Journal 2020

October

How great is our God!

The rain did eventually come.
The clocks turned back one hour – wintertime.

How great is our God!

How great is our God!

Still, via technology we connected with colleagues, friends, and others to pray, to listen, to do marriage preparation, to train, to share, to discuss and plan. Technology is helpful but tiring!

Counselling training and supervision were from behind walls (masks). Definitely not the way counselling should be done but at least there is someone who listens!

The trips to and from Kirsty’s centre (now 5 days a week…) are to be cherished – she refuses to wear a mask – as she has always done/been, not wearing any masks: she sobs long snotty tears when mom does not drive along, she laughs out loud when Wim imitates her noises, she occasionally says ‘ja’ in the right context in our conversations with her and loves ‘Bella woof’ that always jumps in for the ride.

Mum turned 83 on the photographs. She had a good day and still remembers us.
How we miss our siblings and friends in South Africa. You make us rich.

And baby is kicking up a party in mommy’s tummy, the dad-to-be reported.

How great is our God!

Wim cancelled a teaching trip of a week to The Netherlands and instead spent time by himself at a camping ground not too far from home.

I hold the curtains just a second longer… then pull them away and the new day floods in through my clean windows. The carpet is soft under my bare feet. A Corona casualty was Wim’s trip of a week to the south of France which then ended up in a garage revamp and washing of windows, curtains, and carpets. The world looks brighter through clean ‘lenses’!

Bad nights have us fall out of bed, gear up for endless battles in the bathroom with a very strong little lady and then into running shoes, heading for the green of the forest and poor Wim with his aching knee, to the home trainer. Hearts pump loads of good oxygen to the brain!

Zoooooom!
No, not the bee in the garden – we did enjoy tomatoes and aubergines from our own garden – but all those on-line gatherings internationally and locally to talk, plan, train, pray, share wild ideas to get one good idea and much more.
In-person connecting were also there with walk-and-talks, praying, counselling training and sharing some of our journey with a church family in The Netherlands and our own church family locally.

The church calls this time of year, Ordinary Time where the priests wear green (symbolizing hope). We are to look for the little miracles in the ordinary things we do every day because they are there – a basket of bread and fish to feed us if only we care to ‘see’, releasing hope.
Dry brown turned lush green because of the soft rain we’ve had!

Connecting with friends – baskets of blessing and goodness!
Hearing mum’s voice from another continent, from a ‘strange’ world of her own makes us cry, the pain of blessing goes deep because she can still stutter, she loves us very much.

With loads of encouragement our little lady would stroll along in the sun, often grumbling out her discontent (she needs to work that skinny body), brabbles all the way in her stroller when we go for a walk, and beams when we go for a drive – her favourite activity. The little miracle is, she is who she is, always expressing her raw emotions, hiding nothing.

And he will forever be our son – Stiaan. We celebrate his coming into being and delight in sharing his journey, and now, their journey. We love him, them!

A favourite season with tractors and trailers on the fields working up clouds of dust, rolling out bales of hay, harvesting sugar beets, wheat and whatever else and, blanketing out behind the big machines, crows and pigeons, also enjoying overflow of the harvest.

Seemingly from nowhere there are produce and we pick and pickup and dig out all kinds of edibles. We enjoy fresh from the land and share.

The trained eye of the farmer see potential when it is just soil, leaves, minute grains in the hand or sticks on the land. When nothing happens, something is happening they will tell you. They get all excited and gear up.

God, how does this wonder, this mystery from the beginning of time happen that we so get use to that we neither notice nor appreciate? In darkness, underground, unnoticeable, something develops.

We are learning to see what is and beyond, like the farmer.

Maybe this month was the ’see what is beyond’ time for us. We did not see much more than bad nights partly because of a heatwave; dust and dead grass because of water scarcity; Kirsty wetting her bed almost every night resulting in loads of laundry; saying ‘no’ in order to hopefully be able to say ‘yes’ later; no holiday in the holiday month; Wim returning midway in a two week teaching time from France to not have Kirsty stay home full time for two weeks in case of quarantine.

In our own spirits we wait, dig deep for water, reach for the sun and are honest about our shame struggles. I AM finds us in that shameful dark place of I cannot do it one more time and I am not a good parent because of grumbling. The seed must die for the harvest of peace to come deep within, one tiny moment by tiny moment – no miraculous bright-lights-loud-music fanfare, but only deep, quiet victory – peace. A war is won. Harvest has arrived.

Birds feed in the garden from last year’s seeds. We pick produce from our friends’ garden while they are on holiday. We share with our neighbour who cooks up a meal that would outdo the best chef in town. We walk the forest, breathe, and ponder.

