Not My Will

I started the day with a positive attitude. 

And then the day happened. 

Just one single interaction with someone and all my low self-esteem came gushing forth, insecurities and failures and non-growth, comparing myself to others and it is all getting old and I am not worthy and blah blah blah. 

I will have faith.

I will trust.

I will pray for God’s power.

I will be willing.

Not my will, dear Lord, but thine be done.

My Name is Vonita

I had the wonderful fortune of landing a part time job in my last year of school. I worked four hours on a Saturday morning for a local optometrist. Technically, I was not the best candidate as the receptionist position required the person to be bilingual (English and Afrikaans). In those days towards the end of apartheid South Africa, there were many people who spoke Afrikaans and Afrikaans only. Whilst I can certainly understand Afrikaans being spoken and can hold a basic conversation kindergarten level, I can hardly say I am fluent (or even sound half-normal speaking it). But good fortune prevailed and I got the job. As an aside, it was a life-saver. The four hours per week paid well, and covered all my university pocket money expenses, driving lessons, and part of my last years tuition. Without taking focus away from my studies.

The optometrist was a tall man. He also lectured at the local university. At that stage I attended a convent, had minimal male interaction (at all), and found him totally, completely intimidating. Being a man and all. And a big, tall, older one at that. And an important one. His wife ran the practice and she was the one who hired me. She was lovely. Grace personified. One of my duties was to make hot black tea, and lemon, and serve it to her husband in his office. I must have appeared as a timid little mouse. I hardly said a word to him, would deliver the tea and escape. One day I spilt the tea in the saucer. It happened just as I was about to place it down. I didn’t know what to do. I placed it down. He kindly gave it back to me and told me to bring a new one. The tea would would drip on his desk and papers and he couldn’t have that. I apologized, took the cup and saucer and returned with a new one. Unspilt. Dry saucer. Yay! (And I never made that same mistake).

I must have been working there for a good few months. One morning I took the tea into his office. He thanked me, but addressed me with the wrong name. Thank you, Michelle. Michelle was the person who worked there previously. In that moment, I managed to rise above my feelings of intimidation, and overcome my shyness. I thought to myself, just say welcome. Easy, then leave, exit the office. Instead I replied

You’re welcome. 

And. 

My name is Vonita.

Being Secure

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take It From Me.”

This morning I feel insecure. It is a feeling inside that makes me feel like I am not anchored. Like I am floating in the wind. Floating higher when winds are light and breezy, and sinking lower when the winds begin to change. Leaving me deflated and questioning everything about myself.

I try and teach my daughter to be the leader of her life. Possess confidence, self-esteem, be secure in herself, not be subject to opinions of others, to know her own mind. So far, she is all of these things. I was too scared to speak to people when I was her age. I’m still reserved in person. I love having others around me. But am reserved in my interactions. My daughter is confident and self-assured – everything I am not. I can grow to be those things too.