As of 5pm today I'm on official leave until 15 April! It seems like such a long time, though I know it will fly past. My son's school closes today for their first-term break too.
So what are we planning for the holiday time?
* A trip to Agulhus, the southernmost point of Africa, 2 hours' drive from here.
* Duning at Betty's Bay - armed with a flattened cardboard box and a wax candle for slip-power. The dune is IMMENSE and we'll sleep well after a day there...
* A possible trip to Cape Point - my son's never been there though we can see it from our front door. If it proves too expensive to get into (nature reserve = pay to enter), we'll head for nearby Scarborough beach for the day, or take a trip to Long Beach and see if we can go camel-riding.
* Daily care of 11 birds, 5 dogs and a fish - only 3 dogs and the fish are mine, the rest belong to a neighbour who left this morning on a 6-day hiking trip.
* New Leon Schuster movie - local funny-man and prank-player, should be "samoosa funny" (SA joke...).
* TaeBo start-up - as of tomorrow morning! Pray for us...
* Bit of gardening - winter veggies need planting out before it's too late.
* Bit of nothing-doing to balance all the above out.
And then there's Easter of course. We'll find ways to make it meaningful again this year. A bit of work on our shrine, a trip to a nearby church that we've never been to for the Friday morning service, some time spent in prayer and thought.
It's gonna be a good break! But if you thought you'd have nothing to read on the blog during this time, think again! I'll be here to check up on things and water the plants regularly and probably post my latest irrelevant thoughts while I'm at it.
Oh YEAH!
There are many pleasures in life, but few compare to baked potatoes, topped with Kraft Miracle Whip, garlic salt and chilies (home-canned in olive oil and garlic)! I think I may just have overeaten... :)
Worship
After a month's break from worship team duty, I'm struggling to get enthusiastic about going back. It's bad, I know. I should be thankful that there is a place where I can use my music abilities for God. I should want to rush in and do what I can in His presence.
But my heart's not in it. I've been suffering from the same feeling of disconnect that Luke mentioned on his blog - of being there physically, but being more a spectator than a participant. Going along with the programme, but remaining unmoved. Leaving as empty as I came, or even more so.
It's shown in my piano playing too. It's become more of a performance than any type of worship. I'm doing the routine without anything sinking in. Can't feel God's presence or that I'm worshipping Him.
I hope this is going to change, that I'll be able to feel again, to worship, to get spine-tingly and see God there. But if it doesn't - what then? Will I be a lost cause? Would it be best to leave completely, or do I hang around hoping things will improve?
Already my son and I are out of the weekly church routine - we bunk more often than not. I get in my God-time on my own, or with my son, but when church-time arrives it's optional instead of necessary. I don't know if that's a very very bad thing or in some way a good thing.
My one worry is the "use it or lose it" lesson of the talents in the Bible. I do believe God has given me a gift of music and that I need to use it for him. I'm no good at the classical stuff or the non-Christian stuff. My fingers only know God-stuff. If I'm no longer involved as a worship musician, will God take that away, will I lose it slowly until I've forgotten how?
My mind's in a muddle over this. It would be easy to just give up and resign my worship team duties. But life is never meant to be easy. I may need to struggle like Jacob until I get my blessing, until I feel something, until I know why I'm there.
But my heart's not in it. I've been suffering from the same feeling of disconnect that Luke mentioned on his blog - of being there physically, but being more a spectator than a participant. Going along with the programme, but remaining unmoved. Leaving as empty as I came, or even more so.
It's shown in my piano playing too. It's become more of a performance than any type of worship. I'm doing the routine without anything sinking in. Can't feel God's presence or that I'm worshipping Him.
I hope this is going to change, that I'll be able to feel again, to worship, to get spine-tingly and see God there. But if it doesn't - what then? Will I be a lost cause? Would it be best to leave completely, or do I hang around hoping things will improve?
Already my son and I are out of the weekly church routine - we bunk more often than not. I get in my God-time on my own, or with my son, but when church-time arrives it's optional instead of necessary. I don't know if that's a very very bad thing or in some way a good thing.
My one worry is the "use it or lose it" lesson of the talents in the Bible. I do believe God has given me a gift of music and that I need to use it for him. I'm no good at the classical stuff or the non-Christian stuff. My fingers only know God-stuff. If I'm no longer involved as a worship musician, will God take that away, will I lose it slowly until I've forgotten how?
My mind's in a muddle over this. It would be easy to just give up and resign my worship team duties. But life is never meant to be easy. I may need to struggle like Jacob until I get my blessing, until I feel something, until I know why I'm there.
Cut-itis
Ever met someone who just has to chop down and cut up anything that grows taller than himself? If so, you've met a cut-itis sufferer.
We've got one on campus - horrifyingly enough he's the farm manager, in charge of the forested land the college owns. Put him in a house, and he'll chop down the biggest and oldest mulberry tree around. Give him a forest and he'll let a logging company come in and strip it bare for profit. Put him in another house, he'll chop down an ancient pine that's been there since the college's inception nearly a hundred years ago. Ask him to trim an overhanging branch, and you'll come back later to find a stump. Give him a dam surrounded by 50-year old eucalyptus and he's felling them as quickly as he can, turning the water a strange dark blue as their smaller branches are left to float.
I don't know what it is with this guy. Perhaps it's his background as volunteer fire-fighter that makes him want to get rid of anything that can catch alight. Or he might just hate trees. Perhaps he prefers bare ground to shade-covered greenness.
I wish he'd leave them alone though. I get really sad when things that have taken so long to grow, that are majestically beautiful, get mown down, chopped up and sold for firewood.
We've got one on campus - horrifyingly enough he's the farm manager, in charge of the forested land the college owns. Put him in a house, and he'll chop down the biggest and oldest mulberry tree around. Give him a forest and he'll let a logging company come in and strip it bare for profit. Put him in another house, he'll chop down an ancient pine that's been there since the college's inception nearly a hundred years ago. Ask him to trim an overhanging branch, and you'll come back later to find a stump. Give him a dam surrounded by 50-year old eucalyptus and he's felling them as quickly as he can, turning the water a strange dark blue as their smaller branches are left to float.
I don't know what it is with this guy. Perhaps it's his background as volunteer fire-fighter that makes him want to get rid of anything that can catch alight. Or he might just hate trees. Perhaps he prefers bare ground to shade-covered greenness.
I wish he'd leave them alone though. I get really sad when things that have taken so long to grow, that are majestically beautiful, get mown down, chopped up and sold for firewood.
Greening the Gang-lands
Manenberg is an area of Cape Town that I would not want to live anywhere near. It consists of derelict blocks of flats, wind-scoured bare ground strewn with garbage, and many rival gangs. The news often mentions yet another child caught in gang crossfire, but day-to-day we don't hear the ongoing struggles for survival.
And yet there is always hope.
This weekend's news carried a story of the residents who decided enough is enough. Together with a local organization, they're greening up their area, joining together to turn barren wasteland into community gardens to feed their poor, painting over gang slogans and murals, attempting to create a safe place for their kids to play outdoors.
Hats off to them! It's really good to see this going on, especially in such a "hopeless" area. It's brought neighbours together and kicked a community into action.
We need more like this - and we need to get involved in it, not just leaving it up to the local inhabitants, but making sure we're there to help out in whatever way we can.
There are plenty of areas just down the road from me that could benefit from a little help. My planned clean-up-gang is going into those places. Not only to clean, but to provide hope, contact, help where we can. I have a dream of small community gardens springing up all over the place. I can't work miracles, but making a difference in even one life would be great.
Right here where I live and work on a college campus, there are students who could benefit from a communal bit of land - provided they're willing to work for their share (we keep hearing about starving students, but when work is offered to help them, they don't want it). Many campus residents already have gardens and could share their produce or seeds to get it going.
Little ideas are starting to form a river. Time to unblock the dam and let them flow.
And yet there is always hope.
This weekend's news carried a story of the residents who decided enough is enough. Together with a local organization, they're greening up their area, joining together to turn barren wasteland into community gardens to feed their poor, painting over gang slogans and murals, attempting to create a safe place for their kids to play outdoors.
Hats off to them! It's really good to see this going on, especially in such a "hopeless" area. It's brought neighbours together and kicked a community into action.
We need more like this - and we need to get involved in it, not just leaving it up to the local inhabitants, but making sure we're there to help out in whatever way we can.
There are plenty of areas just down the road from me that could benefit from a little help. My planned clean-up-gang is going into those places. Not only to clean, but to provide hope, contact, help where we can. I have a dream of small community gardens springing up all over the place. I can't work miracles, but making a difference in even one life would be great.
Right here where I live and work on a college campus, there are students who could benefit from a communal bit of land - provided they're willing to work for their share (we keep hearing about starving students, but when work is offered to help them, they don't want it). Many campus residents already have gardens and could share their produce or seeds to get it going.
Little ideas are starting to form a river. Time to unblock the dam and let them flow.
Emerging from the Sea
I have a lot of respect for a guy called Andy. He started out as a youth pastor at the church I attend, but a year ago he took a giant step of faith, out of a secure salary and into the unknown.
He took on SonSurf in the Strand area, what you might call an Emerging from the Sea Church. His organization ministers to surfers and beach-types. He coaches learners (grommits), provides sponsored/free surfboards to guys who can't afford it, takes the kids on camps and trips, and cares for their souls.
He's a mentor, a guy you can lean on, someone to talk to when your parents won't do.
And on Sunday nights he offers church at a local Muslim-run beachfront bar! The owners have kindly offered their space free of charge (though they don't know their souls are being heavily prayed for!) and stick around for the live band worship, word and fellowship.
If ever there was an emerging church, this is it. It meets the guys where they are and draws them in with love and acceptance.
Yes, Andy and his wife and kids struggle. Especially financially. Their leap of faith included not knowing where a monthly income was coming from, who would support the ministry and how it was going to happen. It was blind following of God's voice, trusting Him for everything.
It's paid off - bigtime.
He took on SonSurf in the Strand area, what you might call an Emerging from the Sea Church. His organization ministers to surfers and beach-types. He coaches learners (grommits), provides sponsored/free surfboards to guys who can't afford it, takes the kids on camps and trips, and cares for their souls.
He's a mentor, a guy you can lean on, someone to talk to when your parents won't do.
And on Sunday nights he offers church at a local Muslim-run beachfront bar! The owners have kindly offered their space free of charge (though they don't know their souls are being heavily prayed for!) and stick around for the live band worship, word and fellowship.
If ever there was an emerging church, this is it. It meets the guys where they are and draws them in with love and acceptance.
Yes, Andy and his wife and kids struggle. Especially financially. Their leap of faith included not knowing where a monthly income was coming from, who would support the ministry and how it was going to happen. It was blind following of God's voice, trusting Him for everything.
It's paid off - bigtime.
Acceptance for you
I picked up a super CD from Praise Africa this weekend with a beautiful song on it - a song of invitation to communion:
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
There is acceptance for you, no matter who you are
The mercy of the Father is greater than your sin
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
No matter who you are or where you're going to
No matter what you've done the Father's waiting here for you
No matter all the times you've turned your head in unbelief
The Father's love is greater than waht you ever can conceive
Reach out, reach out, reach out
To Him!
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
There is acceptance for you, no matter who you are
The mercy of the Father is greater than your sin
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
(the track is here)
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
There is acceptance for you, no matter who you are
The mercy of the Father is greater than your sin
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
No matter who you are or where you're going to
No matter what you've done the Father's waiting here for you
No matter all the times you've turned your head in unbelief
The Father's love is greater than waht you ever can conceive
Reach out, reach out, reach out
To Him!
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
There is acceptance for you, no matter who you are
The mercy of the Father is greater than your sin
There is acceptance for you at the table of the Lord
(the track is here)
Suffer the Children...
There are days when I'm glad I don't have full access to our biggest pay-channel on TV, MNet (we do however get 2 hours "open time" every evening, 5-7pm). Every Sunday night they broadcast an investigative journalism programme called Carte Blanche.
Last night during open time the ad for the programme mentioned this - the case of one little boy who died of severe malnutrition. It was found that another 4 children have also died recently, same cause of death, same place caring for them.
The preview of the programme alone gave me a severely bad night - I spent a good deal of it half-awake, half-praying, half-terrified, half-scared for these poor kids. How can humans, our "intelligent" race, made in God's image, so severely neglect and abuse the little ones placed in our care, and then try and brush off blame? What about the little girls in a Chinese orphanage, whose story I read 15 years ago and still can't lose in the mists of memory? What about the child for sale, whose mother couldn't afford food? What on earth are we doing?
I just want to cry when I think of what children all over the world go through every day. Hunger, abuse, terror, not asking to be here but being handed the worst possible existance, all because us grown-ups don't take our responsibility to them and each other seriously. Don't see God in them and protect that with our lives, with all we have.
Oh Lord, when will it all end. Your little lambs, Lord, Your little lambs...
Last night during open time the ad for the programme mentioned this - the case of one little boy who died of severe malnutrition. It was found that another 4 children have also died recently, same cause of death, same place caring for them.
The preview of the programme alone gave me a severely bad night - I spent a good deal of it half-awake, half-praying, half-terrified, half-scared for these poor kids. How can humans, our "intelligent" race, made in God's image, so severely neglect and abuse the little ones placed in our care, and then try and brush off blame? What about the little girls in a Chinese orphanage, whose story I read 15 years ago and still can't lose in the mists of memory? What about the child for sale, whose mother couldn't afford food? What on earth are we doing?
I just want to cry when I think of what children all over the world go through every day. Hunger, abuse, terror, not asking to be here but being handed the worst possible existance, all because us grown-ups don't take our responsibility to them and each other seriously. Don't see God in them and protect that with our lives, with all we have.
Oh Lord, when will it all end. Your little lambs, Lord, Your little lambs...
Is your Muppet HIV+?
A few years ago the South African Education Department purchased the rights to use and adapt Sesame Street to the South African market, aimed at pre-school education for those with no access to it, especially in the rural areas.
It's apparently been a good few years for the programme. It's left the Big Bird in favour of a Giant Mongoose, and made a number of other South African changes - so much so that at times I wonder why they even bothered buying the use of Sesame Street stuff! Certainly bears almost no resemblance to the original...
One of their latest additions was to make one of the characters HIV+ as a way of educating our littlest citizens in dealing with those that they know who are infected - a common occurance these days. It's been a brilliant move on their part. As uncomfortable as some of us are with the HIV/AIDS situation, it's a reality. It's better that our kids are educated - know what it's about, how you can and can't contract it, how to treat those who have it, etc. That someone who has HIV/AIDS is not to be feared and shunned, but treated with love and acceptance, helped in hard times as they deal with their illness.
Although I'm tempted to dismiss the programme as another boring, mindless kid's programme, with oft-repeating content, it's doing it's job. It's educating - and not just in maths skills, or how to buy groceries, or why the sky is blue, but in real-life issues that our kids have to deal with more and more.
On the flip-side, it would be great if our kids DIDN'T have exposure to all these problems. It would be wonderful if most kids in poor, gang-riddled areas (and others) had NOT seen someone shot in front of them, witnessed violence, been caught in gang crossfire or feared for their safety. It would be super if teachers didn't have to don rubber gloves before wiping a runny nose or patching a playground scrape.
But this is reality. This is the real, hard, difficult world. This is not heaven. There aren't many brave enough to dive in and help.
So hats off to those who are making an effort.
It's apparently been a good few years for the programme. It's left the Big Bird in favour of a Giant Mongoose, and made a number of other South African changes - so much so that at times I wonder why they even bothered buying the use of Sesame Street stuff! Certainly bears almost no resemblance to the original...
One of their latest additions was to make one of the characters HIV+ as a way of educating our littlest citizens in dealing with those that they know who are infected - a common occurance these days. It's been a brilliant move on their part. As uncomfortable as some of us are with the HIV/AIDS situation, it's a reality. It's better that our kids are educated - know what it's about, how you can and can't contract it, how to treat those who have it, etc. That someone who has HIV/AIDS is not to be feared and shunned, but treated with love and acceptance, helped in hard times as they deal with their illness.
Although I'm tempted to dismiss the programme as another boring, mindless kid's programme, with oft-repeating content, it's doing it's job. It's educating - and not just in maths skills, or how to buy groceries, or why the sky is blue, but in real-life issues that our kids have to deal with more and more.
On the flip-side, it would be great if our kids DIDN'T have exposure to all these problems. It would be wonderful if most kids in poor, gang-riddled areas (and others) had NOT seen someone shot in front of them, witnessed violence, been caught in gang crossfire or feared for their safety. It would be super if teachers didn't have to don rubber gloves before wiping a runny nose or patching a playground scrape.
