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A conglomerate of small efforts make a beautiful blanket

Hekel blokkies - Mickey

Amazing to think that this small tower of blocks will become a blanket very soon. A blanket of joined creations, made with love in spare moments of busy days. A conglomerate of small efforts that will have a beautiful impact, a gift of many givers.  I use this analogy because it speaks to the road we traveled in 2017. A road filled with crochet block moments were the contributions of our community made all the difference.

When we got married, in need of an income,  we quickly moved to the city. Louis and I are both used to small town life, me even more so because my pre-adult life was characterized by living out of town with open space. We grew up knowing and needing our neighbours. City life was different, compartmentalized and void of neighbours although and partially because we lived in fashionable neighbourhoods. We both deeply missed community, knowing your neighbours, being neighbours.

A sense of it was restored by joining a mega church but it proved superficial when we moved to a new neighbourhood. It is in this new neighbourhood that we started our homeschooling journey and gradually became part of a community. A community of people that share talents and gifts to help and prosper one another. We are not all like minded, we do not all go to the same congregation, nor do we all use the same curriculum provider and methods. Our community is a diverse group of strong minded people from all walks of life musicians, artists, academics, artisans, engineers, builders, shopkeepers, doctors, lawyers, teachers and more often than not entrepreneurs.

We car pool and we coach, umpire, tutor and provide opportunities of growth. Our children do art, drama, sport, music and choir, they bake, build, program and experiment, well beyond math and chemistry and physics. Our strength lies in the understanding that it takes a community to raise a child.

This community was our saving grace during 2017. They became the people that helped us keep keeping on. Our whole perspective of what is important changed this year. Our dreams and hopes changed. I do not think we will ever be the same. We had to learn a lot of new skills, we had to brave some very high waves as a family. Amidst it all we were fortunate enough to be part of a community that cared enough to walk this journey with us.  Involvement is key, we had to become involved in the lives of others for them to become involved with us. It is through caring and sharing that you become a community. Sometimes you have to be there for others and sometimes they have to be there for you.  I can now define community from personal experience as people from all walks of life who willingly choose to share their lives with others.

A CONGLOMERATE OF SMALL EFFORTS… community is not business as usual.

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Hou moed!

Ons almal moet ons eie berge oor, daar is erge kanker, egskeidings, emigrasie, werkloosheid, siekte en dood. Gister tel ‘n pa sy babaseuntjie in die lug op, druk hom teen sy bors vas en sê: “Daar moet hoop wees as God nog babatjies gee.”

Die brandstof prys styg weer sterk en so staan ons gesin na 7 vanaand by Shell om tot barstens toe op te vul.  Die dampe van diesel en petrol meng om ons. Die petroljoggie is afgetrokke. Weg van my motorvenster af is hy in ‘n gesprek met die ander pertroljoggies betrokke. Hulle redekawel, hy is ongelukkig maar die ander is besig, haastig, met motors wat bly instroom. Ek sien hoe daar ‘n onderonsie is oor ‘n kaartmasjien en hoe hy ‘n ander een gaan haal. Hy loop weg met my kaarte en roep na die ander maar niemand gee gehoor. Kop skuddend kom trek hy my kaart deur die gleuf, loop weer weg en roep weer, bekla sy lot by ‘n mede petroljoggie wat darm hoor maar net skouers optrek en hom voort haas. Na my debietkaart is dit die promosiepunte kaart wat deur die gleug moet gaan. Hy vra omverskoning hy moet net die ander kaartmasjien in die hande kry vir hierdie kaart.

Die woorde HOU MOED kom in my gedagtes op, ek kyk na die merke op ons motor se voorruit, en dink, is dit ek wat moet moed hou, of hy, my ruit is nie eens soos gebruiklik skoongemaak nie. HOU MOED kom dit weer by my op. Hoe sê mens HOU MOED in engels wonder ek… Gaan ek hom die gebruiklike tip gee al is my venster vuil wonder ek? Dalk het hy dit juis vanaand meer nodig as gewoonlik? Daar is ‘n blink munt beskikbaar, ek haal dit uit, sit en wag.

Hy kom terug, die masjientjie spoeg die puntestrokie uit. Sy oë is dof. Hy gee die strokie saam met die kaart terug.

“Here you go, thank you.” sê ek met die aangee van die munt, en toe borrel dit net uit:

“HOU MOED!” sê ek vir hom.

“Verstaan jy my?” wonder ek hardop, effe desperaat.

“Ja ek doen” antwoord hy.

