Dec 2, 2009 | Baby Photos, South Africa, Stories, The Good Word
There are a lot of things I love about the Christmas season. A lot of them have to do with twinkly lights, chilly weather, happy smiley faces at shopping malls, pretty window displays, and peppermint mochas at Starbucks. But what I want my heart to be about in this season has nothing to do with a lot of that, and I feel like being halfway around the world again this Christmas is another opportunity for my heart to learn to focus on the real meaning of the season.
Sure there will be an opportunity for books…
And toys…
and even a little sparkle and twinkle…
But as I was reading in Exodus yesterday and today, I was reminded of what really distinguishes the people of God as the people of God: His presence. We celebrate Christmas because Christ has come. And we celebrate the fact that because He has come, He is present with us, dwelling in our hearts, directing our steps, and changing the world through us.
In Exodus 33, Moses was kind of at his wit’s end. He was up on Mt. Sinai for forty days receiving the commands of God, and the people got sort of “impatient” waiting for him…and then things got ‘rowdy’ and ridiculously out of hand. They’d basically decided “Forget Moses…he’s been gone a long time and who knows what happened to him? Let’s find a new god to worship, and have some fun!” Moses and the Lord had a long chat about this unfortunate situation, and God decided He would still give the people the land He promised them, but He wasn’t going to be with them when they went to inherit it. I think He was so mad He thought He’d just wipe them off the face of the earth if He spent any more time with them.
Moses was distraught. He said to the Lord, “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here. For how then will it be known that Your people and I have found grace in Your sight, except You go with us? So we shall be separate, Your people and I, from all the people who are upon the face of the earth.” The Lord had given other people groups land. The Lord had blessed other people groups with promises. But the covenant sign that Moses was seeking was the mark of God’s presence in the lives of His people. If You aren’t going with us… I don’t wanna go!
Moses found grace in the sight of the Lord, and the Lord promised to go with them. And as the story continues into Exodus 34, we find that the being in the presence of God is so unmistakably incredible that when Moses returns to talk to the people, after speaking with God, his face and skin shines so much they have to put a veil over him. There is beautiful, changing power when we get into the presence of God.
So this Christmas, I am looking forward to the things that make my heart a little happier and my step a little lighter, but more than that, I want to celebrate Emmanuel — the God with us, who came to this Earth so that we, like Moses, could find grace in the presence of God, and be transformed. Tis the Season for a lot of things…but for His Presence most of all!
Nov 26, 2009 | Baby Photos, South Africa, Stories
Ya know, it might be a little hard to celebrate Thanksgiving in the southern hemisphere at the moment. I don’t know where to find cranberry in a can or canned pumpkin for pumpkin pie or that special topping everybody seems to use for green bean casserole. And I definitely don’t have any Jiffy Cornbread mix or Nestle Toll House chocolate chips. And, honestly, no matter what it doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving without the following:
My Mom’s sweet potato casserole, my brother scraping most of said sweet potato casserole topping onto his plate, a football game on TV, that sleepy post-turkey-triptophan feeling, and for the past few Thanksgivings I’ve been back in the States to enjoy, stepping in a wee pond of my brother’s dog’s drool as he lies on the kitchen floor with those pitiful big brown eyes and that look of — are you really gonna eat all that and give me dog food?
While it’s tough to be away from home at these times of year, and though my Thanksgiving lunch was a (surprisingly tasty) toasted bacon, egg and cheese sammie (sandwich) at a nearby coffee shop that boasts free wifi, I’m still giving thanks down here in South Africa. And here are just a few of the many many things I’m thankful for at the moment.
Of course I’m gonna say this guy. I am so thankful for him, and his wonderful wonderful Daddy! Love you my delightful boys!
And I’m thankful for enjoying my own football game today. Complete with a star player in a very special t-shirt. A little different from the games you might be watching if you’re in the US…
My sister is expecting and I’m really thankful for this new little one on his or her way into the world. You’re gonna have great parentals, kiddo!!
