Jul 27, 2011 | Stories, The Good Word
There are moments in life when, if you’re paying attention, you’ll see Biblical truths actively happening right before your eyes. I love taking the opportunity to stop and take notice. The Truth found in the Scriptures is woven into the very fabric of our universe, but, as the saying goes, only he who sees, takes off his shoes.
Yesterday, the Hubs and I decided to do a quick workout and have a special treat afterwards. We popped into a little Italian restaurant near the gym, and it was in my mind that Italian and coffee would probably be a good combination.
We ordered two cappuccinos and a slice of cake to share, and sat in the sort of indoor-outdoor area the restaurant had inside the mall. With cosy little tables, cream-coloured tablecloths, low light and Christmas lights overhead, they’d created a sweet little space, very inviting if you’re a passer-by, perhaps especially a female one.
Our coffees arrived, and the taste was reminiscent of the powder-based coffee drinks you get from those big press-button machines at gas stations, only weaker. I dumped in a few sugar packets and was willing to drink it anyway, but the Hubs just couldn’t, spoke to the waitress about it, and then again in answer to another waiter who stopped by to ask how things were.
{cappuccino not pictured above}
The waiter took HH’s “cappuccino” away and wasn’t planning on making a second attempt. So, we ate our mediocre slice of cake whilst wondering how old it was, and then spent a few minutes trying to make eye contact in order to settle the bill.
You might be catching on to the fact that this special treat was a bit of a disappointment.
We eventually went up to the till to pay, and discovered that we were still supposed to pay for the bad coffee that had been taken away and not replaced. Out of principal we began to discuss the issue, and the waitress explained that in order to remove something from the bill, she needed her boss’s fingerprint on the finger scan thing attached to the cash register’s computer, and he wasn’t there. We also noticed that they’d charged us more for each cappuccino than the price listed on the menu.
The aforementioned waiter came over to discuss the issues regarding the bill, and insisted that we would have to pay the new price, which his boss had just entered into the computer that morning, even though it was not reflected on the menu. The waitress disagreed but sort of seemed disempowered in the situation. As the discussion continued it became apparent that their boss {whom HH is acquainted with from his college days in Bloemfontein} treats his staff so badly that they cannot employ the old adage the customer is always right for fear of losing their jobs.
We were willing to pay the new price for the cappuccino I drank, and willing to pay for the lackluster cake, but paying for the second one, which had been taken away and not replaced, seemed to be asking a little much.
Eventually it worked out that we paid for the cake and one coffee, but the manner in which all of the issues were handled left much to be desired.
Any hopes I’d had of returning there for a charming little slice of pizza with the Hubs were completely dashed, and as we hurried back to Mr. Potato Head in order to arrive at home in time for the Tank’s next feed, these words came alive in my mind:
The generous soul will be made rich, and he who waters will also be watered himself. {Proverbs 11:25}
The owner of this establishment’s unwillingness to be generous (making weak and sorry coffee, hiking prices without notifying customers appropriately, serving old cake and training staff to be penny-pinching — or rand-pinching — instead of generous) will hinder his prosperity and perhaps eventually close his restaurant.
We would’ve been willing to overlook a sorry cup of coffee and return for a meal if the mistake had been rectified, but the situation if you’ll pardon the pun, left such a bad taste in our mouths, that we won’t return to the restaurant again.
Mind you, we’re not going to go on a campaign to speak badly of the establishment (notice I’m being careful not to mention the name!) but the truth is, good news travels fast and bad news travels faster.
In our own lives, desiring to do (and not just hear) this Scripture, we recently made the decision to aim to be generous whenever possible. Within a month of that decision, we’ve seen miraculous provision come our way.
(Can you say RIDICULOUSLY AWESOME tax refund? Thanks Uncle Sam! And, INCREDIBLE AND AMAZING friends and ministry partners? WE LOVE YOU!)
Every day we have the opportunity to look at what the Bible says and choose whether or not to apply it to our lives. And as I continue be an observer of the life happening all around me, I understand more and more truth from these words:
My son, do not forget my law,
But let your heart keep my commands;
For length of days and long life
And peace they will add to you.
Let not mercy and truth forsake you;
Bind them around your neck,
Write them on the tablet of your heart,
And so find favor and high esteem
In the sight of God and man. {Prov. 3:1-4}
Have you seen the fruit of doing the word in your life?
xCC
Jul 23, 2011 | Stories, The Good Word
I have trouble loving the now. When now seems more temporary than usual, it’s hard for me to embrace it. Knowing that we now have less than two months, here and like this, does something strange in my heart.
There’s a constant voice, in the back of my mind somewhere, whispering the reminder that next time. Next time the Bear will no longer be two. Next time the baby won’t be so baby. And the reminder hinders my ability to just sit still in the now, and enjoy what is, even though it won’t be like this again. Because falling in love with a season so temporary — it feels like I’m the character on the TV show House, who married a man with a terminal illness.
