Bored! Try a board game.

This morning , not long after my eyes adjusted to the dark, I decided to get up and have some "me" time. The mornings are my favourite because I am firstly a morning person and secondly I can have some time to think and pray and get ready for the new day. But this was not to be. Shortly after I put the kettle on for tea - my second favourite morning thing, a bed haired , dressing gowned boy slipped into the kitchen. His first request was " can you play a game with me".

So the game is on. He has chosen his his personal best - UNO. we have all loved UNO. it is a great family game and each child can play at his own stage and age development , some needing help from mom or dad.It is easy to transport and so goes on long trips and school trips and on evenings out, just in case.

We have a whole cupboard of board games and card games and all sorts of games. Because I have a pre-school background, I love games. I am also a very picky game buyer. Some games are gimmicky while others hold a who host of fantastic learning opportunities while being designate for max fun. We have mostly competition kind of games but we do own a non- competitive board game by HABA. it is a wonderful game and we always have fun, working together to save the fish. :)

Board games teach children lots of good things. We have always helped the little ones and not been harsh with them , not like their siblings are because after all fair is fair. I have found that if you gentle work with a child towards being able to loose well, it generally works. If you foster in them a killer instinct to always win and have to win , then board games would be a nightmare. The interesting thing is, the boys have all grown into loosing and being able to loose without tears. it has been and is hard at times but it has not detered them from trying again. The family game time have always been my best thing because I am not really a cricket or soccer chick and it is a  great way to do something with my boys that they enjoy. I do however draw the line at Monopoly which is my personal worst game. Doug does not mind it so team work here helps us :).

What's in a square is a wonderful, educational game. I was introduced to it while teaching and then someone gave me their old one. It was as if they had given me gold. I was thrilled. Thank you Lord! What's in a square is for sale again in good educational toy shops. it is pricey but well worth it.

Some of the games we have are purposefully educational others are about using money or about shopping with lists of food to get and pay for.We own quite a few of these one player logic developing games. They are superb and very challenging.  Bananagram is a wonderful word game that children can play at their own level. We have spent ours playing Rummikub with a 5 year old and an 80 year old. Amazing fun.



The big boys best game so far is and has been RISK. A dynamic strategy game that many of the kids at school also love so play dates are not focused on the computer.  We have dragged it all the way to Natal and back which indicates how much fun it is.

We have also loved Mastermind and good old ordinary card games. I remember playing poker for matches with my gran when I was growing up but things have moved on and sweets have been the order of the day.

Games are very expensive. we always give the family one as a christmas gift. If you are a keen second hand shop frequenter , you will find some gems there. I bought an old , original Cludo for R25 once.

Perhaps games are not every ones cup of tea but they are certainly worth a try. You might just find a family favourite and have piles of fun and some tears too. But I guess that is all part of learning and can be a worthwhile experience  too.

A Letter to a teacher.

Dear Teacher

Thank you for taking the time to listen to me

And for making the effort to care for the child

Thank you for listening and trying to reach out to him,

Thank you for really paying attention

The child!

My child!

You see he is so precious to us.

From the great joy and the promise of a life that first over whelmed

To the very first time he moved within my womb.

I loved him.

The child

in your classroom might just be a child to you.

Someone to teach and help and occasionally scold, perhaps even yell at.

But, you see, that child, is my child.

He is precious to us!

He was wanted and loved from the first

And when he arrived he brought great joy

And change and hope and fun

And much, much more.

With him came the passing of time

His life became a new measure

The yards stick of my life.

His life represents all that longing

The hope we had for life

For our lives, together.

The child in your class might shift, and move

He might giggle and jump

He probably does all this and more.

His work might be untidy

Despite trying his best

He just cant seem to get it right.

Perhaps he

He talks a lot, too much; cries and is afraid;

And the measure used for children now days

Glows all so brightly

“He should be able to do this by now”

Sometimes he gets lost and

Often feels afraid

He forgets his book or bag

And wears the wrong top

All this might make him really, really anxious

Because he does not like being in trouble,

He really does not do it on purpose.

He is still a child after all

He is a little of this and a lot of that

He might sometimes meet the goal and yet sometimes not.

Being pulled and pushed and molded by life

Molded at school

By you……

The teacher,

his teacher.

You see, I know when he is sad

 I can read when he is happy

You might not know this

He likes you, you see, he really does.

He might not say so, but I know.

The boy who might look funny to you,

Perhaps he is messy, noisy, distracted, and slow

Or fast, just a little to fast.

Perhaps he is not that bright and slow to understand

He might be sharp as a sward and know more than you do

The child could grate on all your nerves

He might even smell

You could write a list of all the thoughts you have about who he is

What he does and what he might accomplish.

You praise and reward

You encourage and with one word build up

Or break down.

