snapshots

Family Pictures...

2014-02-09T15:38:00.000+02:00

Those of you who supported us during 2013 should have received a Christmas card. We thought we should take a new family photo with our "children." I thought I would just post some of the "negatives" that we got along the way.

We weren't really ready at first, but the dogs never really were.

The last one is definitely the best. I am truly blessed.

Dancing in the kitchen...

2013-11-17T19:29:00.000+02:00

17 November 2013

Poetry. I suppose that’s the only way to describe it; sitting on the porch, watching the sun sink slowly behind you while the big, yellow moon swings above the opposite horizon, losing circumference as it gains altitude. It’s the birds singing their goodnights from tiny branches atop trees. The smell of wet earth after two days of rain and that crystal clear sky after all the impurities that accompany a drought-ridden sky are washed away.

Poetry is dancing with your wife in your kitchen that is not nearly as clean and perfect as the movies; the slight feel of grit under your bare feet and fresh bread on the cutting board. Holding her close and floating in circles while Over the Rhine’s “I Want You To Be My Love” plays softly from your phone on the countertop and your two Great Danes stretched out on the cool tiles looking on with disinterest.

Kind of hard to believe that 48 years ago, American troops were fighting for their lives half a world away in the Ia Drang Valley. My heart goes out to all the wives whose dance was replaced with a telegraph and a life forever changed.

January Newsletter, Vol. 6

2013-01-28T09:56:00.000+02:00

Please click on the link and enjoy our latest newsletter.

Withered hands and wild-eyed wonder...

2013-01-27T12:56:00.000+02:00

I was in town shopping and the man running the check out line had a withered hand, drawn up in a half claw against his chest; more like a T-Rex fore claw than a man’s hand. My initial feeling was pride for the man because he was working; not allowing a disability, a physical setback to keep him from living life. He didn’t seem worried that people might stare at him, or might whisper when they walked past his checkout line.

However, when I got in the car and was driving down the road I suddenly thought about the story in the Bible where Jesus healed the man with the withered hand, in a synagogue, on the Sabbath day. It struck me just how visually astounding this miracle would have been. To see a man with this bent up, withered, claw-like hand, pull it out of his robe whole; muscled forearm and complete dexterity where twisted wreckage had been.

Then I thought of the Pharisees and that in the midst of this miracle, faced full on with wonder, the only thing they could think of was that it was the Sabbath and that this was somehow impermissible. No compassion, no love, no wonder. Their hatred for Jesus and their tenacious grappling for power and control left their hearts so shriveled that they had lost their sense of wonder.

No love, no compassion, no wonder…not even a whisper of excitement, of that childlike intensity and wild-eyed wonder at the seemingly impossible. They had lost the impetus in the search for truth and traded it for the form; traded sorrow for crepes and shrouds, joy for hollow laughter and banal jokes. It reminded me of what C.S. Lewis told us in “The Great Divorce” through one of the Bright People, trying to reason with a Ghost who had lost all true reason in the pursuit of human wisdom.

“…Once you were a child. Once you knew what inquiry was for. There was a time when you asked questions because you wanted answers, and were glad when you had found them. Become that child again: even now.”

Jesus came to remind them of something written in their own Pentateuch. Deuteronomy 7:7-8:

“It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the LORD set his love on you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples, (8) but it is because the LORD loves you…”

As I drove away and thought of that man with the lazy eyes and the withered hand, I thought of Christ and how he loves us so much that he reminds us time and time again by example to keep first things, first. As humans we seem predisposed towards the legal; towards a list that tells us we can do this and this and make it. We are objective creatures and indeed truth is by nature objective, but it is an objectivity beyond our control and that makes us nervous. The Pharisees wanted to autonomy and this new Truth (which was really Ageless) threatened their autonomy and so rather than see the wonder in the miraculous, the heart of a Father that SO LOVED THIS WORLD, they chose instead to plot and scheme behind closed doors and murder the Son of God.

BUT, do we not in our own way plot and scheme behind gilded doors of our souls and justify our actions and nullify our laws because we forget we did nothing to merit grace and can do nothing to maintain it? It is interesting is it not, that the sum of all commandments is wrapped in Love. On these hang ALL the law and the prophets.