I’m thankful for our new home here in SA. Here’s Harold, our friendly but perhaps a little dangerous neighbourhood seal, doing tricks with a fish! It’s a show we enjoy from our balcony! Our evening Thanksgiving meal will be boerewors with potatoes and butternut squash, grilled on the braai on said balcony!
There’s a lot more I am very thankful for…my great family in good health back in the US, so many good friends around the world, friends very dear to me getting married soon, and a list of other things that goes on and on, I have limited this post to a few that are easily illustrated! And while I might have tonsilitis and be far away from home, I still have so much to give thanks for this Thanksgiving. We are in a great place, and we’re where we’re supposed to be. And living life inside the will of God is a wonderful thing to give thanks for, any day of the year.
Happy Thanksgiving friends near and far! Don’t forget to give thanks!
Nov 17, 2009 | South Africa, Stories, Travel..ling Tuesdays
Top of the Tuesday to ya! I hope your week is off to a great start! It is Travelling Tuesday again! (Forgive me for bailing last week when I was a grumpymuggins and not feeling well.) A few weeks ago Mark captured what I considered quite a stunning shot of some clouds coming over the Hottentots Holland Mountains. Here’s the backstory.
The Collie Clan went for a stroll at a nearby wine farm a few weeks ago, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and, as she often does, adventure caught up with us there. We encountered a big beautiful peacock on his way to the cheesery. Delightful!
I would’ve thought he’d have gone for the chocolate shop but, to each his own.
After a while, the Bear got tired of being held and did some of his delightful and mischievous crawling around, here there and everywhere. At one point, he was just a short distance away from us, and we both simultaneously turned to look at him, because the wind picked up, and the outdoor umbrellas, which were closed, looked like they might still be blown over. Not two seconds later, down one comes and — surely it’s not going to hit him on the head — yes, the huge umbrella bops him on top of the head.
It was like it happened in slow motion — the umbrella s-l-o-w-e-d down just before bopping him — as if an angel happened along just in time to hold it back. He got the fright of his life (maybe besides his circumcision) and kind of crumpled over. We ran over to pick him up and I cuddled him for ages, but after forty-five seconds it seemed like he’d totally recovered! He is very brave. He didn’t have a bump anywhere on his head — just a couple of tiny wee scratches on his face from his landing. And ya know, I think mother’s intuition warned me about those umbrellas but I thought — surely not, you’re being overly protective! I will listen next time!
The staff who saw it happen felt absolutely terrible, and gave him a HUGE chocolate lollypop, which he proceeded to devour in two, yes two bites. He still only had one tooth at the time (a few more are on their way in right now!) … how did he do that? In the end, I think he decided the mishap was totally worth the treatment afterwards. Here he is, struggling to keep his mouth closed with a huge bite of chocolate inside:
And afterwards, in a chocolatey stupor. (He refused to share, mind you.)
Finally, just before our departure, Mark captured some shots as the clouds began to pour over the Hottentots Holland Mountains. It is so beautiful to watch the clouds move like this… cascading and pouring over so gently and so quickly. It seems like it happens a lot in this part of the world, but I’d never seen it before I came here.
So that’s this Travelling Tuesday! Happy Trails, wherever the journey may take you!
Nov 13, 2009 | South Africa, Stories
For the past couple of days, we’ve had swallows visiting, and behaving a bit strangely. They were flying around, divebombing in different directions, continually coming up to our balcony, and occasionally flying directly into the clear glass doors. Ouch! Then one appeared, perched on the light up on the wall on our balcony, and then another…then another. And eventually five birds were snuggled together, perched atop this rounded outdoor light fixture, almost pushing each other off.
We got a few photos but mostly left them to it, although they were not bothered in the least when Mark took photos of them, and even touched them. It was strange! Here are the birds in question:
The next morning, we discovered two of the birds just kind of lying together on the floor of the balcony, and they seemed so strangely tired, we just left them there again, and wondered what was the matter. Mark thought perhaps since swallows are migratory birds, they’d just arrived in Gordon’s Bay (perhaps expecting it to be slightly warmer — it has been unusually and unseasonably cold) and they were very tired because the wind has been hectic. So it was fine for our balcony to serve as a birdie rest haven for a wee while.
