Beneath the Bottlebrush ; A Monday Ritual

 


Every Monday, I sit under this blooming bottle-brush.
Not because I am wealthy.

Not that there are extra zeros in my the bank account,
but the opportunity to breathe, to sit, to stare, to while, and to pause.

Because I chose to intentionally,  break away from the race,
the pressure,
the loud hum of survival…
and just be.

Here, I reflect.
I rest.
I reset.
Some days, I cry.
Other days, I whine and wrestle—with GOD in tow.

This space knows my voice in all its forms.
It has held my silence.
It has witnessed my unraveling.
I have broken in ten different places beneath these branches.
I have met myself in fragments and watched GOD hold each one with tenderness.

And yet—every Monday—I return.

I come back, not as the same woman who once sat here with salt on her cheeks and questions in her chest,
but as one slowly, sweetly remembering how far she has come.

Today, I looked around,
and I realized:
GOD is amazing.
Life, in its complexity, is still beautiful.

Because sometimes, GOD brings you back to the very place that broke you—
The place where tears were your portion.
The place where you forgot your own reflection.
And He gently says, “Look. Look what I have done.”

This place is now more than a hiding spot.
It is a sacred monument.
A quiet testimony.
A reminder that peace can grow in painful soil.
That joy can visit the same space where sorrow once dwelled.

I do not come here to escape.
I come here to remember.

That GOD restores.
That healing is not always loud.
And that sometimes, reprieve looks like a Monday morning under a bottlebrush tree,
where the light dances through the branches,
and hope finds you again.

so dear friends,

Even in the wilderness, God whispers your name.
Even in the valley, He plants a door of hope.
You are not lost; you are being led.
And where you broke, you will bloom again.

Amen.

Njeri.