Home Visit

2012-12-16T14:49:00.001+02:00

It's been nearly two years since I left the cold New York coast behind and headed into the sunrise on a South African Airways jet. A lot has changed, but coming home I find many things are blessedly the same.

It's nice to be in my old home with my wife and enjoy the familiar sights and sounds. Delani and I are greatly enjoying our family and looking forward to being with my two sisters as well when they fly in.

Three weeks isn't very long, but any time with family is good whether short or long. Until next time I post; Merry Christmas and God bless from Jeremy and Delani.

Ash and donuts...

2012-10-17T19:08:00.001+02:00

Sometimes life in mission work is frustrating. Some days I want to quit and go back home, find a 9 to 5 and settle down to raise my 2.5 kids and live the American dream.

Sometimes. Only for a moment.

There is nothing wrong with that life for those to whom God has called, but I knew a long time ago, I could never do that. The moments that I want to walk away and move to a place that gets my sarcasm and where a real donut is never far away. Where a plunger is something you use in the toilet and you don't have to live in a house with more security bars than a small town jail. These moments God quietly shows me that I am wallowing in a maudlin self-indulgence.

If I am crucified with Christ and my life is no longer my own, then all thoughts of sacrifice and deprivation are deceptive and hellish at best.

It is not always easy, but when a student that has truly been a child of hell the entire last term looks at you for the first time with clear eyes and a bright smile and clarity in his soul...

Well, let's just say the thoughts of that donut turn to ash and anything you thought you laid down to be here rusts and fades into the dirt and weeds again.

Time-lapse...

2012-10-07T17:36:00.000+02:00

Sometimes life is like a time-lapse shot in a nature film. Life has lately been that way, so I suppose you won't mind if the catch up on how life is going also follows somewhat of a time-lapse kind of momentum.

The dining room...

The fireplace...

The living room will come next...

To summarize...

2012-10-07T17:34:00.001+02:00

Tomorrow starts a new school term.

That in itself is a very loaded paragraph so I needn't say more on that subject. This past week has been a very busy week for me; much less of a holiday and much more of my own personal version of "Extreme Home Makeover" without the volunteers. I encouraged Delani to go and visit her mother for the one week we had off because otherwise she wasn't going to see her until next April since we plan to go to the US for Christmas. It turns out her mother will come visit in November, but only for a weekend so I am very glad that Delani went. I spent the week (minus last weekend) working on things that desperately need finished in the house.

She is home now and I am sitting on the front porch watching the late afternoon sun lay long shadows across the lawn. I was contemplating all that I have done on the house we live in and all we will still need to do. Every time that I do this I am overwhelmed at God's provision and goodness. It has required a lot, but it has been such a wonderful learning curve in the process.

There is a long list of first things for me with working on this house; brick-laying, plastering, laying tile, making tongue-and-groove flooring, building a cabinet, and making a bed from scratch with steel. Anytime I want to think myself terribly clever for any of these things, God reminds me of all the help He sent along. Little bits of advice from older wiser men that you forget. Perhaps it was one little bit of advice, but without it, the entire project would have been a flop.

God has provided the funds. Like the bed I just finished. Friends of ours gave us money to be used on a bed or just what we needed. It was around $130. I used it to buy steel and with a lot of work, we had a nice bed for less than $200 dollars that should be on its feet longer than me.

We have had the invaluable help of several people, mainly Steve Geise. Steve Geise is perhaps one of the most helpful, kind and godly men I have the privilege of knowing. When he knew that we needed help with the house so that we could get moved in, he cheerfully offered his services. He prepped the walls of most of the house (no small feat since they looked like a road map of cracks) and painted better than any professional I have seen. Every time I stop and think what would have happened if he hadn't been willing to do that, I realize that we would probably still be living in our friend's guest room with our belongings spread between four houses. He also helped me, along with Bro. Bokang, to strip the carpet glue off of the wood floors. That was a terrible job and he did it cheerfully, even staying late with me at times.

Any work I have done has had to be after ministry hours which doesn't leave much time and requires strength and stamina. God has given both in abundance. We have certainly not been building a palace over here, but simply trying to fix up a missionary's house with limited funds and God has provided.

