Part 4. The Story of My Life

What follows in these tales from My life is a story I need to write. A story of life and drama that I long to write down. Not only for myself, but also as a reminder of things gone by. It is a story of forming and shaping and intrigue . But primarily it is a story about hope. If you choose to tread these pages with me, do so with reverence and kindness because one does not write these things lightly. If you are one who has the need to flirt a little with being nosy then perhaps you should pass by this story. For it is true and full. It needs not your judgement nor your advice. But if you want to read on, then read it as a novel should be read. For it is but just one story among many.

Being cut free

Fear seeped through every pore of my body as a young child. I was on guard you see, waiting and watching for the perpetrator of the ongoing crime.  I did not know this. I was far too little, but looking back I see it and feel it all so plainly. A child has little or no control over his or her life but others, the adults, well they have total control. It is the kind of control that needs to be measured and weight in the scales of care and love. And yet, for some of us that walk the land of this planet, the care and love has not been weighed and measured and we have fallen victim to those into whose hands we have been entrusted.

Such was my childhood. But on a day, we got to move. Not that far from the cottage of hell but it was a move none the less. A breaking of the umbilical cord. My father had once again set upon the great task of building a house. This was a bigger and broader house with a double story and a thatched roof. We are on the up it would seem.  With that move brought me freedom. I was 12 years old and very nearly entering high school. It was a nice house with a pool. We had a tennis court and an outside braai and a big, beautiful patio. There was some laughter and fun but happiness did not make its home in that house.

It was from this home that my parent’s marriage began to split at the seams and it was from this house that I left for university.

The day we were to leave on the long journey to Cape Town was the same day that my father made the decision to put some horses down? If you have never experienced this it is a traumatic and sad thing to see. A once huge brute of a beast, standing tall and stong is reduced to death by a single shot.  We drove off, saying goodbye to a once life and hello to the next chapter. Of course we had forgotten something and so had to return. Death and sadness was to great us and of course, as I reflect back now, it was a picture of the death that was shortly to enfold my parent’s marriage. But out of death comes life. There is always a hope and good things when the great God of the universe is at work.