet. So now, when my heart starts to worry, I remind myself: Stillness isn’t weakness, it’s faith. It’s choosing to trust even when your miracle fee...

It was one of those quiet nights again, the kind where your heart feels louder than your prayers. I sat on my bed, staring at the ceiling, whispering words that felt too heavy to say out loud: “God… are You still there?” It’s strange how silence can sound so loud. You kneel, whispering prayers with trembling lips, and all you hear is the clock ticking- mocking your faith with every second that passes. You check again- no answer. You listen again- no voice. And slowly, you start to wonder, “Did I do something wrong?” “Maybe God has forgotten me.” I’ve been there — in that sacred silence where heaven feels shut, and your tears become your only language. But here’s what I’ve learned: God’s silence isn’t absence; it’s strategy. When He’s quiet, He’s crafting. When He hides, He’s healing. When He delays, He’s developing something deeper in you. Sometimes, God’s quiet doesn’t mean He’s not speaking, it means He’s teaching you to trust without evidence. He’s showing you that faith isn’t built...

There was a night I sat on my bed, tears falling faster than the words I could pray. “God, are You still there?” I whispered. Honestly, I didn’t feel strong anymore. Because sometimes, faith doesn’t roar, it trembles. Sometimes it’s not a shout of victory; it’s a quiet whisper through tears: “Lord, help my unbelief.” I had done everything I knew- prayed, fasted, encouraged others, yet nothing seemed to change. My faith, once loud and fiery, had become a trembling whisper. There are days faith feels strong, and you can conquer anything. Then there are days it feels fragile- when you’re holding on to promises that seem delayed, when you’ve prayed for months and nothing changes. It’s like holding a candle in the wind, shielding it with trembling hands, hoping the light doesn’t go off. But here’s the truth no one tells you: even faith that shakes still speaks. Even when all you can say is “Lord, help me,” it’s still a prayer Heaven hears. He honors your trying, even when you’re tired. He s...

Victoria sat pretty on her bed, scrolling through her phone again. Another friend just got engaged. Someone else moved abroad. Another started a new job. “God did it!” captions everywhere. She smiled, but deep down something in her whispered, “And there you are - still here- staring at your screen.” Then softly, “God, when will it be my turn?” It’s not envy. It’s that quiet ache of delay, the silent comparison that sneaks in when you’re trying to stay grateful, but your heart still feels left out. You tell yourself you trust God, yet part of you wonders if maybe you’re doing something wrong. It’s easy to feel left behind when everyone seems to be moving faster. When you’ve prayed, worked, waited, yet the answers still delay. You start to wonder if you missed your path or if God somehow forgot your address. I’ve been there. Waiting. Praying. Trying. And when it feels like everyone’s race is moving faster than yours, you start questioning your own lane. But here’s what God keeps teaching...

To the girl who’s tired, uncertain, and waiting on God. You’re not behind; you’re becoming. GIRL, ARE YOU SINCERELY OKAY? You keep saying “I’m fine,” but deep down, your heart knows otherwise. This isn’t weakness, it’s exhaustion. Read this slowly. Breathe again. Girl, are you sincerely okay? Not the “I’m fine” you tell your friends, not the “I’m good” you post online but the kind of okay that lets you breathe without pretending. You’ve been strong for too long, haven’t you?Smiling through pain, showing up when your soul is tired, carrying weight while quietly drowning There’s a kind of exhaustion no amount of sleep can fix, the kind that comes from fighting invisible battles. You’re trying to hold it together, but some days it feels like life is holding you by a thread. Some days, strength looks like tears. Some days, faith sounds like silence. If you’ve been holding it all together, this piece is for you. Girl, you deserve to pause. You deserve to exhale. You deserve to admit that yo...

“Asake, what is even wrong with you?” Mosunmola asked, her face tight with concern. “Why do you like to put others first before yourself? I just saw you ranting to Joy, yet a few minutes ago you were busy trying to please Faith. What’s up with this double character you’re playing?” Asake sighed deeply. “You know Joy is my sister—she’ll understand but people from afar? I gats act considerate now. It’s just a normal thing.” Mosunmola stood up slowly and nodded her head. “Sincerely, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Just a few days ago, we were trying to figure out how to clear your debts, and now you’re here promising someone something you don’t even have?” Asake looked down, fiddling with her fingers. “You know I don’t want them saying things about me. You know how people can be—‘she calls herself a Christian,’ blah, blah, blah. I’m not ready for drama.” Mosunmola sighed. “You see that drama you’re trying to avoid? You’ll still act it because tell me, where were they when you were soa...

