BookOfBibs

There are cricket matches that make you bite your nails…

and then there are matches that make you smile like someone just handed you free dessert.

Jemimah Rodrigues’ century against Australia? Definitely the second kind — the “suddenly-life-feels-better” kind.

And what makes it so special is that the story didn’t begin with fireworks. It began with… well, tears.

Real ones. Daily ones.

She openly shared that leading up to the match, she’d been struggling — anxiety, self-doubt, and a season where nothing felt straightforward. Basically, the emotional equivalent of a messy room you keep promising to clean.

Then came the match. Australia posted a mountain of a score. India lost early wickets. And the entire situation screamed: “Not today!”

But Jemimah? She quietly walked in with the energy of someone saying, “Let’s just see what happens, yaar.”

And slowly… things began to change.

Not because everything got easier. Not because the pressure magically disappeared. But because she stayed calm — or at least calm-ish — when everything around her was screaming.

And in the midst of tired legs, racing heartbeat, and a very alive Australian fielding unit, there it was… a verse rising gently in her heart:

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14

Stillness. In a semi-final. Against Australia. With a giant target. Stupid— isn't it?

But she did stay still — not statue-still — more like inner-peace-Netflix-mode still.

And suddenly her shots began finding gaps. Her confidence returned like a phone battery jumping from 1% to 30%. Her smile came back. Her rhythm flowed.

And she finished unbeaten — not just with numbers, but with joy. The kind you feel when the storm inside you finally sits down and behaves.

And that’s what makes her story feel so human — and so wonderfully relatable.

Because let’s be honest:

We all have days when we’re basically one step away from saying, “Life, please—take a seat and calm down.”

We all face pressure — exams, jobs, responsibilities, bills, expectations, and that one relative who always asks, “So what’s your plan now?”

But Jemimah’s night shows us this:

💙 You can cry all week and still shine next week. 💙 You can feel tiny and still do something giant. 💙 You can come in shaky and walk out victorious.

Her innings wasn’t a story of someone who had it all together. It was a story of someone who kept going anyway. Someone who leaned on faith when strength ran low. Someone who proved that you don’t need to be perfect — you just need to show up.

Because sometimes, God doesn’t remove the battle… He just stands in it with you.

And when your breakthrough comes — when the heaviness lifts, when hope returns, when life gives you your own little “WOW” moment — you’ll understand exactly what she meant when she said:

“Jesus fought for me.”

And quietly, beautifully, you’ll realize…

He’s fighting for you too. Even on the messy days. Even on the tired days. Even on the “why is everything going wrong?” days.

Your plot twist is coming. Stay still. Stay hopeful. Stay ready.

A while back, I brought home a tiny indoor plant. The shopkeeper promised, “Very easy to grow… it becomes beautiful!”

Well, after three weeks of staring at it, I suspected I had been scammed. Nothing happened. No new leaves. Just a lonely green stick sitting there like it was on a life-long meditation retreat.

Every morning I’d check on it like a worried parent: “Hello? Are you planning to do anything this decade?”

I even tried motivational speaking: “You can do this. Grow.”

Still nothing.

Then—completely out of nowhere—one random morning, a bright little green leaf popped out as if the plant suddenly remembered it had a job.

That’s when it hit me: Some things don’t grow on our schedule. They grow when their moment arrives.

We humans love speed. Instant noodles. Instant payments. Instant photo filters that give us perfect skin.

But life? Life doesn’t always give instant results.

We’re wired to crave answers, timelines, explanations—yet so often we’re stuck in the waiting season, wondering why nothing is changing.

But the truth is simple: What is meant to bloom will bloom, but only at the right time. Not when we panic. Not when we complain. Not when we tap the pot and beg for progress.

Just like my stubborn little plant, there’s growth happening quietly beneath the surface—growth we can’t see yet.

And when the right moment comes, it shows up beautifully, effortlessly, and always with perfect timing.

So if your life currently feels like a pot of soil that refuses to sprout, don’t lose heart. Something is developing. Something is preparing. Something is on its way.