I go to Honest Chocolate Cafe every year on my birthday. The darling courtyard in the middle of town holds a special place in my heart. It’s in walking distance to the lawyers offices we’ve frequented - physical spaces that symbolize years of pursuing justice and breakthrough. We always stopped by Honest Chocolate for a taste of chocolate-flavored redemption after a heavy legal appointment.

Join me on a journey…
A story of a boy and his snail.
Snail goes missing. Snail is found. Snail professes his love for Christ. Snail goes on road trip. Snail survives a fall. Mom vacuums soil. This is Saturday morning.

A perspective I didn’t expect from a bug hunt…

A sunny winter afternoon. One in shorts. One in sweats. We were armed with cups and plastic spoons - on mission to find every bug in Africa. We found exactly zero. It might have had something to do with the intensity in which those flimsy plastic spoons hit the dirt, the sheer volume of the hunters’ excitement, or the fact that they can turn anything into an extreme sport. This particular bug hunt included a long-jump practice, rock rolling, sprint jumping, cat counting, and flower petal pulling. Just not bugs…

Benjamin didn’t want to go to his rugby training today. He’s faced waves of anxiety about the sport he loves so much since he saw his brother get carried off the field on a stretcher. Lifa is on the mend, but Benjamin still felt scared today. But we got there. We showed up without expectation.
And GRIT came out of that kid! …

Our six-year olds's auto-immune condition has been flaring up. My nerves crackled and popped all night last Friday from the intensity of caring for him, and I couldn't sleep at all. On Saturday, we watched a medic team carry my oldest son off the rugby field on a stretcher. My three-year old and I rushed to the hospital to open his file while my husband rode in the ambulance with him.

You'll never believe what happened next... I LOCKED MY THREE-YEAR OLD IN MY VAN IN THE HOSPITAL PARKING LOT. My sleep-deprived, nerve-frazzled, broken heart was just about ready to stop beating at this point.

In our current season of life, we don’t go to OT. We go to fields. We bring balls and brothers. It’s everything. (Lifa is often with us, but he’s still recovering from his rugby injury.)

Hard kicks. Full contact tackles. And a PRO MOM game of kicking balls up a hill (recorded on double speed bc it was so intense for so long). It’s always been the best way for Benjamin to find himself and feel like himself…

Crocs, snakes, tortoises - oh my!

Lifa sustained a serious injury on the rugby field on Saturday. Our whole family watched him get carried off the field on a stretcher. We spent the rest of the day waiting, praying and, finally, thanking God when he got cleared to go home. He’s been booked off school for recovery from a severe concussion, but, as it turns out, our house isn’t so restful! …

Did I sit quietly in a corner while my chidren tackled each other in the aquarium this evening?
Yes. Absolutely. It’s Jam’s necessary heavy pressure work.

Did I advocate for my kids to have their own space and NOT make friends with some sweet kids who desperately wanted to join in the fun? Did I speak to the children and the nanny on my kids’ behalf?
Yes. Without hesitation….

What a weekend. There are a thousand details and disasters sprinkled into the last 48 hours but GRACE is louder than it all. It’s the last month of his high school rugby career. Lifa took a hit that could have changed his whole story. We are so thankful for the swift care from his school, medical professionals, and the people around us who showed up and carried us through. God showed Himself through His people once again. He’s so tangible and kind.

I’m almost 16 years into this gig, and I still don’t understand the male species. The small ones, large ones, dog ones… none of them.

Yesterday I used my best library voice to whisper-shout, “No rugby in the library!” I put people in their rooms, had emergency caffeine, and engaged in rapid rounds of psychological warfare with a 3-year old. (Always lost.) And then, for some unknown reason, everyone stopped fighting, clinging and needing. The sun shone just right. And make bonding initiated. I sat on a kiddie picnic table and drank my tea like a QUEEN.

In honor of the month-long winter holiday ending, here’s one of the reels I started and never finished.

Context:We were right in the thick of unrelenting rainstorms and cold. I was overstimulated, and they were under stimulated. I took them to the aquarium for a last-ditch effort to save my sanity while we waited for the Springboks rugby match to come on that evening. Benjamin and Wyatt had their own rugby match for a crowd of cheering stingrays, sea turtles and one overly-tired mom who released her dignity and just started recording. But we all won!…

We’re going to keep saying it until you can see it. Church should be the safest place for anybody and everybody to know they matter. You don’t have to believe to belong. We’d like to invite you to just come and see.

Vision night will be an easy environment with no expectations. Bring a friend. Order a coffee on us, and we’ll spend a few minutes sharing what we mean when we say, “Church Home is a church to call home, and a family to call your own.”

I’m shivering on the sidelines of a Benjamin’s winter soccer clinic. I started feeling sorry myself here for a frozen, raining moment. The other 24 moms dropped their kids off, but I remain, with toddler in tow. I stay visible, available - an ever-present external nervous system. And did I mention it’s cold?

But as I pull my thick hat over my ears, perspective warms me. I don’t have time to rattle off how glorious it is that Benjamin is thriving here on the soccer field, or that he is dancing like a deeply-loved goober between goal posts with his best friend right now. That’s for another day.

We waited, and we waited, and we waited. Winter solstice means a LATE sunrise in Cape Town, and my kids don’t buy into the concept of circadian rhythms. FINALLY, approximately 96 hours into our Saturday morning, we caught a sunrise and construction site. I went for the waves. They were there for the cranes. Everybody won.

I love how Wyatt holds his dad's hand so he can gallop with more velocity. I love how Lifa starts a game of Croc rugby when we go to the only place in Cape Town that doesn't allow balls. I love how Benjamin wheeze-laughs and screams, "I LOVE THIS" when his big brother ankle taps him and knocks him out. I love how Wyatt throws himself on the ground after Benjamin gets tackled to feel like he's part of the game. I love how Lifa can fish for tadpoles and still look like a model. I especially love the handsome man that holds us all together with his incredibly intentional, kind, and discerning love.

The weekend did not weekend as weekends should. Wyatt took us all down with a flu he bounced back from as soon as the other kids got out of school on Friday. My own empty tank was certainly not sufficient to support Benjamin’s needs, and every moment dragged on like its own emergency. It is a euphemism, at best, to say we had a tough one.

Sometimes we call him “Frat Boy Wyatt” because he lives full throttle, like a youth freshly released in the wild. Wyatt does everything all the way - from chugging Powerade and sprinting through life to loving his brothers and full contact hugs. He’s intense. He is consolidated electricity, team spirit and goodness in one package. Enjoy a peek at this afternoon… just a regular day of Wyatt living life.

When the people wake up illegally early... Benjamin needs a down day... and Wyatt doesn’t do down.

Jam stayed home with Chris while I took Wyatt mall-walking on a rainy morning. We arrived an hour before the mall opened, and the boy lived his best life. He got his first glimpse of an arcade (my nightmare) and rode every ride. (Let’s never tell him you are supposed to buy tokens and actually make the rides move, ok?)

Chris traveled through South Africa earlier this month, and we’ve had the privilege of hosting many guests lately. Our usual, unwavering routine has been all over the place lately. But there’s nothing that can make the Ladds feel more like family than the kickoff of rugby season!

THIS IS OUR LAST RUGBY SEASON!!!

We had an EPIC time on Bree St! Thank you Young Urbanists s for the Open Streets Africa Experience. I was so moved by the power of passionate people to bring change to their city. THINK ABOUT WHAT WE COULD DO FOR GOD'S KINGDOM WHEN WE UNITE AND MOBILIZE!

The little Ladds lived their very best lives being able to move freely downtown while four blocks of a major road were shut down for cars.