The Woman on Her Knees.
An elder African woman portrait.
She fasted while pregnant. She prayed through the night. She pushed me into the choir before I was ready. This is what she built in me and why it matters.
Throughout last week I have shared pieces of her: her generosity, her warmth, her quiet accountability. But underneath every story, this is what held it all together. A woman on her knees. A family covered in prayer. A road cleared by faith.
She Disappeared on some Fridays
Growing up, my mother, Iyanlolu, would tell us she was travelling. We would say goodbye on a Friday and genuinely look forward to her return on Sunday. Excited, relieved, grateful she was back.
She had never left the house.
She was in another part of it the entire time. Praying. Fasting. Seeking God on behalf of her family. As a child, I could not fully understand it. But I felt its effects every single day.
"She was not occasionally faithful. She was always faithful. And her children were covered; whether we knew it or not."
The Prayer I Will Never Forget
Once, l took the children back home for a visit and towards the end of the journey when funds was running out, she really wanted us to visit her dad, my grandfather. We were reluctant. She made it possible anyway, and the 2 days before we lef for the journey, she said simply:
"Tomorrow we fast together."
"Oluwa, kun ika ni oorun." Lord, cause the wicked to sleep.
We arrived. The road was clear. Every obstacle gone. God moved them to be elsewhere that day.
I have never forgotten that prayer. I never will.
She Pushed Me Before I Was Ready
When our church was being built beside our house, she put me in the choir. No discussion. No negotiation. She simply believed I could do it, so I had to believe it too.
Sunday school meant reciting long passages aloud before the whole congregation, sometimes a whole chapter. One wrong verse and there were consequences. It was not comfortable. It was not always kind. But it was one of the greatest gifts she ever gave me.
Today, when people tell me I can speak anywhere, to anyone, without embarrassment, I smile. Because I know exactly who built that in me.
What She Built, Without Ever Calling It Parenting
Confidence — pushed me to stand up and be seen before I felt ready
Voice — made me use mine in front of others until it stopped feeling frightening
Faith — showed me that belief is not passive; it is something you show up for
Resilience — modelled how to carry burdens quietly and keep going anyway
Generosity — gave from what she had, always, without counting the cost
Accountability — kept receipts (literally) and retrieved them at exactly the right moment 😄
What This Has to Do with You
Every woman reading this is building something in someone. In your children. In the people around you. Through what you say, what you do, and, most powerfully, through what you quietly carry and still show up for anyway.
The confidence I have today was not born in me. It was placed there, deliberately, sometimes uncomfortably, by a woman who believed in it before I did. That is what strong mothers do. That is what you are doing, even on the days when it does not feel like it.
And you deserve the same care you give. You deserve space to process, to reflect, to rest, not just to keep giving without ever being replenished.
A Few Journal Prompt, If Her Story Stirred Something in You
What did your mother build in you, even without meaning to?
What are you quietly building in the people around you right now?
Is there something she gave you that you have not yet said thank you for?
What would it look like to honour her, and yourself, today.
These are the kinds of questions my guided journals are built around: gentle prompts that help you slow down, look inward, and find the words for things that have been sitting quietly inside you for a long time.
Through every story this week, my Dad, RIP, walks quietly beside her. The gentlest counterpart to her fire. 🕊️
To Anyone Reading This.
If your mother is still here, tell her today. Not in a message you'll send later. Today.
If she is gone, tell her story. Say her name. Let someone else know who she was and what she left behind.
Either way, say it out loud. 🙏
In the spirit of everything my mother gave, I have a free affirmation colouring page waiting for you. A few quiet minutes. A small act of care for yourself. Join the list and I'll send it straight to your inbox.