The child!

That child…..

That child is my child

The child I love with all my heart.

So, I want to say thank you for loving him

Because you see he is precious to us

The Spear and the Cross

We are a country in crisis. We are a people in crisis. We are lost and broken and in a sense at war again. We are at war with each other and with ourselves but we don’t realize it until something happens in the public domain that sparks and fans the flame into action. The result is an inferno that can not be quenched.

South Africa is not a stranger to war.  Many a battle as passed through these beautiful lands or ours.  Many a child has been born into the war. Many a life has been taken – robbed from reaching its potential and fullness by the war.  We are a broken people.  There are layers of mistrust and hatred towards each other.  Apartheid was a war within the boundaries of this country. The horrors and atrocities of this time in our history have caused us to be a wounded nation. We limp and crawl through life, trying to find some way of connecting with each other. We have papered over the deep cracks of the past with ideas like reconciliation, one nation, nation building, the new South Africa , the rainbow nation. All good ideas but I fear, that in reality, the wounds that lie very deep and carry so much damage and pain are waiting to erupt. They just have to. We all know that a wound that has not healed can get infected again and again. We need help. We need healing. We need kindness towards fellow man. We need so much. We need Jesus!

Umkhonto weSizwe- The Spear of the Nation or the armed wing of the ANC (African National Congress). It no longer exists for it has been joined together, like all other structures in The New South Africa, to become one. United and together in the hope called The Rainbow Nation. But I guess Umkhonto lives on in the hearts and minds of those who knew it as a real adversary to the then apartheid government. A real cause to hope and live.

Over the past 2 weeks our beloved country has once again been ripping itself apart, held at the throat by a painting. The painting, which by now if you have not heard about it , you must have been asleep J , part of an exhibition by Brett Murray called Hail to the Thief 2.

The painting depicts Jacob Zuma, our president, in a Stalin like pose but with his genitals displayed for the entire world to see.

 It is called The Spear. For those of us who know much of his life, we are left with little doubt about the message the artist was sending.  The message carried within it many layers and it was a trigger for great debate.

There are many angles to take on this issue. I could write about art and what it is and what it does – the role it plays in society. I love art and am interested in it and so could take that angle. I could write about freedom of speech which I also hold dearly and have some strong views on that. I could write about what I think about Jacob Zuma and the role of a president. I could write about racism – what it is and what it is not. All these and many other issues have been exposed again by the exhibition of The Spear.

I am going to talk about real dignity and healing in the light of this painting. The heart of the matter for each person. Who am I ? Do I have value? How do I have worth? 

The Spear cleverly lanced the wound. It rubbed the scab that is trying to heal over the raw damaged skin of this country.

The labours of the artist rubbed the wound raw yet again and anger, rage, malice, slander and all sorts of ‘stuff’ exploded onto the media airways of our land and indeed the world.  And of course, when in doubt call it racist that is sure to get things going.

I listened too much of the debate, joining in with it in the safety of my kitchen. I read some of the articles written in the news and Doug and I have talked and talked a great deal about it. The question I have is this……….

Why is it that Jacob Zuma, the president of a country, is unable to shrug the insult off. Yes he may have been insulted and the painting may be rude and degrading. It may reflect truth. There are lots of “it Mays” but the question on my mind was this. What is it about this man that causes him to take these pictures and cartoons and other expressions by people of him, to heart?. (He is in the process of taking Zapiro to court over some cartoon drawn that has insulted him.) Why is it that he can not simply shake off the mud and insult he feels and boldly, bravely and with dignity rise above it all to lead our people.

Because he can’t and clearly from the debate around THIS painting, many others can’t either, we sink to the depths of debate and discussion but insult and polarization again.

Again and again I heard people say things like ‘in my culture’, or ‘it is insulting to this man; a father, husband’. “It is racist. It is degrading. It is wrong.”   People were deeply offended on a cultural level by this artwork. People were personally hurt by this painting – not just Jacob Zuma. The painting opened old wounds for people and they came out fighting. It has been a time of raw anger. The painting unmasked more that it intended to do. Anger! The many issues around freedom of speech and what that means and looks like were lost in the rage that swallowed the debate. Emotions ran high and tears were shed publicly.  What is this all about?

Perhaps more is going on here than simply Western Liberalism meets African tradition.  Where their differences are exposed by the painting. I do think on one level this is true but I think that something very deep has been exposed by The Spear – more than just Jacob Zuma’s genitals.

South Africans are a broken and deeply wounded people. If you grew up in the 60’s and particularly the 70’s and 80’s in SA, no matter what your culture and skin colour, you are a broken South African. Your view of people is seared; it is snapped in half like a bit of old wood. This brokenness makes all too much sense. Apartheid was a wicked system that purposely destroyed people and left them without any dignity and hope. It raged and ran a mock , killing and hurting the vulnerable and the weak and those who came out fighting. It destroyed us all.

