Letters Home

A Moment of Letting Go

I held his young body tightly. My tears threatened to spill. He walked alone through airport security, carrying only a green suitcase with the essentials and a thin blanket. I turned away to be alone to process the fear, the worry, and the quiet letting go of dreams that had once filled us with excitement.

The Dreams We Thought We Had Planned

For years, we imagined a certain future for our children. Studying at a nearby university and coming home on weekends with new friends. I could see a house filled with laughter, stories, and the familiar rhythm of family life.

We had bought student accommodation years before, believing it was a responsible and secure choice. I pictured confident young adults, walking to class and living the future they had envisioned for themselves.

But life has a way of gently and sometimes abruptly rewriting those plans.

Jacques: The Power of Three Marks

Jacques, our eldest, got his grade 12 results two weeks before first-year registration. He had done well, and his marks reflected years of hard work. But his Mathematics result was three points too low for admission into the degree he was provisionally accepted for. Just three marks! Those three marks changed everything.

He was accepted at another university but, lacking accommodation, spent his first night on the bare floor of his cousin’s apartment with only a thin blanket. As a parent, it was hard to witness this uncertainty.

What felt like a setback became his training ground. He learned to seek support, adapt, and improvise, turning challenges into opportunities for growth.

He completed his studies amid the uncertainty of COVID and founded The Cinnamon Club, a vegan bakery. Five years later, it is a successful business with loyal customers.

Those three marks? They led him exactly where he needed to be.

Christo: Alone, But Not Lonely

Our middle son, Christo, had a clear vision of his university life. It included residence halls, friendships, and a full campus experience. As an extrovert, he was ready to embrace it all.

However, in his final year of school, our lives changed dramatically. My husband received a job opportunity abroad, and we relocated to Switzerland. Suddenly, Christo had to navigate university life on his own academically, socially, and emotionally.

He couldn’t come home on weekends or holidays. Just two months into his university journey, the world shut down due to the pandemic. While many students returned home, he stayed behind in residence with only a small group of others who had nowhere else to go.

What might have felt utterly isolating became something rich with unexpected meaning. He forged close friendships, connections that would last far beyond university. He stepped up and took on leadership roles. Eventually, his peers elected him to the residence committee. There, he spoke out for those who often felt invisible. He made sure their voices were heard.

His journey became about more than just education. It became about people, resilience, and connection.

Zander: Dreams Still Taking Shape

Our youngest son, Zander, is now in Grade 11 and has spent most of his school years in Switzerland. We find ourselves dreaming again, but this time, a little differently.

He hopes to study engineering in Europe, ideally in a country where he feels comfortable with the language and culture, like the Netherlands.

Recently, we visited a university during an open day. I watched him as he worked on a project with other students. He connected, stepped into the moment, and began to imagine himself there. Later, they went out together to a student hangout. I felt that familiar mix of hope and uncertainty again.

We stayed at a training hotel run by hospitality students, where learning happens through real-world experience. It reminded me that growth rarely happens in controlled environments. Like with my sons, it happens in doing, in trying, overcoming challenges and in figuring things out.

When Life Takes a Different Turn

Parenthood is a journey filled with ongoing lessons. No matter how carefully we as parents plan, our children will follow their own unique paths. Even when things turn out differently from what was expected, those moments often hold the greatest significance. This highlights the importance of accepting uncertainty and trusting that each child’s journey will evolve in the way that’s right for them.

There is something quietly powerful in the unexpected and often order in the disorder. I’ve learned to plan, yes, but also to leave space. Space for uncertainty, for growth and for paths we would never have chosen ourselves… but that ultimately lead exactly where we need to be.

Regards

Emsia

One morning, our youngest son, Zander, received a letter from the local municipality. He turns eighteen this year, and apparently, is now a taxpayer. Since Zander is still at school, I just stared at the official document in German for a moment, wondering, “What now?” Then I remembered my “Faceless Friend, Artificial Intelligence (AI)”.

I sent the letter to my Faceless Friend and asked for clarification. AI explained the situation and drafted a properly formatted German reply. I smiled, realising that technology quietly created a new kind of problem-solver and conversation partner.

Meeting my Faceless Friend

A few years ago, my middle son Christo, then a young engineering student, asked me, “Mom, have you heard of ChatGPT?” I remember being amazed by the concept. He explained how universities are grappling to ensure academic integrity while allowing the use of the new technology.

