We grew up wanting to be like celebrities. We had songbooks and photos cut from magazines. We wanted to be the famous people we dressed like them, tried to sing like them. We fooled ourselves into thinking one day weâd become BeyoncĂ© 2.0. Boys thought they would be John Cena or Ronaldo.
We had idols.
âWhen I grow up, I want to be likeâŠâ and someone would write Halle Berry. Meanwhile, you didnât even know how to act! We hadnât even discovered our own dreams, yet we wanted to live other peopleâs lives. By the way, Iâm sorry Iâm late with this. I am actually writing it during a 10-minute break, straight from the top of my head, so please forgive me if it doesnât flow the way it should.
Fast forward, we grew up and started wanting to be like our friends. We began talking like each other, dressing alike, even dreaming of doing life on the same timeline: getting married at the same time, having babies at the same time. As my apostle would say, âStory, story, storrry.â Iâve come to realise that what you birth is uniquely yours. I adore my nieces and nephews, honestly, I think I love them even more than I love my sisters but the truth is, theyâre not my biological children. What you birth is yours. Stop checking someone elseâs âbabyâ to see if yours is measuring up. A matching vision, a matching logo, matching this and that⊠but how will you ever stand out if all you do is mimic others?
Children born of the same parents sometimes donât even look alike, so the vision you birth doesnât have to look like mine. You can show up in your own style, in your own way, not trying to offer the world version 60 of what itâs already seen. This is a season of birthing, and when your âchildâ doesnât look like mine or your neighbourâs, it doesnât mean itâs not a child. It doesnât mean you kill it. You donât harbour jealousy, and you reject the spirit of competition. Instead, you nurture your child and uniquely groom it. People say babies get swapped in hospitals number one, itâs a crime; number two, itâs a mental disorder. What the Lord puts in your hand is yours for a reason. Remember that.
Go on and be unique.
See you tomorrow â€ïž
âYou formed my innermost being, shaping my delicate inside and my intricate outside, and wove them all together in my motherâs womb.â
ââPsalms⏠â139âŹ:â13⏠âTPTâŹâŹ