But this is reality. This is the real, hard, difficult world. This is not heaven. There aren't many brave enough to dive in and help.
So hats off to those who are making an effort.
Quick LOTR
Want to know what happens in LOTR, but too ADD to sit through 9+ hours or read a book you could use as a doorstop?
Then click here!
(found via fark)
Then click here!
(found via fark)
I caved...
...and bought a couple of TaeBo II videos! Yeah, they'll do no good sitting on the shelf, and cost a bit, so deserve some serious consideration.
I'm not one for exercise videos, exercise equipment, etc - BUT I borrowed a neighbour's TaeBo tape one evening and had a ball! My type of stuff - discovered muscles the next day I didn't know about...
So, being on leave for 2 weeks starting this Thursday, I and my son will attempt to intially follow the instructional video, then start on a week's 8-minute workouts daily and build it up to the half-hour ones. With winter setting in we need something to do indoors once walking outside is no longer an option.
Watch this space to see if willpower and weight-loss/muscle building prevail!!!
I'm not one for exercise videos, exercise equipment, etc - BUT I borrowed a neighbour's TaeBo tape one evening and had a ball! My type of stuff - discovered muscles the next day I didn't know about...
So, being on leave for 2 weeks starting this Thursday, I and my son will attempt to intially follow the instructional video, then start on a week's 8-minute workouts daily and build it up to the half-hour ones. With winter setting in we need something to do indoors once walking outside is no longer an option.
Watch this space to see if willpower and weight-loss/muscle building prevail!!!
An Easter Shrine
For our God-time this Sabbath, my son and I built an Easter shrine - or at least started it off. (I "stole" the idea from Jen Lemen and Rachelle, but I don't think they'll mind.)
We first spent some time going over the Easter story - I asked my son to tell it to me and added in where he forgot or didn't know bits of it. At the end he was amazed that he'd told the entire thing! After that we spent some time sitting with our eyes closed, thinking about parts of the story, gathering our thoughts. Then we split up for 10 minutes and headed out the yard in different directions to find things for our shrine.
We found:
* Two half-burned sheets of music (God creates beauty from ashes, life from apparent death)
* A hollowed-out knot of wood that looked exactly like an empty tomb
* A rough piece of wood reminding us that the cross wasn't nice and smooth or easy to carry
* A small piece of rope, like those used to tie His hands
* A twist of silver wire that looks like a whip - wrapped handle, whip threads and all!
* An old nail
* A huge double thorn
* A rounded rock, a little like the "traditional" image of the hill on which the crosses stood.
We then hauled out the colouring box, made a picture for the base of our shrine, and added images to the sheets of music. We stuck it all in a half-opened box (base, back and half-sides), added a silver cross on a chain that I had, and the rough wooden cross with barbed-wire crown of thorns we made for last Easter, 2 candles (for me and my son), and put it up in a prominent place on top of the piano.
Now some of my friends and colleagues might consider this completely pagan (which is why I haven't told them about it)! But it's helped us focus completely on the upcoming Easter celebration. It's in such a visible place, it's easy to see wherever we are in the house. Comments keep coming up about some of the elements from my son, and we're giving thought to what we can add next.
As I prayed this weekend, I lit the candles in our little shrine and found it focused my prayers beautifully.
I like it, a lot!
(an image may follow, if I ever get a hold of that digital camera I'm after....)
We first spent some time going over the Easter story - I asked my son to tell it to me and added in where he forgot or didn't know bits of it. At the end he was amazed that he'd told the entire thing! After that we spent some time sitting with our eyes closed, thinking about parts of the story, gathering our thoughts. Then we split up for 10 minutes and headed out the yard in different directions to find things for our shrine.
We found:
* Two half-burned sheets of music (God creates beauty from ashes, life from apparent death)
* A hollowed-out knot of wood that looked exactly like an empty tomb
* A rough piece of wood reminding us that the cross wasn't nice and smooth or easy to carry
* A small piece of rope, like those used to tie His hands
* A twist of silver wire that looks like a whip - wrapped handle, whip threads and all!
* An old nail
* A huge double thorn
* A rounded rock, a little like the "traditional" image of the hill on which the crosses stood.
We then hauled out the colouring box, made a picture for the base of our shrine, and added images to the sheets of music. We stuck it all in a half-opened box (base, back and half-sides), added a silver cross on a chain that I had, and the rough wooden cross with barbed-wire crown of thorns we made for last Easter, 2 candles (for me and my son), and put it up in a prominent place on top of the piano.
Now some of my friends and colleagues might consider this completely pagan (which is why I haven't told them about it)! But it's helped us focus completely on the upcoming Easter celebration. It's in such a visible place, it's easy to see wherever we are in the house. Comments keep coming up about some of the elements from my son, and we're giving thought to what we can add next.
As I prayed this weekend, I lit the candles in our little shrine and found it focused my prayers beautifully.
I like it, a lot!
(an image may follow, if I ever get a hold of that digital camera I'm after....)
"Passion" hits South Africa
"The Passion of The Christ" opens today in South Africa, and as usual, everyone has something to say. Here is an article from a local woman reporter, which puts a South African spin on the violence issue that I found very interesting.
I still don't think I'll be seeing it - I can't take a lot of violence. But I'm sure there will be as large a reaction here as there has been elsewhere - both positive and negative.
I'll be keeping an eye on the South African perspective as this unfolds.
I still don't think I'll be seeing it - I can't take a lot of violence. But I'm sure there will be as large a reaction here as there has been elsewhere - both positive and negative.
I'll be keeping an eye on the South African perspective as this unfolds.
Friday Five
Rodney's Friday Five:
1. Where were you born?
East London, Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
2. Where do you live now?
Somerset West, Western Cape Province, South Africa - come almost full circle!
3. How many countries have you visited?
6: South Africa, Zimbabwe, Lesotho, UK, USA, Australia
4. How many countries have you lived in?
2: South Africa, Zimbabwe
5. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
The Western Cape, where I live now, has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world - if you take the annual wind-blast of summer away. But I'd be happy anywhere that was my own, paid-for piece of land, preferably out in the bundu's (sticks, bush, less-inhabited areas). Places I've seen and liked are Far-North Queensland (Cairns area, Australia), Mutare (Zimbabwe), Brisbane (Australia) and the north Zimbabwe bushveld. Some I've dreamed of are Ireland, New Zealand, Ethiopia (one of Africa's best-kept secrets), Tuscany and the south of France.
1. Where were you born?
East London, Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
2. Where do you live now?
Somerset West, Western Cape Province, South Africa - come almost full circle!
3. How many countries have you visited?
6: South Africa, Zimbabwe, Lesotho, UK, USA, Australia
4. How many countries have you lived in?
2: South Africa, Zimbabwe
5. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
The Western Cape, where I live now, has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world - if you take the annual wind-blast of summer away. But I'd be happy anywhere that was my own, paid-for piece of land, preferably out in the bundu's (sticks, bush, less-inhabited areas). Places I've seen and liked are Far-North Queensland (Cairns area, Australia), Mutare (Zimbabwe), Brisbane (Australia) and the north Zimbabwe bushveld. Some I've dreamed of are Ireland, New Zealand, Ethiopia (one of Africa's best-kept secrets), Tuscany and the south of France.
I wonder...
When I stand outside to watch the sunrise, catch the first slanting rays through the forested hill on the mountainside - am I the only one to see it today? Is the rest of the world head-down, preparing with a rush for the busy day ahead?
When I notice the turning of the leaves to gold and red as I drive by, does anyone else see them? Or are they focused on their destination, and not the journey?
When rainbows hang over rain-splattered sea in morn's first light - am I the only one revelling in their beauty? Is everyone else looking at man-made things while God paints His love on sea and air?
When mice and birds, snails and insects cross my path, am I the only one who appreciates their created uniqueness, doesn't see them as something to be controlled or destroyed?
When dew sparkles on early grass, when late-afternoon sunlight turns the world to gold, am I the only one who notices? Am I the only one who captures it and stores it, returning to that place in memory often? Is the rest of the world too busy catching the first TV news of the day, or mindlessly absorbing soapies?
When rain falls on leaves, runs zig-zag down fences, leaves tiny spiderwebs glittering with God's jewels, does anyone else take notice?
Did someone other than me see the beauty of the bird that just flew past, did anyone stop to listen to its song? Do they even know that it belongs in another part of the country, not naturally occuring here?
Am I alone in the wonders of creation?
When I notice the turning of the leaves to gold and red as I drive by, does anyone else see them? Or are they focused on their destination, and not the journey?
When rainbows hang over rain-splattered sea in morn's first light - am I the only one revelling in their beauty? Is everyone else looking at man-made things while God paints His love on sea and air?
When mice and birds, snails and insects cross my path, am I the only one who appreciates their created uniqueness, doesn't see them as something to be controlled or destroyed?
When dew sparkles on early grass, when late-afternoon sunlight turns the world to gold, am I the only one who notices? Am I the only one who captures it and stores it, returning to that place in memory often? Is the rest of the world too busy catching the first TV news of the day, or mindlessly absorbing soapies?
When rain falls on leaves, runs zig-zag down fences, leaves tiny spiderwebs glittering with God's jewels, does anyone else take notice?
Did someone other than me see the beauty of the bird that just flew past, did anyone stop to listen to its song? Do they even know that it belongs in another part of the country, not naturally occuring here?
Am I alone in the wonders of creation?
How to have an Adventure!
1. Roll-start your car to go down to the mall
2. Discover your bank card will not work on any machine other than the "withdraw only" one, so you can't transfer cash to the credit card or savings accounts.
3. Draw a minimal amount of cash and go have lunch.
4. Wander the mall, buy essential groceries and head back to the car.
5. Discover the battery is now completely dead, get the car-security guys to push it out so a passing friend can try jump-start it.
6. After half an hour, burn out his jumper cables - while still getting no reaction from your own battery.
7. Walk the entire length of the huge mall once more to buy a battery for the car.
8. Find no-one willing to help choose a battery at the shop, find a car/battery guide and help yourself to the right type.
9. Discover a new battery costs 430 bucks, have no choice but to pay.
10. Haul it back to the car on one of your child-bearing hips.
11. Get the car-security guy to help install it, start the car and get home.
12. Discover he forgot to close the car bonnet properly, and that it could have blown open on the way home.
13. Sit quietly and still in one place for the rest of the day, just in case you trip over something or break something or cause another disaster.
14. Hope the wall does not fall on you while sitting there.
2. Discover your bank card will not work on any machine other than the "withdraw only" one, so you can't transfer cash to the credit card or savings accounts.
3. Draw a minimal amount of cash and go have lunch.
4. Wander the mall, buy essential groceries and head back to the car.
5. Discover the battery is now completely dead, get the car-security guys to push it out so a passing friend can try jump-start it.
6. After half an hour, burn out his jumper cables - while still getting no reaction from your own battery.
7. Walk the entire length of the huge mall once more to buy a battery for the car.
8. Find no-one willing to help choose a battery at the shop, find a car/battery guide and help yourself to the right type.
9. Discover a new battery costs 430 bucks, have no choice but to pay.
10. Haul it back to the car on one of your child-bearing hips.
11. Get the car-security guy to help install it, start the car and get home.
12. Discover he forgot to close the car bonnet properly, and that it could have blown open on the way home.
13. Sit quietly and still in one place for the rest of the day, just in case you trip over something or break something or cause another disaster.
14. Hope the wall does not fall on you while sitting there.
Church=Spirituality???
The guy that took our staff worship time this morning shared that old list of "why I don't wash / why I don't go to church". To tell the honest truth it really got on my nerves this time, after years of hearing it, laughing at it and letting it slide off!
Mostly because he equated our spiritual lives with the act of going to church. And as so many of us know these days (aren't we the experts!) you just can't DO church and expect that to be your duty done, you're saved. As someone who has stepped out of just attending in attempt to find some doing, it was all I could do not to get up and run out. But I've learnt to just shut up and not offend anyone. Just about all the staff are very conservative, good church-going types - and I stick out like a purple goat in a flock of white-washed sheep.
I wish I could help them see that going to church isn't what it's all about. I've tried to share bits now and then when I'm on worship duty about what it means to BE. That if you don't go to church it doesn't mean you're damned. But it's a centuries-old mindset that I struggle against, an emphasis on turning up and being counted, an "us vs. them" thing.
And I have to deal with the kids of the parents too - those who tell my son "you can't be a (SDA) Christian if you don't go to church every Sabbath". He's tried to argue that you can, but it doesn't make a difference. It's hard for him to face that attitude, as hard as it is for me as adult. Fortunately for me I'm lucky to have a child who thinks for himself, who is open to the idea that we don't have to follow the nearest crowd.
But it still bugs me when I hear stuff like this, sincere as the folk are. I know I have no right to judge them in their journey - what's right for them may not be right for me, and what's right for me may make no sense at all to them.
It just bugs me, grates on my soul, that's all.
Mostly because he equated our spiritual lives with the act of going to church. And as so many of us know these days (aren't we the experts!) you just can't DO church and expect that to be your duty done, you're saved. As someone who has stepped out of just attending in attempt to find some doing, it was all I could do not to get up and run out. But I've learnt to just shut up and not offend anyone. Just about all the staff are very conservative, good church-going types - and I stick out like a purple goat in a flock of white-washed sheep.
I wish I could help them see that going to church isn't what it's all about. I've tried to share bits now and then when I'm on worship duty about what it means to BE. That if you don't go to church it doesn't mean you're damned. But it's a centuries-old mindset that I struggle against, an emphasis on turning up and being counted, an "us vs. them" thing.
And I have to deal with the kids of the parents too - those who tell my son "you can't be a (SDA) Christian if you don't go to church every Sabbath". He's tried to argue that you can, but it doesn't make a difference. It's hard for him to face that attitude, as hard as it is for me as adult. Fortunately for me I'm lucky to have a child who thinks for himself, who is open to the idea that we don't have to follow the nearest crowd.
But it still bugs me when I hear stuff like this, sincere as the folk are. I know I have no right to judge them in their journey - what's right for them may not be right for me, and what's right for me may make no sense at all to them.
It just bugs me, grates on my soul, that's all.
Aaah, Payday!
Don't you just love payday? That sudden injection of cash-fix your bank account gets, the unlimited possibilities of what you can do with it, the thank-God we've made it through another month (or fortnight, depending which country you live in).
I always feel like a kid in a candy store when payday swings by. So many options, decisions on how to dole out the salary. I'm not one to get into debt, so my monthly "must-pays" are few. I closed a load of unused accounts a month ago and cut up the cards. With just me and the boy there's no pressure from another adult as to what I'm supposed to do with the cash. It's entirely up to me to save and spend appropriately. School fees are budgeted for, and I keep an eye on what else is coming up - this month is a car service and licence renewal.
Payday is always Spur day in our house - a trip to our favourite restaurant for lunch. It's the day I take my monthly afternoon off work and we wander the mall, checking out what's new. We make a stop at the cheap book shop to see if new versions of the RayMan, Pokemon and UK Country Living mags are in and on sale. We wander the toyshop with my son's allowance (he'd get more if he did more around the house....). We stock up the month's groceries and try resist overpriced luxuries. We take it easy and revel in cash in the pocket.
I really love payday! Don't you?
I always feel like a kid in a candy store when payday swings by. So many options, decisions on how to dole out the salary. I'm not one to get into debt, so my monthly "must-pays" are few. I closed a load of unused accounts a month ago and cut up the cards. With just me and the boy there's no pressure from another adult as to what I'm supposed to do with the cash. It's entirely up to me to save and spend appropriately. School fees are budgeted for, and I keep an eye on what else is coming up - this month is a car service and licence renewal.
Payday is always Spur day in our house - a trip to our favourite restaurant for lunch. It's the day I take my monthly afternoon off work and we wander the mall, checking out what's new. We make a stop at the cheap book shop to see if new versions of the RayMan, Pokemon and UK Country Living mags are in and on sale. We wander the toyshop with my son's allowance (he'd get more if he did more around the house....). We stock up the month's groceries and try resist overpriced luxuries. We take it easy and revel in cash in the pocket.
I really love payday! Don't you?
Visa Hope?
Years back, when I went window-shopping on matchmaking sites regularly, I made a good friend of one of the guys who contacted me. He married another online match a little while later, but we've remained good friends.