Then, in his twenty-one-year-old wisdom, he said, “The world is constantly changing with new technological developments. We shouldn’t fear it. We should approach it positively and learn how to use it to make the world a better place.” Those words have stayed with me.

Salomo and the Crossword Puzzles

We all now have access to this faceless friend. Whether we choose to use it or not is up to each of us.

Grandpa Frikkie regularly sends me screenshots of his own ChatGPT conversations. He has named his digital companion Salomo. They have deep philosophical conversations, and Salomo also assists him with Afrikaans crossword puzzles. It also addresses the numerous queries that arise for an inquisitive individual.

At first, Salomo’s Afrikaans was not very good, and Grandpa Frikkie apparently gave him a proper scolding. Salomo humbly apologised, and over time his Afrikaans improved noticeably.

Technology, so often associated only with young people, has slowly but surely become part of an older man’s daily curiosity. His attitude towards new technology inspires me.

Seeing Ourselves Through AI

My eldest son, Jacques, had an interesting exchange with ChatGPT. Jacques runs an artisanal confectionery, The Cinnamon Club. He bakes to order and has the cakes and other baked goods delivered by Uber drivers to various locations in Cape Town. He also has a keen interest in the stock markets and trades online early in the evening when the US markets open.

His days are full, and his focus and attention quickly shift between recipes, deliveries, graphs and new ideas. He uses AI as a business partner and, out of curiosity, asked ChatGPT how he would explain his working experience with Jacques to his AI colleagues.

The answer was surprisingly poetic. According to ChatGPT, it’s like watching a conductor lead an orchestra. Though each instrument has its unique rhythm, the ensemble achieves harmony. Finally, he notes that beneath all the activity lies a remarkable clarity and drive. Jacques is curious, brave, and decisive—even when every choice seems complex. Being his business partner can be exhausting at times, but it’s also inspiring. Every interaction sharpens your thinking, pushes your abilities, and reminds you that brilliance often thrives in chaos.

As I read this, I realise how valuable an outside perspective, even an artificial one, can be. It can highlight our energy and passions, which we often overlook.

Learning German with a Faceless Friend

An Indian friend of mine needed to pass a B1 German language test as part of her application for Swiss citizenship. She asked her faceless friend to create a daily learning program for her. In a country with multiple languages, a patient digital tutor can sometimes make the learning journey a little less intimidating.

Physical Exercise Suggestions

At the beginning of the year, a friend had hip surgery and needed physiotherapy. She found it difficult to get appointments, as skiing and sports injuries suddenly extended waiting times. She explained her medical situation to her faceless friend.

AI suggested some safe exercises that she could do at home in the meantime while she waited for an appointment. Of course, this was no substitute for professional treatment. But it did make the wait a little easier.

The Classroom Dilemma

Of course, AI also brings new challenges, especially for schools and universities. My youngest son, Zander, explained how his International Baccalaureate school is handling this. They view AI similarly to any other academic resource. Students are allowed to use it, but they must acknowledge which tool they used and explain how it helped them, such as generating ideas or improving language use.

However, if students present AI-generated work as their own thinking, it is considered academic misconduct. Learning to use these tools responsibly becomes almost as important as using them.

Walking a Path with Us

Zander recently reflected. “Mom,” he said, “AI has been helping me with my language use and writing in different languages ​​for years. It has seen my progress. Soon, it will help me with university applications and research. And one day it will probably help me write my CV when I am looking for a job.”

Then he added, “AI is walking a path with each of us. Over time, it gets to know us quite well.” Perhaps that is precisely what makes this time in history so interesting. AI is not just answering questions. Slowly but surely, it is becoming integrated into our daily thinking, learning and problem-solving.

And sometimes it is our own children who teach us to be open to these new possibilities. Through them, I have discovered a new conversationalist and problem-solver.

For that, I am deeply grateful to my sons.

Regards

Emsia

Christmas Day, 1991

While families back home enjoyed roast lamb and trifle dessert in the summer heat, Charl stood at the Johannesburg airport gate with a ticket to Europe in his hand.

He was twenty-one, the youngest of four. No one in his family had ever flown abroad before. His parents tried to be brave, but their concern lingered in the small pauses between sentences. Europe felt far away — not just in distance, but in language, in season, in everything familiar.

A school friend signed a rugby contract with the Saint Claude Rugby Club in France for the European winter season and invited him to come and visit. It sounded almost glamorous: a car, an apartment, a stipend and one meal a day. However, beneath the excitement, there was a quieter truth — no one in that small town, except the local bank manager, spoke English. The exceptional opportunity and sense of adventure far outweighed the challenges.