Then, while I was doing some early prep work for a big tasty dinner last night (an early African Thanksgiving, I made sweet potato fluff!) I just saw something drop and heard this thud on the balcony — one of the birds was lying there just behind the grill. “Mark!!!” I announced, “One of the birds has fallen off!! I think you need to help it!”
I must here interject an important point. You might meet Mark one day, dear reader. Depending on what part of the world you’re from, especially if it’s outside the southern hemisphere, you might mistake him for an Australian. This is an egregious error. To the untrained ear, Australian and South African accents seem similar, but they are indeed different. Different accents, different countries, different continents, different rugby teams, and different ways of cooking meat over an open flame. We once met with a dear sweet pastor back in North Carolina who after a few minutes of conversation exclaimed, “Dude, you’re like the Croc Hunter incarnate!” My husband is many delightful and heroic things, but friends he is no Steve Irwin, Jr. And I am not Terry. And we don’t have any pictures of the Bear near crocodiles either. Mark is rather good with animals in most situations, but let the record show, he is not the Croc Hunter. Â Now on with the story. After a picture of the Non-Croc Hunter with the bird in question:
So, Mark went outside and picked up the poor bird, who did indeed seem very tired. He tried to help him onto a porch chair, but the bird seemed keen rather to stay in his hand. He held him and warmed him for a little while. We brought out a little burp cloth blankie for him to cuddle in, but he didn’t really want to stay in it. Eventually, Mark decided to place him in a box with the blankie inside, and let him rest for a while. Someone was coming in the afternoon to install our big wireless internet receiver thingy out on the balcony, and there would be some noisy drilling, so it would be better if dear Baby Bird came inside for a rest.
I got back to my sweet potato fluff and Baby Bird was peacefully on the counter in the box, never making a sound. I was occasionally freaked out as I walked past the box thinking…this bird could decide he feels better and explode outta that box at any minute! I found myself taking routes around the flat that avoided getting near the front of the box where the lid was slightly ajar. Eventually he started to stir a little, after the outdoor maintenance was finished, and Mark took him back outside to see if he wanted to get out and perhaps fly off. I was a little concerned about letting him out of the nest so soon. Motherly instincts.
Anyway, he perched on the edge of the box like so:
Mark helped him out of the box, and at one point he tried to fly away, but THUD! He hit the ledge just below the railing on the balcony, and we felt so so sorry for him. I thought perhaps he would need to rest a while longer. Mark picked him up again and held him for a while. I went back inside to continue Facebooking my Mom or something, and all of a sudden heard Mark shouting, “GO BIRDIE, GO BIRDIE, GO BIRDIE GO!!! OH NOOOO!!!!” I scurried back onto the balcony to discover that our bird decided to take another leap of faith, made it out halfway across the harbour, and then ran out of gas. We watched in shock and utter disappointment. After a big wet feathery raucous, he was just floating along in the water, struggling to get to shore. It was clear he wasn’t going to make it. I immediately remembered the net down by the pool for scooping up leaves and said, “Mark, you could go get the net at the pool and run and fish him out! Maybe he’ll still be okay!” Then we watched as a seagull took a couple of pecks at him and we shouted, “No, seagull! No!”
The plan was in action. Mark rushed down to the pool, grabbed the net, and ran around the harbour to where the bird was. I stayed on the balcony to keep an eye on the bird and direct Mark to where he’d floated when he made it to the other side. (The Bear napped through this entire adventure). Mark arrived to the rescue amazingly quickly. Only there was an issue. The net was not long enough to reach our feathered friend. I stood there and could see the disappointment on Mark’s face as he scrambled along the rocks and tried to figure out what to do. And since there was no other way to rescue him, let’s be honest, in my heart of hearts, I really hoped Mark would go for a swim for our bird.
And he did.
