Opgedra aan almal wat vir ons lief is. Die wat nie spesifiek vir ons lief is nie, mag ook maar kyk.

12 Julie 2014

Vincent 3

Noudat jy 3 is...


En eintlik self jou tande kan borsel, en eintlik self kan gaan piepie soos jy by die skool al lankal doen, en eintlik self jou klere kan aan en uittrek, en eintlik self aan die slaap kan raak sonder dat Mamma 'n uur lank by jou moet le. En eintlik 'n goeie wiks moet kry as jy ons slaan - al doen jy dit redelik halfhartig. En eintlik dadelik moet luister as ons praat en nie ja maar en ek wil eers moet se nie. Eintlik ons moet vertrou dat ons meestal weet wat goed is vir jou. Maar dit nie heeltemal doen nie, omdat jy ook jou likes en dislikes het, en nie in 'n blik of boksie gedruk wil word nie. Waar le die lyne? Soms is dit moeilik om dit raak te sien, dit is so fyn.


Jy wat my sooo styf vasgehou het toe ek van Israel af teruggekom het en nie wou los nie. Maar nie gehuil het nie - en toe jy my eindelik los met oorgawe voor ons uit deur die lughawe gehuppel het. Wat stoele omgegooi het van kwaadwees en hartseerwees toe jy en Pappa tuiskom na julle my afgelaai het. Jy wat so hartseer en kwaad raak as ek jou net 'n ligte raps gee as jy nie wil luister nie - maar nie 'n deal wil maak dat ons twee nooit weer aan mekaar slaan nie. Maar wel baie mooi in stilte luister toe ek vir jou verduidelik dat ek net so voel soos jy as jy aan my slaan, dat dit slegte mans is wat aan hulle vrouens slaan, en dat ons nie wil he jy moet 'n slegte man word nie. En toe in stilte jou klere uittrek en in die bad klim. Jy is goed met luister - ons praat te veel en vergeet dit. Ons bid dat jy sal leer om in die lewe net te luister na dit wat belangrik is vir wie jy is.












16 Junie 2014

Tribute to Mel

Remembering you and Taipei.... the jungle of sugary sweet bread of all the colours of the rainbow, night markets with their unmistakable stinky tofu smells (I never could get close enough to try it) and thousands and thousands of people. Half of the them bloody mouthed rotting toothed spitting beetlenut.. ahem, lets be nice, gentlemen. We sought out the stalls with good soy milk drinks, coffee shops that sold pumpkin pie (Grandma Nitties) and nice big mugs of coffee, the not-so-crowded mountain walks (do you remember the spider webs?) the tea farms.
Cried together when we missed home and the smog was horrible to run in and the kids became too much.










Up Toroko Gorge in the big bus which hung so far over the precipices that we had to close our eyes or look the other way. I am glad that we only heard afterwards that every one in so many buses get flattened by rock falls and do not make the turns.  Down Toroko Gorge in the last mini bus with the movie that started over each time the bus went through a dip in the road. We must have seen the start of that movie  50 times (was it die hard 2? I can't remember, but that would have been funny)
And the very smelly gentleman sitting behind you who liked your hair so much...

Sitting on the beach at Hualien, watching the approaching taiphoon, and wondering when a good time would be to take the train back to Taipei. Or if we should just hole in and have a good reason not to go to school the next day. I still think we should have... when will we ever have time to experience a taiphoon THAT close again?

The earthquake and the really really weird unearthly rumbling that went before it. the fear of not knowing whether it will get worse or go away. The torrential rain of the taiphoons - going out to inspect the damage in the streets as soon as we could go outside without getting swept away.







And the orchids, oh wow the orchids!  The market under the bridge every weekend, sending orchids home in a box labeled stationary every few weeks.  Vaguely knowing that its not really allowed, never knowing that a few years later I would be intimately acquainted with the SA plant quarantine system and it's people. 




 One of them still survives.
 
I wish I could remember more Chinese...I do say hi and how are you and count to 10 with the lady at the china shop who gives toys and hugs to my son when he walks out with a basket that he thought we could use, without even thinking about the fact that we should buy it first. The beautiful innocence of youth. 