The problem is most of us can not even see that for what it is and what it means. We need collective therapy. A country that could do with some serious couch time. “People need to tell their stories,” a dear friend said again over dinner. I think she is right. We could all do with writing the story of our country. Each of us has varying depths of loss and pain and wounding. Some people would have so much to write and others of us much less, but write it we should. In a way these talk shows might have a role to play in not just simply airing the views of those who call but perhaps they are a very real way for people to share their pain by exposing their anger.

Over dinner and a glass of wine we talked about what life is like now as a person in South Africa. What kinds of carry on or follow on or patterns of exclusion and barriers do ordinary South Africans experience because of their skin colour. How does the past present itself today. As we talked I saw the Jacob Zuma painting saga morph into the lounge. The past is present for all of us whether you are the president for the country or a street sweeper for the council.

How can all this change. How can we really begin to see people for who they really are? What are we supposed to be searching for? What is the essence of man that gives him worth? Is it his status? Is it his gender? Is it his colour, language, country of origin? Is it his job title?

The bible has some great news about who we are. It is exciting news; liberating news and news that brings hope, even to this sad and broken land of ours.

In his grace God has given all people a hallmark so to speak. He has given all people something of himself. We are made in his image – his image bearers. No matter whom we are – man or woman – no matter what our station in life, president or homeless beggar – no matter what our skin colour, God has marked us ALL with his image. We are all special and unique. That is how he sees us on one level. And this is how he calls me to see others. Unique and lovely made in his image! There is dignity and wholeness in that. This is how I am to see myself too. This is how Jacob Zuma is to see himself and there is strength and dignity in this which is nothing that a favorable court hearing or his culture, however rich, can give him.

God also sees us another way. We are either lost or found – sheep or goats – we either belong to him or we don’t. This has to do with our moral standing before him. It has to do with seeing ourselves and others yes as image bearers but also seeing each other and ourselves as we really are.

We are broken people who arrogantly choose to live our lives without any reference to Jesus and who he is.  I guess that is why we are broken. We take is gifts and ignore him and so we are lost to him. We do not know God and do not live for him. We claim our lives for ourselves and press on in destruction and darkness. But God has never stopped loving us and never given up on any of us and so Jesus came willingly. He came to die in my place and in your place taking our wrong attitudes and wrong stubbornness and wrong behaviour – called sin – into himself. He became sin for me and sin for you. He died and took up his life again. He conquered death so that whoever you are – Jacob Zuma or Caren Falconer or the sad, lonely, dirty homeless person- anyone and everyone can come to him. We can be saved, reconciled to the Living God and we can be healed of all our pain and sadness and brokenness. We can begin to claim back that with Apartheid robbed us all of and we can begin to heal. We can really begin to see fellow people as image bearers and we truly become The Rainbow Nation.

I realize that this dream is the ideal and actually the true Rainbow Nation is God’s nation who he has called from every tongue and nation and we will stand before him whole and forgiven and worship Jesus together. But for now we live here in this broken, beautiful land. I weep for this country I love and pray for us to each play a part in listening and caring; in really trying to make a difference and in saying sorry -despite our pain and fears. I pray too, that Jacob Zuma would truly come to know that Jesus loves him.

There is real dignity, strength, healing and true freedom in him alone.

Nkosi Sikeleli iAfriKa

When Fear Rules

Today I paid a rather stressful visit to our doctor. It was one of those " I really need to go" Visits and not because one of the boys was deathly ill.  We have a really great doctor who is generous with her time and her fees. No, the reason we went off to the doctor at the terrible hour of 4.30 in the afternoon, was because one of our sons has this strange, persistent rash on his body. Going to the doctor at 4.30 with kids is one of my worst nightmares. Total chaos reigns and no matter how fiercely I scowl or glare at them, they carry on regardless. The pitch of their noise and giddy out of control laughter getting louder and louder so that in the end absolutely nothing of what the doctor is saying concerning the odd, said rash is understood by me. The doctor, sensing my anxiety , reaches across with the name of the odd rash scribbled down for me. :)

But this is not what this blog is about. Actually , the rash has prompted me to write a little on our son and anxiety. The rash seems to be one that as a result of a virus, the body is now fighting itself?? Auto-immune they call these things now days. On reflection this makes perfect sense.  This little boy is in the middle of some play therapy sessions with a great, local play therapist.  We decided to take him to see her and get some help because for a long while now - about the last 3 years, he has been groaning increasingly more and more unsure and afraid; in fact down right petrified and debilitation so of new things and new situations and anything new. There are a whole host of reasons that we figured out he has this anxiety but the understanding the cause does not neccesarily help with the solution.