So, sorry if it has seemed to some of you that spoke to me, that the house was all I do. Sorry to those of you who haven't heard from me if I seemed ungrateful for funds sent or prayers offered or words of encouragement. I am very sorry if it has come across that way. We are very, very grateful for all that our friends and family are doing for us so that we are able to minister here in Ladybrand.

We will try and keep posted a little more. If life ever slows down, I will try and start putting my many jumbled thoughts to "paper" once again. God bless.

House Update

2012-09-16T19:45:00.000+02:00

After working late the other night cutting stones, I caught the sunset before it was completely gone. Here is the first glimpse of the house.

The next Saturday I needed to keep going so here are just a few pictures of getting sand, the view I have while working sometimes. My efficient concrete mixer and laying bricks for the first time.

And here is the house in daylight

Some day we'll teach at a small school and play and watch the snow fall...

2012-08-07T08:30:00.001+02:00

Today we have a treat. The first snowfall like this in five years.

Naturally I was the favorite target.

Just a few snapshots from the iPod. The only sad part about it all; it's nowhere near Christmas.

In this post I exceed my skill set...again

2012-08-06T15:18:00.002+02:00

I last posted what I had finished by Wednesday evening when after much trial, I got the first plank in place.

Well, Thursday I spent some time calling around for router bits. Luckily, or perhaps Providentially, Tannie Hessie was in Bloemfontein which was the only place that had them. So between cellphone pictures and conversations with the rep over Tannie's cellphone, I managed to get the bits that I needed. Thursday night is always mission prayer time (although this time we had a birthday party for Christelle Gault), so I did not work.

Friday, however, the good looks of the company I brought increased considerably (no offense to Steve Geise intended). Delani working on her pantry shelves.

And I could get back down to working on the plank flooring.

I only finished two more boards that night, and then we headed back. The next day, Saturday if you've been counting, I headed to town about 6:30 am to pick up my friend, Bokang, who I have hired to help. I should have taken a picture of the morning because it was absolutely breathtaking as the sun came up over the Maluti mountains in the distance.

I got to work on the plank flooring which I finished with very little delay thanks to the new bits. While I was busy with that, Bokang went and loaded up sand and bricks to wall in the fireplace.

And a close-up

It is far from a perfect fit. Some sections of the boards were walked over for the last century and in the process lost about a quarter inch or more. So, it will take a bit of planing and sanding, but it is in and nailed down so other work can continue. I will include a picture of the original boards that I used so you can get an idea of why it has taken me this long.

While I was busy with that, Bokang had finished gathering the bricks, and he and Steve were busy with final preparations on some of the walls. Getting these walls ready has been a full-time job and Steve has really done an amazing job.

After lunch, Bokang and I went to collect stones for the fireplace floor. My original thought had been to use three layers of smaller flat stones to build up the floor. After discussing it with Uncle Johan, we decided to use just one more layer of large, 30cm high stones. Well, Bokang and I got them loaded and that is about all. Weighing hundreds of pounds, there was no way we would be able to move them in and maneauver them in place, so we abandoned that idea.

Just for scale, the Geise boys on the pile of stones.

So we took them back and loaded up smaller flat, finish stones for the last layer. One of the beauties of this project, is stones that would cost a fortune in the U.S.. are laying everywhere on the farm.

Bokang and Isaac helping me with the second layer of stones.

After which I tried my hand at cutting stones. Getting them to break just right can be difficult, but God helped and I didn't make any huge mistakes.

Thanks to Bokang's concrete mixing skills, we were able to get a few of the stones in before it was completely dark.

Hopefully by next post I will have a finished floor to show you. It is really hectic keeping up with the understaffed school and doing a building project, but God is giving extra strength and help.

As always, stay tuned...

Work Continues...

2012-08-02T15:29:00.000+02:00

Work continues on the house. I wish I could say that it is thanks to me, but the school keeps me too busy. Steve Geise has been helping me out tremendously. The brick walls look like a road atlas from years of settling and he has been diligently and patiently filling in all cracks and holes. He paints as he does many things, to perfection and so it has been such a privilege to have his help.