You were and always will be an inspiration to me, Mel. I am proud to be your friend. I hope we get to meet again someday. 

30 Mei 2014

Montessori spiders



I’m a daddy long legs,
But my feet are the size of pegs.
I’d like to eat a wasp or bee,
Because that is so plainly me.
I would like to get a docket,
And fly up to space in a rocket.
I’d fly away to the stars,
Then to the moon and Mars.

That’s what I’d like to really do,
But if you measure me in millimetres I’m only one by two.
Even if I were taller I couldn’t do that,
I’d probably get eaten by a space cat.

To fly to space would be my dream,
But some dreams are not what they seem.
So I guess I’ll have to stay on earth,
Where I’ve been since my birth.


By Cassie


A Spider sewed at Night
Without a Light
Upon an Arc of White
If Ruff it was of Dame
Or Shroud of Gnome
Himself himself inform.
Of Immortality
His Strategy
Was Physiognomy.

Emily Dickinson

13 Mei 2014

Windmills of your mind



Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!

Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head
When did summer go so quickly? Was it something that you said?
Lovers walking along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find in 
The windmills of your mind!

Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head
When did summer go so quickly? Was it something that you said?
Lovers walking along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over in the autumn of good-byes
For a moment you could not recall the color of his eyes!
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find in 
The windmills of your mind!

03 Mei 2014

Magic

I was driving back from a quick visit to friends I haven't seen for a long time at around 5 pm today, when I passed these trees. It was one of those moments where you see something that holds such a lot (in this case a place) and you only realize what you saw when you have passed it.
The moment clung to my wake and overtook me, and I made a U-turn and immediately felt the excitement of the lone explorer. Vincent was sleeping in the back - so I was truly alone and in a magical place. It was a rare enjoyment. 









I will go back some day and find the poetry that goes with it. For now it is enough to know that it is there.

07 April 2014

1 John 5:6

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFSm5_4afro

And darkness came upon the face of the earth
the curtain tore
from the holy divine
to the very heart of human
water and blood
surely this must be the Son of God

the Spirit hovers like a dove
Christ from the beginning
From the beginning
Christ

28 Februarie 2014

About a boy

A friend asked me recently what I like most about being a mother. I wished I could answer him with a poem, as he does me when I ask him complex questions.
But I am not so good with poems.
Yet.
And I might never be. That is ok too.

I loved the thought of being a mother, long before I even knew I loved it. Women are made to be moms. I knew no other reality.
I didn't know then how much I would love the reality of being a mom, nor how hard it would be.

It is a paradox, a constant tension. But love overcomes in the end. Love reigns supreme.

I love getting to be a part of molding a life. A pot that grows more beautiful as the wheel turns. And sometimes I miss a few turns because I was distracted by someone at the door, and when I look back, the pot is even more beautiful than I ever planned or imagined it.
Unlike a pot, I can't start over if I don't like the outcome. But I can, with infinite patience and care, straighten out the creases and push out the air bubbles.
And thank God people, even little ones, understand apologies. Unlike pots who would just... well, give a potlike stare, I guess.
I don't know pots that well.

But I know my son, and he is beautiful. He is more beautiful than any other kid I know, because he is mine. And because I know him better than any other.
And he knows me, sometimes better than I know myself. We are made to know and be known. By someone. Anyone. And what a blessing if we are able.

I love the way he smiles when he is happy. I love that he sings when he is really happy. I love his stubbornness, even though it sometimes drives me nuts. I love how, when I have his eyes, I have his heart. Even though it sometimes takes a while to get his eyes.

I love how he walks into a new place, and wanders around until he knows it, and knows that he is safe, knows where the exits are, knows where the comfortable places are. And if there are cars around, he will find them. Any size car will do.  Then he checks out what I am doing and if it looks like fun. If it is, he usually he joins me for a while, until I get lost in conversation too much. Then he goes and finds his comfortable place and parks there to wait for me.

There is so much more to say, but time and words are not enough.

And this post was supposed to be about motherhood.
But it has turned out to be about a boy.