I find myself keeping my heart at arm’s length instead.
I no longer hoard junk that takes up space in a closet or an attic, but I am a hoarder of moments, wishing I could somehow collect them all and store them in a recess of my mind.
When I was a kid, I used to collect tennis balls for my brother. We had a ball shooter, and he’d practice with it for hours. I’d collect balls as he smashed them strategically over the net, {occasionally in my direction} and put them back in the shooter so that he could keep going. But inevitably, I’d fall behind, and his shots would come too quickly. I’d get overwhelmed that they were coming so fast, and I’d give up trying and wait for him to stop and help me.
These days, in this place, precious moments feel like they are coming at me that quickly. The baby is standing in Goo-Goo’s lap, drooling and smiling, reaching for his nose. The Bear is outside, rolling a toy car around the table on the patio, and Goo-Goo with another car in tow, follows Him. Gammy tickles a four-month-old tummy, he laughs and both their faces are alight. The living room is chilly but filled with light in the early Bloemfontein mornings, and three of us have breakfast at the table while the little one looks on from his stroller.
So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. {Psalm 90:12}
It is the eve of four months becoming five for the new addition in our family. These days he pauses nursing just to look up at me. He looks up, his whole face changes with a big smile, and then he laughs at me as a tiny stream of bright white milk rolls down his cheek. I love it, and yet it makes my heart so sore.
I struggle at the thought that these moments can’t all be captured. I can’t pick up the tennis balls fast enough. He won’t remember me holding his finger and us giggling together in a bedroom in Bloem. I might not remember either.
But maybe somewhere down the line, ten years from now, he will be a more secure and peaceful individual because when he was a baby his mother held him and loved him and laughed with him and treasured his smiles, and his father cuddled him and rocked him and played with him until he squealed with baby delight. And his grandparents held and snuggled and walked and loved him, too.
Which would mean the moment isn’t gone or forgotten, it’s stored inside somehow. Captured in a way that megapixels can’t. Stored in a place that doesn’t have a hard drive.
And even the parts of life that are too brief to recount or even remember — a smile from a stranger, the first coo of your firstborn — those parts you might not always be able to hold onto, there’s still so much value in them. In the now, which is all we really have, after all.
I realise I can’t decide not to show up just because now isn’t forever, and can’t be held onto forever. Why drive to the beach and decide not to get out of the car just because you forgot your camera?
It seems my greatest challenge is learning to live right here, right now. If you number your days, I suppose you’ll begin to realise the best one to focus on living is this one.
xCC
Jul 13, 2011 | South Africa, Stories
In the days leading up to our departure, we sometimes felt like the town was bidding us goodbye. The friendly neighbourhood seal, whom I hadn’t spotted for ages, swam past the night before we left, putting a bright smile on my face. The day before he’d waved flipper to the Hubs to bid him farewell, too.
Those last few days were full of smiles and tears and prayers and well wishes — like life, often challenging, but sweet, and good.
Our last morning in Gordon’s Bay was a busy one. The folks moving in arrived promptly at 9 am, and we weren’t quite ready for them. We scrambled to get things together and complete some last minute errands, and finally departed the last address we’ll have in South Africa for the foreseeable future after noon.
A friend treated us to lunch and pancakes, and relaxing briefly on her couch our brains swirled in circles with all the things we’d completed, and the things we hadn’t. After lunch we needed to pass through the village again on one last errand before heading to Hermanus.
Throughout our time in Gordon’s Bay, if we were ever out after dark, we’d see this big cross, lit up and shining bright, about halfway up the mountain. During the daytime, we’d look for it, but we were never able to spot exactly where it was.
As Mr. Potato Head grumbled into the village for one last stop, for the first time ever, there we spotted the cross on the mountainside. It was as if the Lord was telling us — I was here before you, I who am and was and ever shall be, and I have always been here with you, even when you didn’t see. I will be here when you’ve gone.
Lord, bless Gordon’s Bay and watch over her.
We’ve always embarked on our day trips to Hermanus quite early in the day, and the sun shines bright on the mountains along the way. As a passenger in a right-hand drive car, I’m on the far left side of the road, and I stare out my window with them stretching skyward above me.
Mountains to the left, rocky cliffs and ocean to the right — I can’t think of a drive more beautiful than the coastal route we take to get to Hermanus.
With Gordon’s Bay in the rear view mirror, this time we were leaving in the late afternoon. The mountains were still beautiful, but different in the late afternoon sun. Their shadows stretched on ahead of us, as if they were leaning up the road, lingering as long as they could before saying goodbye.
We trust we’ll be back this way again, but only the Lord knows when. I turned to look back, through the dusty rear window of the car, and warmly stood our sweet village on the harbour, the sun’s red glow a backlight to the buildings in shadow.