I mentioned that some of the floor was rotted. I tore out all of the rotted flooring and found several beams that were unuseable, so I purchased some wood and replaced the beams, but I still had a problem. Part of the floor was rotted as well and wood that is over half a century old is difficult to find a match for.

Johan van der Merwe gave me some of the Oregon Pine that laid in their house for a hundred years before being pulled out of one of the rooms. For a guy who loves history, it is hard to cut into a board that is at least around 110 years old, knowing that it is in every way, irreplaceable.

So, as I mentioned in the last post, the floor, or part of it was rotten.

So, I replaced the beams.

but first I had to go to Build It (Ladybrand's version of Lowe's) where the staff sectioned off the area, donned safety goggles, and with a power miter saw cut the precise lengths I asked for...well, not quite.

A couple days ago, before I started with the wood floor, or rather during the process of getting lumber, etc; I began on what will be the stone floor for the homemade wood stove I am going to make.

We are trying to save money where possible, so reusing the lumber, despite the extra work, is necessary. I started ripping the smaller planks out of the old boards.

Then I started using a router to cut the grooves into the planks

but that wasn't long lived. I think I got three and a half done when this happened

Somewhere in there was coffee break where I pondered my predicament. After all, I was about thirty minutes from a town where absolutely nothing is open and they don't sell the bits I need anyways.

So with a table saw, a leatherman, and a Craftsman scraper tool that my dad gave me, I managed to cut a "tongue" into one of the boards and get it in place. I couldn't leave without at least something to show for my effort.

Stay tuned...

Change of Time

2012-07-24T17:34:00.001+02:00

Delani and I are back from our vacation and we are settling into life...well, we would if we had a place to settle. This post is about our homelessness and what we are doing about it. We live in a lovely little apartment that is heavy on the little. It is located in what was a Catholic mission a few miles from town.

This is Delani in our living room-kitchen-dining room-study. Notice the amazing chocolate chip cookies that kept disappearing as I worked on our newsletter.

So, where does the homelessness come in? Well, we have to be out by the end of this month, namely Saturday and here is our Master bedroom where we are going.

We had the privilege of having my sister, Jenny and her husband, Robert, stay with us for a week after we came back from our honeymoon. We went and did some great stuff like eating at "The Cabin."

Including a great idea for a stove I'm going to use on the house involving wheel drums and scrap steel.

And better yet, the Farmhouse breakfast.

Then it was on to the house under a gorgeous, cold winter sky.

Ironically, for a post about the house, I have no photo of the outside of the house. Jen and Robert came to lend us a hand. Maybe I should give a little back story. I was originally going to try and build a small house on the farm, Fraaiuitzicht, where I am now living that would be available to HIM for ten years and then pass to the family...thus helping both of us. It seemed that wasn't God's plan and then, another house they have on their farm about 2 kilometers away, became available. It just needed a little work. So, we are refinishing floors covered for fifty years with carpet and we are painting walls. There are no cupboards or stove in the kitchen. Along with this come all the fun surprises that come with working in an old house.

Robert needed a little break.

Taking up the carpet is turning out to be quite a difficult work.

In addition, I have found that there is some serious rot in part of the floor. So, we have our work literally cut out for us.

Fortunately, since my sister and her husband went home, we have other friends coming like, Steve Geise.

We will keep you posted. If you want to help with this project, shoot me an email and I will try and fill you in better on what it is all about. It is actually a mission project and probably just a two year stop over for Delani and I. Keep us in your prayers. Any work we do must be done after we get out of school and drive the thirty minutes or more. This takes it's toll since nothing is close by here.

Stay tuned.

Christ and the fishes...but not the time you're thinking of

2012-02-08T15:36:00.002+02:00

There are definite rewards to teaching English as a second language in books that were never meant for that. I get to laugh quite a bit. Today I burst out laughing in one of my students faces (unintentionally of course).

As a Christian school, we pride ourselves on having the Bible at the base of everything we learn and know. We try to promote Bible knowledge, but sometimes when evaluation comes, I’m afraid we are found terribly wanting.

My student was a bit confused about what Anno Domini meant He had to use AD in a sentence because he was learning acronyms. All that he knew was that AD was supposed to be the same as “after Christ” for a reason he couldn’t understand.

