A rosary, wooden spoons and a whole lot of grace.
Some of life’s most beautiful moments are never planned. They arrive quietly, sometimes disguised as an opportunity we almost allow fear to steal from us. Looking back at the Rink Street Kwikspar Heritage Day Cooking Competition, I am reminded that when we invite God into our ordinary moments, He has a way of making them extraordinary.
I entered the competition on the spur of the moment. When I received the news that I had been selected as a finalist, I was pleasantly surprised. On the entry form, I had nominated my daughters as my helpers. That was never in question. In our family, we do things together. We have a knack for turning the simplest of occasions into a Godly-boohaa. We celebrate, we laugh, we make memories, and, above all, we invite Jesus into the midst of it all.
But the night before the competition, reality set in. I got cold feet. As much as I love cooking, I had never cooked in public, let alone in a competition. For a moment, I wanted to withdraw. My biggest concern, however, was how I would explain my sudden change of heart to my daughters.
So, I prayed.
And somewhere between that prayer and the reassurance that followed, I reminded myself that I had cooked countless times before. Why not approach this as just another cooking session? Why allow fear to rob us of an experience that could become a cherished family memory?
On our way to the competition, I turned to my daughters and said, “Let’s go have fun and win this thing!”
And so we did.
What unfolded was nothing short of beautiful. Amid the chopping, cutting, stirring, seasoning and mixing, there was a natural rhythm to everything. It felt as though we had been preparing for this moment our entire lives. There was no panic, no second-guessing, just a father and his daughters working together, doing what came naturally to them.
It was as if God and our ancestors were not merely taking the wheel this time around, but taking up the wooden spoons!
Our dish, Karoo Smoke – Expressed Lamb & Dried Fruit Bredie, came together beautifully. But as I reflect on the experience, I realise that the most important ingredients were never on the shopping list. They were faith, family, heritage, love and the grace of God.
When my daughter later asked what had stood out for me the most, my answer came without hesitation. It was her beautiful gesture of reminding us to pray.
Before the competition began, during the event, and again when we were announced as the winners, she called us to prayer. And there, among the other contestants and onlookers, we stood in a circle, holding hands, praising God, giving thanks and asking Him for peace and calmness.
There was something profoundly moving about that moment. We were not in a church, surrounded by familiar faces or gathered for a formal religious occasion. We were in a public space, among strangers, making no apology for our faith.
Had I been an onlooker, I believe I would have been moved by such a public expression of faith. Not because we had won or putting up a show, but because, regardless of the outcome, we had chosen to place God at the centre of our experience.
And isn’t that what faith is about? Not simply turning to God when we need something, but acknowledging His presence in every moment, whether we stand on a mountaintop or find ourselves in a car park cooking.
My wife, Nadine, was also very much part of this spiritual journey. As she so often does, she recited the Rosary. This time around, throughout the cooking competition. While our hands were busy preparing food, hers were united in prayer with prayer beads wrapped around her fingers. It was a quiet but powerful reminder that the strength of a family is not always found in what we do together, but also in how we carry one another before God.
There was another moment that touched me deeply. As we were leaving the venue, a stranger passing by stopped to say, “I love how you show your heritage.”
I wore my wooden rosary around my neck, along with my Jesus In The Kallid Times – Masekind Van Die Here T-shirt. Perhaps the stranger saw more than the symbols themselves. Perhaps they saw a man comfortable in his identity, unashamed of his faith and proud of the heritage he carries.
Our heritage is not something we put on for special occasions. It is something handed down to us by our parents and grandparents, woven into our language, our food, our traditions, our struggles and our celebrations. It is the story of those who came before us, and the responsibility we carry to ensure that the next generation knows where they come from.
For my daughters, however, the most memorable part of the day was something else entirely: the food we distributed to people experiencing homelessness afterwards.
And perhaps therein lies the greatest lesson of the day.
The winning tableware, the recognition, and the opportunity to have our dish featured for a month at Rink Street Kwikspar are wonderful blessings. We are genuinely grateful for them. But I know that, years from now, those will not be the memories my daughters hold closest to their hearts.
They will remember the prayers. They will remember standing hand in hand with their dad, giving thanks to God. They will remember sharing food with those who had little. They will remember the joy of celebrating their Coloured heritage and the beautiful experience of doing it all together.
These are the moments that shape a child’s understanding of faith. Not merely what we tell them about God, but what they witness us doing in His name. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus reminds us: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:20).
I experienced the truth of those words in a cooking competition. We had entered to prepare a meal, but God gave us something far richer. He gave us an opportunity to live our faith, celebrate our heritage, strengthen our family bond and serve others.
We went to cook. We went to compete. We went hoping to win. But we came away with something that no prize could ever measure. We came away with memories steeped in prayer, love and gratitude.
And if there is one thing I hope my daughters carry into their own families one day, it is this: Never underestimate what God can do with a family that prays together, serves together and makes room for Him in the ordinary business of living. Because sometimes, the greatest victory is not the one announced by a judge, but the one quietly planted in the hearts of those we love.
A family that prays together, wins together. Not always by taking home a prize, but by discovering that, with God in their midst, they have already received the greatest gift of all.
- When Wooden Spoons Become Instruments Of Grace - October 3, 2026
- All Things Bright and Beautiful — A Beautiful Hymn, An Ugly Reality - September 11, 2026
- Pilgrims of Hope: A Hymn We Must Not Leave Behind - August 14, 2026
