Cherline Hanhani

BECOMING – Day 11

My story ; his glory .

Grief Taught Me Lessons Success Never Could

“Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” — Psalm 27:10

I lost my mother when I needed her most.

My parents had divorced only a year before her death, and I was still trying to understand what that meant for our family when I lost her.

I didn’t even get the opportunity to view her body.

For a child, there are some losses you don’t have the words to process.

You simply grow around them.

For years, I carried the absence of my mother without fully understanding what her loss had taken from me.

But motherhood changed that.

When I became a mother myself, I began to understand what it meant to have a mother.

I began to understand the significance of a mother’s presence, her protection, her prayers, her sacrifices and simply knowing that there is someone in the world who is yours in a way nobody else can be.

And I found myself thinking about my own mother differently.

She lived a short life with me, but she made a resounding impact on me.

That realization gave birth to a decision:

I would become an intentional mother.

I would not take motherhood for granted.

I would be present.

I would pour into my children.

I would create memories.

I would say the things that need to be said while there is still time.

Because I know what it feels like to grow up wishing you had more time with your mother.

Then, years later, I lost my father too.

And that loss came with a different kind of pain.

Our relationship had been complicated. After my mother’s death, I carried bitterness toward him and blamed him for many things, including the circumstances surrounding her death.

But he fought hard to regain access to me.

Just as we were beginning to reconcile…

he was gone.

I lost my father at the infancy of our reconciliation.

And that taught me one of the hardest lessons of my life:

Forgiveness cannot always wait.

Sometimes we think we have tomorrow to repair a relationship.

Tomorrow to make the call.

Tomorrow to say, “I’m sorry.”

Tomorrow to say, “I forgive you.”

But tomorrow is not promised.

Losing both my parents taught me something even deeper.

Our parents are not ultimately ours.

They are stewards.

Our children are not ultimately ours either.

They are entrusted to us for a season.

We truly belong to God.

That understanding changed my relationship with God.

I began to understand Him not simply as God, but as Father.

When I lost the earthly parents I thought I needed, God began revealing Himself to me as the Father who never leaves.

The Father who remains.

The Father who receives.

The Father who restores.

Grief taught me to forgive more quickly.

To love more intentionally.

To appreciate people while they are still here.

And to never take relationships for granted.

Today, when I think of my parents, I don’t only think about what I lost.

I think about what they left in me.

My mother left me the courage to dream.

My father left me a lesson about reconciliation.

And God used the loss of both to teach me that my ultimate identity and security are found in Him.

Grief didn’t make me forget.

It taught me how to carry memories without allowing pain to imprison me.

And perhaps that is one of the greatest things I have learned while becoming:

Forgiveness is sometimes a race against time.

Don’t wait until the funeral to say what your heart should have said while there was still time.

Don’t allow pride to make permanent what could have been healed.

And don’t postpone love.

Reflection

Is there someone you need to forgive?

Someone you need to call?

Someone you need to tell that you love them?

Do it while there is still time.

Because tomorrow is a promise none of us has been given.

BECOMING – Day 10
My story ;his glory

The Failures That Shaped Me More Than My Successes

“Though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with His hand.” — Psalm 37:24

We celebrate success because it is visible.

The promotion.

The achievement.

The new building.

The numbers.

The applause.

But some of the most important things I have learned in my life were taught to me in seasons when things did not go according to plan.

Failure has shaped me more than success ever could.

Success can make you feel like you have figured life out.

Failure humbles you enough to realize you haven’t.

I have made decisions I would make differently today.

I have trusted people who disappointed me.

I have taken risks that did not produce the results I expected.

I have had plans fail, relationships change, and seasons where I questioned whether I was doing the right thing.

And yes, there were moments when I looked at something I had built and wondered, “How did I get this wrong?”

But I have learned not to waste failure.

Every failure has something to teach you if you are humble enough to listen.

Failure taught me to prepare better.

It taught me to ask more questions.

