Making my bed
Last night I did something I haven’t done in a very long time… I made my bed! I think it came from a self nurturing place because I love a made bed but it came from an even deeper place, of feeling safe and loved. I’m not sure if you are aware but I grew up in South Africa and had a live in Nanny my entire life. That meant that I never had to make my bed- ever. It was just made for me. Thinking back I never took the time to appreciate it, but now I do because my Nanny didn’t just make it. She made it with love. My nanny’s name is Thembinkosi Ndebele. She is one of the strongest women that I know. She grew up in rural Zimbabwe and to say she had a hard life is an understatement. She was the last of many children born to her parents, and since her aunty did not have children, she was given as a gift to her aunty and uncle to raise as their own. Thembi played with her siblings thinking they were her cousins until one day she found out that she was given away. Despite this she was super faithful to both her mothers. Her husband was conscripted into the army and was killed in war, leaving her with 3 little kids. She described to me what it was like tying her baby onto her back, with a child at each side walking a mile to the well and carrying 2 big buckets of water home, multiple times a day. She left her 3 kids with her mother and came to work for us in Johannesburg. She was not a nanny like “the help book.” She never held my hand and told me I was good and beautiful. She loved me by being a rock of faith and strength, never complaining…. and by making my bed every single day.