This was his sentence:

“AD was born God created light.”

Naturally I was a bit confused seeing that even substituting “After Christ” for AD didn’t make any sense, I wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate.

Me
“Okay, so you were just trying to use “after Christ” in the sentence, but what are you trying to say here.”

Him
“After Christ is born God created light.”

Me
“But light was created before Christ was born. Christ was born much later. Light was at Creation.”

Him
“Oh, he was born with the water and the fishes.”

Me
Laughing

Me
“No, he was born much later as a man, but he always existed.”

Needless to say, we didn’t really get anywhere. I dread the day I need to explain the Trinity. He can’t understand how Christ always was and yet was born thousands of years after the world was created…but then again, neither can I.

Not in the wind, but in the still, small Voice...

2012-01-23T12:05:00.000+02:00

This may be a rather tedious post, particularly following a protracted period of silence, but I do hope you enjoy it anyway.

Well, today was different. I suppose you could say it happened in the early morning hours, sometime just before 4 a.m.

I dreamed last night that I was invited to be something like a clown at a child’s birthday party only I would be swimming with the little tykes donned with foam pool noodles. I would be donned with the pool noodles that is. First though, the lady of the house took one look at the mole on my ankle (which I don’t actually have) and sent me with one of her daughters to another room in the house where she picked up a small device (similar to those electric shock devices that they use to relax muscles) with which she more or less “zapped” my ankle and voila, the mole was gone.

It should have stopped there, but suddenly I found myself outside the house with my good friend, S.W. and someone else. We were watching his bull and suddenly realized the neighbor’s bull was on the other side of a very small, insignificant gate and was not happy with this intruder. S.W. saw the danger as we all did and we made it into the house just before things got crazy with the bulls chasing each other around the house and destroying everything in their path. I was peeking from just behind a curtain at what was going on outside (less the bulls see me and decide to come after me instead of each other) when a Holstein cow saw me and began laughing at my cowardice. She went so far as to berate me in an all too familiar tone on my lack of bravado.

That was the beginning of the day.

It was a beautiful morning, but from early on it was an uncomfortable shade of hot with humidity thrown in as an extra duvet. I knew the tin church where we worship from about 11 a.m. to 2 or 3 p.m. would be far from comfortable and to be honest I was not looking forward to it.

No one seemed very thrilled to be in service and even the leader, though he continually berated us for not being into the service, seemed equally reticent to give everything.

Somewhere during the service, it became obvious that we might receive some rain, a welcome sight in this drought. You can imagine the consequences of heavy rain on corrugated tin, you can’t hear anything the preacher is saying, but no one dares pray against rain these days. Somewhere during the service a small girl threw up on the floor and the rain began to fall.

First it was just a light rain and then gaining in confidence it produced the most deafening roar. Uncle Johan ceased preaching because no one could hear him anyway and we all began to sing. The lightening flickered in the darkened sky and the rain fell. Holes in the roof and broken windows made for musical chairs and sporadic seating arrangements.

The rain seemed to subside just a little and Uncle Johan began again. The rain was still falling, but I noticed that the direction seemed to have changed completely. This wasn’t really what I wanted to see since thunderstorms here have been known, though very rarely, to produce small tornadoes. When you are in a tin church held together with wire and a few nails, this is not a nice thought.

Fears justified. I can’t say it was a tornado, but a wind of some significance hit that little structure and made a terrible racket. When we looked outside, one of the neighbors had his roof suddenly sitting inside his house. It had picked up the roof entirely and deposited it inside the house. Considering the construction standards in the townships, this isn’t the biggest feat, but it was obvious the service was now at an end. Uncle Johan ended with an admonition to read over the text and next Sunday we would continue.

Next problem; with water running in the muddy streets, getting the van out of there would be interesting. S.W. and I took off our shoes, rolled up our pants and began to push. All of us walked barefoot up the muddy street until the van was in a safe place to take the weight and not sit in the mud and then we were off…well, nearly. We were a bit crowded so I ended up with a good-sized man on my lap for lack of any other spaces.

I understand that in the U.S. it was “Sanctity of Human Life” Sunday. I am sorry I missed that.