Travelling Before The Internet

Travelling before the Internet was very different. There were no smartphones then. No instant updates. No comforting blue ticks to confirm someone had read your message. Charl carried a Eurail pass, traveller’s cheques, and a large, folded paper map of Europe — the kind you opened with optimism and folded with frustration.

He landed in Frankfurt, his first stop on foreign soil. Standing under the bright airport lights, he searched for a payphone. He needed Deutsche Marks and Pfennigs before he could call his friend. It was long before the Euro and long before anything felt simple.

He called. No answer, and he tried again, but still nothing. For the first time, the adventure began to feel uncertain.

A Window and a Promise

With no other option, he boarded a train to Geneva. As the train moved south, snow brushed softly across the fields. Mountains rose in the distance, steady and unbothered. Lakes lay quiet under a pale winter sky.

He pressed his forehead against the cold window and watched. Something settled inside him then. Not a plan. Not even a clear dream. Just a quiet knowing, “One day, I will come back here.”

The Longest Hour

By the time he arrived in Geneva, it was nearly five in the afternoon. Darkness had already fallen, and the cold seemed sharper than before. He found another payphone and fed it Swiss Rappen coins. The phone on the other end just kept ringing.

The station felt enormous. Announcements echoed in French. Faces moved quickly around him. He stared at the departure board. The train to Saint Claude would leave soon. If he boarded it alone and arrived in a small town where no one spoke English, what then? Where would he sleep? What would he eat? How would he even begin?

He picked up his bag, then heard something familiar, “Charl!” Across the crowd stood his friend’s girlfriend, waving both arms. They had spent the entire day at the station, unsure which train he would arrive on, scanning each carriage as it emptied.

They encountered each other just as he was about to board the train by himself. His parents, who had been awake all night, received news from Charl that he was safe. Relief brings a warmth that words are insufficient to convey.

A Town That Stayed with Him

In the days that followed, they explored the region. One outing took them to Annecy — a lakeside town framed by mountains, canals winding through pastel buildings. The beauty of it left its mark. It was not only picturesque. It felt possible. He did not know then how life would unfold. But something had already taken root.

Cultivating What Was Planted

Back home, Charl invested in technological skills that were in global demand at the time. His work opened doors to travel, and Switzerland became a familiar destination — not only for its landscapes, but also for its food.

He and his colleague ate cheese fondue at a Swiss restaurant every other night during his two-week training session. At the end of the course, the Swiss participants gifted Charl and his colleague each a beautiful red fondue set.

Years later, long before I realised I would be part of this story, Switzerland appeared on the horizon again. When we were still dating, Charl invited me to a fondue dinner with Woollies’ fondue cheese on the rug in front of a crackling fire. The red pot stood between us. I remember him enjoying the melted cheese and bread. I didn’t realise then that I was already sitting inside a dream that had begun years earlier on a winter train.

When the Door Opens

Eventually, an opportunity arose. His employer had an investment in Switzerland. His boss asked, “Switzerland is looking for someone with your skills. Are you open to it — even with the language differences and the disruption to your family?”

Some decisions require careful thought. But the ones that align with something planted deep inside you — those are made with courage. We said yes.

The Red Fondue Pot

The red fondue pot made its way back to Switzerland. Some evenings, when the cheese melts slowly and snow rests quietly beyond the window, we think about that train ride in 1991.

Dreams do not always arrive loudly. Sometimes they begin quietly — as a young man looking out of a train window, not yet knowing he is looking at his future.

Regards

Emsia

The shiny silver Tesla glides to a stop in front of our apartment building, almost soundless. The doors lift open like something from the future, and my youngest son climbs out, backpack slung over one shoulder. He spots me and smiles — that half-boy, half-young-man smile — before thanking his friend’s mother for the ride.

The car pulls away in silence. I remain standing on the pavement longer than necessary. In that quiet moment, I realise something that both steadies and unsettles me: my three sons are growing up in different economic worlds.

I feel grateful. Grateful for opportunities I never imagined at his age. And uneasy. Because comfort quietly reshapes expectations. What feels normal to him would have felt extraordinary — even extravagant — to his older brothers.

As parents, we often ask: How do we prepare our children for the future? But the deeper question is: Which future?