It whispers in your ear: You’re not enough. You should have done more. Others are ahead. Why are you still struggling? It makes your chest tight. It steals your sleep. It spins your mind with different thoughts, replaying every mistake, every moment you feel you fell short. Sometimes you feel like you’re drowning in it. Gasping for air. Wanting to scream, but no one sees the storm raging inside. They see the smiles. They see the calm but they don’t see the nights you lie awake, staring at the ceiling, tears soaking your pillow, silently begging for an answer from God The pressure is real. It’s financial debts, bills, responsibilities that never sleep. It’s emotional, the fear of disappointing those you love, the fear of failing, the fear that you’ll never be enough. It’s spiritual, the fight to hold onto faith when it feels like everything is falling apart, when prayers seem unanswered, when hope feels so far away and yet, even in this suffocating weight, there is a light A whisper of ...

There are some pain you choose to ignore and there are some that leaves you with a great lesson I resigned from a job to pick up another job in another sector with an higher pay. Bills are billing and I just told myself, “this is the opportunity I have been waiting for” The interview happened on WhatsApp call but the network interrupted and I even had to switch to the office router. These were signs but I ignored again. (I means who does interview on WhatsApp call) Then after several interruptions, she created a google meet link and i didn’t get to see her face. On that same day, i got accepted without offer letter and when I asked, i was told to write my offer letter. (As how now, smiles) Still, I ignored it Why? Because the salary looked like the answer to my prayer Weeks passed, workload increased and I even had to pull a friend to join, on contract. Then payday came and went. Promise turned to silence. Number stopped going through . The HR’s identity was fake. I didn’t even get dat...

Be kind to people in words, actions and support. Many are carrying burdens you cannot see because there’s no peace in mind, even on social media. The pressure, the weight, the struggles to become something, the debts, the joblessness, they all speak louder than the voices fighting in the mind and before you know it, depression start to creep in. If you let it in, it will take the whole being and life will still continue even when you’re broken. Life has a way of bullying you and devil use that opportunity to expand it and make you surrounded by it but you have the power to push back by making it a necessity to speak to yourself each day when you wake, tell yourself, I FIND PEACE. You are a young lady but the challenges you are facing have added years to your age, you look like you’re old. You are 20 but looking 30. You stay awake each night because of lack of peace. Return those worries and doubt but speaking peace to yourself and it’s through the positive words of your mouth that shap...

IF YOU ARE DOWN EMOTIONALLY, Pray with me… Lord, here I am again with trembling hands and a heavy heart. I don’t have the right words anymore, just tears and whispers. I have tried to be strong, but I am burdened. I have tried to carry the weight, but it is crushing me. I have smiled in public, but in secret, my heart has been breaking. So I come to You, not with fancy words but with a plea: Help me. Help me when the world feels too loud and my faith feels too small. Help me when bills pile up, when responsibilities drown me, when I feel I am not enough. Help me when silence feels like an answer, when waiting feels like a punishment, when hope feels like a stranger. Lord, see my tears. They are not just drops of water, they are prayers. Each one carries a story, a wound, a need. And I lay them all at Your feet. “You are close to the brokenhearted and save those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) You said You will never leave nor forsake me. God, I hold onto those promises like a...

I was off a month and one thing I’ve realized is that nothing beats a moment of reflection, even in the midst of the storm. Sometimes, all you need is to retreat. Watch out for my writings on this space; it’s going to be therapeutic, a little sanctuary for your mind. DON’T HIDE. DON’T GIVE UP Over the years, so many people have chosen silence but silence often makes healing harder. It’s an emotional struggle Sometimes, emotion mix up because the life you want, looks like the one someone else is living Or the job you’ve been craving doesn’t come through, no matter how hard you try. You can’t just find happiness and so, little by little, you start to give up. You shut the door to new opportunities not because you want up but because you’re tired of getting hopes high again You are so fast to shift blame’s on others even though you know deep down it’s not but you just want to feel right You live quietly, secretly hoping that one day, someone will notice you. But how? When? What if no one...

Reader Review of Ada – The First Daughter by Temilade Alokan “I just read Ada – The First Daughter, and it is a beautiful piece of writing, richly embodied in God’s nature and inspiration. SUMMARY Ada tells the story of a young woman who carries the weight and burdens of her loved ones on her shoulders, often neglecting herself in the process. In her quest to find peace, she resorts to solitude — unwilling to accept love and unable to connect freely with the few people in her corner. Her journey is one of pain, healing, and rediscovering what it truly means to live in obedience to God. ANALYSIS The character development, plot, style, tone, themes, and message were delivered articulately. I especially love the spiritual aspect of the book. Each episode ends with a prayer point, reminding us that our help comes from the Lord. ✨ One powerful lesson I took from this book is: “Sometimes obedience to God means disappointing others.” I recommend this book to: 1️⃣ Those overwhelmed by family r...