As you can see, the local cormorant and crane, and two geese looked on, but did nothing to help our birdie friend. Birds of a feather… It was at about this stage that I remembered we’d just five minutes before seen Harold, the local harbour seal, up to his shenanigans, no more than thirty or forty feet from where Mark went for a swim. We have heard that Harold can be rather aggressive because he is so used to humans, and always expects them to feed him. So I was snapping photos and praying, “Lord please don’t let the seal attack my husband! Lord please don’t let the seal attack my husband!”
Finally, Mark was back on shore with the bird in tow. I quickly found a towel and hurried down to meet him. He came around the corner, bird in one hand, pool net and flip flops in the other. And that was when he broke the news. Our bird didn’t make it. It was either the pecks of the seagull or the little birdie lungs full of water that did him in. At least we know it was quick and hopefully peaceful. The soggy hero returned:
It was a really sad moment. We were bummed for a bit of the afternoon that our birdie friend didn’t make it. But I think someday Mark will do something like this again, when the Bear is old enough to understand what’s going on, and he will be so proud of his Not-the-Croc-Hunter-but-still-great-with-animals Dad. I already am.
Here’s to a Hero of a Hubs!
xCC
Nov 7, 2009 | South Africa, Stories
After moving into our new place, we had a couple of minor issues that needed the attention of an electrician and a handyman. Fortunately, our letting agency sent over a nice gentleman who is both. He sorted out a broken light socket in the kitchen, and the next week was sent over again to work on the issue that the doors onto our balcony might be blown in at any moment. The southeaster, she was a blowin’.
We discovered in conversation that this gentleman is not just a handyman of note, he is also a Christian. On top of that lovely discovery, he shared about the way the Lord radically changed his life when he repented and came to faith, and his excellent story includes starting a church in a township nearby. Bonus! He was planning to visit the church in the township the following Sunday and we asked if we could come along. Or we may have been invited, I can’t remember.
At any rate.
Photo by Randy OHC @ flickr
We thought we might be able to organise a shoe distribution with the help of this church, perhaps in the not-too-distant future. And hey, we’re looking for a church to call home, why not explore all the possibilities? This was obviously the beginning of a bit of adventure for a small town gal from Washington, North Carolina.
I am not sure I can accurately describe my experience of briefly passing through the township to attend church there. It is like life is just unceasingly happening — you never know what you’re going to see next, and you might be surprised to find that the people who live there are just surprised as you. As Mr. Potato Head grumbled along through the dusty streets, we saw sights we expected: Mamas with their babies strapped to their backs with bath towels or blankets, people carrying heavy things on their heads, lots of children everywhere. We also saw the unexpected: seven or eight men had picked an entire shack up over their heads, and were moving it casually down a hill to whoknowswhere. Things were so crowded I wondered where they would find a place to set it down. I also wondered if this was an everyday occurrence, but when I saw other people watching and pointing with bewildered laughs and stares, I decided I was fortunate enough to witness something very special. People were dressed up for church and heading in the opposite direction so I wondered if we’d chosen the right church to visit! We kept following our handyman friend in the bakkie (truck) in front of us.
A few moments later, we found ourselves inside a small church building, cinder block, tin roof and plastic chairs. Most of the men sat on one side and women on the other, but we’d already been seated before we noticed. (Not that we would’ve moved.) The pastor was still sharing the Sunday School Teaching, about fasting, and in my ignorance for a moment I marveled at the encouragement that people who might not have a lot to eat should fast. We’d sat near the back where there were plenty of chairs, and we took up lots of space, four adults and the Bear. As the church filled up and filled up we gradually scooted together and were cozy and hot by the end of our time there.
The very enthusiastic worship was in a language I didn’t know. Most of the congregation are immigrants from Zimbabwe, so we’ve concluded it may have been Shona. (Unfortunately I didn’t have the words on a screen to try my best with this time!) These folks moved to South Africa in hopes of opportunities for a better life. I don’t know whether they feel like they’ve found what they’re looking for. They faced severe brutality recently during the xenophobia attacks that swept across SA. Our handyman friend provided refuge for dozens of people — they slept in his home and shed and garage during the crisis. Many of them now no longer stay in this township, since they left when things were dangerous, but they return for church week after week.
