For Di

a life well lived

a life blessed

to know him

to be found in him

and known by him

a life so full

of stories to tell

where the journey meandered

through peaks of joy and love

and valleys of sadness and pain

yet he was there

you could not see him

he walked alongside you

calling gently then more audibly

until the hidden journey appeared

like a royal banquet

he has given you a hope for the future

he has revealed his plans for you

and so you stand secure

with eyes wide open

and mind set on new and glorious realities

each breath from the very first

one that drew in the air

and shouted live, live, live

to that final one you share with us

as you pass from life to life

and oh much more

so look back and frown no more

shed not a tear

rather look forward with joy, with hope

to colourful, extravagant celebration

where you will be seated with him

here we share in the celebration

of a life lived to the full

having passed seventy years

journeying here and there

upon the earth

with thankful hearts we share

and celebrate with you

standing hand in hand

we have come to say well done

we love you

you are precious to us

don't give up the race

because you are nearly at the finish line

nearly, nearly home.

On a Lighter Note

3 Dogs; rabbits;fish, a bird, a cat and a pair of hamsters and 2 rats. These are the creatures we call Pets!!
We are learning a great deal about looking after animals. I have learned that children can only manage to care for animals with any measure of success, if an adult is involved and encouraging.

That job has fallen into my lap and I am actually ok with it. My childhood was filled with animals of all kinds but especially dogs , cats and horses and so in reality , having lots of animals around is second nature to me. Doug grew up loving birds and fish and he was really very involved with building tanks and cages and looking after them. His love and interest of fish he has carried with him into adult life.




And so having and enjoying animals is part of who Doug and I are and so it flows down into the lives of our boys.

We are learning how much hard work it takes to care for animals well. They need daily care. The boys are responsible for feeding and giving water to the rabbits, hamsters and bird. I am around to fill in the gaps too. The cleaning of the cages is a task not to be taken lightly, especially as far as the rabbits are concerned. Yuck!! is all I can say. That task has fallen predominantly to me with the help of smaller hands too. The rich rabbit poo has set my mind in motion and we are thinking of developing rabbit compost.

We have learned that baby rabbits come along with alarming frequency. They are born blind and naked and the mothers are not very good at caring for them. And so we have experienced death and sadness. Some litters have been lost to the cold.

We have learned that we can sell the babies to our local pet shop and so we are experiencing the rules of demand and supply.

We are learning how much fun it is to have an animal for company and fun. We have learned that noisy animals annoy some people and we are in the process of managing our very lovable, chatty and noisy dog Luke.

Questions that need answers like " do rabbits go to heaven?" or " how did that mommy have more babies without the daddy?".
We have learned that we can not just go on holiday and lock the animals up but have to ask friends to care for a rat or a bird. We have learned to share our animals with others who do not have pets. We have learned that baby rabbits can have a bath in the birds water and survive and that hamsters do not survive when caught in the wooden garage lift. Other things like a rabbit likes to watch TV with you but might wee on your lap or a baby bunny can survive the day behind a cushion where it was hidden and our little dog will bite a guinea pig left on a bench. We found out the sad way that potato is poisonous for rabbits and Guinea pigs and that rats can get fat.
We decided that having a snake is something for the future when the task of cleaning does not land on moms lap. At the snake I draw a line!

We have marveled at God's creatures and thank him for the joy of learning something about life from them.

The Scream

The Scream by Edvard Munch.

Scream

It would feel great to scream,
to just let rip and let it all come out
in one loud, blood curdling scream.
Like the person in the painting
just not so quite insane.
I am not insane you see
but , at times there rises up in me this urge to
shout out really loud
and tell it ;like it is.
Be done with all this nicely, nicely stuff
and to say it like it is.
But, that is not how it is
or aught to be
so I bite my lip
and shout inwardly
oh so so loudly
the mountains nearby could hear
and the heavens would feel
The Scream from within

Walk like an Egyptian.

The Grade 5 Egyptian display was great!!

Here are some friends all dressed up and roaring to go!!

Pharaoh and his vizier below looking great!!

We were invited to enjoy the Egyptian exhibition of sorts at Sweet Valley Primary School.
James and his class mates have worked very hard on many aspects of this theme. The study of Egypt as an African ancient civilization falls under the bigger theme of Ancient Civilizations around the world.
Doug and I enjoyed seeing all the children dressed up as well as sharing their other work. They have learned a great deal about this interesting cicilization as well as getting to grips with group work and sharing ideas.
Well done!!