It taught me not to make decisions simply because something feels right.

It taught me that good intentions do not always produce good outcomes.

It taught me to build systems, not just depend on people.

It taught me that leadership requires both heart and structure.

And perhaps most importantly, failure taught me that making a mistake does not make me a failure.

There is a difference between failing at something and becoming a failure.

One is an event.

The other is an identity.

I refuse to allow a bad decision, a disappointing season, or an unsuccessful attempt to define who I am.

I can learn.

I can adjust.

I can apologize.

I can rebuild.

I can try again.

That is one of the greatest gifts failure has given me—the courage to begin again without being ashamed that I had to.

Today, when I look at some of the things that once felt like my greatest disappointments, I can see lessons that I could not see at the time.

Some failures protected me from becoming someone I wasn’t meant to be.

Some exposed weaknesses I needed to strengthen.

Some taught me who I could trust.

Some forced me to grow.

And some simply reminded me that I am human.

I don’t celebrate failure.

But I no longer fear it the way I once did.

Because I know that as long as I am willing to learn, failure is not the end of my story.

It is information.

It is refinement.

It is preparation.

Sometimes God doesn’t remove the lesson.

He uses the lesson to prepare you for the next level.

So if you are in a season where something has failed—your business, your relationship, your plan, your career, or even your own expectations of yourself—don’t rush to conclude that your story is over.

Perhaps this is simply a chapter that is teaching you how to write the next one better.

I am still becoming.

And some of the woman I am most proud of today was built in the places where I once felt like I had failed.

Reflection

What if the thing you call your greatest failure is actually one of the greatest teachers God has placed on your journey?

Don’t waste the lesson.

BECOMING – Day 9
My story ;his glory

The Power of Forgiveness

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” — Ephesians 4:32

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things I have had to learn.

Not because I don’t understand that people make mistakes.

But because some wounds are deep.

Some disappointments come from people you trusted.

Some betrayals come from people you never imagined would hurt you.

And some things happen that you genuinely wish had never happened.

For a long time, I thought forgiveness meant saying, “What you did was okay.”

I have since learned that it doesn’t.

Forgiveness does not excuse the offence. It releases me from carrying it.

That distinction changed me.

I have had to learn that I cannot control what people do to me, but I can choose what I allow their actions to do inside me.

I can acknowledge that I was hurt without allowing the hurt to become my identity.

I can remember what happened without continuously reliving it.

I can create boundaries without carrying bitterness.

And I can forgive someone without necessarily giving them the same access to me again.

That last lesson has been particularly important in my journey.

Forgiveness is not always reconciliation.

Sometimes forgiveness means wishing someone well from a distance.

Sometimes it means accepting that a relationship has changed.

Sometimes it means releasing the need for an apology you may never receive.

And sometimes, forgiveness is simply telling God:

“I no longer want to carry this.”

I have discovered that unforgiveness is exhausting.

It keeps you connected to moments you desperately want to move beyond.

You think you are punishing the person who hurt you, but often you are the one carrying the weight.

Forgiveness gives you your freedom back.

It allows you to move forward without allowing yesterday’s pain to dictate tomorrow’s behaviour.

And perhaps the deepest reason I have learned to forgive is because I understand how much I have been forgiven.

I cannot ask God for grace while refusing to extend grace to others.

That doesn’t mean I will never be hurt again.

It means I don’t want hurt to make me bitter.

I want it to make me wiser.

I want my heart to remain soft even when life gives me reasons to harden it.

That is part of my becoming.

I am learning that strength isn’t always standing your ground.

Sometimes strength is putting the stone down and continuing your journey.

Today, I choose forgiveness—not because everyone deserves another chance, but because I deserve the freedom that comes with letting go.

Reflection

Who or what are you still carrying that God may be asking you to release?

Perhaps forgiveness is not about setting them free.

Perhaps it is about finally setting yourself free.