His wife is Australian, and they moved there shorty after the wedding. Well, it seems that he and his wife are involved in Immigration South Australia, and know well the in's and out's of getting a visa. He contacted me by chance this morning to find out how things were going and when he heard my sad tale of battles with a second language, he offered to help.
He and his wife have now got my qualifications in hand and are going to see if I can be nominted for a different category, in which case it may be a mere 3 months of visa wait.
If he can help, it would be wonderful! Things are pretty gloomy right now. We can't get hold of the local government Afrikaans test I was counting on, as it's been withdrawn. Time is running out to sumbit things. But I do have a statement from my former college, indicating my course was bilingual.
Only time, God and random miracles can influence where this goes - but there is hope. I just don't know if I dare letting it flame up in me again, only to be doused....
His wife is Australian, and they moved there shorty after the wedding. Well, it seems that he and his wife are involved in Immigration South Australia, and know well the in's and out's of getting a visa. He contacted me by chance this morning to find out how things were going and when he heard my sad tale of battles with a second language, he offered to help.
He and his wife have now got my qualifications in hand and are going to see if I can be nominted for a different category, in which case it may be a mere 3 months of visa wait.
If he can help, it would be wonderful! Things are pretty gloomy right now. We can't get hold of the local government Afrikaans test I was counting on, as it's been withdrawn. Time is running out to sumbit things. But I do have a statement from my former college, indicating my course was bilingual.
Only time, God and random miracles can influence where this goes - but there is hope. I just don't know if I dare letting it flame up in me again, only to be doused....
A Blooming Miracle
My spider lily plant blooms only once a year - at the beginning of autumn. It's blooming right now.
The wonderful thing about spider lilies is you can actually WATCH them bloom. The flowers start out as a greenish-white spike, then slowly start to expand in the middle with the points still sticking together. Within half an hour the bloom will suddenly pop open, right before your eyes (if you're patient enough to wait). It's the only flower I've seen that I can actually watch open. For my son and I it's an annual event!
Last night we watched three blooms open, one after another. They are absolutely beautiful!
Migrate to Middle Earth
Found yesterday via theonering.net, a migration agent in New Zealand gets the award for the most creative marketing of New Zealand and help with migrating to Middle Earth. Notably, help with negotiation of the Dead Marshes of the immigration department! :) Check it out....
New Blog
I added a new blog to my blogroll yesterday - This is My Body, This is My Blood. I've been trawling through the archives ever since! If you haven't yet seen it, go there. It's worth the trip.
Tiny Gadget
I've been eyeing digital cameras for a long time now, but they're horribly expensive here in South Africa. Until I found this:
It's smaller than a matchbox, not the most professional quality but still good enough to do up to 20 photo-quality shots or 80 low-res pics. Or use as a webcam, or take 16 seconds video footage. Everything you need seems to be included.
I WANT ONE!
In fact, I want to get one for my son to do some point-and-shoot photography with, or have handy to take quick pics of something that catches my fancy, or to email "what we did today" pics to the parents etc.
Payday arrives tomorrow. I suspect some of it will go toward this cool toy.
It's smaller than a matchbox, not the most professional quality but still good enough to do up to 20 photo-quality shots or 80 low-res pics. Or use as a webcam, or take 16 seconds video footage. Everything you need seems to be included.
I WANT ONE!
In fact, I want to get one for my son to do some point-and-shoot photography with, or have handy to take quick pics of something that catches my fancy, or to email "what we did today" pics to the parents etc.
Payday arrives tomorrow. I suspect some of it will go toward this cool toy.
Ancient Woods
Yeah, I'm back on the "forest" thing this morning.... bear with me!
My aunt is a botanist. She's travelled the world, collecting specimens, discovering plants and habitat riddles, visiting forgotten corners.
About a year ago she attended a conference in the UK, and managed to slip away for a few days to go wander some ancient forests. She said it was the strangest thing - she felt as if there were "presences" in the forest, as if there were conciousness and memory and living history. She's never felt this before in any other habitat - but she's also never before been in such ancient woods, thousands of years old perhaps.
I put this to a wise man here at work (who, like me, finds things like ley lines and geographical anomolies fascinating), and he's convinced that she's right - there is something that these woods hold, a memory of trees, so to speak. His theory is that we are constantly giving off molecules as our bodies grow and change. Little bits of us are floating around, indestructible. In such ancient places many things have happened, people have lived and moved and breathed for thousands of years as history unfolded. Their molecules are still hanging around there, filling the air and the forest floor and becoming a part of the growing things. And that's what my aunt felt as she wandered the forest.
I know, sounds strange and perhaps a little along "conspiracy theory" lines, but in a way it also makes sense. My high school biology teacher used to illustrate the perpetuity of molecules like this:
Let's say Goliath had a pimple on his nose. It was, of course, composed of molecules. These were released into the air as his body shed them, and perhaps landed in the soil. They were a part of many plants, animals etc through history, and then joined up with other molecules in the tomato that grew this year. The tomato that you ate for breakfast - that contains a molecule from the pimple on Goliath's nose.
Perhaps these forests truly do hold molecular secrets, memories, that are far beyond our comprehension. There certainly are innumerable unexplained things in our world that we know nothing about!
Perhaps that's also why we feel connected to Higher Powers, to the earth and living things when we wander between old trees.
My aunt is a botanist. She's travelled the world, collecting specimens, discovering plants and habitat riddles, visiting forgotten corners.
About a year ago she attended a conference in the UK, and managed to slip away for a few days to go wander some ancient forests. She said it was the strangest thing - she felt as if there were "presences" in the forest, as if there were conciousness and memory and living history. She's never felt this before in any other habitat - but she's also never before been in such ancient woods, thousands of years old perhaps.
I put this to a wise man here at work (who, like me, finds things like ley lines and geographical anomolies fascinating), and he's convinced that she's right - there is something that these woods hold, a memory of trees, so to speak. His theory is that we are constantly giving off molecules as our bodies grow and change. Little bits of us are floating around, indestructible. In such ancient places many things have happened, people have lived and moved and breathed for thousands of years as history unfolded. Their molecules are still hanging around there, filling the air and the forest floor and becoming a part of the growing things. And that's what my aunt felt as she wandered the forest.
I know, sounds strange and perhaps a little along "conspiracy theory" lines, but in a way it also makes sense. My high school biology teacher used to illustrate the perpetuity of molecules like this:
Let's say Goliath had a pimple on his nose. It was, of course, composed of molecules. These were released into the air as his body shed them, and perhaps landed in the soil. They were a part of many plants, animals etc through history, and then joined up with other molecules in the tomato that grew this year. The tomato that you ate for breakfast - that contains a molecule from the pimple on Goliath's nose.
Perhaps these forests truly do hold molecular secrets, memories, that are far beyond our comprehension. There certainly are innumerable unexplained things in our world that we know nothing about!
Perhaps that's also why we feel connected to Higher Powers, to the earth and living things when we wander between old trees.
Motherhood
There are days when I don't want to be a mom. Especially a single mom, with sole responsibility for everything and everyone (all 2 of us, plus dogs and a fish). There are days when I want to be selfish and go to bed when I'm tired, do what I want to, live for me, instead of spending an hour comforting a kid who doesn't know what's wrong but just feels lonely and cries. There are days when I'm more a provider of necessities than a carer of growing souls. There are days when I live past my child, knowing that I'm all he has and knowing I should be doing better. There are days when I wonder if he wouldn't have had a better life if I HAD given him up for adoption to a 2-parent home. There are days when I don't know what it is to love, and can't remember if I ever did. There are days (too many of them) when I don't want to hug and kiss him, and that's all he wants. There are days when I read the blogs of other mothers, other women, and wonder why I never feel like that, why I'm never able to just let go and be the kind of mom everyone else seems to be. There are days when the only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that I'm all there is, and someone has to be there. There are days that I plod through, not doing enough, not spending enough time, not being completely present. There are days that I want to run away from it all.
Last night was one of those days.
Last night was one of those days.
Forests
It's really strange - my entire weekend has been filled with images of forests - ancient, fern-encrusted forests. Everything from the stuff I read on Sabbath, to the section of Lord of the Rings that we're reading now, to The Two Towers we watched again yesterday, to dreams of wandering between massive trunks in a green world, to TV programmes - all just forests. I've had the words "old-growth forest" stuck in my head, repeating like a scratched CD.
Perhaps I need to contact a Transparent Medium (remember that old hymn, "I the transparent medium" - always conjured up images of a see-through fortune teller....) to find out what it all means! Perhaps it truly is an indication that my hopes, dreams and future lie in living with nature in its unspoilt state.
I've never really been a beach person. Although we live 10 minutes drive from the sea and go there regularly, I haven't actually been in the water for years! Sad, but true. I like walking the shores, but prefer the majestic silence of the forest near the mountain's cliff face - the crunch of pine needles underfoot, the wind sighing through the tops of the trees, a trackless forest floor to explore.
It's just really weird that everything I've done or seen or read or dreamt this weekend is about forests.
Any Transparent Mediums out there who care to read my palm on this one? :)
Perhaps I need to contact a Transparent Medium (remember that old hymn, "I the transparent medium" - always conjured up images of a see-through fortune teller....) to find out what it all means! Perhaps it truly is an indication that my hopes, dreams and future lie in living with nature in its unspoilt state.
I've never really been a beach person. Although we live 10 minutes drive from the sea and go there regularly, I haven't actually been in the water for years! Sad, but true. I like walking the shores, but prefer the majestic silence of the forest near the mountain's cliff face - the crunch of pine needles underfoot, the wind sighing through the tops of the trees, a trackless forest floor to explore.
It's just really weird that everything I've done or seen or read or dreamt this weekend is about forests.
Any Transparent Mediums out there who care to read my palm on this one? :)
Skills Swap
My neighbour asked me this weekend if I'd be willing to look after their dogs and birds while they take a week off and go somewhere peaceful. He offered to pay me for the little I'll have to do - but I have a better idea!
I'm going to ask him to give me time instead of money. He's the wood-work teacher at a local high school. I want some basic woodworking training in exchange for looking after the beasts!
I've always wanted to learn how to work with wood, to make my own solid-wood tables, chairs, bookshelves, etc. To learn how to join things without just hammering in nails all over the place until it stops wobbling. To learn the art of creating beautiful objects from natural things. Perhaps to create something unique!
This weekend my favourite magazine TV show had a section on a guy that uses wood felled by the conservation department to make the most incredible furnishings. He buys his wood by the log/tree at auction and lets it mellow until it's needed. He uses only what he needs, never throwing away a bit that can be made into something else later. He makes a chest of drawers from a single block of wood, almost seamless. He creates incredible tables that showcase the grain of heart wood and sap wood. He's an artist - he loves the trees he works with, and uses only wood that's been felled as dead or damaged. He respects the living old-growth forest he lives and works in.
I'd love to be able to work with wood the way he does. This exercise in skills aquirement may be JUST what I need!
Now I just need someone to show me car-servicing, sustainable building, and a few other things I'm dying to try my hand at...
I'm going to ask him to give me time instead of money. He's the wood-work teacher at a local high school. I want some basic woodworking training in exchange for looking after the beasts!
I've always wanted to learn how to work with wood, to make my own solid-wood tables, chairs, bookshelves, etc. To learn how to join things without just hammering in nails all over the place until it stops wobbling. To learn the art of creating beautiful objects from natural things. Perhaps to create something unique!
This weekend my favourite magazine TV show had a section on a guy that uses wood felled by the conservation department to make the most incredible furnishings. He buys his wood by the log/tree at auction and lets it mellow until it's needed. He uses only what he needs, never throwing away a bit that can be made into something else later. He makes a chest of drawers from a single block of wood, almost seamless. He creates incredible tables that showcase the grain of heart wood and sap wood. He's an artist - he loves the trees he works with, and uses only wood that's been felled as dead or damaged. He respects the living old-growth forest he lives and works in.
I'd love to be able to work with wood the way he does. This exercise in skills aquirement may be JUST what I need!
Now I just need someone to show me car-servicing, sustainable building, and a few other things I'm dying to try my hand at...
Do what you know
Although I long for community/church as many are practicing it, I know I'd be no good at leading a prayer/meditation/study group when I can't even figure out where I am spiritually. It would be like putting on an act to get others to advance toward God, when I'm still getting a toe on the starting line. It would be even worse than the "just warming the pews" stuff I would like a group of us to move out of - we'd get ourselves into more spiritual trouble than we may already be in!
But if I can't lead a spiritual exploration group, there ARE things I CAN do. It's stuff I know how to do, things I can organize (I'm good at that!), and a start toward making a difference in our lives and those around us.
This weekend I was reading (finally) Consider the Turtles of the Field, a Sojourners article I printed out and kept to read over Sabbath. Funny enough, all the other stuff I'd printed out to read tied in completely with it! They all seemed to say something about caring for our environment, about responsible Christian living, making a physical difference in our communities. They emphasized that we were given care of the earth at creation, that we are not to tear down and use up but rather to build up, improve and maintain.
That, of course, got me mulling. I've blogged before about my thoughts on being a sustainable Christian, and on the parallels between the back-to-the-earth movement and the emerging church. I'm very much a nature person, aware of life all around me and appreciative of creatures and plants, great and small.
So what can I do? Well, one idea is growing slowly.
I'd like to gather a group together once a week to go clean up our town for a couple of hours. As part of our worship and service to God, understanding it to be integral to Being Church. Inter-denominational, building bridges and getting to know each other as we serve, across our traditional belief boundaries. Connecting with people who stop to ask us why we're there. Connecting with our local municipality to solve litter problems and create recycling options where we clean. Gathering for prayer and guidance before we set out. Gathering for coffee and talk afterwards. Everyone welcome - come as you are and get your hands dirty. Make a difference this week, even if the litter's back again next week. Maybe even help change a community mindset, get them to think before they throw away.
I'm still mulling. I can't afford to mull too long. But I may have found an answer to quite a few of my Being Church questions!
But if I can't lead a spiritual exploration group, there ARE things I CAN do. It's stuff I know how to do, things I can organize (I'm good at that!), and a start toward making a difference in our lives and those around us.
This weekend I was reading (finally) Consider the Turtles of the Field, a Sojourners article I printed out and kept to read over Sabbath. Funny enough, all the other stuff I'd printed out to read tied in completely with it! They all seemed to say something about caring for our environment, about responsible Christian living, making a physical difference in our communities. They emphasized that we were given care of the earth at creation, that we are not to tear down and use up but rather to build up, improve and maintain.
That, of course, got me mulling. I've blogged before about my thoughts on being a sustainable Christian, and on the parallels between the back-to-the-earth movement and the emerging church. I'm very much a nature person, aware of life all around me and appreciative of creatures and plants, great and small.
So what can I do? Well, one idea is growing slowly.
I'd like to gather a group together once a week to go clean up our town for a couple of hours. As part of our worship and service to God, understanding it to be integral to Being Church. Inter-denominational, building bridges and getting to know each other as we serve, across our traditional belief boundaries. Connecting with people who stop to ask us why we're there. Connecting with our local municipality to solve litter problems and create recycling options where we clean. Gathering for prayer and guidance before we set out. Gathering for coffee and talk afterwards. Everyone welcome - come as you are and get your hands dirty. Make a difference this week, even if the litter's back again next week. Maybe even help change a community mindset, get them to think before they throw away.
I'm still mulling. I can't afford to mull too long. But I may have found an answer to quite a few of my Being Church questions!
Moving up
I must be moving up in the blog world. I got my first spam comment over the weekend! :) Now deleted and "banned", but spam nevertheless. I guess it's called progression up the ladder, or something like that.
LOTS in my head to blog about today, just trying to get it all into some sort of logical order.
LOTS in my head to blog about today, just trying to get it all into some sort of logical order.
Friday Five
I haven't done the Friday Five for a while now, but couldn't resist these:
If you...
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
Home-cooked vegetarian organic meals, menu varying daily just like you'd find at home. Kid-friendly, nutritious, delicious, gorgeous food.
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
Useful and beautiful things - hand-made treasures, solid-wood furnishings, hand-crafted goods made by local artisans practising handed-down skills.
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
A collection of short stories, poetry and art.
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
Basic skills for living in the modern world. Living in balance, doing what you love, escaping materialism and creating the life you dream of. Sustainable living skills, traditional crafting/creating, nature appreciation, community building and family health.
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
Probably praise & worship - in fact my church is in the process of recording one now! It's a project that's been in the works for 2 years, going slow but sure. We may even make a music video to go with the album.
If you...
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
Home-cooked vegetarian organic meals, menu varying daily just like you'd find at home. Kid-friendly, nutritious, delicious, gorgeous food.
