I didn’t stumble into this word. I knew it before the clock even hit midnight on New Year’s Eve. Restoration.

Because after the year I’ve just walked through, I know that this is what God is doing. He’s rebuilding what was broken. Healing what was bruised. And slowly, gently, restoring what was lost.

2024 wasn’t just a hard year. It was deep. My word for 2024 was Redemption — and oh, did God redeem. Not in one big, dramatic moment. But in small, quiet ones that built on each other. Like bricks. Like a slow undoing of all the things I thought would break me. And instead, He made something new.

My year started with me signing up for the Peak Performance Program with Bastiaan Van Veelen. Then I did his second program, Mindset Mastery. And looking back, I know now — God knew what I needed. He knew exactly what 2024 would bring and what I would need to walk into that redemption fully. I finally had permission. Something stupid, I know. But in a conversation with Bastiaan, I told him I need permission. It feels like I am going to get into trouble the whole time. After one session, he said to me. Mandy, you have permission. It was like a key unlocking a door to that bondage that had been holding me back. I had permission!!

In the weeks leading up to Mitch’s death, we were diving deep into something I didn’t even realise still needed healing. Inner Mandy. Little Mandy. The little girl I once was. How she saw the world. What she believed about herself. How the family dynamics and the noise around her shaped her identity.

I began to understand that my parents were growing up too. They were walking through their pain, their trauma. Seeing my mom through that lens brought clarity and we spoke about it afterwards, putting myself in her shoes, looking at life from her perspective. Compassion. Grace. Redemption.

I learned about my locus of control — both internal and external — and it changed the way I saw everything. So when Mitch died, I’d already done a lot of the work. The boy-girl twin dynamic. The invisible tug-of-war. It wasn’t unfinished anymore. Inner Mandy had found peace. My heart 100% had peace in it the day I got the news.

Planning Mitch’s funeral wasn’t just a week of grief. It was memory lane. And surprisingly, it was healing, sad, funny and heartbreaking. That week gave me something I didn’t expect — closure. I didn’t know Mitch very well in the last 20 years, our roads went very different directions, but my prayer is that He found the Grace and Mercy only God knows where he was on his road. What we can do with our life, is to live it, to live it well. To be at Peace.

2024 was dealing with the root of it all — the beliefs I held about myself. And finally, finally, believing that I was worth more. To me. I didn’t need someone else to decide that anymore.

I realised that if I didn’t take back the ownership of my life — of my time — someone else would. Boundaries were put in place. Real ones. And for the first time, I wasn’t apologising for them.

I had permission to be me. To be still. To be selfish in the healthiest sense. To not answer the phone. To go for the walk. To take the holiday. To not ask permission but to do what was right — for me, and for my family.

That was redemption.

But now… comes restoration.

God is not just redeeming the pain of my past — He is restoring the joy. Restoring peace. Restoring dreams I buried. Friendships that feel lighter. Vision for what’s next. Energy, I thought I lost for good.

Joel 2:25–26 says,
“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten… You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God.”
And that’s what I feel deep in my spirit — satisfaction is coming. The kind that fills your soul, not just your schedule.

Isaiah 61:3 promises,
“…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.”
I’ve worn the ashes. I’ve sat in the mourning. But now He’s lifting my head and placing something beautiful there instead.

Psalm 51:12 says,
“Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.”
And I pray that every day this year. Restore me, Lord. Restore my joy. Restore my energy, my mind, my heart. Sustain me.

2025, I am not afraid of you.
I’m walking in with a quiet strength. I know Who goes before me. I know the work He’s already done.
Here’s to restoration.
Here’s to all that’s coming back — better, fuller, deeper than before.