We are grateful for the farmers for their hard labour and love for the land always waiting for the rain and soil to yield in abundance.

We think of all the thousands of farmers (also our farming family and friends) in South Africa who experience terrible acts of violence and are subject to horrific murders. Seemingly, extraordinarily little gets done to stop this. So, we stand with them in peaceful protest to stop the killing because ‘farmers’ lives matter’.

The Way of the Traffic Light

And now, our lives are being ruled by the colours of a traffic light.

Orange can be all shades of orange and we take sneaky chances before it turns dead red. Red is red and we all stop. Green is the desired colour, but we tiptoe with great uncertainty, and for most, with so much fear that life is not green and joyful anymore but could just as well have been orange, no, rather red.

Look with compassion
so that understanding comes
and love follows.
(I’m still learning!)

Here then, our three-colour highlights:

Orange

When the night sky pushes the sun under, the sun puts up a great finale in all shades of orange for those who care to slow down to watch.

Wim went to France to speak at a discipleship group and then on to Paris. Then our Government changed the colours of the traffic light for Paris to orange and possibly red which meant Wim had to come back home, or risk us all going into quarantine. In quarantine with Kirsty was a no-go for us. So, we changed the light to RED, unfortunately.

In small groups we are permitted to meet within safe distance and boy, do we enjoy it especially with our children. (Jan Piet and Heddy, Martijn and Cristin, Ellen and most of all our children, Stiaan and Laura – not all at once of cause!)

Red

Our tomatoes need the hot sun to turn into gorgeous red healthy beauties.

My sister had more surgery to treat a life-threatening disease and had to leave the hospital too early because Corona invaded the hospital. Recovery is slow.

Green

The forest is still lush green and always welcoming.

Kirsty attends her centre 3 days a week.
Wim shared at our church.
For four evenings this month, we shared with a group (on-line), parts of our journey on fine-tuning the ears of our hearts to recognise the voice of the Spirit all the time.

Driving around with Kirsty, we discovered quaint little streets in our region.

And then
the traffic light hit a short and
all the colours dazzled and blinked into a joyful mix…
(See if you can guess why…)

(Featured image: Unsplash: Photographer: Carlos Alberto Gómez Iniguez)

Two Sides

Two sides of the coin
dancing and sadness,
they touch…

(Something special my father did. He collected the coins minted the years in which my sister and I were born.)

We walk the forest or run when the mood is especially all shades of grey.

One day is not the same as 5 days a week, day-care-fun for Kirsty but it sure is a breather for us. But she loved every drive on windy or rainy days or when she simply refused to go for a walk.

Zoom and other technical ways of meeting up are helpful, (staff meetings, prayer times, pre-marital counselling, and church services) but oh, so much more tiring. Wim’s group who meets monthly for counselling training and supervision, were happy to meet in person again, of cause behind masks.

We miss our family and almost-lifelong friends from South Africa. Zoom is a handy tool to catch up with. It does not replace hugging the frail frame of my mother, nor holding my sister’s hand before surgery and caring for her after surgery or hugging family after a precious friend and colleague stepped over into the other Kingdom.

Some could catch their breath in this time while others experienced loss and grief as it was expressed in the Grief and Loss Support group run by Wim and another member of our local church.

Tick bites did not stop us from walking the forest, barefoot.

Sadness and dancing
don’t go towards each other
they simply go together.

That is life.

Treasure Chest

Instead of making a collage of our grief and loss in this masked-handwashing-distance-keeping-fear-invested-landscape, we decided to put on our trainers, not that we have not done it almost daily for many years.

But now, our daily walks with Kirsty in her buggy, become a treasure chest…

We are discovering that the destination is not about the completion of the walk, to be ticked off in the agenda, but rather, e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. is a destination with its own story – seeing, feeling, hearing, breathing the connectedness to everything around us, is what it is all about.

Soft green leaves are a destination. Barefoot is a destination. Gentle breeze is a destination. The frog choir in the pond at the abbey, is a destination. Hugging the huge oak tree is a destination.

And then, this reality extends…

A zoom-hour with friends
Potting soil on hands from planting a tomato plant
Magnificent one off, never to see exactly-the-same sunset painting

Small talk with another dog owner

Words that speak to the heart
The elderly gentleman on the wall watching life pass by

Traditional milk tart with Stiaan
Listening to someone having it more difficult than us
Sharing our story, live, on-line with our local church family
Kirsty smiling content because we all, (including the dog) take a leisurely drive in the car

A favourite teacher from Kirsty’s centre, visiting

A drizzle from heaven – earth is dry – we need rain from heaven!