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
Useful and beautiful things - hand-made treasures, solid-wood furnishings, hand-crafted goods made by local artisans practising handed-down skills.
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
A collection of short stories, poetry and art.
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
Basic skills for living in the modern world. Living in balance, doing what you love, escaping materialism and creating the life you dream of. Sustainable living skills, traditional crafting/creating, nature appreciation, community building and family health.
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
Probably praise & worship - in fact my church is in the process of recording one now! It's a project that's been in the works for 2 years, going slow but sure. We may even make a music video to go with the album.
Temptation
Every 2 years I get a new credit card from the bank (I'm good - I only have one). Every 2 years, somewhere on my accompanying letter, is my credit limit. It's never listed on my monthly statement - at least not that I can find, although they list all sorts of other strange things. It goes up now and then apparently.
I do my best to never exceed my credit limit, though there are months when it's been a close call. However, recently I received a letter from the bank, indicating that my credit limit has been increased by 2,000 bucks from a previously unknown high, apparently instituted last year. I now have a credit limit 5,000 bucks more than what I thought I had!
Here's the temptation - to go out and splurge! I know it means I'll owe the bank, and they'll happily charge me interest etc. But it would take a lot of spending to get anywhere near my new credit limit. Heck, I could even buy a small car if I wanted to!
One very big thing holding me back is the fact that I have to close my bank accounts when I leave South Africa - and repay anything that might be in the negatives. I know I'll need every cent to start a new life on the other side of the planet, so I can't afford to be in huge amounts of debt.
But the temptation is still there to go buy, buy, buy. To actually get the stuff we've been wishing for. To buy luxuries we don't need - especially in the food department. To get that DVD player we've eyed for ages, or the one on special right now. And then to replace videos with DVDs, for which we'd need a decent surround-sound system, and then a rack to store the DVDs, and then.... well, you get the picture.
I'm off to do my weekly shop at the mall this afternoon. Lord, give me strength to resist flashing my card around where it don't belong! :)
I do my best to never exceed my credit limit, though there are months when it's been a close call. However, recently I received a letter from the bank, indicating that my credit limit has been increased by 2,000 bucks from a previously unknown high, apparently instituted last year. I now have a credit limit 5,000 bucks more than what I thought I had!
Here's the temptation - to go out and splurge! I know it means I'll owe the bank, and they'll happily charge me interest etc. But it would take a lot of spending to get anywhere near my new credit limit. Heck, I could even buy a small car if I wanted to!
One very big thing holding me back is the fact that I have to close my bank accounts when I leave South Africa - and repay anything that might be in the negatives. I know I'll need every cent to start a new life on the other side of the planet, so I can't afford to be in huge amounts of debt.
But the temptation is still there to go buy, buy, buy. To actually get the stuff we've been wishing for. To buy luxuries we don't need - especially in the food department. To get that DVD player we've eyed for ages, or the one on special right now. And then to replace videos with DVDs, for which we'd need a decent surround-sound system, and then a rack to store the DVDs, and then.... well, you get the picture.
I'm off to do my weekly shop at the mall this afternoon. Lord, give me strength to resist flashing my card around where it don't belong! :)
Story-telling
Shortly after my parents moved to Australia, my mom got a new pet - a pink parrot called a Galah, which came labelled with the name Dory (you can see him perched on my dad's shoulder in a post below).
What a fowl! He loves showering with her in the mornings, turning head-down, tail-up to let warm water run down over his back. After this, he has the hairdryer propped up on the floor and turned on, and fluffs his feathers in front of it saying "warm!" until he's dry. When we visited, he was fascinated with my then waist-length hair and would sit on my shoulder, running his beak down the length of a strand, nibbling it gently. (Birds and beasts seem to love me....)
Of course my son loved hearing stories of what Dory had gotten up to and my mom put a few on tape for him to listen to in bed each night. A few years later a second Dory-stories tape arrived!
Yesterday his grandpa sent a tape too - gramps telling his favourite stories. As a pastor he always enjoyed doing the kid's story time in church, and would go to great lengths to "animate" the stories with voice, expressions and such. I've only heard one side of the tape, but many of those stories are on it, along with a few "when I was a boy" ones.
I'm hoping to get the stories transferred to CD - the first tape is starting to wear out and I wouldn't want to lose these tales.
This is one of the best ways grandparents far away can keep themselves "alive" in their grandkids lives, and share a bit of themselves. I wish more grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters would set their stories down on tape for family, friends and future generations. Just to have their voice, their words, even if the story is a familiar one.
I guess it's somewhat akin to the old extended family tribe, sitting around the fire and sharing stories of their past, their history, their experiences - a way for the younger ones to learn their place in the tribe, in the world, in life.
What a fowl! He loves showering with her in the mornings, turning head-down, tail-up to let warm water run down over his back. After this, he has the hairdryer propped up on the floor and turned on, and fluffs his feathers in front of it saying "warm!" until he's dry. When we visited, he was fascinated with my then waist-length hair and would sit on my shoulder, running his beak down the length of a strand, nibbling it gently. (Birds and beasts seem to love me....)
Of course my son loved hearing stories of what Dory had gotten up to and my mom put a few on tape for him to listen to in bed each night. A few years later a second Dory-stories tape arrived!
Yesterday his grandpa sent a tape too - gramps telling his favourite stories. As a pastor he always enjoyed doing the kid's story time in church, and would go to great lengths to "animate" the stories with voice, expressions and such. I've only heard one side of the tape, but many of those stories are on it, along with a few "when I was a boy" ones.
I'm hoping to get the stories transferred to CD - the first tape is starting to wear out and I wouldn't want to lose these tales.
This is one of the best ways grandparents far away can keep themselves "alive" in their grandkids lives, and share a bit of themselves. I wish more grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters would set their stories down on tape for family, friends and future generations. Just to have their voice, their words, even if the story is a familiar one.
I guess it's somewhat akin to the old extended family tribe, sitting around the fire and sharing stories of their past, their history, their experiences - a way for the younger ones to learn their place in the tribe, in the world, in life.
Blessed be the Boss!
Monday is a holiday here, so we're in for a long weekend and a nice bit of sleeping in.
This morning the boss said, "I'm sure we can all get our work done by 12, right?" YES! Actually, we could probably get it done by 9, if we tried hard enough... but he's closing the place down at 12. Now it's an EXTRA-long weekend!
Blessed be the boss!
This morning the boss said, "I'm sure we can all get our work done by 12, right?" YES! Actually, we could probably get it done by 9, if we tried hard enough... but he's closing the place down at 12. Now it's an EXTRA-long weekend!
Blessed be the boss!
It's back
A year after my parents moved to Australia, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in an advanced stage of development. Within 2 weeks she had been diagnosed, had a mastectomy and was on chemo - very sudden! My dad's worst fears surfaced, those of losing her.
(An Afrikaans friend of ours wanted to know how my mom's VASECTOMY had gone... :) )
She made it OK through chemo, losing her hair and strength and health in the process, then enjoyed a year or two of clear scans. But a spot popped up on her rib, and she had to endure radiation therapy - a little less excrutiating than chemo, but bad nonetheless.
She's been clear for 3 years - until now. A spot was found on her shoulder bone, which stayed the same for a while (an OK thing), but has now been shown to have grown.
So it's back onto chemo again - dad just emailed to give us the "not so good news" as he puts it. He's been amazing in his support of his life-soul-mate, enduring the illness and weakness with tender love and self-sacrificing caring. And now he gets to face this all again.
My mom has a ministry that involves much travel. It's been her life in recent years. But travel will have to be cut back considerably now, including the hoped-for trip to Russia mid-year. She spent a month there last year with a women's ministry group and was hoping to go over with my dad this time.
Most of you don't know her - but if you can spare a prayer for a stranger, she needs all she can get. Thanks.
Dilemma
What would you do if you found someone online in one of those "just looking" match sites who is absolutely incredible, amazing, who you'd REALLY like to get to know - but you'd have to pay a few hundred bucks to subscribe to the site and be able to contact him?
Do you pay and hope it's worth it, or set up a free profile and hope he's got a subscription, sees your profile, likes it and and contacts you? Sounds like a few too many "hope's".... and you'd probably spend most of your days weeding out the "no-thanks" types who actually DO see it.
Hmmmm.....
::update::
Thought better of it - gave it a miss.
Do you pay and hope it's worth it, or set up a free profile and hope he's got a subscription, sees your profile, likes it and and contacts you? Sounds like a few too many "hope's".... and you'd probably spend most of your days weeding out the "no-thanks" types who actually DO see it.
Hmmmm.....
::update::
Thought better of it - gave it a miss.
10 Years Later
South Africa's Rainbow Nation is 10 years old - 10 years of democracy. To celebrate that, and the upcoming elections, we are "blessed" every night with a half-hour programme on one of the 3 TV channel options outlining what's happened in the past and where we are now.
Last night I caught just a snatch of it, an interview with an ancient black lady living in one of the squatter towns (informal settlements). She spoke very honestly and frankly, having lived through apartheid, change and now 10 years of democratic government.
She says that in spite of all those promises made 10 years ago, nothing's changed. Not on ground-level. They still struggle to get their kids through high school, only to have them wandering the streets, unemployed. The promise of millions of jobs - not fulfilled. They still live in tiny houses constructed from leftover roofing, wood, whatever's lying around. The promises of new houses for everyone - not fulfilled. Crime still runs rampant, my grandfather still sleeps with a shotgun under his bed in fear of attack.
It's basic stuff, the stuff every politician gets up and promises. Water for all, housing for all, education for all, land for the landless, a better life for all. And yet it never really materializes. So much so that some are threatening land-invasions like the ones in Zimbabwe... which is VERY scary.
So what's been going on? Why hasn't it happened?
First and foremost is the problem of corruption. Put a guy in power who has had none, give him millions to play with as a budget, and see if he can't resist the temptation to pocket just a little of that overwhelming amount of cash, or wheedle someone out of their land or house, or bribe, or spend, or... Corruption is a major problem in every governing body throughout South Africa, and most of Africa.
Another problem is red tape. Nothing can be done without years of slow-turning wheels. The government departments are notorious for moving at the slowest possible speed to maintain an appearance of progress. Give them a report marked URGENT, and it will finally see the right office years down the line. Give them an idea to make a difference, and they'll file it somewhere for the future. Try do anything and you're faced with numerous forms, regulations, levels of authority to clamour through, referals back and forth - eventually you just give up.
Yet another problem is regulations - they make it hard for self-employed folk to get anywhere or help employ others. Sure, the place is chock-a-block full of street-corner vendors, but I've also seen these same guys chased and beaten up by police for trying to make their cash where regulations say they can't - within a few metres of where regulations say they can.
You have to register this, you have to pay that. One lady went to register her business, the form said "attach money stamps to this value". She did, got to the office of registration, only to be told they no longer accepted this (it was on the form they issued for goodness sake!), she must pay cash. Now she can't get her money stamp cash back, and has had to pay double! There's nothing she can do.
One can get really discouraged by all of the things that HAVEN'T happened, or haven't changed!!!
So, 10 years on, just what is it that's so GOOD about our democracy?
Well, they have given out land to some - slowly. They have built houses for some. Many now have access to clean water. ALL can vote - and it will be a record turnout this year apparently. We have freedom of politics - you can form a party at whim and compete for a government spot. There's (almost) freedom of speech in the media - though one suspects the government twist is applied to things now and then... There's freedom of religion still, and a hope that one day the promises will be fulfilled. We've recognized historical peoples like the San, we've made ourselves 11 official languages to cover all our bases. We've attempted to adjust past discrimination in the workplace (though that created reverse-discrimination). Everyone's almost treated the same.
10 years down the line, South Africa is still basically a good country to be in, warts and all. And if you can't stand the politics, there's always the view! :)
Last night I caught just a snatch of it, an interview with an ancient black lady living in one of the squatter towns (informal settlements). She spoke very honestly and frankly, having lived through apartheid, change and now 10 years of democratic government.
She says that in spite of all those promises made 10 years ago, nothing's changed. Not on ground-level. They still struggle to get their kids through high school, only to have them wandering the streets, unemployed. The promise of millions of jobs - not fulfilled. They still live in tiny houses constructed from leftover roofing, wood, whatever's lying around. The promises of new houses for everyone - not fulfilled. Crime still runs rampant, my grandfather still sleeps with a shotgun under his bed in fear of attack.
It's basic stuff, the stuff every politician gets up and promises. Water for all, housing for all, education for all, land for the landless, a better life for all. And yet it never really materializes. So much so that some are threatening land-invasions like the ones in Zimbabwe... which is VERY scary.
So what's been going on? Why hasn't it happened?
First and foremost is the problem of corruption. Put a guy in power who has had none, give him millions to play with as a budget, and see if he can't resist the temptation to pocket just a little of that overwhelming amount of cash, or wheedle someone out of their land or house, or bribe, or spend, or... Corruption is a major problem in every governing body throughout South Africa, and most of Africa.
Another problem is red tape. Nothing can be done without years of slow-turning wheels. The government departments are notorious for moving at the slowest possible speed to maintain an appearance of progress. Give them a report marked URGENT, and it will finally see the right office years down the line. Give them an idea to make a difference, and they'll file it somewhere for the future. Try do anything and you're faced with numerous forms, regulations, levels of authority to clamour through, referals back and forth - eventually you just give up.
Yet another problem is regulations - they make it hard for self-employed folk to get anywhere or help employ others. Sure, the place is chock-a-block full of street-corner vendors, but I've also seen these same guys chased and beaten up by police for trying to make their cash where regulations say they can't - within a few metres of where regulations say they can.
You have to register this, you have to pay that. One lady went to register her business, the form said "attach money stamps to this value". She did, got to the office of registration, only to be told they no longer accepted this (it was on the form they issued for goodness sake!), she must pay cash. Now she can't get her money stamp cash back, and has had to pay double! There's nothing she can do.
One can get really discouraged by all of the things that HAVEN'T happened, or haven't changed!!!
So, 10 years on, just what is it that's so GOOD about our democracy?
Well, they have given out land to some - slowly. They have built houses for some. Many now have access to clean water. ALL can vote - and it will be a record turnout this year apparently. We have freedom of politics - you can form a party at whim and compete for a government spot. There's (almost) freedom of speech in the media - though one suspects the government twist is applied to things now and then... There's freedom of religion still, and a hope that one day the promises will be fulfilled. We've recognized historical peoples like the San, we've made ourselves 11 official languages to cover all our bases. We've attempted to adjust past discrimination in the workplace (though that created reverse-discrimination). Everyone's almost treated the same.
10 years down the line, South Africa is still basically a good country to be in, warts and all. And if you can't stand the politics, there's always the view! :)
Found Objects
I'm a bit of a magpie - it runs in the family. When great-aunt Geraldine died, it was a mission to clean out her apartment. She'd been collecting Stuff her entire life - much of it "well, don't throw that away, we might need it someday" Stuff.
Granted, with a move in sight we've been doing some chucking out of hoarded possessions - old letters from high school, an entire box of class notes from my Food Tech studies, fabric scraps that a rat made a home in at the back of the garage.
Yet there are things I simply don't want to get rid of.
There's the piece of mica shaped like a key. We were visiting friends who mined semi-precious stones somewhere between Harare and Mutare - they'd come up with amazing pink marble, huge crystals of tourmaline, waist-high quartz crystals, amythests, garnets, carnelians, tigerseye and a couple of emeralds. Their road was covered, not in gravel, but in mica, shining and beautiful. Unbroken slabs of mica were stacked to one side, big enough for double beds. We peered down their mine-shaft, but didn't venture in.
There are halved and carved seed pods from north Zimbabwe, the thin outer brown covering chiselled away to reveal patterns and portraits in creamy white.
There is the unfinished carving found discarded near people selling soapstone images - a slip of the tool and damage done beyond repair, but made unique as a result.
A bottle of tiny shells from Jeffrey's Bay - surfer's paradise! The entire beach was made up of minute shells, requiring an on-the-stomach examination to distinguish them.
There's the smooth stone found on our latest walk through the field, now painted with delicate designs to be used as a paper-holder-downer when reading outside in the breeze.
There are other pastel-striped sandstones from a beach around the coast - I took photos of them nestled among other rocks, and brought them home to place in a frame with the photo. Still haven't done that, but will one day.
There's the piece of chalk from my Grade 11 class that I carved intricately into a face and wrapped in tissue paper.
A couple of empty bullet shells found in the Zimbabwe bush post-war. One not-empty one.