We came back and after a delicious lunch at about 3 p.m., we played some “finger board” and Bananagrams. Tomorrow is another day and 4:30 a.m. comes all too early.

Sleep well or rather when you read this, have a wonderful week. God bless.

Just about to hit the road...

2011-12-21T14:20:00.001+02:00

Tomorrow, sometime before many of you will have even gone to bed today, I will be headed to Cape Town for Christmas. I would appreciate your prayers.

This won't be much of a post. Basically I wanted an excuse to try Blogger for iPod/iPhone. It's pretty cool.

But seriously, I would appreciate your prayers.

Merry Christmas!

The Great Trek...

2011-12-15T16:22:00.000+02:00

Tucked into the mountains of the Camdeboo area of the Klein Karoo, like a jewel tucked safely away, is the town of Graaff-Reinet. Though perhaps a bit precariously placed below a large dam that was built with the help of mules and donkeys somewhere in the twenties, this placement gives it its jewel-like green quality in what is a semi-desert region not given to massive rainfalls.

A land with big mountains, empty spaces and wide skies. Something about it takes me back to the western United States, one of my great loves. It is all this and more. For the last year it has been the home to the beautiful Delani Smith. She is amazing. Incredibly intelligent and level-headed except in one regard, she agreed to marry me and move to where I work. So, my good friends S.W. and Jannes van der Merwe agreed to help me move her things. As soon as I left school that last Friday, we got into their Hilux pickup and embarked on a journey something akin to driving to Atlanta from Hobe Sound (time wise) with three guys over six foot in a pickup slightly larger than a Ford Ranger. It was a great time actually.

We arrived at Lootsberg Pass, at magic hour. I have driven through the pass at other times at sunset and have always been angry at myself later for not stopping for photos. This time I asked S.W. if he would stop. He did and you and I are glad that I did. It is breath-taking.

that night and just kind of visited and then Saturday it was bit of sightseeing. Neither S.W. nor Jannes had really been in the town and they enjoyed getting to see it. We went to some museums. The Reinet House, an impressive colonial Dutch style house, was the home of the Murrays for years. Dr. Andrew Murray's father was the Dutch Reformed Minister of the Graaff-Reinet parish and Andrew grew up in that house. It was pretty cool to walk those floors.

The back courtyard of the house.

There were a lot of interesting exhibits in the house. Things like clocks that were less than space conscious, recipes for medical cocktails, things to be thankful in dentistry technology, a giant boot, a gazelle skin slightly larger than a house cat (way to go, "mighty hunter") and a doll house made out of porcupine quills by someone who had way too much time in the 1800s.

One of the interesting things at the house was a Black Acorn grape vine planted by Charles Murray over a hundred years ago. It is the biggest vine in the world (according to the house) and it still produces fruit.

That evening, Jannes and SW and I went to the Valley of Desolation just outside of town. It is a place that, though on a smaller scale than things like the Grand Canyon, is no less captivating. The difference being it is far less crowded and supervised. It is quiet. You sit on the cliffs and hear nothing but the wind and the birds that come whistling through the canyon.

In the background of the second photo (above) is Graaff-Reinet.

This guy saw it in style.

Don't look down. This was a gap big enough to fall into and went down a good 100 feet before you hit your first rock.

Doing a little exploring, finding "faulty towers" that looked like they would crash on our heads, SW showing his immense strength and standing where we probably shouldn't have.

The panorama view is incredible.

Church on Sunday and then Monday was move time. We packed up the furniture and boxes and managed to fit almost everything in, much to the amazement of a skeptical Delani. First, we set off the alarm and no one knew the code, so I improvised.

On the road...

We stopped along the way to cruise around an English Blockhouse from the Anglo-Boer War. It used to protect the railroad there.

I think if you aren't proficient in English, perhaps you shouldn't name your business in English.

It was a great trip with good friends and God kept us safe all the way. I can't thank SW and Jannes and I enough for helping us out.

The last week...

2011-12-15T14:46:00.000+02:00

Well, I promised a post...several actually and so this will be the first. It won't be long because it might just sound like a freshman talking about his class load. I don't want that. It has been busy, but it is busy for everyone, everywhere at this time of year and I don't want to bore you.