Grade 3 celebrate spring 2001 -Thomas' year

Here are the beautiful flowers that the grade 3 children took to the Old Age Home last week. Today, at school, the parents were treated to the little show. Well done to all the children.

A struggle with Assurance

'For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:37-39

I have found these words in scripture to be of enormous encouragement over these last few days. For a while now I have been struggling with what I call Spiritual Depression. I have found myself through my circumstances and struggles , disconnected from the living God. The scriptures have become dry and dusty; mere words without comfort or challenge. I could no longer hear the voice of God as I read his word or sat in church. I felt depressed and without hope. My emotions completely underwhelmed me and all I know of our Great God simply slipped away. However hard I tried I just could not feel him , see him or hear his voice. I felt totally alone and very, very miserable.

However, when God is real and involved in a life he never ever lets them go. He is faithful and kind and living and at the right time he gently drew me back again. I had shared with my husband who was so encouraging prayed for me regularly ; I shared with my prayer friends who were equally loving and reassuring and I had shared with a friend my state. While they prayed and talked and reminded me of the truth that is and I seemed to sink deeper into despair , God was at work.

One day last week I had some time to read while waiting for children. I read Psalm 100 - God reminded me that I am to shout for joy and worship God with gladness because he is God and I am his child. The psalm goes on to say that we may enter his gates with thanksgiving and praise. It was with these very words that I was reminded that I am forgiven and that I may enter his presence . I may go into The Living God's very presence because of Jesus and I may be thankful. Wow! I was struck again of the simple truth of who God is and what he has done for me. I was restored and forgiven and he has removed my sin. I was back in the fold.

Then God in his grace gave me two reminders. Firstly he reminded me of who I am and how much he loves me through some good friends who share their lives with us and then through his word on Sunday which was from Romans 8:37. We were reminded with the beautiful truth that nothing , absolutely nothing will or can separate us from God's love that is found in Jesus.

And so once again I can stand and sing with my heart and my head -" you have promised you will lead us to your throne. We
here we will worship you and you alone". and "For one day we will stand before you Lord. Our all together beautiful reward. And we will give you glory, give you honour . King above all Kings. You deserve our everything. we will lift our voices with your praises. Jesus you are our King." tree 63 King.

I am so grateful that my being and staying faithful to God does not depend on my ability to love Jesus or serve him or obey him but rather is placed in his hands and so I know with certainty that I will stand before him one day. What a joy and comfort that is. I am so grateful for Christian friends who faithfully help us as we help them when we stumble and fall. We serve a mighty and most wonderful God and I can not wait to meet him face to face one day.

On Being Made Vulnerable

On being made Vulnerable.

Being made vulnerable was forced on me

Like a strong armed man beating his opponent to the ground

Or a wrench clasping and turning that bolt

Opening up the object held shut beneath it.

And so a real, deep sharing happened.

It was not that long ago

When the newness of life uncurled itself

And breathed it’s very, very first and precious breath.

How very deeply personal and precious

being made to be vulnerable is.

It is like handing the most delicate thing

Into the hands of another.

Will they receive the gift with the care it needs?

Will they trample on vulnerability itself

And laugh as they leave?

Being vulnerable hovers and hangs.

It hovers in that place between secret and known;

Between darkness and light

And it pushes and prods to rush out and scream

“I am here”

And so it was that deep things were shared

in that giving of myself all other parts changed.

I changed.

But this I know;

He was there then.

He is here now.

Shirt sleeves pushed up

As he carves and shifts,

As He carefully, thoroughly

Weaves His perfect pattern.

Yet, the struggle continues

It can not seem to find a resting place.

my thoughts are restless

my soul cries out to Him.

Oh how he washes his love and presence

It flows like a never ending river

Bringing life and hope

Because the cost for Him was complete

And He gave everything he had

The world? Oh much more.

He gave his all and I lost some too.

Yet he understands that, even that.

Thank you.

Being made to be vulnerable

Brought deep love

It revealed His hand and plan, in part.

Yet sadness and sorrow rested there too.

For haughty eyes and proud hearts

Gathered to peck at the remains.

When life runs smooth and kind

And struggles seem few

Beware, beware, beware!

For you know not the depth and toil

That another might have.