BECOMING – Day 8
My story ;his glory

Learning to Overlook an Offense

“A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.” — Proverbs 19:11

One of the greatest signs that God is changing you is not how you respond when people love you.

It is how you respond when they offend you.

I have had to learn this lesson personally.

There was a time when I believed every offense deserved a response.

If someone disrespected me, I wanted them to know.

If someone misunderstood me, I wanted to explain.

If someone hurt me, I wanted them to understand exactly how much they had hurt me.

I thought responding meant standing up for myself.

But God began teaching me that not every offense deserves my energy.

Learning to overlook an offense does not mean pretending that wrong never happened.

It doesn’t mean becoming weak.

It doesn’t mean allowing people to continually violate your boundaries.

Sometimes you need to address an issue. Sometimes you need to establish a boundary. Sometimes you need to make a difficult decision.

But sometimes…

You simply need to let it go.

I have learned that there is freedom in not responding to everything.

Not every comment requires an explanation.

Not every misunderstanding needs to become an argument.

Not every betrayal needs a public response.

Not every person needs to know that they hurt you.

Sometimes, maturity is being able to acknowledge the offense, process it, pray about it, and choose peace.

That has been a journey for me.

God has been teaching me to develop a thick skin without developing a hard heart.

To protect my peace without losing my compassion.

To have boundaries without becoming bitter.

To correct when necessary, but to forgive whenever possible.

And perhaps most importantly, to stop allowing other people’s behaviour to control my emotional state.

Because when every offense can provoke you, you have unknowingly given other people control over you.

I don’t want to live that way anymore.

I want my response to be governed by wisdom, not emotion.

I want to be able to say:

“That hurt me, but it doesn’t have to change who I am.”

Some battles are won by speaking.

Others are won by remaining silent.

And some things are best placed in God’s hands.

I am still learning.

I still have moments when I have to take a deep breath, pray, and remind myself that I don’t have to respond simply because I can.

But I am grateful for the growth.

Because peace is more valuable to me now than proving a point.

And forgiveness has become more beautiful than revenge.

Perhaps that is what it means to grow.

You don’t become someone who is never offended.

You become someone who is no longer controlled by every offense.

Reflection

What offense are you still carrying that God may be asking you to release?

Not because what happened was acceptable.

But because your peace is worth more than your need to respond.

BECOMING – Day 7
My story ;his glory

When God Changes Your Character Before He Changes Your Circumstances

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” — Psalm 51:10

There was a time when I prayed for God to change my circumstances.

Today, I realize He was more interested in changing me.

I wanted doors to open.

He was working on my character.

I wanted difficult people to change.

He was teaching me patience.

I wanted situations to become easier.

He was teaching me how to remain peaceful in difficult situations.

For a long time, I thought transformation would feel dramatic. I imagined waking up one day and suddenly becoming a completely different person.

But God taught me that character is often changed quietly.

Little by little.

Decision by decision.

Reaction by reaction.

There was a time when I could be very quick to react when I felt disrespected, offended or misunderstood. My emotions could speak before wisdom had a chance to.

But as I grew in my walk with God, I began to notice something changing.

I was becoming slower to react.

More willing to listen.

More conscious of my words.

More capable of walking away from things that once demanded a response.

Not because people suddenly became perfect.

Because God was doing something in me.

And that has been one of the most humbling parts of my journey.

Sometimes we pray, “Lord, change my situation,” when God is saying, “Let Me change you first.”

Because what is the point of entering a new season with an old character?

What is the point of receiving greater influence without greater emotional maturity?

What is the point of asking God for more responsibility when we haven’t learned how to responsibly handle what we already have?

I have learned that before God enlarges your influence, He often deepens your character.

Before He gives you more people to lead, He teaches you how to lead yourself.

Before He changes what is around you, He begins changing what is within you.

And that process is not always comfortable.

God has had to confront parts of me I would rather have ignored.

He has taught me humility.

Self-control.

Patience.

Grace.