A tiny bottle of heavy mercury, rescued from the floor of the science class where it had scattered from a broken thermometer.
If I were to pass on to better worlds today and leave the task of sorting through my stuff to someone else, all these things would be thrown out as junk. Perhaps, in a sense, they are.
Yet at the same time they are a part of my history, they call up memories of times and places, smells and light, they're like journals without words. Chucking them away would be like getting rid of a part of who I am. Even if they're just pieces of nothing.
Granted, with a move in sight we've been doing some chucking out of hoarded possessions - old letters from high school, an entire box of class notes from my Food Tech studies, fabric scraps that a rat made a home in at the back of the garage.
Yet there are things I simply don't want to get rid of.
There's the piece of mica shaped like a key. We were visiting friends who mined semi-precious stones somewhere between Harare and Mutare - they'd come up with amazing pink marble, huge crystals of tourmaline, waist-high quartz crystals, amythests, garnets, carnelians, tigerseye and a couple of emeralds. Their road was covered, not in gravel, but in mica, shining and beautiful. Unbroken slabs of mica were stacked to one side, big enough for double beds. We peered down their mine-shaft, but didn't venture in.
There are halved and carved seed pods from north Zimbabwe, the thin outer brown covering chiselled away to reveal patterns and portraits in creamy white.
There is the unfinished carving found discarded near people selling soapstone images - a slip of the tool and damage done beyond repair, but made unique as a result.
A bottle of tiny shells from Jeffrey's Bay - surfer's paradise! The entire beach was made up of minute shells, requiring an on-the-stomach examination to distinguish them.
There's the smooth stone found on our latest walk through the field, now painted with delicate designs to be used as a paper-holder-downer when reading outside in the breeze.
There are other pastel-striped sandstones from a beach around the coast - I took photos of them nestled among other rocks, and brought them home to place in a frame with the photo. Still haven't done that, but will one day.
There's the piece of chalk from my Grade 11 class that I carved intricately into a face and wrapped in tissue paper.
A couple of empty bullet shells found in the Zimbabwe bush post-war. One not-empty one.
A tiny bottle of heavy mercury, rescued from the floor of the science class where it had scattered from a broken thermometer.
If I were to pass on to better worlds today and leave the task of sorting through my stuff to someone else, all these things would be thrown out as junk. Perhaps, in a sense, they are.
Yet at the same time they are a part of my history, they call up memories of times and places, smells and light, they're like journals without words. Chucking them away would be like getting rid of a part of who I am. Even if they're just pieces of nothing.
The Kingdom!
Matt Tullos has an excellent post on what the Kingdom of God feels like. I think I'm finally starting to understand the Kingdom.
Clearing Fog
The fog and deep darkness of my brain are slowly clearing and giving way to a little spiritual light. Slowly, but surely. Just wanted to say thanks for the prayers and support as I hit my low patch! Perhaps one day I'll be able to see clearly again.
War Living: Part 5
Post-war, actually. Independence hit, celebrations were many, and Rhodesia became Zimbabwe-Rhodesia, and then Zimbabwe.
But the country's troubles were far from over. Again, us kids didn't know the half of it, we just assumed this was how life was.
Sanctions were instituted and the basics became hard to come by. Coffee, tea, sugar, cooking oil, petrol - there were queues when they were available, and blackmarket trading when they were not. You had a contact in the back of a shop and brought your own container. Prices hit the roof and shelves emptied.
Cars were left in kilometers-long queus at petrol stations, waiting for the next fuel delivery. Those who had a little left in their tanks and needed to travel would mark out their car's space, stick up their numberplate details and drive until they ran out of petrol. If the queue moved, their space was moved by honest queue-waiters so they didn't lose out. My dad had to do all his pastoral travelling on less than 10 litres a month at times.
There was a joke going around: two guys were waiting in a petrol queue for the umpteenth time, and one got fed up. He told his friend "I've had enough of this. We stand in queues for sugar, for oil, for petrol. I can't take any more. I'm going to go kill Mugabe". His friend was rather shocked, but said "OK, well, come back and tell me what happened." Half an hour later he was back - "there's a queue there too..." :)
We made do. We ate well, although we were limited to what we had, to what we could grow. Everyone had a veggie garden. When something ran out we substituted, or made our own. I think that's where I get my love of self-sufficiency from, a result of having to live like that for a long time.
One cannot be materialistic in such an economy. Possessions are of no importance, luxuries do not exist. When we moved to South Africa in 1984 we were extremely culture-shocked by materialism here - and it's not half as bad as elsewhere!
But in the absence of things, one finds pleasure in persuits. Our family had picnics at a nearby dam with heaps of friends, we learned to identify edible plants and find interesting creatures. We climbed huge granite boulders, made forts and tree-houses, turned elephant grass into tunneled mazes. We created and played and spent our days on our bikes outdoors, or swimming in the roadside ditches after a summer storm. TV was a luxury, we didn't have one until 1986. That's about the time we got our first computer too.
Growing up like this, through a war, through a time of scarcity, has made me who I am today. It's formed my opinions and loves, my joys and sorrows, my hopes and dreams. Tough times? Yes. Would I change what I experienced? No, not a chance.
But the country's troubles were far from over. Again, us kids didn't know the half of it, we just assumed this was how life was.
Sanctions were instituted and the basics became hard to come by. Coffee, tea, sugar, cooking oil, petrol - there were queues when they were available, and blackmarket trading when they were not. You had a contact in the back of a shop and brought your own container. Prices hit the roof and shelves emptied.
Cars were left in kilometers-long queus at petrol stations, waiting for the next fuel delivery. Those who had a little left in their tanks and needed to travel would mark out their car's space, stick up their numberplate details and drive until they ran out of petrol. If the queue moved, their space was moved by honest queue-waiters so they didn't lose out. My dad had to do all his pastoral travelling on less than 10 litres a month at times.
There was a joke going around: two guys were waiting in a petrol queue for the umpteenth time, and one got fed up. He told his friend "I've had enough of this. We stand in queues for sugar, for oil, for petrol. I can't take any more. I'm going to go kill Mugabe". His friend was rather shocked, but said "OK, well, come back and tell me what happened." Half an hour later he was back - "there's a queue there too..." :)
We made do. We ate well, although we were limited to what we had, to what we could grow. Everyone had a veggie garden. When something ran out we substituted, or made our own. I think that's where I get my love of self-sufficiency from, a result of having to live like that for a long time.
One cannot be materialistic in such an economy. Possessions are of no importance, luxuries do not exist. When we moved to South Africa in 1984 we were extremely culture-shocked by materialism here - and it's not half as bad as elsewhere!
But in the absence of things, one finds pleasure in persuits. Our family had picnics at a nearby dam with heaps of friends, we learned to identify edible plants and find interesting creatures. We climbed huge granite boulders, made forts and tree-houses, turned elephant grass into tunneled mazes. We created and played and spent our days on our bikes outdoors, or swimming in the roadside ditches after a summer storm. TV was a luxury, we didn't have one until 1986. That's about the time we got our first computer too.
Growing up like this, through a war, through a time of scarcity, has made me who I am today. It's formed my opinions and loves, my joys and sorrows, my hopes and dreams. Tough times? Yes. Would I change what I experienced? No, not a chance.
War Living: Part 4
Independence - that's what the whole messy situation was about. You'd expect there to be hatred between black and white, and yet that was not at all the case!
Here in South Africa there is an ongoing sense of dis-ease between black and white as images from the Apartheid years are thrown up again and again, reminders of the struggle keep hatred going, injecting it into a generation that knows little or nothing of what their parents went through. I don't deny it was a hard time for non-whites in SA, and that the struggles were very real. And yet it seems to have been so different in Zimbabwe. There was the same struggle against white rule, but at ground level blacks and whites got along very well!
I'm no expert on politics, so I cannot explain the in's and out's of it, I just know that we seemed to live in peace although the fighting went on and on.
There were still vestiges of colonialism left of course - it's not something that fades away overnight, and I see many of the street names in Zimbabwe still reflect their colonial roots. We often attended the very-British polo matches, everyone had "servants" (though they were more a part of the family than underlings!), cricket and rugby were approved persuits, as was afternoon tea at the club.
Perhaps as kids the underlying tensions passed us by, but we played happily with our best friends from many races, seeing far below skin colour to souls we connected with. We loved the guy that worked in the garden as much as we loved a favourite uncle. We ate with him and hugged him and laughed with him. I will never forget Tobias - a regal and elegant gentleman who was the last man in our employ before we left for South Africa. He cried when we left, and we did too. And there was Happy - who truly was happy! She helped raise us kids in our early primary years, taught us the intricacies of "sudza and nyama" (stiff maize-meal porridge and a sauce made from all sorts of goodies, that one dipped balls of porridge in) and listened patiently as my semi-senile gran mouthed off on "sensitive" political issues.
I'll never forget my grade 2 friend Carol, or Farai with the big-popping-bug-eyes, or my first black teacher Mrs Ncube - she taught me my times-tables! We were required to say our tables, standing in a row, with our right hands held out, palm-up. A wrong answer and a wooden ruler would come down on our hands with force! I LEARNED my times-tables! :) Those were the days when it was still OK to be sent to the principal's office for "cuts"...
Years down the line, it seems the relationships between black and white are still intact. Sure, there are some serious problems in Zimbabwe - but somehow those relationships survive. Perhaps it's a miracle...
Here in South Africa there is an ongoing sense of dis-ease between black and white as images from the Apartheid years are thrown up again and again, reminders of the struggle keep hatred going, injecting it into a generation that knows little or nothing of what their parents went through. I don't deny it was a hard time for non-whites in SA, and that the struggles were very real. And yet it seems to have been so different in Zimbabwe. There was the same struggle against white rule, but at ground level blacks and whites got along very well!
I'm no expert on politics, so I cannot explain the in's and out's of it, I just know that we seemed to live in peace although the fighting went on and on.
There were still vestiges of colonialism left of course - it's not something that fades away overnight, and I see many of the street names in Zimbabwe still reflect their colonial roots. We often attended the very-British polo matches, everyone had "servants" (though they were more a part of the family than underlings!), cricket and rugby were approved persuits, as was afternoon tea at the club.
Perhaps as kids the underlying tensions passed us by, but we played happily with our best friends from many races, seeing far below skin colour to souls we connected with. We loved the guy that worked in the garden as much as we loved a favourite uncle. We ate with him and hugged him and laughed with him. I will never forget Tobias - a regal and elegant gentleman who was the last man in our employ before we left for South Africa. He cried when we left, and we did too. And there was Happy - who truly was happy! She helped raise us kids in our early primary years, taught us the intricacies of "sudza and nyama" (stiff maize-meal porridge and a sauce made from all sorts of goodies, that one dipped balls of porridge in) and listened patiently as my semi-senile gran mouthed off on "sensitive" political issues.
I'll never forget my grade 2 friend Carol, or Farai with the big-popping-bug-eyes, or my first black teacher Mrs Ncube - she taught me my times-tables! We were required to say our tables, standing in a row, with our right hands held out, palm-up. A wrong answer and a wooden ruler would come down on our hands with force! I LEARNED my times-tables! :) Those were the days when it was still OK to be sent to the principal's office for "cuts"...
Years down the line, it seems the relationships between black and white are still intact. Sure, there are some serious problems in Zimbabwe - but somehow those relationships survive. Perhaps it's a miracle...
War Living: Part 3
Not all War Living was fun and games, as you can imagine - even for us kids.
Church often became a testimony service, with stories of protection shared, or prayers for families who had been under attack. From week to week we rejoiced with those who had made it safely to church and mourned those who hadn't.
Most of the farmers belonged to a sort of security network, a little like a party line phone system. If someone needed help they just had to pick up the phone and their message went out to everyone on the system. The nearest neighbours would rush to their aid. But at times there was nothing they could do - perhaps they were too far away, or under attack themselves. Many times people would sit in horror as the sounds of attack came through their system - screams and gunfire and cries for help - knowing they could do nothing to help, and hearing their friends killed. Some still suffer from the trauma of what they heard.
An English couple lived for years as missionaries in Zimbabwe. Their kids attended school with us and the family was well known. Their last assignment before returning home was an outlying mission school. They did amazing work among the locals and were well-loved by all.
One night the mission was attacked by a group of terrorists passing through. Mr Layle was hacked to death, but his wife managed to escape and ran for help. As she ran she was shot at and wounded. She crawled to the nearest house - only to find the occupants away for the night. Right at the front door she was raped and hacked and left to die. Their children were fortunately away at a boarding school, but the shock waves of this incident spread throughout the country. People rallied around the children, providing homes and support as their parents were laid to rest, and then helping them return to relatives in the UK.
Our family was lucky - we were shielded from many of the horrors of war. But every so often something like this would happen and the terror would hit home. Yet there were also miracles.
Alan Kok lived on a beautiful cotton farm that he and his family had owned for a couple of generations. At the start of the war they'd taken a few extra precautions, built additional walls around the house to prevent the windows being too exposed, made sure their workers were safe and procured a Ratel.
One Friday night he was sitting in his lounge, going through the Bible Lesson for the week, when he realized he'd forgotten his Bible in the bedroom. He got up to get it, and as he reached the bedroom there was a massive explosion. A mortar round had been fired into the lounge and exploded in the chair he'd vacated seconds before! His life was spared dramatically!
There were many tales of "lucky" escapes - God's hand was acknowledged in all of them. The people of (then) Rhodesia had never prayed so fervently. A country in trouble often produces people who really feel their need of God. It was a time of revival, of renewed committments to God. Churches of every denomination were filled to overflowing each week as the people sought God with all their hearts.
Many countries in this world have not had to experience war, have not been under threat. As a result their peoples feel no need of God - they're doing fine on their own thank you very much. Sometimes it takes times of trouble and despair for people's hearts to turn to God.
Church often became a testimony service, with stories of protection shared, or prayers for families who had been under attack. From week to week we rejoiced with those who had made it safely to church and mourned those who hadn't.
Most of the farmers belonged to a sort of security network, a little like a party line phone system. If someone needed help they just had to pick up the phone and their message went out to everyone on the system. The nearest neighbours would rush to their aid. But at times there was nothing they could do - perhaps they were too far away, or under attack themselves. Many times people would sit in horror as the sounds of attack came through their system - screams and gunfire and cries for help - knowing they could do nothing to help, and hearing their friends killed. Some still suffer from the trauma of what they heard.
An English couple lived for years as missionaries in Zimbabwe. Their kids attended school with us and the family was well known. Their last assignment before returning home was an outlying mission school. They did amazing work among the locals and were well-loved by all.
One night the mission was attacked by a group of terrorists passing through. Mr Layle was hacked to death, but his wife managed to escape and ran for help. As she ran she was shot at and wounded. She crawled to the nearest house - only to find the occupants away for the night. Right at the front door she was raped and hacked and left to die. Their children were fortunately away at a boarding school, but the shock waves of this incident spread throughout the country. People rallied around the children, providing homes and support as their parents were laid to rest, and then helping them return to relatives in the UK.
Our family was lucky - we were shielded from many of the horrors of war. But every so often something like this would happen and the terror would hit home. Yet there were also miracles.
Alan Kok lived on a beautiful cotton farm that he and his family had owned for a couple of generations. At the start of the war they'd taken a few extra precautions, built additional walls around the house to prevent the windows being too exposed, made sure their workers were safe and procured a Ratel.
One Friday night he was sitting in his lounge, going through the Bible Lesson for the week, when he realized he'd forgotten his Bible in the bedroom. He got up to get it, and as he reached the bedroom there was a massive explosion. A mortar round had been fired into the lounge and exploded in the chair he'd vacated seconds before! His life was spared dramatically!
There were many tales of "lucky" escapes - God's hand was acknowledged in all of them. The people of (then) Rhodesia had never prayed so fervently. A country in trouble often produces people who really feel their need of God. It was a time of revival, of renewed committments to God. Churches of every denomination were filled to overflowing each week as the people sought God with all their hearts.
Many countries in this world have not had to experience war, have not been under threat. As a result their peoples feel no need of God - they're doing fine on their own thank you very much. Sometimes it takes times of trouble and despair for people's hearts to turn to God.
War Living: Part 2
Once a year we made the trek from Zimbabwe to Pretoria, South Africa, to spend Christmas with my mother's parents. It involved a day's drive south from one of the many towns we then lived in.
A day's trip in and of itself is hard enough, but no-one was allowed to travel alone during the war-time. Cars formed up in convoys kilometres long, with armed army vehicles at back, front and in the middle. These usually took the form of a "Ratel" mine-proof vehicle. Miss the convoy, and you got to wait until the next one came around. It was no use rushing if they'd left an hour or two before you - the border closed at 5 and you'd have to spend the night in the bush if you missed it anyway. Not the safest of sleeping-places in the African Wilds!