Rather let gratitude and love rest

You know not when time will call you

As it gathers the wind to blow and thrash

Upon the shores of your life.

Calling you to be made vulnerable.

All in a day!!

This life of mine is full of news. Stories and tales and gossip of sorts. Most of it happy and glad and fun but then there are times when my heart is so burdened; so saddened ; so cast down with the deep sorrow that flows from a life.
Like the sadness I heard this week of a young man who died. He died in his sleep with his mother and father and brother still there. They tried, oh how they tried but he died. All the hard work of the years at University brought to a sudden and untimely end. It is wrong when children die. it is all wrong!
Or the sad news I heard from the mouth of my boy. " Olivia 's brother died". I stopped. I knew him you see. Though his brain was broken and he drooled and grunted, he was a alive and now he is dead. Today I saw his mother. Strong and independent in spirit and yet so sad and distracted. I wanted to call out to her above all the noise. " I am so, so sad for your loss". But really what does one say to a mother who is grieving the loss of her child. The child she carried for 9 months and knew and loved so. There are no words you see.

Yet Jesus sees all this and he weeps too. All I can do is talk to him about the this mom and that one. And then there is the friend who is picking up the pieces of a marriage all broken and gone. How do I care for her and love her? I ask Him to hold her and love her as I try and mumble some words that encourage and extol her to carry on in life.

And then in the midst of all this my boy is so sad and anxious and I have to leave and big tears roll silently down his round cheeks and my heart all but breaks in two. And when we are home and my other boy comes and shares his pain and heart ache over a friend who is mean. He cries and I cry inwardly. My bucket is not big enough Oh Lord to hold all this pain and sadness. But you Jesus have hands and a heart that can hold it all. Please take it and lift load.

I am old now.

Thomas' class put on a show for at a local old age home. It was both beautiful and sad. That is what this poem is all about.

I am Old Now

The sign above the entrance reads " Service Center"
A sea of grey hair was spread out in front of us.
They wait so still, so patiently for us
to come and bring in cheer
with flowers and smiles and songs
we brighten their day.

You were there too.

Once you were full,
full of life and energy,
Once time ruled you like a fist
as you were rushed about by the real demands of this life.
But now, time spreads endlessly before you
like a flat, still ocean.
What does time hold for you today?

Once , not so long ago, noise and purpose filled your day
But now you rest and wait in the stillness of The Home.
Before your busy hands helped those who you love and cared for
but now unknown hands lift you up so you can stand
and walk
and go where you are told to go.

When time was young and life was full
You kept yourself busy with the things of life.
You crammed your brain with words from books you loved
You allowed your thoughts to focus and grow
But now you thoughts are hard to contain
They flow here and there and words ramble
and confuse themselves.

When you look in the mirror
where once a young face stared back
with expectation and confidence
now the eyes that gaze back at you
are old and lost
hidden in the wrinkles of skin stretched by life
held up by a bent and broken body
frail and brittle.

And so you wait
the fullness of your life has passed
for you and so you wait......

What are you waiting for?
Do you still have hopes and dreams ?
Or have you said goodbye to these
buried beneath a pile of a shattered life?

A strong wooden cross stands tall
It casts a shadow over all the grey,
old people in The Home.
You are there too.
It stands tall and strong
He calls to those who sit expectantly beneath it

While the body ages
and does not last; while you wait for death
look to the cross that stands so tall and strong
so that you can wait with hope and real expectation.
For the One who rules and loves is the One who died
so that this curse called aging and death
would loose its sting.

Wait knowing that the One who died for you
is eagerly , patiently waiting
for you.

So when the body breaks a grows oh so weary
Take heart in your spirit oh soul
for God is not finished with you yet
and when he is done
and you have run His race
the waiting will be done
you will be going home.

A Fab School Outing

The Grade 3 classes at Sweet Valley Primary School visited an old age home in the area today. We boxes and boxes full of pretty spring posies. The children were all dressed up in colourful clothing and had created giant, hand held drawings of spring bugs and flowers to use as props in their little performance.

The men and women in the home were all seated and waiting when we arrived. Row after row of aged, grey haired people sat facing the little make shift stage. In the background a giant wooden cross stood tall on the wall.

And off they all went. What a delightful show it was including specially chosen and thoughtful songs that would hold appeal for these old folk. It was grand and colourful and fun with lots of smiles and even some chocolates to go around. Well done sweet grade 3 children and well done teachers and music department.