We are ALL included and connected in the greater Reality.
And we bless every living thing in the heavenlies and on earth with the Father’s love, compassion, and generosity.

Open Conversation

Hello God! Do I have to wear a mask and disinfect my hands before coming to you? Are you also afraid? I sure hope all these precautionary measurements cover all my deepest fears!

I guess you have found us still masked, gloved, locked up, anxious, fearful, lonely, abused, jobless, penny-less, hopelessly craving skin-to-skin contact…?

Hello, I love you.

We still go for walks – the forest wears its fresh green coat; leaves are soft and birds loud.
Parents walk the find-the-teddy-trail with small kids – counting teddies in windows. We linger at paintings in the windows, our local community’s art project.

So, you have spotted Me, all the Beauty.

We still run, clean, mow the lawn, feed the dog.
The postman knocks on the door and leaves the parcel on the doorstep.
We still shop – mostly on-line now or line up for groceries.
And Kirsty still tears the magazines.

I AM with you.

Life goes on.
Spring and Summer arrived almost simultaneously.
New babies arrive. We cry for joy. Precious ones walk on ahead. We cry harder for our losses – all of them.
Helplines get flooded with cries for help.
The thief from Cancer-land still demands more citizens – family and friends.

I have not left you as orphans.
I came to you – embracing you in all your pain and darkness. Still do.

I AM the resurrection. The life.
Taste.
And see that I AM good, all the time.

It is lambing season again.
We sneeze and wheeze because of blossoms, pollen and grassy fields and others look on with fear and anxiety – do they have it?
We are still trusting for rain.

I AM the good shepherd.

People cannot work, people cannot eat.
Refugees stream through to try and reach the land of milk and honey, only, sadly, they do not taste milk nor honey, only dirty water and occasional food in camps with little hope of ever reaching Honey-Land.
Funds and resources stream to the strong men who beat the drum – more debt for the rest.
The poor gets hungry, desperately hungry and poorer.

Lord, is that you groaning? Are you sad?

What you do to them, you do to Me.

We Zoom, video call, WhatsApp, Skype.
Our souls ache for skin-on-skin-touch – we were made for it to keep us healthy and alive.
We hug the God-made – trees. Solid, alive, beautiful, not leaving. Peace follows. Gratitude arises.

I AM in you.
You are in Me.

Fear.
It rules, confuses.
We lose common sense; grab anything that seems to protect.
We stress, we fear. Illness creeps in.

I AM still I AM.

Who are you becoming in this process?
Your final choice is your attitude towards what is happening.
There is still more than enough to be grateful for.
Life and death are in Me.

Live this through with Me.
And rest.

And we stayed home…

Instead of flying out to meet family and friends, a microscopic virus landed from Somewhere-Planet. On Friday, March 13th, the order came: ‘Blijf in uw kot’ (stay in your room/house). Everyone flew inside their homes. And we stayed home. Lockdown happened.

Things changed.
Almost everything was dropped. Time seemed to have slowed down.

Fear and uncertainty reign.

We became creative. Developed new vocabulary. New ways. New routines.

No airplane noise, no traffic noise.
We became still.
Birds sing and the trees clap their hands.
Nature breathes again.

23 February, 10:30
(I was so very late…)

Length of the relationship: 37 years, married for 35 years.
Where did we meet: Mission Street, Klein-Windhoek, South West Africa (Namibia)
Who was interested first: Wim (Thank you Kobus and Rika for giving the creative kick-start!)

Who is taller: Wim.
Who’s older: Amanda.

Most teachable: Wim.
Worst temper: Amanda.
Apologises first: Mostly, almost always Wim.
Loudest: Definitely, Wim. When happy, he’s really loud, noisy and whistles to Kirsty’s great delight.
Most stubborn: …even… Yes, definitely even!
Most curious: Wim, for sure. It makes him a good source of ideas for writing.
Creative: Both, but Amanda a bit more.

Travels the most: The in-demand teacher/counsellor-man.
Most organized: Amanda, for sure.
Best at cooking: Amanda, although I was given a cookbook for my birthday?! I wonder why?
Who does the shopping: Mostly, Wim.
Best driver: Not sure… Wim has had more, little ‘incidents’. Parking: the man is an expert!

Falls asleep first: Lately, Amanda.
Snores the most: Amanda and Kirsty.
Better morning person: Always, the happy, positive man! His first words usually are, “I love you!” Just imagine 12 775 times!! I think, I’m sure I’m loved!

Thank you for the colourful, spicy, fruitful 35 years. I want to grow old with you. I love you.

(Thank you, Cecile for this idea!)