Being Caroline’s Daughter…

This is a Momentary Thought from a Satiated Mind—a space where I pour out what Spirit is revealing, where the divine dances through the ordinary, and where reflection becomes a healing rite. For those who’ve spent time with me here, you already know: these thoughts though random—are my souls rhythm. They’re me processing life in real time, capturing the whispers of wisdom that rise from lived experience. And this week, I am sitting inside a revelation that feels both fresh and ancient.

🌟I Now Know That I Know...

I’ve always known I’m my mother’s daughter. But now—I know it, in the marrow of my

bones. A day before celebrating her version 7.4 aka her 74th b’Earth day my mother

checked herself into the hospital. The joy of looking forward to her birthday the next day

quickly turned to concern as she was diagnosed with diabetic ketoacidosis, a fancy way

of saying she had dangerously high blood sugar levels. In those tender hours, I saw

something I never expected: my strong, meticulous, always-in-control mother—

vulnerable and asking for help. Gogo Carol, as we affectionately call her, is not the type

to show weakness. She is the vitamin-taking, brush your teeth with military precision—

floss-before-bed, wash-the-corners-of-everything type of woman. She’s the dust the

wooden furniture with a wet cloth, followed by a polish with mukwa oil and then a shine

with a soft cloth, as clean and ordered as they come, and when it comes to her way of

doing things—there’s simply no mistaking it!! She’s also hilariously gruesome in her

sayings—those fierce, deeply Zimbabwean idioms that leave you both laughing and

traumatized. Like the moments while she watches you cooking in the kitchen and she says:

“Amai mwana, mabasa etoilet akangozvipengera nhaika!?!.”

(Literally translated…”Matt􀄴ers that take you to the toilet are insane”!)

That’s her way of expressing deep exasperation over how much energy goes into

cooking—only for it all to end up flushed away. The drama! The truth! The hilarity!

🤣😅😂􋺷􋺸􋺳􋺴􋺵􋆌􋆅􋆆􋅿􋆀􋆋􋆍 Who else but Gogo Carol? She says things only she can say, in ways only she can say them—and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

But, I digress! On May 29, something in me shifted. I realized I’m not just her daughter—

I’m a branch of her tree. Without her, I’m unsure how to turn on the sprinkler system in

my home, I mean literally!

Without her, I don’t know who teaches my future grandbabies how to drive. Without her, I don’t quite know how to love the way she does—so tirelessly, so completely, so unconditionally. And when she says, “If I had two of you(coz yoh my mom’s thinks I’m crazy lol), I would’ve gone insane!” I now nod with a smirk... because I finally get it. It’s not that I’m insanely uniquely different from what she calls the norm, its because the love she gives can only be given to one! God as they say is a genius, and I love Him for it!

In this sacred moment — of a “Momentary Thought from a Satiated Mind”—Four Things I’m Learning by Being Caroline’s Daughter, are the sacred gifts I am holding, embodying, and sharing with you now:

1. Strength Is Often Silent

My mother’s strength is not in declarations—it’s in doing and in being. She shows up.

She serves. She sacrifices. She folds her power into the ordinary until it becomes

extraordinary. Being Caroline’s daughter has taught me that strength doesn’t always

roar. Sometimes it folds towels with love. Sometimes it shows up in clean crisp sheets

on a perfectly laid out bed! It shows up in fresh home-cooked meals, and in consistency. Her strength wears no cape, but it’s undeniable.

2. Presence Is Everything

Her energy is home. Her presence doesn’t just fill a room—it sets the rhythm of the

house. In her two-day hospital staycation under close watch in ICU…her absence, made

everything around me feel uncalibrated. I realized how deeply seen and held I’ve always

been. She doesn’t just mother me—she covers me, and there is a ministry in that! Her

laughter, her movement, her corrections—even her dramatic sayings—they tether me to

something eternal. Her presence has been like gravity in my life—always there, always

holding me up, always pulling things together.

3. Loved Loudly, Spoiled Softly

Yes, I’m spoiled.😅And proud of it! 😆􋆷􋆳􋆶􋆵􋆲􋆴 Because she didn’t just give me things—she gives

me all of herself. Her attention, her effort, her BIG heart! She gives me the emotional

room to become, to dream wildly, to rest deeply, to mess up safely. She is both a

cushion and a compass, and I now see more clearly how her over-pouring love gives

me wings and roots. She teaches me how to rest in being loved SIMPLY and

UNCONDITIONALLY. And that’s something I HOPE to continue to carry forward.