Wriggle and Rhyme

For almost 2 years now I have been running the Bergvliet Wriggle and Rhyme music groups in my home. It has truly been a time of great fun and learning.
I simply love having the parents, nannies or grannies in our home. The little children who come and share in the music time have been a great delight to me.
Wriggle is awesome. The actual programme which is the brain child of Kirsty Savidies, is well thought through and caters to the ages of the children exceptionally well. It is fun, engaging and the children get to learn while having fun with music and instruments.

My highlights are the beginning when we all settle down to sing the familiar hello songs. To see the recognition and delight as I tap out a beat on the wood block never ceases to amaze me. Whenever a child begins to grasp the concept and join it it is very special for me too. It is actually a privileged to she in these little lives.
I love to see how each little person develops over the term. He or she might be an observer and suddenly become an active and real participant. Wriggle has afforded me enormous pleasure and has allowed me to enjoy the teaching aspect of teaching while in my home.

I am so grateful the The Lord for this time. I can love other children and still get to be with my own children.

My old Friend

My faithful old friend is back.

He has returned so strong and full of courage.

Not the kind of courage one needs to face a fear

But the kind that lays bare the heart and reveals old wounds

That tramples and rides rough shod over ground long forgotten.

My old friend rejection is back

To rule and swagger as he likes.

He laughs and jeers as he roams.

Who can stand when rejection comes around?

He knows just where to prod and push

Deep inside where old wounds lie buried.

He digs them up and waters them so

Fresh growth sprouts and sadness grows;

Here he has some rich soil to toil and play.

My old friend rejection has come knocking

Once again he calls me out

So that he can play.

The rules of this game are oh so familiar

He roams freely, gathering a memory here and an old hurt there.

My old friend rejection is here again

How long will he stay this time?

And when will he return?

He was carried along when words of “love”

And “kindness” and “this is for your good” – we love you so

Found place in hearts and hands that scribed them down

And rushed them on like a speed train destined for nowhere in particular.

Yet the “love” and “kindness” brought no love or any kindness

but rather, left their mark or deep despair and great heartache

where rejection stands tall and powerful

and laughs out loud for all to hear.

The Invisible - anon

When I opened my mail today, a friend had sent me this beautiful story as an encouragement and a blessing. Here it is.......


It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the
way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask
me a question.

Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously, not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or
even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands,
nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being.
I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer,
'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around
5:30,
please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes
that studied history and the mind that graduated suma cum laude - but now
they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's
going; she's going; she is gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England ..

Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and
on about the hotel she stayed in.

I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so
well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a
beautifullywrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe .

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her
inscription:

'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building
when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book.
And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths,
after which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their
names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see
finished.

They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of
God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny
bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are
you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be
covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied,
'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.

It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I
see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.
No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake
you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are
building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will
become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own
self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one
of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to
work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever
be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to
sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's
bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the
morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for
three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd
built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come
home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add,
'you're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're
doing it right.

And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at
what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by
the sacrifices of invisible women.

The Homeless Man.

He is ordered
and neat
and squirrels away useful items,
useful to him , at least.
He finds them in the piles of things thrown out with the rubbish on rubbish day.
He packs and unpacks and packs again all his belongings,
into his trolley taken from some or other supermarket.
Perhaps he needed it more than the busy shoppers
gaily filling it up with this and that,
things that they might need or want...
useful to them..
He wraps himself up like a caterpillar spinning a cocoon of silk
but not with silk and softness but with thick plastic.
A barrier of protection from the pelting rain.
He sleeps, soundly, as the rain streams down the window pane,
my face pressed up firmly to the glass, gazing out into the night.
I am warmed by food and clothing and heath and wealth,
while he lies asleep on the pavement outside, warm and cosy in his plastic cocoon.
As if he had not a care in the world.

What were the things in his life that fashioned him to be homeless and sleep out on the hard , cold and unfriendly pavement?
Where people shout
and shove
and call him names
and where danger lurks as the sun closes shop .
In the dark night he is alone.
He is alone...
Yet I feel scared.
How strange!

What happened to him?
What wrong choices did he make and what choices does he have?
I ponder the answers to these and other questions as The man sleeps soundlessly on the pavement.
My soul wrestles yet again with shame and pity and sadness and anger.
A boy prays " please Lord can Brian find a place where he is welcome" and inwardly I cringe with guilt and sadness.