Three Brothers, Different Economic Stories

Our time in Switzerland came through a work opportunity that shaped our family in unexpected ways. Two of our sons remained rooted in South African soil, navigating its complexity, resilience, and possibility. Our youngest grew up largely in Zurich — in a system marked by stability and a strong social safety net.

The same parents raised all three boys. Yet each carries a different internal story about money. The school we chose for our older sons in South Africa was a reflection of the country we wished to foster, one brimming with a variety of cultures, languages, and people. We aimed to impart an understanding of inequality, resilience, and shared responsibility. Our youngest completed most of his schooling in Zurich — a country marked by stability, efficiency, and a strong social safety net. Public transport runs on time. The Infrastructure works. Financial systems rarely feel fragile.

From the outside, one story may appear more privileged than another. But what is visible rarely tells the whole story. Growing up surrounded by visible wealth does not automatically make life easier. It can bring its own quiet pressures — comparison, belonging, and the awareness of what we can and cannot afford. Each of my sons carries challenges that the others do not. Each has been shaped in ways both beautiful and demanding. None of their stories is superior. Different soil grows different strengths.

Money is never just money. It also embodies memory, environment and history.

The Inheritance We Don’t See

Our understanding of money is shaped long before we earn it.

In my grandparents’ home, leftovers were never thrown away. Every scrap went into Tupperware, stacked neatly in the fridge. Waste felt almost immoral. My grandmother would frown if we layered butter, jam, and cheese on the same slice of bread. “That’s excessive,” she would say, genuinely perplexed.

She grew up in the long shadow of the Great Depression. It was a time when bank failures and hunger were lived realities. For her generation, frugality was a survival mechanism. Savings meant safety. Risk meant danger. Those habits became identity. Decades later, butter and jam together still felt like too much.

The Many Roles Money Plays

Money rarely means one thing.

For some, it is safety — the emergency fund checked repeatedly, the anxiety with every unexpected expense. A quiet vow: I will never feel that vulnerable again.

For others, it is freedom — the plane ticket bought without permission, the courage to leave a job, the ability to say yes to a new beginning. It whispers: You have options.

For some, it becomes identity — the car in the driveway, the postcode, the school fees paid with pride, quietly say: I have made it.

For others, it is connection — the meal paid for without hesitation, the sibling’s tuition covered quietly, the holiday planned for togetherness. It says, “We belong to one another.”

For some, it is enjoyment — experiences over possessions, spontaneity over spreadsheets, the belief that joy should not always be postponed.

And for many, it is a responsibility. After Apartheid, for many Black South Africans, a first salary did not belong only to the individual. It belonged to the family. To parents who sacrificed. To siblings who waited. Money circulated like a lifeline. It was hard-won freedom — and with freedom came obligation. These realities are not simply personal preferences about money. They are rooted in history, policy, exclusion, and resilience. Both our family’s cultural norms and the societal systems that either empowered or restricted us influence our financial experiences.

When Worlds Collide

When people with different money stories come together — in marriage, in friendship, in business — conflict is rarely about numbers.

I once saw this in a young couple. The wife grew up in a home where money meant safety and expenses were tracked. An emergency fund always existed. Stability was sacred. To her, money was the wall that kept chaos out. Her husband carried an entrepreneurial spirit. To him, money was something to use, invest and multiply. He saw opportunity where she saw risk.

When he spoke about starting a venture, she heard, “ We could lose everything”. When she suggested building more savings first, he heard, “You don’t believe in me”. Their arguments were never about spreadsheets. They were about fear and freedom. She was protecting stability. He was pursuing a possibility.

The money stories they lived out had been written long before their paths crossed. Until the stories were named, they fought symptoms rather than understanding roots.

Returning to the Pavement

The Tesla is long gone. My son walks toward me, talking about homework and weekend plans, unaware of the reflections unfolding in my mind. I smile and listen.

I do not want him to feel guilty for the opportunity. Nor blind to it. Perhaps preparing our children for the future is less about formulas and more about helping them understand the stories behind money — their own and others’. Money will shape them. But so will empathy. And if they can see that every financial decision carries a history of scarcity or stability, fear or freedom, then they will handle both wealth and lack with wisdom.

As we walk upstairs, I realise again: my sons are not just growing up in different economic worlds. They are growing up in different money stories. And so are we all.

Kind regards

Emsia

A public figure who inspires me is DeWitt Jones. He was first a photographer for National Geographic and later a speaker who helps people use photography as a metaphor for life. The way we choose to look at the world determines the way we live.