4. Nothing—and I mean nothing—prepares you for watching your parent age.

It’s a kind of emotional whiplash no one warns you about. One moment they’re running

things like a military commander in pearls, and the next—you’re holding their hand in a

hospital room, praying the prayers you usually save for emergencies. Lately, this reality

has been shaking my FAITH like a tree in a storm. There’s a kind of helplessness that

comes with it that feels downright crippling—like all the scriptures you know are

suddenly harder to reach when it’s your mama in that hospital bed. At one point, my

son Ken Ken—wide-eyed and full of Gen Z boldness—said,

“Mama, exercise the FAITH you always tell us about, abeg!”

And all I could say was:

“Wait until your own mama gets sick. Then come back and preach to me,

evangelist KT.” 􋆌􋆅􋆆􋅿􋆀􋆋􋆍🤣😅😂

We laughed—but deep down, I knew he was right. It’s just that faith hits different when

it’s someone you consider immortal, unshakable, and always in control suddenly

needing you to be strong for them. Whew. No one trains you for that kind of role

reversal. But here we are—still standing. Still trusting. Still believing. And claiming

that RADIANT health is Gogo Carol!

💭Now, I invite you to reflect…

Maybe your mother like mine is still here. Maybe she’s transitioned into an ancestor. Maybe you were mothered by a woman who didn’t give you life but gave you everything else. Who is your “Gogo Carol”?

1. What sayings, lessons, or looks do you carry, still carry in your soul?

2. What have you come to know that you know about her—perhaps only after time, distance, or crisis?

3. Let this be a sacred moment to remember, to honor, to laugh, and to cry if needed.

In this Momentary Thought from a Satiated Mind I take a moment; I invite you to pause with me. To take a breath! To let your shoulders soften and to enjoy the comfort of those around you whose love is subtle but pure, raw, unshakable, and downright genuine!! Let that LOVE wash over you again, and again, and again!

      To all who are walking through a similar season — with aging parents, unexpected illnesses, or simply the realization that time is indeed moving faster than you imagined — I want to say: your tears are not weakness. Your exhaustion is not failure. And your love, no matter how unspoken, is seen and felt even when it is not acknowledged.

      To those whose mothers are no longer in the physical — may their wisdom continue to rise up in you in ways that catch you by surprise.

And to those who still have time to say something kind to their mother — please do!   Ask the question.  Sit a little longer.  Take the picture.  Write the story.  Share the memory.

✨Today, I continue to honor the woman who gave me life, language, and laughter.  Happy b’earth day, Gogo Carol. I love you DEEPLY! ✨ 

🙏🏾 I offer this ACTS Prayer to all mothers:

Adoration

Dear God, I adore You for mothers like mine—for fierce, faithful, flavorful women who shape

the world from the background. I praise You for the beauty You’ve crafted in their

quirks and strength.

Confession

I confess I have often underestimated my own mother, I assume she’ll always be strong, always be there, always be doing, always be giving. Forgive me for overlooking the daily miracles of her presence, grace, and compassion.

Thanksgiving

Thank You for the life of all mothers—for this life, right now. Thank You for their stories, their scolding, their strength, their sayings. Thank You for the way they love us even when we’ve made it hard. Thank you God for all those mothers who have mothered me!

Supplication

I lift up every soul walking through a tender and challenging season with their parent. May divine strength rise up within each one of them, anchoring them in unwavering courage and peace.  May the balm of Gilead soothe their heart, and wisdom guide their every step with grace.  Let love be their compass.  Let memory become a vessel of healing. 

And to every mother—may you be enveloped in honor, be deeply cherished, and fully seen for the radiant vessel of life and love that you are!  From a heart overwhelmed with reverence and reflection, awe, and gratitude, I ask, I allow, I let it be so, and so it is! AMEN and Ashe.

Food for the Soul:

May you honor the ones who raised you, laugh at their sayings, and love them harder

while you can. Because even toilet wisdom has holy meaning when it comes from your

mother’s mouth.🤣😅😂—Coach Mabel