On one particular trip my dad's car got a flat tyre and only just made it to the half-way stop. Changing the tyre took too long, so off the convoy went without us. Tyre changed, and dad raced like crazy to catch up, praying all the way. We managed to slip in to the back of the convoy after nearly an hour's tense trip.
Many farmers bought their own Ratels - terrorists were known to mine farm roads and you couldn't take too many chances. For us kids it was yet another fun thing to ride in. We took delight in the many bits and pieces inside, peering out small windows as we hurtled down the dirt roads.
One friend of ours developed his own protection system. He made an upright "fan" of small black plastic tubes, rigged to a trigger system and loaded with a bullet each. He mounted one on each side of the roof of his vehicle. At the first sign of ambush he pressed a button, the fans fell down horizontally, and bullets sprayed in all directions.
While in convoy we once stopped near the border for a "pee and water" break. Mother was amusing us kids by blowing up balloons. Unfortunately for her, one popped! The car was immediately surrounded by scarily-armed soldiers, who had mistaken the popping ballon for gunfire! They gave mom a stern warning not to play with anything that could explode, and left her blushing with embarassment.
My dad, being a pastor, was often called out to folk who lived in the next town late at night. His trips there and back were spent praying for protection, praying he'd make it there safely and back in the pitch-dark night. On one occasion, we'd all been to church in the next town and managed to get home again by dark - only to hear that a mere 15 minutes after we'd passed a road-side shop there had been an attack on it, leaving all occupants and a number of passers-by dead.
I guess we'll never know half the times God had his hand of protection over us as we travelled the war-torn roads of our country
A day's trip in and of itself is hard enough, but no-one was allowed to travel alone during the war-time. Cars formed up in convoys kilometres long, with armed army vehicles at back, front and in the middle. These usually took the form of a "Ratel" mine-proof vehicle. Miss the convoy, and you got to wait until the next one came around. It was no use rushing if they'd left an hour or two before you - the border closed at 5 and you'd have to spend the night in the bush if you missed it anyway. Not the safest of sleeping-places in the African Wilds!
On one particular trip my dad's car got a flat tyre and only just made it to the half-way stop. Changing the tyre took too long, so off the convoy went without us. Tyre changed, and dad raced like crazy to catch up, praying all the way. We managed to slip in to the back of the convoy after nearly an hour's tense trip.
Many farmers bought their own Ratels - terrorists were known to mine farm roads and you couldn't take too many chances. For us kids it was yet another fun thing to ride in. We took delight in the many bits and pieces inside, peering out small windows as we hurtled down the dirt roads.
One friend of ours developed his own protection system. He made an upright "fan" of small black plastic tubes, rigged to a trigger system and loaded with a bullet each. He mounted one on each side of the roof of his vehicle. At the first sign of ambush he pressed a button, the fans fell down horizontally, and bullets sprayed in all directions.
While in convoy we once stopped near the border for a "pee and water" break. Mother was amusing us kids by blowing up balloons. Unfortunately for her, one popped! The car was immediately surrounded by scarily-armed soldiers, who had mistaken the popping ballon for gunfire! They gave mom a stern warning not to play with anything that could explode, and left her blushing with embarassment.
My dad, being a pastor, was often called out to folk who lived in the next town late at night. His trips there and back were spent praying for protection, praying he'd make it there safely and back in the pitch-dark night. On one occasion, we'd all been to church in the next town and managed to get home again by dark - only to hear that a mere 15 minutes after we'd passed a road-side shop there had been an attack on it, leaving all occupants and a number of passers-by dead.
I guess we'll never know half the times God had his hand of protection over us as we travelled the war-torn roads of our country
War Living: Part 1
We moved to Zimbabwe in 1972, during the war for independence, when I was a mere year old. My next 12 years of life were spent in that beautiful country.
Living during war-time is never easy. Things you take for granted, such as travelling 30km to the next town, become dash-and-run adventures, hoping all the way that you won't end up in an ambush. But as kids, most of it went completely over our heads - for us it was just the way people lived. There was fun and excitement in bomber runs, terrorist siren alerts, trawling through the rat-packs of older brother soldiers home for a brief breather.
A few years before Independence found us living in the border town of Umtali (now Mutare), up against the mountains between Zimbabwe and Mozambique. We were the second house from the mountain, across the road from the last houses before bushland started. We had a huge flame tree in the front yard, and the mechanic's pit in the garage had been converted into a bomb shelter, covered by corrugated metal roofing.
There were often attacks launched on the town from just across the mountains. We'd watch the evening "fireworks" as they streaked by overhead, wondering if now was the time to head for the bomb shelter.
I remember one night they were trying to get the mortars over the mountain and into the town. They kept landing on the top of the hill, none making it down - until a stray shell wandered off course and split our flame tree down the middle! But that was the end of the attack and in our year there we never once needed to rush to the bomb shelter.
We'd often spend Sabbath afternoons walking on nearby Cross Kopje (a small hill with a metal cross on top), keeping an eye out for bullet shells to collect, generally of the machine gun variety. If lucky, there would be an intact one and we were warned not to play with it.
One incident made local headlines. A lady had parked her car in the main road for a bit of shopping when an attack came. One of the mortars shot right down the main road, buried itself under her car.... and failed to detonate. A VERY lucky escape.
We spent a mere year in Umtali before moving on to Gwelo (now Gweru) and school-time for me. My dad was always upset that we "missed the action" - the town was bombed out good and proper the year before we arrived, and the year after we left!
Living during war-time is never easy. Things you take for granted, such as travelling 30km to the next town, become dash-and-run adventures, hoping all the way that you won't end up in an ambush. But as kids, most of it went completely over our heads - for us it was just the way people lived. There was fun and excitement in bomber runs, terrorist siren alerts, trawling through the rat-packs of older brother soldiers home for a brief breather.
A few years before Independence found us living in the border town of Umtali (now Mutare), up against the mountains between Zimbabwe and Mozambique. We were the second house from the mountain, across the road from the last houses before bushland started. We had a huge flame tree in the front yard, and the mechanic's pit in the garage had been converted into a bomb shelter, covered by corrugated metal roofing.
There were often attacks launched on the town from just across the mountains. We'd watch the evening "fireworks" as they streaked by overhead, wondering if now was the time to head for the bomb shelter.
I remember one night they were trying to get the mortars over the mountain and into the town. They kept landing on the top of the hill, none making it down - until a stray shell wandered off course and split our flame tree down the middle! But that was the end of the attack and in our year there we never once needed to rush to the bomb shelter.
We'd often spend Sabbath afternoons walking on nearby Cross Kopje (a small hill with a metal cross on top), keeping an eye out for bullet shells to collect, generally of the machine gun variety. If lucky, there would be an intact one and we were warned not to play with it.
One incident made local headlines. A lady had parked her car in the main road for a bit of shopping when an attack came. One of the mortars shot right down the main road, buried itself under her car.... and failed to detonate. A VERY lucky escape.
We spent a mere year in Umtali before moving on to Gwelo (now Gweru) and school-time for me. My dad was always upset that we "missed the action" - the town was bombed out good and proper the year before we arrived, and the year after we left!
Green Fingers
This weekend we hit the local SuperPlants, armed with very little cash, to stock up on veggie seeds for the winter growing season. My son came back wanting to grow 5 different things, while I only got to pick 2.
With extra land available, we're looking forward to crops of onions (red and white), peas, runner beans, beetroot (for dietary iron), carrots and a variety of lettuces. Incidently, my dad's convinced beetroot is a weed that came up as a result of sin....
Yesterday I decided to haul up 2 potato plants that were yellowing, self-grown from things thrown on the compost heap. We reaped 4 large potatoes from a very dark rich soil! Ever had a potato so fresh that it cruches when you cut it and drips juice? Then you ain't had a fresh potato yet! :)
We next built our first tater tower - fallen leaves layered with eye-containing pieces of potato, which will produce a crop over winter and compost from the broken-down leaves. Stuck in a sweet potato too to see what would happen.
We've finally got spikey cucumbers appearing - a bit late in the season, but there nevertheless. The eyeballs (baby tomatoes) are growing at last, along with a whole new crop of large tomatoes that voluntarily over-ran the roses. There's even a sweet melon plant coming up where seeds and rind were chucked out.
Seems our garden is just not ready to slow down and vegetate (excuse the pun) for winter just yet! Then again, it was HOT this weekend, so there may still be time for many good things, fresh out of the rich soil.
With extra land available, we're looking forward to crops of onions (red and white), peas, runner beans, beetroot (for dietary iron), carrots and a variety of lettuces. Incidently, my dad's convinced beetroot is a weed that came up as a result of sin....
Yesterday I decided to haul up 2 potato plants that were yellowing, self-grown from things thrown on the compost heap. We reaped 4 large potatoes from a very dark rich soil! Ever had a potato so fresh that it cruches when you cut it and drips juice? Then you ain't had a fresh potato yet! :)
We next built our first tater tower - fallen leaves layered with eye-containing pieces of potato, which will produce a crop over winter and compost from the broken-down leaves. Stuck in a sweet potato too to see what would happen.
We've finally got spikey cucumbers appearing - a bit late in the season, but there nevertheless. The eyeballs (baby tomatoes) are growing at last, along with a whole new crop of large tomatoes that voluntarily over-ran the roses. There's even a sweet melon plant coming up where seeds and rind were chucked out.
Seems our garden is just not ready to slow down and vegetate (excuse the pun) for winter just yet! Then again, it was HOT this weekend, so there may still be time for many good things, fresh out of the rich soil.
Of Church and Community
There's a move among many these days to get out of traditional church and into community as church. In a way it's a very good thing - a refocusing of what is Real and what is just Routine, a discovery of life in Christ with each other, and so many other things.
But it's a dangerous thing to step out of church without having a community to step into. I don't think we were created to be go-it-alone Christians, to try on our own to live and learn and be. We need others around us, encouraging, teaching, forming, grating on us now and then, making us stronger in our walk with God.
Community is ideal. But if, like me, you have no social life, if your friends either live far away (or moved away recently) or have disappeared quietly when you made a step into unknown territory, then I'd say stick with the church until you find a community.
I've noticed in recent weeks, when I bunk church I feel isolated. There's no-one to bounce ideas and thoughts off, no-one to point me outside my inner spiraling toward where I need to go. Last night I went back to church - and was missed and loved and listened to.
Sure, there are things going on there that I'm not too happy about. Some are amusing in a sad way: last night the worship leader prayed mid-way through worship and everyone sat down right after, so used to prayer ending the worship that they didn't think it may not be the end. We're stuck in routines, we have traditions and church-talk and all those things. But it's still a group of believers, a good group too. Their experience of God is real and relevant and attractive. They glow with His presence. They're good to be around.
In spite of my little frustrations, this church IS my community, and is where I need to be here and now.
But it's a dangerous thing to step out of church without having a community to step into. I don't think we were created to be go-it-alone Christians, to try on our own to live and learn and be. We need others around us, encouraging, teaching, forming, grating on us now and then, making us stronger in our walk with God.
Community is ideal. But if, like me, you have no social life, if your friends either live far away (or moved away recently) or have disappeared quietly when you made a step into unknown territory, then I'd say stick with the church until you find a community.
I've noticed in recent weeks, when I bunk church I feel isolated. There's no-one to bounce ideas and thoughts off, no-one to point me outside my inner spiraling toward where I need to go. Last night I went back to church - and was missed and loved and listened to.
Sure, there are things going on there that I'm not too happy about. Some are amusing in a sad way: last night the worship leader prayed mid-way through worship and everyone sat down right after, so used to prayer ending the worship that they didn't think it may not be the end. We're stuck in routines, we have traditions and church-talk and all those things. But it's still a group of believers, a good group too. Their experience of God is real and relevant and attractive. They glow with His presence. They're good to be around.
In spite of my little frustrations, this church IS my community, and is where I need to be here and now.
Old Dreams
Been thinking over the weekend about some of the Old Dreams I used to have, and seem to have forgotten.
One of them was to develop a nutritionally-complete, all-in-one, culturally relevant, drop-able from airplane meal to alleviate malnutrition in Africa.
Yeah, I know - BIG one. It's not as if others have not tried before, and either done OK-ish, come just a little short or failed completely. Not that their products weren't good - but have you tried rehydrating something when there's a drought and absolutely no water around? Or tried to "enjoy" a food which caters to a foreign tongue in taste or texture or appearance? Or attempted to open a can without a can-opener?
The general response to hunger in Africa is to send maize/maize-meal. Preferably GM maize that no-one else wants, or excess stuff that's cluttering up the warehouses. Yes, in most cases this is a good idea, and generally the best available is provided by aid companies, as far as they can afford it.
But it misses the nutritional point. Man shall not live on maize alone!
Where are the protiens, the vitamins, the minerals, the stuff a body needs to thrive on? You can only cram a certain amount of modification and enrichment into one product.
I'm by no means an expert, but I am a qualified Food Technologist (bet you didn't know that! :) ). I know the principles of manufacture and packaging - and I've done a lot of private research into food quality, best-possible nutrition etc. I'm years out of practice thanks to a dramatic change in career, but the knowledge is all still filed away. I know I could do this, if I but put mind and effort to it.
Perhaps it's time to dust off some of those Old Dreams and start thinking of growing them into reality. It's better to have tried and failed than not to have tried at all.
One of them was to develop a nutritionally-complete, all-in-one, culturally relevant, drop-able from airplane meal to alleviate malnutrition in Africa.
Yeah, I know - BIG one. It's not as if others have not tried before, and either done OK-ish, come just a little short or failed completely. Not that their products weren't good - but have you tried rehydrating something when there's a drought and absolutely no water around? Or tried to "enjoy" a food which caters to a foreign tongue in taste or texture or appearance? Or attempted to open a can without a can-opener?
The general response to hunger in Africa is to send maize/maize-meal. Preferably GM maize that no-one else wants, or excess stuff that's cluttering up the warehouses. Yes, in most cases this is a good idea, and generally the best available is provided by aid companies, as far as they can afford it.
But it misses the nutritional point. Man shall not live on maize alone!
Where are the protiens, the vitamins, the minerals, the stuff a body needs to thrive on? You can only cram a certain amount of modification and enrichment into one product.
I'm by no means an expert, but I am a qualified Food Technologist (bet you didn't know that! :) ). I know the principles of manufacture and packaging - and I've done a lot of private research into food quality, best-possible nutrition etc. I'm years out of practice thanks to a dramatic change in career, but the knowledge is all still filed away. I know I could do this, if I but put mind and effort to it.
Perhaps it's time to dust off some of those Old Dreams and start thinking of growing them into reality. It's better to have tried and failed than not to have tried at all.
Plan B
At church last night someone asked how the Australia-thing (visa application) is going, and then asked if I had a Plan B if it didn't happen.
Well... no, not really. I haven't exactly thought that far, though some crazy part of me says Plan B is to "sell everything, buy a Land Rover and laptop, load up the kid and start driving until we run out of either cash or land".
But, living in limbo, I haven't really considered what I'd do if we didn't get to make an inter-continental move. I'm waiting for direction, for the "go" or "stay". I have loads of plans for the "go", but sadly nothing for the "stay". I've been working this job for more than 8 years now. I feel the need for a change and wish it could be radical. But all I can see are huge obstacles to what I'd like to do. Things like "it's not safe", "it's too risky", "I don't know where to start", "I'll never have the cash", or even "I like my rut".
Perhaps it is time to think of a Plan B - yet a part of me still holds out in faith for a positive response to our visa application. Almost as if planning for Plan B would be inviting failure, or admitting defeat.
It may just be better not to really plan at all, but to accept each day as a gift and live it as it is. Yes, I think that's gonna be my Plan B.
Well... no, not really. I haven't exactly thought that far, though some crazy part of me says Plan B is to "sell everything, buy a Land Rover and laptop, load up the kid and start driving until we run out of either cash or land".
But, living in limbo, I haven't really considered what I'd do if we didn't get to make an inter-continental move. I'm waiting for direction, for the "go" or "stay". I have loads of plans for the "go", but sadly nothing for the "stay". I've been working this job for more than 8 years now. I feel the need for a change and wish it could be radical. But all I can see are huge obstacles to what I'd like to do. Things like "it's not safe", "it's too risky", "I don't know where to start", "I'll never have the cash", or even "I like my rut".