Recently, one of DeWitt Jones’ TED Talks reminded me of five simple guidelines during a challenging situation.

DeWitt Jones’s wisdom

• Celebrate what’s right with the world. At National Geographic, his assignment was to seek out beauty, inspiration, and opportunity. What you focus on expands. If you search for problems, you will find them; if you look for possibilities, you will see them everywhere.
• There’s more than one right answer. A photographer captures many images before finding the perfect shot. In life, the initial idea is not always the best. Stay curious, explore options, and remain open to alternatives.
• Change your lens. A wide-angle lens provides a unique perspective compared to a macro or telephoto lens. Sometimes, altering your viewpoint can change everything. When you feel stuck, try changing your outlook, attitude, or assumptions.
• The light is always there. Skilled photographers use whatever light is available, even in challenging conditions. Even in hard times, there is always something good to work with—a glimmer of hope, strength, or possibility.
• Be open to possibilities. Release your rigid expectations. Stay open to surprises and opportunities that you may not have anticipated.

A community service accommodation challenge

In South Africa, the government requires all medical and health professionals to complete a year of community service before they can register as independent practitioners.

This process helps distribute healthcare workers nationwide, including in rural areas. While they can indicate their preferences, the number of available positions is limited, and many do not receive their preferred locations.

One late Friday afternoon, I received a worried call from my son Christo and his girlfriend, Simone. Simone had just completed her studies in speech-language therapy and had been assigned to Aliwal North, a small town located on the border of the Eastern Cape and the Free State.

Although Christo can work online, they were facing difficulties finding suitable accommodation. They had searched extensively but could not find anything appropriate.

Change your lens

That weekend, I found myself pondering how we could tackle the challenge ahead. As I gazed out the window at the steady downpour, another crisis emerged. Our youngest son, Zander, had lost his phone the previous night while rushing to catch an Uber.

I decided to shift my perspective and remain open to possibilities. Charl and Zander could hardly believe it when I suggested we search for the phone in the rain. After a lot of soggy walking, I crouched down to look under a fence. Suddenly, a glint caught my eye. It was the phone! A little wet, but it was still functioning.

Holding that phone reminded me that if we could find a lost phone in the rain, then surely there would be an accommodation solution for Aliwal North as well.

There’s more than one right answer

I don’t easily ask for help, but I know this: our moms support each other. I reached out to my circle of friends, who then contacted their own networks. Within hours, we started receiving messages. We obtained the contact information for eight different people in Aliwal North.

Christo and Simone jumped into action immediately. While searching, they obtained a clearer picture of the town and its residents. Within a few days, they found suitable accommodation for the upcoming year. These two city kids also started to understand the essence of small-town life—people come together, help one another willingly, and do so with open hearts. This experience reminded me of the lessons I learned while growing up in the mining town of Kathu.

Celebrate what’s right with the world

With a grateful heart, I decided to send a message to some of the strangers who had gone out of their way to help.

I wrote: “Thank you so much for the effort you put into helping my children find accommodation. Your support turned their spirits around, changing them from feeling discouraged to feeling excited. People like you—who offer help without even knowing those they are assisting—restore my faith in the goodness of humanity.”

One woman replied, “I hope they find the ideal place and have a wonderful year here. They must call me when they arrive, and they are welcome to spend a weekend on our farm. I go to Aliwal every Thursday; I can even look at places on their behalf if they need me to.”

The entire experience provided me with many reasons to celebrate what is right in the world.

The light is always there

This situation reminded me of similar stories from the past. A few years ago, someone in Kathu asked my mom if she would be willing to host a young dentist who was completing his community service year. She was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed. By the end of the year, she spoke about him as though he were her own child. She often cooked for him and spoiled him with rusks and biscuits. In return, he showered her with boxes of Lindt chocolate and occasionally took her out to dinner. I couldn’t help but laugh when she told me that her love for chocolate had reached new heights after discovering Swiss chocolates.

Recently, while in Switzerland, I met a young South African dentist and inquired about her own community service year. She shared that she initially stayed in an Airbnb in Petrus Steyn, in the Free State. One Sunday, after church, an older couple struck up a conversation with her, learned about her situation, and invited her to stay with them. She mentioned that she felt like a child in their home, and every evening at the dinner table felt like a small taste of family.