The enthusiasm the people showed for the things of God was inspiring. Sometimes people have different ways of doing things and it is hard for an outsider to look on without being critical. Pledges for the building fund were being shouted out, and people were clapping for those making their pledges. I found myself walking the tightrope of trying to stay above being critical during this bit…but I remembered some lessons from my international studies classes, and the conclusion I often came to, that it is really difficult for anyone who is not a part of a culture to accurately perceive it, because we are all wearing our own cultural lenses. And I suppose when churches back in the States have building fundraisers, those who give a lot often receive praise in one way or another.
The church had had an all-night prayer meeting the night before, and had gone home for an hour or two of sleep, to get something to eat, and then return for Sunday school. I wasn’t sure I could convince the Bear to behave long enough for us to stay through the service…and I admired the stamina of these folks, who didn’t look at all tired to me as they danced and sang and worshiped the Lord. I think I could learn a lot if I stuck around for a while.
Our handyman friend encouraged us to head out after we’d shared about our work with Samaritan’s Feet and Mark brought a word of encouragement to the church. I stood on stage beside him with the Bear and was embarrassed at how wiggly and wild he was being. If your kid’s used to a schedule… As we stood outside and said a few goodbyes before following our handyman friend out, one little girl came over for a hug. I picked her up and gave her a hug and a kiss, and my heart just pined with compassion that I am not sure how to channel.
As I reflect on the time I’ve spent with ‘the poor,’ in Zambia, in Mexico, and here in South Africa, I am constantly amazed at the joy and contentedness I see in so many faces. Obviously I am not speaking about those in abject poverty, or trying to ‘romanticise’ it — but those living in ways that ‘Westerners’ might consider ‘poor’ often have a remarkable joy. Perhaps it is because a lot of the ‘poor’ I’ve spent time with are Christians. It challenged me to remember something I heard recently: if you have more than 5 shirts in your closet, you are probably better off than 90% of the world’s population. (I can’t confirm this and am not sure I’m remembering it correctly!) But the point is — if you have clothes to wear, food to eat, and a place to live, you have a lot to be thankful for.
We drove out of the township and got some lunch at a nearby shopping mall, which kind of made my head spin. From poverty to wealth in 3 miles flat. There is so much more to say, that is difficult to put into words. Mother Teresa once said,
“In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.â€
The opportunities to do small things with great love are where I am, and where you are. Even if it’s just for one person, I look forward to making a difference.
Nov 5, 2009 | South Africa, Stories, The Good Word
I don’t know, dear reader, how close you are with your family. I would love to be closer with mine, in the metaphorical sense, but my distance from them, in the literal sense, sort of makes it difficult. I moved to Scotland in 2005, and then here to South Africa earlier this year, and though absence does make the heart grow fonder, the 7,000 odd miles I find myself away from home are quite a chasm when it comes to staying close. Thankfully we can still speak regularly through email and Facebook and on Skype, but ya know, it just ain’t the same sometimes!
Because of the distance I’ve made it a major priority to get home when possible…usually it worked out once in the summer when I could also meet with ministry partners and raise additional support, and again at Christmas, because it’s Christmas, and there’s no place in the world I’d rather be! After Mark and I married we decided we should alternate where we would be each year for Christmas. So our first Christmas was back in NC, and then the next year, for the first time in my life, I was not home in Washington, North Carolina at the same house I’d spent every Christmas since the day I was born. It was nice to be with Mark’s family in South Africa, but I really really missed my folks, my brother and sister, and the lovely life and light and spirit in the air that you find when you are home for Christmas.
This year, you’ll see if you’re following the narrative, should be a back-in-North-Carolina-for-Christmas year. And I sure do want it to be. Unfortunately, there is a strong possibility it might not be. I have to note here, that we have had the wonderful privilege of being at home a lot this year. Since we weren’t there last Christmas, we planned a trip early in the new year to see family and try to raise additional ministry support. And delightfully, last Christmas my sister got engaged, and we returned to NC in May to celebrate her wedding, which was an absolute joy. When we decided to move to South Africa, that meant we returned to the US a third time to meet with Samaritan’s Feet, discuss us coming on board with their ministry, and as always seems to be the case, to raise support again, while visiting family as well. Clearly, I cannot complain that I haven’t seen the fam a good bit this year.