Perhaps it is time to think of a Plan B - yet a part of me still holds out in faith for a positive response to our visa application. Almost as if planning for Plan B would be inviting failure, or admitting defeat.
It may just be better not to really plan at all, but to accept each day as a gift and live it as it is. Yes, I think that's gonna be my Plan B.
African Adventurers!
These guys are nuts!!! Brett was in school with my brothers, so I know what he's like. They have an incredible story here in their latest escapade. The result of which is they pulled in third.
Brett has led a rather adventurous life - he's partially blind in one eye from falling off a border fence somewhere in Mexico, among other things....
Makes one wonder why you sit at a desk for 9 years!
Brett has led a rather adventurous life - he's partially blind in one eye from falling off a border fence somewhere in Mexico, among other things....
Makes one wonder why you sit at a desk for 9 years!
An African Adventure: Part 3
Fishing the Zambezi is not necessarily the easiest of holiday occupations.
One of our camp-neighbours had brought a big fishing rod along, and set himself up in a nice area of pure-white beach between clumps of grass. His wife kept him supplied with beers and food, and there he sat, happy as a hippo in a waterhole.
We wandered over to see what he'd caught and found one of the strange fish of the Zambezi. It's gills have spines that it throws up on capture, poking holes in whatever has caught it. It refuses to die out of water - it hangs around alive for hours. It's not terribly big, but it's what was biting, so it's what he was catching.
We took a chance and wandered a bit further down to the river, closer than recommended, to see what we could spot in the water. We tried to identify what was logs and sticks, and which ones were crocodiles. I think we were pretty accurate - especially when one swam by a bit too close for comfort.
Back to the fisher-guy. As we were leaving to go back to our camp, a gigantic crocodile came out of one of the nearby clumps of grass and sloshed into the water. It had been there all the time and we hadn't seen a thing!
One of our camp-neighbours had brought a big fishing rod along, and set himself up in a nice area of pure-white beach between clumps of grass. His wife kept him supplied with beers and food, and there he sat, happy as a hippo in a waterhole.
We wandered over to see what he'd caught and found one of the strange fish of the Zambezi. It's gills have spines that it throws up on capture, poking holes in whatever has caught it. It refuses to die out of water - it hangs around alive for hours. It's not terribly big, but it's what was biting, so it's what he was catching.
We took a chance and wandered a bit further down to the river, closer than recommended, to see what we could spot in the water. We tried to identify what was logs and sticks, and which ones were crocodiles. I think we were pretty accurate - especially when one swam by a bit too close for comfort.
Back to the fisher-guy. As we were leaving to go back to our camp, a gigantic crocodile came out of one of the nearby clumps of grass and sloshed into the water. It had been there all the time and we hadn't seen a thing!
An African Adventure: Part 2
Before the heat of the day set in, we were off to the REAL Mana Pools, and our campsite. Although the distance isn't too great, the roads are not either - at one point there is a gigantic tree in the middle of the road, and the road simply takes a turn round either side of it. We were blessed to be in high-riding 4x4 bakkies... but it was a long trip nevertheless.
Our camp was situated under immense trees on the very banks of the Zambezi. We set up quickly, putting our food away carefully (elephants and monkeys love to play hide and seek!), and us younger ones headed off to the river to explore.
We had been warned not to venture too near the water, and to watch for "logs with eyes" - crocodiles! The view was incredible across to the mountains in Zambia. Adventure beckoned from every corner! Including the shower, where we found a gigantic baboon spider lurking...
Once camp was set up, it was time to head out and see the animals. We had the top off the back of the bakkie, and all piled in for an open-air ride around the park. We saw animals, animals and more animals!
Down by the river was a herd of buffalo, a little too far away to be examined properly. We stopped by a meandering path that led down to the waterside, and followed it barefoot to within good sighting range of the herd.
Unfortunately for us, we spooked them and they decided WE needed some closer inspection - they charged! Meandering path? NO WAY! Back we dashed, barefoot, in a straight line for the bakkie - right through a patch of devils-thorns! I didn't feel the pain until I had hopped back into the vehicle, but my feet had a literal carpet of small pointy thorns covering the sole! It was quite a job to pick them all out.
The buffalo gave up chasing us and went back to their feeding.
Back at camp, we found that a troop of monkeys had discovered the tomatoes - and trashed the place. Tents were open, stuff was strewn, tomato stains covered everything! We learned very quickly that stuff needs to be SECURELY locked away.
That night some slept soundly. Others were kept awake by something scratching through a nearby rubbish bin.
And in the morning there were the footprints of elephants all around our tents.
Our camp was situated under immense trees on the very banks of the Zambezi. We set up quickly, putting our food away carefully (elephants and monkeys love to play hide and seek!), and us younger ones headed off to the river to explore.
We had been warned not to venture too near the water, and to watch for "logs with eyes" - crocodiles! The view was incredible across to the mountains in Zambia. Adventure beckoned from every corner! Including the shower, where we found a gigantic baboon spider lurking...
Once camp was set up, it was time to head out and see the animals. We had the top off the back of the bakkie, and all piled in for an open-air ride around the park. We saw animals, animals and more animals!
Down by the river was a herd of buffalo, a little too far away to be examined properly. We stopped by a meandering path that led down to the waterside, and followed it barefoot to within good sighting range of the herd.
Unfortunately for us, we spooked them and they decided WE needed some closer inspection - they charged! Meandering path? NO WAY! Back we dashed, barefoot, in a straight line for the bakkie - right through a patch of devils-thorns! I didn't feel the pain until I had hopped back into the vehicle, but my feet had a literal carpet of small pointy thorns covering the sole! It was quite a job to pick them all out.
The buffalo gave up chasing us and went back to their feeding.
Back at camp, we found that a troop of monkeys had discovered the tomatoes - and trashed the place. Tents were open, stuff was strewn, tomato stains covered everything! We learned very quickly that stuff needs to be SECURELY locked away.
That night some slept soundly. Others were kept awake by something scratching through a nearby rubbish bin.
And in the morning there were the footprints of elephants all around our tents.
An African Adventure: Part 1
(A true Zimbabwe story)
It was a long weekend and we were headed up from Harare to Mana Pools, a nature reserve on the banks of the Zambezi River.
Not just any nature reserve, mind you. This is one where you get to camp among the animals! The sites have a toilet / shower, but that's it - no fences, no protection from wild beasts, just a number on a pole so you camp where you've booked to camp.
We got a bit of a late start. By the time we got to the ranger's station to pick up our entry permits, they'd already left for the day. Only one option for us, and that was to camp out right there and wait until morning.
We all scurried to set up camp before it got too dark. I had a little 2-kid tent, others had larger. Someone set out a huge canvas ground-sheet for those who would rather sleep in the open, and we dumped whatever wouldn't fit in the tents onto that.
Supper got underway. Fire going well, food flowing - and then someone knocked over a gas lamp, right next to my tent! It started exploding, and exploding, and exploding, as each gas chamber ignited - we counted 35! We took cover and prayed that the tent wouldn't melt. Fortunately our prayers were answered!
However, it was way too hot in the Zambezi valley to sleep in a tent, and we all ended up on the ground-sheet for the night.
Fast-forward a few hours. The moon was up, all was still (bar the one guy who snored). I woke up sometime near midnight, found my torch (flashlight) and decided to see if the tent was still standing. Yes.... but the beam of light reflected off EYES! Eyes that were definitely not human... Slowly I shone the torch around the perimeter of our camp. Eyes everywhere!
I woke Greg and Laura-Anne carefully, and they found their torches too. With the combined strength of our little lights, we made out that we were surrounded by a pack of hyenas!!! One would start moving toward us, we'd shine the light in his eyes and he'd back off. The next would make a move, we'd shine the liight, he'd back off.
Don't ask me why we didn't wake the others, but we stayed up the rest of the night, warding off hyenas with light. Finally, finally, the sun rose and the hyenas drifted off into the bush.
After breakfast a few of us decided to stretch our legs before the final haul to the reserve. We made our way past the little lake, stocked with dead trees, their branches reaching skywards through leftover mist. We climbed the small hill behind the lake... and froze.
There before us sat a semi-circle of hyenas - the same group that had paid us a midnight visit. They faced us with the leader in the middle - the biggest, meanest hyena I ever saw!
The one rule of bush walking is that you never run when you encounter a wild beast. Slowly, ever so slowly, we backed away, down the hill, out of sight - and then ran!
I'll never forget the look in those hyena's eyes - the strongest-in-Africa jaws - the fear that crept up and grasped at my throat. Fear equivalent to the "terrorist alarm siren" that used to cement my feet to the ground during primary school in the war years.
I wouldn't want to relive this adventure, but it's one I'll NEVER foget.
(You can read someone else's adventure at Mana Pools here, and another here or here - just so you know I'm not exaggerating! :) )
It was a long weekend and we were headed up from Harare to Mana Pools, a nature reserve on the banks of the Zambezi River.
Not just any nature reserve, mind you. This is one where you get to camp among the animals! The sites have a toilet / shower, but that's it - no fences, no protection from wild beasts, just a number on a pole so you camp where you've booked to camp.
We got a bit of a late start. By the time we got to the ranger's station to pick up our entry permits, they'd already left for the day. Only one option for us, and that was to camp out right there and wait until morning.
We all scurried to set up camp before it got too dark. I had a little 2-kid tent, others had larger. Someone set out a huge canvas ground-sheet for those who would rather sleep in the open, and we dumped whatever wouldn't fit in the tents onto that.
Supper got underway. Fire going well, food flowing - and then someone knocked over a gas lamp, right next to my tent! It started exploding, and exploding, and exploding, as each gas chamber ignited - we counted 35! We took cover and prayed that the tent wouldn't melt. Fortunately our prayers were answered!
However, it was way too hot in the Zambezi valley to sleep in a tent, and we all ended up on the ground-sheet for the night.
Fast-forward a few hours. The moon was up, all was still (bar the one guy who snored). I woke up sometime near midnight, found my torch (flashlight) and decided to see if the tent was still standing. Yes.... but the beam of light reflected off EYES! Eyes that were definitely not human... Slowly I shone the torch around the perimeter of our camp. Eyes everywhere!
I woke Greg and Laura-Anne carefully, and they found their torches too. With the combined strength of our little lights, we made out that we were surrounded by a pack of hyenas!!! One would start moving toward us, we'd shine the light in his eyes and he'd back off. The next would make a move, we'd shine the liight, he'd back off.
Don't ask me why we didn't wake the others, but we stayed up the rest of the night, warding off hyenas with light. Finally, finally, the sun rose and the hyenas drifted off into the bush.
After breakfast a few of us decided to stretch our legs before the final haul to the reserve. We made our way past the little lake, stocked with dead trees, their branches reaching skywards through leftover mist. We climbed the small hill behind the lake... and froze.
There before us sat a semi-circle of hyenas - the same group that had paid us a midnight visit. They faced us with the leader in the middle - the biggest, meanest hyena I ever saw!
The one rule of bush walking is that you never run when you encounter a wild beast. Slowly, ever so slowly, we backed away, down the hill, out of sight - and then ran!
I'll never forget the look in those hyena's eyes - the strongest-in-Africa jaws - the fear that crept up and grasped at my throat. Fear equivalent to the "terrorist alarm siren" that used to cement my feet to the ground during primary school in the war years.
I wouldn't want to relive this adventure, but it's one I'll NEVER foget.
(You can read someone else's adventure at Mana Pools here, and another here or here - just so you know I'm not exaggerating! :) )
Poetry
Just for Susan and Rodney, I thought I'd inflict some of my poetry on you today! :)
-----------
The moon was cold and weary
As it crept across the sky
The starts a torrent of teardrops
Flung from a heavenly eye
The beach lay sad and silent
Long and liquid and low
As a wave sprang sighing and dying
Shot by Neptune's bow
At my feet the sand is darkened
Blackened and washed with blood
The sea is the only witness
To the death of one I have loved
Here on this sandy ribbon
Close to the water's side
Here forever the spirit
Of someone once loved will abide
Red is the once silver sea foam
Washing his sightless eyes
Red, my heart has been broken
Cracked by his blatant lies
Forever his spirit will wander
Cold and alone as the sea
His voice ever scatter the seagulls
But never again shatter me.
-----------
The moon was cold and weary
As it crept across the sky
The starts a torrent of teardrops
Flung from a heavenly eye
The beach lay sad and silent
Long and liquid and low
As a wave sprang sighing and dying
Shot by Neptune's bow
At my feet the sand is darkened
Blackened and washed with blood
The sea is the only witness
To the death of one I have loved
Here on this sandy ribbon
Close to the water's side
Here forever the spirit
Of someone once loved will abide
Red is the once silver sea foam
Washing his sightless eyes
Red, my heart has been broken
Cracked by his blatant lies
Forever his spirit will wander
Cold and alone as the sea
His voice ever scatter the seagulls
But never again shatter me.
YES!!!!
I just received permission from the farm manager on campus to use up some fallow land just above where I live. It's a field that's been empty for years, just sitting there with nothing going on. I'll be planting winter crops shortly!
This not only gives me a load more room to play with, plant with and grow with, but also pretty good drainage space, sheltered from the wind, a taste of "real farming conditions" without a constant eye being on the stuff right outside the window, and a chance to Make A Big Profit on my newly-branded organic goods. I get to experiment with companion planting and perhaps prove that this place can grow a remarkable amount of food in a little area.
This weekend it's to work I go, hauling the KraalMis (cattle manure, for the uneducated among us...:) ), de-weeding and planning some sort of protection from the many creatures inhabiting the field. I'll also need to carefully think about what to plant so that my crop is not too attractive to the local beast population. Oh, and I have another local population to consider - those people that wander in from neighbouring properties, on the lookout for things to "lift"....
Now I can let the zucchini's roam, the carrots spread themselves deep, and see what else takes hold in the mixed soil up there.
Gonna be fun!
This not only gives me a load more room to play with, plant with and grow with, but also pretty good drainage space, sheltered from the wind, a taste of "real farming conditions" without a constant eye being on the stuff right outside the window, and a chance to Make A Big Profit on my newly-branded organic goods. I get to experiment with companion planting and perhaps prove that this place can grow a remarkable amount of food in a little area.
This weekend it's to work I go, hauling the KraalMis (cattle manure, for the uneducated among us...:) ), de-weeding and planning some sort of protection from the many creatures inhabiting the field. I'll also need to carefully think about what to plant so that my crop is not too attractive to the local beast population. Oh, and I have another local population to consider - those people that wander in from neighbouring properties, on the lookout for things to "lift"....
Now I can let the zucchini's roam, the carrots spread themselves deep, and see what else takes hold in the mixed soil up there.
Gonna be fun!
Scared of Women?
Just been watching a brief bit of Dr Phill (the part my son would let me before his cartoons arrived on the other channel) and he was chatting to a millionnairess who can't find a "decent man", one that isn't just after all her cash. Yeah, that's a tough one!
But Dr Phil reckons guys are intimidated by successful women, women they can't come "rescue" as a knight in shining armour. Women over 30 who have a job, an income, a life! Who don't need to be needed, so to speak.
True? Come on all you guys out there - is it TRUE? Is that why I'm still very much single (not that I'm not happy like this)? Do I scare guys by having a life of my own?
I might have scared off a few in the past, now that I think of it. One guy definitely couldn't handle that I had a mind of my own and didn't need him constantly. Another couldn't understand that I wouldn't choose him over time with my kid.
But I think I'm at the age now where I really don't want someone with "issues". I don't want games, I don't want fiddling around, one-night-stand junk, etc. You gotta turn up, act mature and be prepared to take me as I am.
Or is that just going to scare a whole new category of men??? :)
But Dr Phil reckons guys are intimidated by successful women, women they can't come "rescue" as a knight in shining armour. Women over 30 who have a job, an income, a life! Who don't need to be needed, so to speak.
True? Come on all you guys out there - is it TRUE? Is that why I'm still very much single (not that I'm not happy like this)? Do I scare guys by having a life of my own?
I might have scared off a few in the past, now that I think of it. One guy definitely couldn't handle that I had a mind of my own and didn't need him constantly. Another couldn't understand that I wouldn't choose him over time with my kid.
But I think I'm at the age now where I really don't want someone with "issues". I don't want games, I don't want fiddling around, one-night-stand junk, etc. You gotta turn up, act mature and be prepared to take me as I am.
Or is that just going to scare a whole new category of men??? :)
Duty Calls
I suffer from what the big boss likes to call "an over-inflated sense of duty", that is I feel I have to be at work within the stipulated hours (even if I only LOOK like I'm working), and come in over holidays if necessary to make sure everything goes OK with my "babies" (the new students I'm in charge of getting here).