And the courage to acknowledge when I am wrong.

I am still becoming.

I still have moments when I get it wrong.

But the difference is that I no longer celebrate the person I used to be simply because she was strong.

I now value becoming a person who is strong enough to be gentle.

Strong enough not to respond to everything.

Strong enough to listen.

Strong enough to forgive.

Strong enough to let God defend me.

That is the kind of strength I want.

So today, I am grateful for the seasons when God didn’t immediately change my circumstances.

Because those were the seasons when He was changing my character.

And sometimes, the greatest miracle is not that the situation changed.

It is that you did.

Reflection

What if the situation you are asking God to change is also the environment He is using to change you?

Perhaps before asking God, “When will this change?”

Ask Him:

“Lord, what are You trying to change in me?”

BECOMING – Day 6
My story ;his glory

Raising a Child with Special Needs Changed My Heart

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

Some of life’s greatest teachers never stand behind a podium.

They simply hold your hand and quietly change your heart.

For me, one of those teachers is my son.

When I first became a mother, I thought parenting was about teaching my children.

I never imagined that one of my children would become one of my greatest teachers.

Raising a child with special needs has transformed the way I see people, success, and even God.

It has taught me that every child deserves to be celebrated—not because they fit society’s expectations, but because they are wonderfully created in the image of God.

Before this journey, I often celebrated the obvious milestones: excellent grades, achievements, trophies and certificates.

Today, I celebrate things many people might never notice.

A breakthrough.

A new skill.

A moment of connection.

A step forward after what felt like standing still.

I have learned that progress should never be measured by comparison. Every child has their own journey, their own pace, and every child deserves to be valued.

Before becoming a mother to a child with special needs, I was passionate about education.

Today, I am equally passionate about inclusion.

Every child who walks through the gates of Prestige School deserves to feel seen, valued, understood and loved. No child should ever feel that they belong less because they learn differently.

My son didn’t just change my home.

He changed my school.

He changed the way I lead.

He changed the way I support parents carrying invisible burdens.

He deepened my conviction that education is not about making every child fit into the same mould. It is about creating an environment where every child has the opportunity to flourish according to the unique way God created them.

This journey has also humbled me.

It has made me slower to judge and quicker to understand.

It has reminded me that behind every child is a family carrying hopes, fears, prayers and battles that the world may never see.

As educators, parents and leaders, may we never assume we know someone’s full story.

Sometimes, the greatest gift we can offer is not a solution.

It is compassion.

To my son, thank you.

You have made me a more compassionate mother, a better educator and a leader with a gentler heart.

Because of you, I no longer see education as simply teaching children.

I see it as creating a place where every child belongs.

People often tell me that I am raising a child with special needs.

The truth is…

He has been raising me too.

Reflection

Never define a child by what they cannot do.

Instead, nurture who they can become.

Every child carries God-given potential. Sometimes, all they need is someone who believes in them enough to help it unfold.

BECOMING – Day 5
My story ;his glory
Connecting motherhood to Prestige

Motherhood Raised Me Too

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast? Though she may forget, I will not forget you.” — Isaiah 49:15

For a long time, I believed motherhood was about raising children.

Then I became a mother.

And I discovered that while I was raising my children, God was raising me.

Motherhood has been one of my greatest teachers.

It has challenged my patience.

It has refined my character.

It has softened my heart.

It has taught me that love is not merely a feeling—it is a daily decision to place someone else’s growth above your own comfort.

One of the greatest lessons motherhood has taught me is that children do not simply listen to what we say.

They become what they consistently see.

That realization changed me.

I could no longer ask my children to become people I was unwilling to become myself.

If I wanted them to be kind, I had to model kindness.

If I wanted them to be disciplined, I had to become disciplined.

If I wanted them to love God, they first had to see that love reflected in me.

Motherhood taught me that before we raise children, we must allow God to raise us.

People often ask me how I manage to care so deeply about the children at Prestige School.

The answer is simple.