“HOU MOED!” borrel dit weer oor my lippe en in daai oomblik breek ‘n glimlag deur op sy gesig, dit is asof iemand die lig in sy oë aanskakel. Hy knik ons glimlag vir mekaar en ek ry weg en terwyl ek wegry bly sy glimlag en die lig in sy oë my by.

 

Vandag is EENDAG

Eendag as my skip kom…

Daar is in elkeen van ons se lewens soveel wat ons droom en bedink. Dinge wat ons wil doen en kanse wat ons wil vat. Tog bly hierdie geleenthede meermale onbenut. Die waaksame weeg en toets voor ons waag weerhou gereeld die briljante en die nuwe.

Daar is dit dan die impulsiewe se voorreg om keer op keer te val en op te staan terwyl meeste van ons ander toekyk en lewe en geleenthede verby gaan.

‘n Rukkie terug bevind ek my by ‘n plek waar alles opgeweeg word, alle sekerheid het soos mis voor die son verdwyn. In hierdie uiters onseker omstandighede word daar weer verby vandag se horison in lugkastele verby die einders van die fisiese ingeloer.

Die woorde wat op eendag volg slaan teen die vier mure van realiteite vas. Ek besef hoeveel keer ons al “eendag” gesê het. Hoeveel eendae is al verby…  en my stem roep uit:

Vandag is EENDAG!

Vir ‘n oomblik skrik ek my stil en sê dan weer: Vandag is eendag, vandag is EENDAG!

Die besef kom in my binneste lê, as vandag nie eendag is nie gaan eendag nooit gebeur nie.

Ek moet vandag daardie eendag maak waarmee en waarin ek begin om die dinge in my hart te doen.

Hoeveel eendae het al soos sandkorrels deur die uurglas van jou lewe geloop. Hoeveel keer het ons daardie uurglas al omgedraai net om weer met ons eendag hoop en drome gekonfronteer te word terwyl ons eendag sien uitloop.

Maak vandag EENDAG.

Please Groan for South Africa

Today I read that story about the person who was shocked when she went to heaven about the sinners she saw there and how Jesus replied that they are also shocked to see her.

Sin… we all are sinner but the moral of the story above is that Jesus came for sinners.

Jesus also sits at the right hand of God where He intercedes for us day and night. He understands prayer in all it’s forms.

Today I want to call on you reading this post to pray for South Africa. You do not need credentials, you can just be you with flaws and all asking the LORD to intervene.

I want to ask you to go even beyond prayer… I want to ask you to groan.

Deep within us there is a groaning that we can’t even put to words. A groaning that seeks restoration to the deepest level. In Romans 8 we read about this groaning and that

we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

God hears our groaning, His Spirit helps us here with as well.

When the Israelites went from prosperous to being slaves it released a deep groaning… They where everyday people like us. Their groaning was heard!

Now it happened after a long time [about forty years] that the king of Egypt died. And the children of Israel (Jacob) groaned and sighed because of the bondage, and they cried out. And their cry for help because of their bondage [h]ascended to God. So God heard their groaning and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Israel). God saw the sons of Israel, and God took notice [of them] and was concerned about them [knowing all, understanding all, remembering all].

Please pray for South Africa to the point of groaning!

1936 – Albertus Johannes Müller

My pa is in 1936 gebore in Natal, blonde blou oog kind, 1938 is sy pa dood en ouma word weduwee met skoonfamilie wat geen erg aan haar het nie en 3 stiefkinders. Lang storie kort moes sy met tasse en kind op die heup ‘n ander heenkome gaan soek terwyl die wêreld oorlog maak en die skoonfamilie die ander drie inneem.  Sy lewe was hard, hy was ‘n slim aangeekind wat by familie gebly het terwyl sy ma moes werk. Hy leer homself lees op 3, help sy nefies wat ouer as hy is met hulle skool werk. Later toe ek al verstand gehad het na ouma se dood, het hy hulle gaan soek… die verlore 3. Hulle was stukkend en kwaad omdat ouma hul gelos het en die familie hul baie stief behandel het. Ek weet ouma kon nie eens vir hom sorg nie… Hy het nie weer met hul kontak gemaak nie. Alleen sy pad verder geloop met sporadiese kuiers by sy ma se Vrystaat familie. Vandag wonder ek oor die plek in Zululand waar hy in 1936 sy eerste asem teug gegee het, die oupa wat ek nooit geken het nie en die drie kinders en ek wonder of die ken van die plek en hulle nageslag sou gehelp het? Die ding sirkel, soms dink mens nie daar aan nie en dan op ‘n dag wonder ‘n mens maar weer. Die wonder laat mens effe wees.