However, my new boss suffers from no such thing. He comes and goes as he pleases, has already left for the day and may or may not be in for the rest of the week. Nice.
He's trying to enforce his attitude on me, by insisting I take Friday off while he goes recruiting up-country. He's told me not to bother to come in. To go cheer my son's marathon (which only takes an hour and which I was planning to do anyway). He's trying to make me not come to work!
He won't have to try very hard.... :)
However, my new boss suffers from no such thing. He comes and goes as he pleases, has already left for the day and may or may not be in for the rest of the week. Nice.
He's trying to enforce his attitude on me, by insisting I take Friday off while he goes recruiting up-country. He's told me not to bother to come in. To go cheer my son's marathon (which only takes an hour and which I was planning to do anyway). He's trying to make me not come to work!
He won't have to try very hard.... :)
Dog Days
Oh to be a dog!
To take pleasure in barking at the passing world, to relish a good sleep in a sunny spot. To wiggle all over with gladness when your loved one comes home (or goes round the corner and comes back again). To smile with your eyes, to forgive immediately and permanently. To spend hours chewing happily on a big meaty bone, bury it, dig it up and still enjoy it months later. To be loved and hugged and scratched and brushed until your leg starts kicking with pleasure. To appreciate every blessing (leftover) from above. To follow whatever takes your fancy on walks, to sniff out the latest news on trees and fellow-beasts. To be spoiled and doted on, to take over the bed and the floor and the path. To unquestionably belong. To know your needs will all be met, and exceeded, without you having to worry your beastly brain over them. To chase birds and mice and rats with abandon through the garden. To love with your eyes, adore with your whole heart.
It truly is a dog's life some days.
To take pleasure in barking at the passing world, to relish a good sleep in a sunny spot. To wiggle all over with gladness when your loved one comes home (or goes round the corner and comes back again). To smile with your eyes, to forgive immediately and permanently. To spend hours chewing happily on a big meaty bone, bury it, dig it up and still enjoy it months later. To be loved and hugged and scratched and brushed until your leg starts kicking with pleasure. To appreciate every blessing (leftover) from above. To follow whatever takes your fancy on walks, to sniff out the latest news on trees and fellow-beasts. To be spoiled and doted on, to take over the bed and the floor and the path. To unquestionably belong. To know your needs will all be met, and exceeded, without you having to worry your beastly brain over them. To chase birds and mice and rats with abandon through the garden. To love with your eyes, adore with your whole heart.
It truly is a dog's life some days.
If ...
If I had unlimited time and money today...
I'd bake a decadent chocolate cake with real melted chocolate. I'd try out a rich pecan pie. I'd serve melted camembert and crusty bread. I'd learn to oven-dry tomatoes and figs. I'd learn to make goats cheese. I'd attempt every single recipe I've ever printed from the internet, and chuck out the ones that don't taste good.
I'd sew the shirt I've designed in my head, and finish off all those outfits that are nearly-done. I'd gather up hand-embroidered silks and Indian cottons and create amazing things. I'd slip-cover the couches, redo the curtains and rip up the carpets.
I'd hang around a good coffee shop and watch people for hours. I'd drive until my curiosity to see new places has been satisfied. I'd sit atop a mountain and watch the light change. I'd take photos of rainbows all over South Africa and publish a book of them.
I'd potter around in amazing gardens, talk to fellow-wanderers and marvel at the complexities of creation. I'd sit on the grass and just be still. I'd find someone old and wise and listen to them talk.
I'd spend the day doing fun things with my son. We'd bake bread, climb trees, stretch out with magnifying glasses and find creatures in the lawn. I'd tell him my stories and listen to his. I'd teach him things that take years to learn.
I'd learn to play the flute, the violin, a heap of indigenous instruments from all over the world. I'd buy a marimba. I'd buy an African drum. I would let music flow without worrying about the neighbour's ears.
I'd find one homeless person and offer them a new life - a home, a family, a chance to fulfil their dreams. I'd adopt a Chinese girl from a squalid orphanage. I'd adopt an African AIDS orphan. I'd listen to an unemployed person's plans for a future and help them happen.
I'd eat an entire bar of dark chocolate.
I'd bake a decadent chocolate cake with real melted chocolate. I'd try out a rich pecan pie. I'd serve melted camembert and crusty bread. I'd learn to oven-dry tomatoes and figs. I'd learn to make goats cheese. I'd attempt every single recipe I've ever printed from the internet, and chuck out the ones that don't taste good.
I'd sew the shirt I've designed in my head, and finish off all those outfits that are nearly-done. I'd gather up hand-embroidered silks and Indian cottons and create amazing things. I'd slip-cover the couches, redo the curtains and rip up the carpets.
I'd hang around a good coffee shop and watch people for hours. I'd drive until my curiosity to see new places has been satisfied. I'd sit atop a mountain and watch the light change. I'd take photos of rainbows all over South Africa and publish a book of them.
I'd potter around in amazing gardens, talk to fellow-wanderers and marvel at the complexities of creation. I'd sit on the grass and just be still. I'd find someone old and wise and listen to them talk.
I'd spend the day doing fun things with my son. We'd bake bread, climb trees, stretch out with magnifying glasses and find creatures in the lawn. I'd tell him my stories and listen to his. I'd teach him things that take years to learn.
I'd learn to play the flute, the violin, a heap of indigenous instruments from all over the world. I'd buy a marimba. I'd buy an African drum. I would let music flow without worrying about the neighbour's ears.
I'd find one homeless person and offer them a new life - a home, a family, a chance to fulfil their dreams. I'd adopt a Chinese girl from a squalid orphanage. I'd adopt an African AIDS orphan. I'd listen to an unemployed person's plans for a future and help them happen.
I'd eat an entire bar of dark chocolate.
Not my problem!
I woke up completely p'd off on Saturday morning. Background thoughts had been formed into dreams overnight and resulted in me waking up angry.
Who with? Well, the mangement of the college where I work.
Why? For the simple reason that they always say "there's no money", yet refuse to market and sell the macadamia nuts, grapes and lemons growing profusely on campus (they give them away free or write them off to those who steal them). AND they have left large fields fallow for years now in favour of chopping down the beautiful forest for firewood and poles, and planting olives (which take years to get to bearing age, only produce once a year, and get sold out within a few months). AND they refuse to manage our resources well, not maintaining things until they're broken beyond repair, not insisting we recycle or conserve or act responsibly as campus residents.
It took me a good long time to calm down and get into "Sabbath mode", where I could actually focus on God instead of the stuff I was p'd off about.
Yesterday afternoon I got home to see that the builders (who have been buidling houses entirely with STYROFOAM for 2 years now and are not yet finished! How environmentaly friendly is that?) had cut down a beautiful almond tree that was NOT in the way of the building, NOR was it likely to cause any problems to any future residents of the place. Didn't bother to wait until the almonds were ripe, just cut it down to a stump. I tried to rescue what remained on the branches, but they weren't developed enough to be of any worth. At least there's a new branch sprouting forth undefeated, or I'd have strangled someone...
And there I went again - being p'd off.
I have to constantly remind myself that it's Not My Problem. I can do my bit in my yard and house, watching water consumption, planting food and beauty, using energy-saving bulbs instead of the norm etc. But I am not responsible for management of the campus, the campus farm areas or anything outside my tiny domain.
It's a tough one, especially when you look around and see things that could make a huge difference. There could be a community garden for the "starving students" we keep hearing about, we could be redirecting rain run-off from roads and buildings into our dam instead of paying who-knows-what to pump water from across the mountains to feed crops that go to waste. If they'd fix one leaky tap that's been dripping for at least 9 years next to the church we'd probably save on a load of water expenses! The list just goes on and on... but I am a small voice, a bottom-feeder, and no-one pays attention to me at all.
So I just have to keep on with my mantra - Not My Problem - and try not to get too p'd off.
Who with? Well, the mangement of the college where I work.
Why? For the simple reason that they always say "there's no money", yet refuse to market and sell the macadamia nuts, grapes and lemons growing profusely on campus (they give them away free or write them off to those who steal them). AND they have left large fields fallow for years now in favour of chopping down the beautiful forest for firewood and poles, and planting olives (which take years to get to bearing age, only produce once a year, and get sold out within a few months). AND they refuse to manage our resources well, not maintaining things until they're broken beyond repair, not insisting we recycle or conserve or act responsibly as campus residents.
It took me a good long time to calm down and get into "Sabbath mode", where I could actually focus on God instead of the stuff I was p'd off about.
Yesterday afternoon I got home to see that the builders (who have been buidling houses entirely with STYROFOAM for 2 years now and are not yet finished! How environmentaly friendly is that?) had cut down a beautiful almond tree that was NOT in the way of the building, NOR was it likely to cause any problems to any future residents of the place. Didn't bother to wait until the almonds were ripe, just cut it down to a stump. I tried to rescue what remained on the branches, but they weren't developed enough to be of any worth. At least there's a new branch sprouting forth undefeated, or I'd have strangled someone...
And there I went again - being p'd off.
I have to constantly remind myself that it's Not My Problem. I can do my bit in my yard and house, watching water consumption, planting food and beauty, using energy-saving bulbs instead of the norm etc. But I am not responsible for management of the campus, the campus farm areas or anything outside my tiny domain.
It's a tough one, especially when you look around and see things that could make a huge difference. There could be a community garden for the "starving students" we keep hearing about, we could be redirecting rain run-off from roads and buildings into our dam instead of paying who-knows-what to pump water from across the mountains to feed crops that go to waste. If they'd fix one leaky tap that's been dripping for at least 9 years next to the church we'd probably save on a load of water expenses! The list just goes on and on... but I am a small voice, a bottom-feeder, and no-one pays attention to me at all.
So I just have to keep on with my mantra - Not My Problem - and try not to get too p'd off.
A Prayer Answered
If you've been with this blog for a while, you'll know that I'm involved in the worship team at church, and have long desired to lead worship.
Well, near the end of last year I felt God was pushing my boundaries, teaching me new stuff, and that perhaps it was ALMOST time for me to be able to lead worship. I wasn't going to ask to lead, but told God it was up to him to get our leader to ask me, if His time was right.
OK, I know I'm nowhere near spiritually fine to be able to lead right now, but in the meantime God's answered the prayer.... with a "no".
New church policy - only full members may lead worship, just in case someone comes up with something doctrinally incorrect on stage. Makes sense from their standpoint I guess, they're protecting their people from heresy or whatever, but as I can't be a member (long story) there's no way I'll ever lead.
So that's that. God's answer in a nutshell.
It's for the best, especially right now when I'm not in a fit state to perhaps even participate in worship, never mind take the lead. You know the saying - "you can't lead worship unless you're a lead worshipper". Well, I aint right now, so for the sake of the church and myself this is a good thing.
-----
While on the church subject, one of the things I've been wanting out of is church. I don't think I should be though, as that's my "spiritual support group", the place where I go for help, acceptance, guidance when I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't think any Christian can struggle along completely alone. Whether we meet formally or informally, we need connections with others who can help, guide, listen, explore, learn with us. Many find this in a church, others in home groups or at the local cafe.
I know there's no perfect church, but there are little things starting to bother me, like attitudes to worship and evangelism, focus on numbers and perfection of performance. Stuff like that. I guess I've been giving a little too much thought to the Being Church thing, and now am seeing stuff that doesn't match up from those doing church.
I don't really want to leave, but I also don't really want to stay. I guess I'll stick it out until I get a little direction as to where I'm headed (Australia or here permanently).
Well, near the end of last year I felt God was pushing my boundaries, teaching me new stuff, and that perhaps it was ALMOST time for me to be able to lead worship. I wasn't going to ask to lead, but told God it was up to him to get our leader to ask me, if His time was right.
OK, I know I'm nowhere near spiritually fine to be able to lead right now, but in the meantime God's answered the prayer.... with a "no".
New church policy - only full members may lead worship, just in case someone comes up with something doctrinally incorrect on stage. Makes sense from their standpoint I guess, they're protecting their people from heresy or whatever, but as I can't be a member (long story) there's no way I'll ever lead.
So that's that. God's answer in a nutshell.
It's for the best, especially right now when I'm not in a fit state to perhaps even participate in worship, never mind take the lead. You know the saying - "you can't lead worship unless you're a lead worshipper". Well, I aint right now, so for the sake of the church and myself this is a good thing.
-----
While on the church subject, one of the things I've been wanting out of is church. I don't think I should be though, as that's my "spiritual support group", the place where I go for help, acceptance, guidance when I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't think any Christian can struggle along completely alone. Whether we meet formally or informally, we need connections with others who can help, guide, listen, explore, learn with us. Many find this in a church, others in home groups or at the local cafe.
I know there's no perfect church, but there are little things starting to bother me, like attitudes to worship and evangelism, focus on numbers and perfection of performance. Stuff like that. I guess I've been giving a little too much thought to the Being Church thing, and now am seeing stuff that doesn't match up from those doing church.
I don't really want to leave, but I also don't really want to stay. I guess I'll stick it out until I get a little direction as to where I'm headed (Australia or here permanently).
God Speaks
I feel like I've hit an all-time low. It's almost a spiritual dark depression. Nothing's making sense, I want out of all sorts of things I should be in, I'm constantly irritated and unable to love. I guess I've been questioning everything and everyone. It's VERY unlike me.
Then this morning I was doing my usual blog-trawl through my ever-growing list of daily reads. One I added recently is Our Daily Blog, and as the page loaded God Spoke!
"MY CHILD, I am the Lord Who gives strength in the day of trouble. Come to Me when all is not well with you. Your tardiness in turning to prayer is the greatest obstacle to heavenly consolation, for before you pray earnestly to Me you first seek many comforts and take pleasure in outward things. Thus, all things are of little profit to you until you realize that I am the one Who saves those who trust in Me, and that outside of Me there is no worth-while help, or any useful counsel or lasting remedy.
"But now, after the tempest, take courage, grow strong once more in the light of My mercies; for I am near, says the Lord, to restore all things not only to the full but with abundance and above measure. Is anything difficult for Me? Or shall I be as one who promises and does not act? Where is your faith? Stand firm and persevere. Be a man of endurance and courage, and consolation will come to you in due time. Wait for Me; wait -- and I will come to heal you..."
++Lord, I'm waiting.
Feel my tears, hear my heart-groan, see my emptiness.
I'm waiting eagerly for a change of heart,
for light at the end of this terribly dark tunnel.
I can't feel You, I can't see You, but You've said You're there.
And so I wait.++
::update::
Song for today: I Will Sing (opens with Windows Media Player)
Then this morning I was doing my usual blog-trawl through my ever-growing list of daily reads. One I added recently is Our Daily Blog, and as the page loaded God Spoke!
"MY CHILD, I am the Lord Who gives strength in the day of trouble. Come to Me when all is not well with you. Your tardiness in turning to prayer is the greatest obstacle to heavenly consolation, for before you pray earnestly to Me you first seek many comforts and take pleasure in outward things. Thus, all things are of little profit to you until you realize that I am the one Who saves those who trust in Me, and that outside of Me there is no worth-while help, or any useful counsel or lasting remedy.
"But now, after the tempest, take courage, grow strong once more in the light of My mercies; for I am near, says the Lord, to restore all things not only to the full but with abundance and above measure. Is anything difficult for Me? Or shall I be as one who promises and does not act? Where is your faith? Stand firm and persevere. Be a man of endurance and courage, and consolation will come to you in due time. Wait for Me; wait -- and I will come to heal you..."
++Lord, I'm waiting.
Feel my tears, hear my heart-groan, see my emptiness.
I'm waiting eagerly for a change of heart,
for light at the end of this terribly dark tunnel.
I can't feel You, I can't see You, but You've said You're there.
And so I wait.++
::update::
Song for today: I Will Sing (opens with Windows Media Player)
What If...
What if we've got it wrong? If we did evolve randomly without Outside help and there truly is no God? What if the Heaven we're hoping for is a fairy story, born in deep cultural myth in the deep darks of time, so far back that we can't remember it's beginings, but we've accepted it as truth? What if there actually is no salvation, and all we hang our hope on, build our dreams and lives around does not exist? What if all the religious experience in the world is just us and our feelings, chemicals roaming our brains, telling us we're connecting to a Higher Power when in fact it's just our imaginations? What if we've latched onto the Good News simply because we want out of our daily Bad News and want to belive there's something more than this? What if we've been mistaken all along?
What if....?
What if....?
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