I don’t see them as “students.”

I see them as children entrusted to my care.

God blessed me with three wonderful boys, but through Prestige He expanded my heart.

Today, I also have daughters.

Not because I gave birth to them, but because motherhood is bigger than biology.

Every little girl who walks through our school gates reminds me that she deserves to be seen, heard, encouraged, protected, and believed in.

Every little boy deserves to know that someone sees greatness in him.

That is the heartbeat behind everything I do.

Education, for me, has never been about classrooms alone.

It has always been about nurturing lives.

I want every child who passes through Prestige School to leave knowing they mattered.

Knowing someone believed in them.

Knowing someone prayed for them.

Knowing someone genuinely loved them.

That is a mother’s heart.

Motherhood has taught me that influence is not determined by DNA.

Some of the greatest mothers are women who have never given birth.

And some children are transformed because someone chose to love them as their own.

When I walk through the corridors of Prestige School, I don’t simply see learners.

I see sons.

I see daughters.

I see future leaders, doctors, teachers, entrepreneurs, ministers, artists, and world changers.

I see possibilities.

Perhaps that is why my work never feels like just a job.

It feels like an extension of my calling as a mother.

Looking back, I realize motherhood didn’t simply add another role to my life.

It transformed the woman I was becoming.

It taught me to love beyond my own family.

To nurture beyond my own home.

To see every child through the eyes of hope.

If there is one legacy I pray to leave behind, it is not only the schools I built, but the children who left them believing they were deeply loved, wonderfully created, and capable of changing the world.

Because in the end, motherhood is not measured by how many children call you “Mom.”

It is measured by how many lives are better because you chose to love them.

Reflection

Who in your life needs more than your advice?

Perhaps what they need most is your encouragement, your presence, and the kind of love that helps them believe they can become everything God created them to be.

BECOMING – Day 4
My story ;his glory

The Unseen Cost of Leadership

“Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.” — Matthew 20:26

Leadership is often admired from a distance.

People celebrate the promotions, the titles, the influence, the growth, and the visible success.

What they rarely see is the price that was paid long before the applause.

Over the years, I’ve learned that leadership is not about standing in front of people. It’s about carrying people—often while carrying your own burdens in silence.

One of the first things leadership cost me was friendship.

When I founded Prestige School, some of the people I employed were my friends. Naturally, they expected our friendship to take precedence over company policies and professional standards.

But I faced a difficult choice.

Would I protect friendships, or would I protect the vision God had entrusted to me?

I chose the vision.
A leader should not be afraid to be misunderstood. Sometimes you will be misunderstood before you are understood. Don’t compromise

Not because I valued people less, but because I understood that if I compromised the vision, I would eventually fail the very people I wanted to serve.

Leadership taught me that not everyone who begins the journey with you is meant to finish it with you. Some people are assignments for a season, not companions for a lifetime.”

Leadership sometimes requires making decisions that break your own heart.

It has also cost me sleep.

There are nights when a crisis keeps you awake—not because anyone asked you to lose sleep, but because you know that tomorrow’s decisions will affect children, parents, employees, and families.

The greatest burden of leadership is not the workload; it is carrying the weight of people while quietly carrying your own.”

Leadership doesn’t clock out at 5 p.m.

Sometimes it follows you home.

Sometimes it kneels beside your bed in the middle of the night.

At the beginning of Prestige School, it also cost me time with my family.

We couldn’t afford a large team, so I became whatever the school needed me to be.

I was the teacher.

The receptionist.

The administrator.

Sometimes all in the same day.

There were seasons when building the vision demanded more of me than I thought I had to give.

Leadership has also cost me the freedom to simply think about myself.

When you lead, your decisions can no longer revolve around your own comfort. You begin to carry the hopes of other people. You celebrate their victories, grieve their struggles, and constantly ask yourself, “What is best for those I have been entrusted to lead?”

That responsibility changes you.