At present we find ourselves in South Africa, and as you can imagine, the travels and the expenses of moving to a new country are fairly expensive. As a result, headin’ home for da holidays doesn’t seem financially feasible, or like a good stewardship decision. Yeah, we could probably juggle around finances and clear space on a credit card to make it possible, but we both feel like that’s the wrong move to make. There’d been a tiny whisper in the back of my mind telling me Christmas in the Carolinas might not happen this year… I’d been telling it to HUSH! But as we sat down and looked at the price of flights and our financial status at the moment, it became really clear that the right decision would be NOT to buy flights, and to wait and go sometime early next year, like hopefully when Rory and Sarah are getting married, which is also after my sister’s baby will be born so I’ll get to meet him/her too. (Yeah that was fast wasn’t it?) But dern, that is hard!
I cried a little. Okay a lot. But came to my senses and remembered that the Lord is good and that He can bring all these things together for good, even when they don’t look exactly how I would like for them to. I decided to press on to some quiet time with the Lord after a slightly weepy shower, and just continued along in my reading plan, which brought me to Exodus 14. And where might that be, you are wondering? Well, it’s the slice of history where Moses leads the Iraelites out of Egypt, and out of 400 years of slavery. I was hoping for the Lord to meet me in His Word — to give me a sense of His movement in the midst of my circumstances, and I stopped at verses 13 & 14.
“Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will accomplish for you today. […] The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.â€
After reading this I thought — Okay, Lord, what is my deliverance? Should I be praying that something miraculous will happen that will enable us to head home for the holidays? Why doesn’t that feel right? Are you fighting for me? And as my prayer continued I began to realise that the Lord was fighting for me. He was not fighting for me to have my way — He was fighting for my heart, for me to realise that I should asking Him to lead me in His way, because His way is the best way. And I recognised in my heart, when I honestly took a look at it, that going home to see my family had become more important to me than listening to the Lord, and being where He wants me when He wants me.
It’s like the scene in Dumb and Dumber when Harry and Lloyd are going back and forth “Tag! You’re it…†“Tag… you’re it, quitsies!†“Tag, you’re it, stamped it!†“Tag you’re it, double stamped it!†and finally one of them sticks his fingers in his ears and says “Lalalalalala not listening! Lalalalalala†I think I might’ve been the one with my fingers in my ears…sort of sensing for a while the Lord’s desire for me to seek Him and His will, instead of chasing after my own.
What’s amazing is, the Lord orchestrated that tight spot — when the Israelites were facing the Red Sea in front of them, and the Egyptian army rolls up ready to take them by force, approaching faster and faster — to show His desire to be the Lord of His people, to demonstrate clearly that He desired their deliverance, and He would make a way for them. If they had a choice, they might not have chosen to cross the Red Sea. They might have chosen to take a different route, an easier route. But the route God chose for them — crossing the Red Sea — has been a pillar of faith for generations. Their children’s children’s children heard the stories about the miraculous deliverance of the Israelites, by their powerful and loving God.
In the same way, the Lord orchestrated a tight spot for me. I could choose to circumvent His will and get to North Carolina somewaysomehow, but the deliverance God provided for me, which I needed to walk in, was the deliverance from my desire to do what I want, at the expense of disobeying the Lord I’ve committed to serve, who loves me and knows what’s best for me. Our deliverance is often not the deliverance that provides us with everything we ever wanted, it’s the deliverance from the selfish and sinful nature, and the deliverance that helps us realise there is something better than our way — God’s way.
So, I’m hoping I’ve taken my fingers out of my ears, and stopped with my “lalalalalalanotlisteninglalala…†God has been too good to me for me not to trust Him when things aren’t going my way. I’d encourage you to look for God’s deliverance in your life today. I warn you — it may look different from what you expect. But from what I know of the goodness of God, He will work things out for your good, if you can love Him and walk His way.
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