Be open to possibilities

When I reflect on these stories, I realise how abundant life can be when we remain open to potential and possibilities—even those we might never have imagined. Often, the best opportunities await us in the most unexpected places: a stranger’s kindness, a rainy afternoon spent searching, or the generous spirit of a small town.

May we all embrace this festive season with open hands and hopeful eyes, ready to recognise the unexpected gifts of grace and goodness that cross our paths.

Warm regards

Emsia

The winter months in Switzerland are characterised by their biting cold and extended periods of darkness. A stillness blankets the landscape. Our experience living here has inspired us to actively seek out the light and focus on the positive aspects of life during this season.

The Swiss, with their rich cultural heritage, have truly mastered the art of transforming this dreary season into a time of warmth and celebration. Over generations, they have cultivated a variety of traditions and customs that infuse the long, dark days with a sense of joy and togetherness.

Räbechilbi in Richterswil

In November, the Swiss celebrate the magical Räbechilbi (turnip festival). We attended the largest one in the town of Richterswil. Residents carved intricate and imaginative designs into hollowed-out turnips. They transform them into stunning lanterns that adorn balconies and gardens throughout the village, casting a warm and inviting glow.

Before the festivities commenced, we sipped hot mulled wine and paired it with freshly baked garlic bread. The lively harmonies of the town’s brass band created an uplifting atmosphere, setting the stage for the evening’s magical events. At precisely 18:00, the streetlights of Richterswil flickered out, plunging the village into a hushed twilight. In an instant, the scene transformed. The streets were lit with an ethereal glow, as thousands of turnip lanterns emitted soft, golden light. Children with joyful, proud faces paraded with homemade lanterns while we watched in awe.

Advent begins

 “Lucy” on Bahnhofstrasse

The Advent season in Zurich officially kicks off with the enchanting illumination of “Lucy. Spectacular Christmas lights adorn the Bahnhofstrasse, one of the world’s most famous shopping streets. This breathtaking event takes place on the last Thursday of November, drawing crowds from all corners of the city and beyond. Under the festive glow of 23,000 sparkling light crystals, the Bahnhofstrasse transforms into a dazzling wonderland.

Since we moved to Zurich, witnessing this magical display has become a cherished annual tradition. The sense of community is palpable as families, friends, and visitors gather to share in the festive spirit. This celebration ignites a profound sense of hope and gratitude within me, reminding me of the beauty of togetherness during this special season.

Christmas markets and fondue traditions

The Christmas markets open on the same evening that the authorities turn on the lights. Zurich hosts several markets, with the largest located near Lake Zurich. Around 100 wooden stalls create a cosy Christmas village against the backdrop of the Opera House. People gather around open fires, enjoying mulled wine and street food, filling the air with laughter and the scent of winter spices.

As in previous years, a friend invited Zander to an ice-skating birthday party at the Dolder open-air rink, one of the largest in Europe. Children skate around a towering Christmas tree decorated with lights. During this time, Charl and I stroll through the Christmas market, a tradition we cherish. The vibrant stalls offer an array of handcrafted treasures, from intricate ornaments to delectable sweets, enhancing the festive atmosphere. Afterwards, we head to Chäsalp for fondue to celebrate Charl’s birthday. In winter, temporary wooden chalets pop up across Switzerland, inviting everyone to share fondue and raclette. Cheese is truly a part of Swiss culture.

Advent wreath

The Advent wreath is a beautiful tradition celebrated during the holiday season. Many shops sell these wreaths, and various communities host workshops where you can make your own.

The wreath is rich in symbolism; it is crafted from evergreen branches to represent eternal life. The circular design represents eternity, reminding us of the soul’s immortality and everlasting life through Christ.

The four candles on the wreath symbolise the four weeks of Advent, which represent hope, faith, joy, and peace. Each Sunday, one candle is lit. Their gentle glow pushes back the darkness and reminds us that Jesus came as the light of the world.

Light in the darkness

We all face darkness in different forms, and it can sometimes feel overpowering. My wish this Christmas season is for us to seek the light and become bearers of light for others. Let’s help each other find opportunity, hope, and beauty, even when things are tough.

I hope your Advent is filled with blessings, light, warmth, peace, and joy. May this season encourage you to discover and share your inner light.

With love and warm regards,

Emsia

My thoughts often feel like a herd of wild horses, eager to run. At times, they carry me to open fields filled with gratitude, joy, and imagination. These places are beautiful, colourful, and full of possibilities. They refresh my soul, fill me with new energy, and create hope that nourishes both my body and spirit. In these moments, my thoughts become companions that encourage, inspire, and establish life-giving rhythms within me.

