Diary of a Thriving Mum

Recently I heard a phrase that sounded very simple but somehow followed me home and refused to leave: “Seek to know God.”

My first reaction was honestly, Well… obviously. Isn’t that what I’m doing already? Gold star for me. Bible-reading champion. Spiritual overachiever. Heavenly attendance register: present and accounted for.

But then the pastor said something that unsettled me a little:

“Don’t come to His presence for power. Don’t come for gifts. Just come for Him.”

And I thought… Oh.

Because if I’m being honest, sometimes my prayer life sounds like a polite customer service complaint:
“Hi God, it’s me again. Just checking on ticket number 472 — still pending.”

So I decided to try something different.

I told myself, Okay. New approach.
No agenda. No prayer list. No bargaining.

I would just read the Bible to learn something new about Jesus.

Simple.

Or so I thought.

By day three… I had couldn’t hold back what has been bothering me

I cried so much that I woke up at 4 a.m. already crying, whispering to God like someone who had been arguing in their dreams:

“Lord… my heart is heavy please help me.”

I’ve been reading through the New Testament with a group — mostly listening — and today something strange happened.

A sermon briefly mentioned a passage I’ve always low-key wondered about. You know those Bible verses you read and just nod respectfully like:

“Yes Lord. Deep.”

But inside you’re thinking:

“I have no idea what that meant.”

It was about the times Jesus fed thousands with almost nothing — in Gospel of Matthew, Gospel of Mark, and Gospel of Luke.

Not the miracle itself — we all know that part.

It was the leftovers.

The part where Jesus told them to gather the remaining food and carry baskets of it into the boat.

And the Bible never clearly says what happened to the leftovers.

I’ve searched sermons before trying to understand why that detail mattered, but nothing ever fully landed in my spirit.

Until tonight.

I was listening to Mark 8:14–19, and honestly my attention was divided — half spiritual, half distracted — but my soul caught something.

So I went back.

The disciples had forgotten to bring food.

Again.

And Jesus starts talking about the religious leaders, and somehow the disciples turn it into a discussion about bread — like people who miss the point professionally.

And Jesus basically says:

“Have you learned nothing?”

Then He reminds them about the miracles.

But not just the miracles.

The baskets.

The leftovers.

How many baskets remained after He fed thousands.

And suddenly it hit me.

Jesus wasn’t just reminding them that He can perform miracles.

He was reminding them:

“You were there. You carried the proof. You saw the abundance. Why are you worried now?”

And it felt like Jesus quietly turned a mirror toward me.

Because in February 2025, I had five major prayer requests.

Five.

I was convinced that if God answered those five things, I would be the happiest woman alive.

No more worries.

No more tears.

Just joy and testimony and possibly dancing in church with alarming enthusiasm.

Tonight God reminded me:

He answered all five.

All five.

And the fifth one?

He did it this February.

In one year, God changed my life in ways that last-year-me would not have believed.

Last-year-me would have grabbed a trumpet and blown it aggressively in public.

Last-year-me would have said:

“God did WHAT?”

And yet here I am.

One year later.

Crying again.

Worrying again.

Broken again.

About something very real and very painful…

But something my God could change so completely that next year I might barely remember this version of myself.

Today during HC, Joshua Selman said:

“Someone here, God said you should look up.”

And I knew.

That person is me.

Because I realized tonight…

I have been looking down.

Looking down at problems.

Looking down at emotions.

Looking down at disappointments.

Looking down at “life.”

And somewhere along the way, I forgot to look up.

I forgot to look toward heaven.

I forgot to look at Jesus.

I forgot that I am literally living inside prayers I once cried over.

I forgot that abundance already happened.

I forgot the baskets.

So tonight…

I repented.

I told the Lover of my soul:

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry for treating You like a solution instead of a Savior.

I’m sorry for coming only with needs.

I’m sorry for nagging like an ungrateful partner.

I’m sorry for focusing on my emotions more than Your faithfulness.

Tonight I just wanted Him to know:

I love Him.

Not just what He does.

Him.

And I’m writing this because I know I’m not the only one.

Maybe you’ve been looking down too.

Maybe you’ve been looking back — not with gratitude, but with regret.

Maybe God is pushing you forward but your feet feel glued to yesterday.

Maybe nothing feels like it’s working.

Please…

Fix your eyes on Him.

When Peter looked at Jesus, he walked on water.

The moment he looked away, he sank.

Not because the storm suddenly got stronger…

But because he remembered he was human.

Yes, the problems are big.

Yes, the pain is real.

But they are not bigger than Jesus.

And maybe — just maybe — you are already living inside prayers you forgot you prayed.

Sorry this was long.

And maybe a little scattered.

But if this brings peace to even one person…

I can sleep tonight knowing someone else remembered to look up.

XOXO

Ife