Two Poems

This is the story behind the writing of these two poems...

I was chatting to a friend a few days ago about living life as a Christian. We were talking about the trends in modern life. Some are good and some are fun and some are, well just plain evil. After this conversation, I realised that I had been feeling a longing for the simplicity of childhood. Of course, not all have this privileged, but I found myself really straining under the responsibility to be , well, adult. The real difficulties of making "grown up decisions" was weighing heavily and I felt really bogged down.

The first poem flows from this longing and the second is the very real answer I have to that longing, as a Christian woman. It is all found in Christ alone.

Words , words, words.

My head is full of words this day.

As I sit and sew.

I am sewing a bag : a strong bag for books

That other bearer of words of a different kind.

My mind races here and there full, full of words.

Not the kind I like to have but the kind I must.

I let them flow like a river.

Words , words , words .

Full of life’s longings.

I long for what has been.

For the days when life was full of colour and innocence and fun.

A peaceful meandering of time,

A strong sense of certainty and a real belief in dreams.

What has become of those times?

My mind races back to my family home

The fresh smell of horses and outdoor things

The power of the highveld sun pouring in through the window

The sound of silence and gentleness

The clip clop of hooves and the bark of dogs.

The kindness of time gone is recalled as my mind travels back, before, before

All this…….

Before the present descended and pierced my soul.

I long with an urgent and deep, deep longing. My soul cries for that time but the time is now.

When things are adult and real.

The now of time is full. Yes it is full, full of many things.

It is seldom full of the kinds of things I longed for way back then. Those dreams have been trampled and have long taken flight. I am left rummaging in the sale of my life. Looking for a bargain; a gem of sorts. Longing and hoping for what I am not even sure anymore. Perhaps, perhaps it is the past I long for? Those childish things of days forgotten or perhaps it is the future I hold on to. It would seem that even that I have forgotten.

I press on with the task, sew, sew , sew . Finish the bag that will hold the words that stir younger hearts!

My mind a swirl of words, words, words.

My soul cries out.

Perhaps!

The Answer to Longing.

That longing I spoke of.

What is it?

It is real and present.

It bursts with the sunshine and hides in the shadows of days gone by.

How can it be satisfied?

How can it be helped?

This longing.

If I ponder, even for a moment or a lifetime and think about what could have been?

If I toss and turn in my mind and wrestle with longing and if I come out with any kind of answer it is this…..

Long ago and before time began.

Before the world was pushed and shoved and talked into being.

Long, long ago when the earth was new and fresh and

He walked here. Here I say.

His footsteps were kind and his hand was called friendship.

Longing had no place here.

Yet I, the creature began to long

and hope

and wish for that which was not mine to grasp at.

And the seed of longing and its friend discontentment began to roam freely.

Oh How I tried in vain to shove them back.

Yet He was there, still, kind and loving.

Full of fairness and hope.

He had the answer. He was the answer. I did not see it.

Yet!

“Have it; want it; need it; reach for IT!

IT will quench the longing in your heart and you will be like Him and you will rule with wisdom.

And that lie still flourishes in this age.

It lives on in me and dwells with mankind.

That we the creatures would usurp the throne where sadness, fear, greed and selfishness now rein.

So, that longing I spoke of has its roots in the age before when time was new and the world was fresh.

What can be done?

Who can plug the hole where the dreams of men leak out like the water through the hole into nothingness?

Here, down here, where broken lives have battered bodies and bruised souls

And hide behind masked smiles

I fear it is not I.

In the quite moments when I focus my thoughts on Him, these words soak up my mind like the sponge it is.

Trust

Peace

Joy

Kindness

the treasure at the very centre, holding them all together

Love.

He is love you see.

Everything about him is loving and kind.

Two rare qualities we see very little of these days.

Yet He will not give up and he will seek those who belong to him.

He longs for them with such an urgent kind of longing.

A death, crying longing that pierced the dark sky on a day not so long ago.

That longing and cry still ring out today and rush here and there drawing in any who are able to hear it.

You are mine! Come to me he whispers.

Whispers I say because he is loving and kind and will never force or break.

Yet he never gives up.

His longing drives him on until every creature that every lived will on that day see Him in Glory and splendor.

His longing will be quenched on that day

And so to will mine.