I longed to turn back for just one more moment, one more sunset, one more walk with the boys. But like the water beside us that keeps on flowing — life, she keeps moving on.
xCC
Jul 4, 2011 | An Expat, Stories
Perhaps for the last time for a while, I’m spending this fourth of July away from the USA. {My Dad and I were trying to remember last night when last I spent one in the USA!} This is my second Fourth in good ol’ South Africa. (I can’t remember how many I spent in Scotland.)
Now. In case Geography isn’t your strong suit, South Africa is in the southern hemisphere.
And in case Weather and Climate aren’t up there too high on your skills list either, that means it’s winter here.
And in case you just don’t know, just because we’re in Africa doesn’t mean it’s always hot.
The Free State (the province where Bloemfontein proudly presides) is known for its cold winters. It’s on the “high veld” at a high altitude {Goo-Goo says 5-odd-thousand feet}. On a high note, the highs can reach the teens on winter days (50s and 60s Fahrenheit). On a low note, the nights tend to below f-f-f-freezing.
Meaning: It could snow. On the fourth of July. What?
{Our flags, flying in Hermanus: South Africa, America, and the UK — but we’d prefer the Scottish flag! Can you believe the Bear has a passport for each?}
So I’m celebrating this F-F-F-Fourth of July by honouring the memory of the Boston Tea Party. A hot cup of non-British tea (or six) is warming me up today, and mayhaps I’ll switch over to coffee as often as is reasonable.
Next year I’m having an extra hot dog. Blackened on the grill. With ketchup instead of tomato sauce.
In other news, I only briefly braved a glimpse at these here internets last night to let you know we’d safely arrived in Bloem. I want to more thoroughly report that the trip was fantastic. On our first day of travel we took off at about half past ten in the morning and arrived at our first destination around six in the evening, and the boys handled the travelling beautifully.
The Tank snoozed and played in his little car seat and chose very convenient times to be hungry or to need a change. The Bear enjoyed colouring in a specially-chosen-for-this-trip colouring book (about Pirates) and enjoyed stickering in a specially-chosen-for-this-trip sticker book about trains. Arrrrggggh and choo-choo! And he took a lekker nap in the afternoon.
With the presence of road works delays and the fact that we had to get back in the car, day two was a little tougher. We nevertheless persevered, taking off early and arriving comfortably in Bloem in the mid-afternoon. And e’erbody said Amen.
Thank you for your prayers. HH and I marvelled on more than one occasion at how smoothly things have gone this past week. A week ago we were packing suitcases and selling most of our stuff and trying to decide what to send to the States and tying up a dozen other loose ends. Now here we are, safely a thousand kilometres away with the logistical challenges (and some hard goodbyes) behind us, and two months of recovery and peaceful days (and then some transition!) ahead of us.
The Bear has asked a couple more times about going home and sleeping in his own bed, but he is handling things very, very well. We believe in the power of prayer, and during this season, as we were sometimes too exhausted to pray much, we’re so thankful for friends bring requests before the throne of our behalf.
What a good God we have, Who decided at the beginning we’d be able to speak to Him on behalf of one another.
And for the freedom we enjoy to exercise that gift from heaven as and how we choose, with gratefulness I wish my fellow Americans a Happy Fourth of July. And I wish my dear British friends a Happy Rebellion Day. {Call it what you will, I’m pleased with the outcome. 😉 } And to everybody else, Happy Monday!
xCC
Jul 1, 2011 | Stories, The Parenthood
Although yesterday was was a little on the hectic side, we made it through a crazy morning of last minute errands, the new folks arriving to move in promptly at nine a.m., me discovering a gabillion things I forgot to make a plan about…and the Hubs having to pack and repack Mr. Potato Head to fit everything in. (With the Bear balancing something on his head.)
HH was almost close to throwing one box in the trash without even checking to see what was inside. Good thing he didn’t — there was half a bag of Ghiradelli (too tired to check on how to spell that, forgive me magical chocolate people) dark chocolate chips, the prescriptions he’d just paid about 50 bucks (US!) for, the stuff that he makes our morning lattes with, and coffee grounds, and a bunch of other important stuff inside. Shew, that was a close one.
We are now safely in lovely Hermanus, having spent the night with some dear friends after getting away from Gordon’s Bay after lunch yesterday.
Last night as we lay the Bear down in the bed we eventually ended up all sharing for the evening (because the Bear kept falling off the mattress on the floor!) he said he wanted to go sleep in his bed at home.
It made my heart sore a little.
The four of us were together on the bed, and the Hubs said “Home is right here. Wherever we are, altogether, that’s home. We’re home.”
Sometimes it feels like home in Gordon’s Bay was where we became a family. But I trust that family can be home for a while.
Tomorrow we’ll take off for Bloemfontein and hopefully it will be a relaxed two-day journey getting us there on Sunday evening.
I’m hoping for some peaceful car time with both boys sleeping so that I can write my way through the whirlwind of emotions that was this past week. What do you think my chances are?
Thanks for your prayers, friends. I think the hard part’s over, even though this adventure is just beginning.
xCC
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