But perhaps the greatest lesson leadership has taught me is this:

Live for something bigger than yourself.

The moment leadership becomes about protecting your ego, your position, or your reputation, it stops being leadership.

Leadership is stewardship.

It is serving a purpose greater than your own comfort.

Along the way, I have also learned to handle criticism with a thick skin and a soft heart.

A thick skin, so that every opinion doesn’t shake my purpose.

A soft heart, so that success never hardens me or robs me of compassion.

That balance has not come naturally.

It has been forged through experience.

Leadership has taught me more about people than any classroom ever could.

It has taught me emotional intelligence.

It has taught me that people don’t all think alike, respond alike, or carry the same wounds.

It has taught me to listen before I react.

To understand before I judge.

To extend grace without compromising standards.

If you ask me today whether leadership is worth the cost, my answer is yes.

Not because it is easy.

But because every sacrifice becomes worthwhile when you see lives transformed.

When I see children growing into confident young adults, when I watch teachers discover their potential, when I witness families placing their trust in our school, I am reminded that purpose is always greater than the price.

Leadership has cost me many things.

But it has given me something priceless:

A life that is bigger than myself.

Reflection

What are you living for that is bigger than you?

Because the things that matter most will almost always require the greatest sacrifice.

BECOMING – Day 3
My story ;His Glory

Why I Chose Education Instead of an Easier Path

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others.” — 1 Peter 4:10

If you had met me at the beginning of my career, you probably would have assumed I would spend my life in the corporate world.

I earned a Bachelor of Commerce in Banking and Finance, later complementing it with CIS, and began building what many would consider a successful career. I worked in banking and later with Old Mutual. It was a stable profession, with promising opportunities and better financial rewards than many other careers.

By all appearances, I was on the right path.

Yet every morning, I felt something was missing.

Working in treasury was largely about systems, processes, and numbers. While I appreciated the discipline and professionalism the financial sector taught me, I couldn’t ignore the quiet longing in my heart.

I wasn’t fulfilled.

I wasn’t unhappy because of the job—I was unsettled because I knew I had more to give.

Deep inside, I wanted my work to touch lives, not just transactions. I wanted to leave people better than I found them.

That realization led me to make a decision that surprised many people.

I resigned from the financial sector and went back to university to study education.

Before taking that leap, I accepted a position as a preschool teacher to test whether this path was truly for me.

I will never forget my first day.

It felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

For the first time in my professional life, I felt completely at home.

I had found my space.

Not just a job.

A calling.

From that day forward, I pursued education with intention. I continued developing myself, eventually studying school management because I wanted not only to teach children but also to build institutions that would shape generations.

People often ask why I am so passionate about education.

My answer is simple.

I believe there is no greater investment than investing in a human life.

Knowledge has the power to transform families, communities, and even nations. Every child who discovers their potential has the capacity to change the future of countless others.

That is why I teach.

Not simply to complete a syllabus.

But to ignite purpose.

To build confidence.

To help children believe that their dreams are possible.

One of my greatest joys is watching the children who walked through our school gates as tiny preschoolers grow into confident teenagers. Some of the very first learners who enrolled when Prestige School opened nearly nine years ago are still with us today.

Watching them grow has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.

Education has also taught me something deeply personal.

It has given me the opportunity to love people without expecting anything in return.

To pour into lives simply because they matter.

To celebrate someone else’s success as though it were my own.

That gives my life meaning.

Looking back, leaving finance may have seemed like the harder choice.

But purpose has a way of making difficult decisions worthwhile.

Sometimes the safest career is not the one your heart was created for.

And sometimes the greatest success is not measured by the size of your salary, but by the number of lives you have helped shape.

I chose education because I wanted my life to leave fingerprints on generations I may never even meet.

If one child discovers their purpose because I believed in them, then every sacrifice was worth it.

Reflection

Are you pursuing what is comfortable, or what you were created to do?

Sometimes the richest life is not found where you earn the most, but where you give the most.