So, we / he has embarked on his first emotional therapy so to speak and it is thus no surprise to me that his little body has decided to react in this way. The outward evidence of the inner work.

The play therapist is a lovely, loving christian woman who is kind and honest and sincere and our son loves going to her. She has been working now for 4 weeks and we have 2 weeks left to go. She does not believe in long drawn out times of months with her and she is reasonably priced. Immediately our little man showed signs of relief and freedom after the very first time with her. it was as if he was so releived that we the adults in his life had drawn along side him and in acknowledging his struggle with fear and anxiety , he felt supported and safe. I imagine that his struggle might be a life long one and knowing myself I am not entirely surprised. He is an extrovert and emotional little creative man and so he will need to learn to be in charge of his fears and rule them rather than letting them rule him. The therapist is working to this end too so we are thrilled.

And then there is Jesus of course. Beautiful and real and at work in my the mom and in him the boy. We pray that this little man will go from strength to strength and really live without fear knowing truly that God has planned his life and is fashioning his pathway.

I hope this blog might encourage someone who might need to take their little one to a play therapist to take that step. Find a good one and go for it. it can only but help!!

The Risen Lord Jesus

It was pure joy going to study the bible yesterday. I have not been with a bunch of other women around God's word for quite some time now. I was like a horse heading home.

Beth Moore is the choice and Beloved is the series.

It was a great study on Revelation 1 . One of the more difficult parts of the bible and yet it begins with a magnificent description of the risen Lord Jesus who comes to his beloved disciple John. By now John is an old man and yet he is full of expectation and still, still living for God. Jesus  reveals himself to John. Although John knows Jesus well... I mean they slept, eat and worked together before he died, John can not believe his eyes and is entirely unable to utter a word. Before him, in all his glory , stands Jesus . The mighty and powerful ruler of the universe. And with such tenderness and kindness he reaches out to reassure John  before he gives him his job. Write this down!!

I am no Beth and so doubt very much I could even begin to capture in words here, for you, the picture of Jesus here shown to us in Revelation. The glorious death conquering King  returns with words of comfort and assurance and warning for the 7 churches. And John obediently writes. So we have the book of Revelation.

So much came out of the study for us all and for me in particular. But the big theme that I left with is. Jesus please let me see you as I go about my day. In the small and big things. You are here and you are mighty and kind. I really want to see and love you - help me be obedient to you so that you are seen by others. The risen Jesus described in this chapter is someone so wonderful and scary that even John could not do anything, could not say anything but to fall on his face before him. Please that I may have that picture of who you are so that I can rightly worship you and live for you here. One day I too shall see this Jesus face to face and if you are a christian today, so will you. He is beyond our understanding in his glory and yet he is kind enough to reveal that which we can behold.

I leave this with you. Go and read Revelation for yourself and taste and see this Jesus for yourself.

The Garden of kindness

Today I drove past the local school. Outside on the fence I saw lots and lots of beautifully drawn and colorfully painted flowers, fastened in a hap hazard way to the fence.  Next to these read the sign " the Garden of Kindness". as it flapped in the wind children walked to and fro for it was the end of the day.

That sign had a profound and meaningful effect on me. I literally felt it's words as if loving arms engulfed me in them.This lovely experience also lifted this local school in my sight. Where once before stood a school now I saw a school that cared about feelings. A beautiful thing that. I also realised with sadness that our school could grow in this area. I pray and hope and want to be a part of growing our very own garden of kindness.  What a beautiful thought!

The Fun and funny side of Easter- in our home

Life in the Falconer home this Easter was full and noisy. It was coming to the end of the two week school holidays and we had had a very busy visiting time. I like to do some crafty/ arty things around Easter so that we can remind ourselves about Jesus and what he did for us each on the cross. This year I decided that it might be nice to make a gospel bracelet each. Whenever we tackle one of these projects I know that they will never quite turn out like they do in books or on other people blogs. I actually quite like this. So the gospel bracelet making project began. The best part about these projects for me is the discussion and conversations that arise .

This time was no different. We talked about each colour and James read what each meant. I came to the Born Again bit and trusting Jesus for our forgiveness of sins bit and one son said " yes I have done that s o many times". I replied, ' ah, this is about Assurance." and quick of the mark he says, " oh, no mom. It is about Insurance."

Along with some other fun ideas I gleaned off the internet we decided to make Resurrection cookies. Dad pitched in and we got going. I remember from a few years ago that the "cookies" did not go down to well with the vinegar and the nuts so I decided to make plain old meringues.
To do this I used 2 different recipes and both had different ways to cook the meringues. Well in the end we landed up with delicious 'cookies' but alas with no cave like tomb inside. What a laugh. We had a yummy eat none the less.