23 Februarie 2014

Arende


Ek het pottebakkery by tannie Ina geneem op laerskool. Nie baie lank nie. My pa wou altyd gehad het ek moet ‘n arend maak vir bo-op die muurtjie in die sitkamer. Ek wou baie graag – ek kon dit sien. Een met uitgespreide vlerke wou ek gehad het. Ek dink hy wou een gehad het wat sit met sy vlerke toegevou.
Vir arende maak uit klei, moet mens baie oefening hê met pottebakkery. Ek kon amper nie eers ‘n pot maak wat nie gewobble het en uitmekaargeval het op die wiel nie. En toe het ek opgehou met klasse. Die arend het nooit gebeur nie.
Nou het ons ‘n seuntjie. Vincent “oorwinnaar” Arend. Hy het die potensiaal om sy vlerke wyer te sprei as wat ek ooit het. As ons hom toelaat om self sy vlerke oop te maak, en hulle nie te probeer oopdwing nie. En as ons dan die wind onder sy vlerke is – hom aanmoedig om op te staan en nie op te hou as hy val nie.  As ons naby genoeg aan hom staan (terwyl ons nog kan) om te keer dat hy nie te hard val nie, maar nie so naby dat ons hom uit reaksie vang as hy net sy knie gaan skraap nie. Want seuntjies moet geskraapte knieë hê so nou en dan.  
Om die balans kan vind tussen hom los om op sy eie elke miershoop en grasspriet in die berg te ondersoek, maar nog steeds by te hou by sy ouers wat by die huis wil kom voor die son sak omdat daar geëet en gebad en geslaap moet word, is moeilik. Dit vat kreatiwiteit en ‘n sin vir humor. Streng wees, maar ook redelik wees. Die lyne is so fyn.
Ons het nou baie meer begip vir wat ons ouers met ons deurgemaak het. Aan die een kant so moeilik, maar aan die anderkant ‘n herontdekking van onsself, en hoe om dieselfde grasie met onsself te hê.
Dit vat ‘n tydjie, sjoe. Daar is so baie faktore wat gejuggle moet word, huishouding, werk, Vincent, vriendskappe, kerk, 3-2-1 projekte (hier loop die gene sterk aan altwee kante, ons sal seker nie daarvanaf kan wegkom nie!) Gelukkig vir twee stelle oupa’s en ouma’s wat naby genoeg is om te vang wanneer daar gevang moet word – ons is dankbaar vir hulle en dankbaar vir die Here.


Mag Hy ons almal leer hoe om in elke situasie ons vlerke te sprei en te vlieg, en nie af te kyk na hoe ver die grond is nie. 

19 Februarie 2014

'n Baie anderste troue

Ons het so 'n maand terug betrokke geraak by Niklaas, Paarl se karwasman. Hy is 'n bekende gesig in Paarl se strate met sy waentjie. Ek het sy storie toevallig op Youtube gesien omtrent 'n jaar gelede, en was diep geraak deur sy getuienis.

http://www.barometer.mobi/p/639235/niklaasrsquo-carwash-service

Die dag wat ons stories en hulle s'n gekruis het, was ek besig om met Vincent van die skool af te stap. Hulle het van agter af by ons verbygekom - en ek het gevra of hulle 'n kar wil was. Dit was die begin van wat hopelik 'n lang pad saam sal wees. Ek het die voorreg gehad om getuie by hulle troue te wees (die eerste keer wat ek 'n troue by binnelandse sake bywoon!), en ook om die wedding planner te wees (nog 'n eerste). Dit was 'n pragtige troue, hulle was altwee baie gespanne maar die onverwagste "onthaal" na die tyd het hulle heeltemal onkant gevang en dit was pragtig om te sien.







Hy en sy vrou Ursula woon op die oomblik by sy ma in 'n ou gebou op 'n stuk grond waar daar 'n hele paar opslaanhuisies is. Hulle name is op die waglys vir 'n huis, hy en sy ma s'n. Hy glo die Here gaan voor die einde van die jaar vir hulle 'n huis gee, maar hy werk ook self daaraan om vir hulle 'n dak op te sit, hy sit nie net ledig en wag nie.

Ek sien uit daarna om te sien waar hulle pad hulle heen lei.