Unfortunately, not every journey is so calm and uplifting. When uncertainty or worry grips me, these wild horses charge into dark valleys and dense bushes. They roam wherever they please, and I lose control. The experience becomes frightening, filled with fear and anxiety. My body prepares for danger: my temperature rises, and my breathing becomes shallow. Most often, these perilous rides occur at night, when I can hear my heartbeat echoing through the silence.

Recently, while reading “Switch On Your Brain” by neurologist Dr Caroline Leaf, I was reminded of just how powerful our thoughts are. They shape not only my mind but also my body and the quiet spaces of my soul.

Mind and Brain — What is the difference?

The Bible teaches that God created us with free will: the ability to think, choose, and see life from different perspectives. Our brain is the physical hardware of the body, while the mind is like the software that directs it.

Psychology, medicine, and faith traditions may differ in many ways, but they agree on this: our thoughts are never neutral. They shape our emotions, influence our choices, affect our health, and connect us to meaning and identity.

The lasting impact of our Thoughts

Neuroplasticity

Our thoughts are not just fleeting clouds. They build physical structures in the brain made of proteins. Thinking, feeling, and deciding all cause changes in the brain. The brain’s ability to constantly rewire itself is known as neuroplasticity.

The remarkable truth is that our brains can change throughout our entire lives. However, this can work for or against us. What we focus on most will strengthen, whether it is positive or negative. Therefore, the focus of our thoughts has an impact.

Our DNA

Research shows that our thoughts can even influence the shape and function of our DNA. Negative, fearful thought patterns can place stress on the body, while grateful and hopeful thoughts strengthen resilience. What we dwell on does not just shape our feelings in the moment; it also influences our long-term outlook. Our thoughts generate actual signals that impact our cells, which in turn affect our health, energy, and even the expression of our genes.

Science has shown how thought networks are transmitted through DNA in sperm and ova to the next four generations.

Epigenetics

Epigenetics describes how our thoughts and choices impact our physical brain, body, mental health, and spiritual growth. Studies in epigenetics indicate that we inherit various traits, both positive and negative, from our ancestors across generations. But because of our free will, our mind can determine whether these genes are “turned on” or “turned off.”

We do not have to repeat the negative patterns of our ancestors. Instead, we can make conscious life choices to overcome these tendencies by altering our patterns of expression. While the mistakes of our parents may create certain predispositions, they do not dictate our fate. It is our responsibility to recognise these tendencies, evaluate them, and decide to eliminate them.

Why our perceptions matter

Our interpretation and response to the environment shape our biology. Survivors of deep trauma, like Holocaust survivors, demonstrate this truth: while we cannot always choose our circumstances, we can choose how we frame them. As the poet of Invictus reminds us, “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

Learning to focus and guide our Thoughts

When we consciously focus and guide our thoughts, it affects the brain in various ways—from sensory processing and neural rewiring to neurotransmitter activity, genetic expression, and even cellular functions. The effects can be positive or negative, depending on the direction we choose for our thoughts.

Research indicates that purposeful, introspective thinking enhances the brain’s non-conscious processes, increasing their effectiveness. Periods of rest enable us to disengage from the distractions of the external world and focus inward. In this contemplative state, we gain perspective, wisdom, and a renewed opportunity for connection with God. It highlights the importance of rest and recovery. It also explains the purpose of Sunday as a designated day of rest.

When we fail to engage in disciplined self-reflection, the consequences can be detrimental. This neglect can result in low self-esteem, depression, anxiety, and even physical health problems. We may find ourselves trapped in our challenges, struggling with short-term memory, and losing the ability to identify clear solutions.

A closing Thought

We have the freedom to choose how we direct our attention, and this decision significantly influences the way our brains change and function, including the chemicals, proteins, and connections within. Scientists have demonstrated that the relationship between our thoughts and our self-perception—shaped by our beliefs, dreams, hopes, and ideas—has a profound effect on brain activity.

The book reminded me of the significant impact that my thoughts have on various aspects of my life. Disappointments, uncertainty, and pain are all part of the human experience. I don’t need to deny or dismiss my thoughts; instead, I can redirect them to truth with gratitude and hope. This discipline requires consistent willpower, patience, and practice. However, it is critically important because our thoughts dictate the direction of our lives.

Kind regards,

Emsia