Those of you reading in the US may or may not know that school here works a little differently than in the States. The school year just ended for us; it runs January to December. So, that made for a lot of finishing up with scores, awards, transfers, etc. I fortunately didn't have the brunt of the paperwork side of it (that was Philip), but there was still plenty to do.

We were preparing for the end of the year program which had in it, three plays written by my class. There was a lot of practicing that needed to be done, etc.

But, before all of that could come to fruition, we had the end of the year field trip for all the students who finished enough work. Quite amazingly, they want to sleep over at the school for that. So, following the school day, the students who earned the privilege, simply stayed.

This included a "slippy-slide" made from the sides of a conference tent. This added an element of danger since there were rivets and rings to cut yourself on. There was a bit of blood, but nothing serious.

Marco, one of my students who lives in town, rode his horse to the school and gave the other students rides. The general consensus was, based upon the facial expression, joy and abject terror.

Some of the students have more coordination and movement in their toes than I have in my entire body.

We made a little fire for marshmallows and for added stress for the teachers. Every small boy is a firebug. The girls slept in one of the classrooms and we gentlemen, slept inside the conference tent on the ground. That was a lot more fun at 13 than it is 13 years later. Some had a little trouble waking up I think.

We had a lot of fun in the end. A few days later was the end of year program and awards. The students did incredibly well on their plays and I was very proud of them. The next day, we came back to the school to clean up and I headed home to continue the next adventure and next post...

If you would like to see more pictures, click here.

Checking for updates...

2011-12-13T16:08:00.001+02:00

If that has been your story, I apologize for the wait. Updates are on the way. School is finished for the year! All the last minute things went well...more to come on that in the next post. I returned yesterday from Graaff-Reinet with my good friends and African brothers, SW and Jannes. We moved all of Delani's worldly possessions from the East Cape to the Free State. God gave us good travels and a nice weekend visit as well...more to come on that in the next, next post. Also, hopefully more leatherwork to hit the blog soon.

I spent the day or a good portion of it at the school today. I am building new dividers for the desks in my classroom that didn't have them in preparation for next year. Also, my classroom needs blinds and I need to build a desk for myself...so, if you have any desire to do any extra giving before the year ends and don't know where; email me and we can work something out with the HIM office to designate the funds for that. Thanks so much for your patience...lots of pictures coming soon.

Tape on my arm...

2011-12-01T15:44:00.001+02:00

It is nearly Christmas time and for the first time since I moved, I'm missing my old home. I miss all the lights, all the fuss and the occasional cold front. I'm heading into a Free State summer on the skirts of a drought and wondering if it can get any warmer in my classroom in the afternoon.

I sometimes think I would love to take a turn around the Gardens Mall and buy a few gifts for my family. Stop off at Starbucks to sink my taste into a dark Americano; smelling strong in the cup. Walk the halls, hear the songs, watch the materialism and then go back home to mom and dad's to talk about the day. Yes, I am a little homesick now.

It's okay though. Somehow this will become the new norm. I will still miss my friends and family, facing pensive moments in the shadows of a late afternoon, staring through the burglar bars at the world bidding goodnight. I have always been with my family for Christmas. I have lived somewhat of a nomadic life, but through all the moves and all the change, there was always that foundation there and traditions; the same Christmas ornaments, CD's and decorations. I lived in Florida for the longest of any place in my life to this point. I will be away for the first Christmas season in 13 years.

Now I stand on the edge of a new family. My family. It's a strange feeling; like when you're reading a book and you have enjoyed the chapter you read so much, you're almost afraid to go on in case something else happens to change how you feel at that moment. I look forward to the change, but it's a little like ripping tape off your arm; it's nice when it's off, but the process is painful.

It will be nice having Christmas with Delani and her family (soon to be our family). I will still have my several people with me, in my thoughts and prayers. Namely: Dad, Mom, Jason, Tami, Drew, Tyler, Jamie, Brian, Megan, Katie, Jack, Jenny, Robert and all the friends who always came around. You know who you are, Cilla and Audrey. There are too many to name and I'm going to get myself in trouble. Just know, you are ALL missed.

PS Things are really crazy here right now, wrapping up the year. So, if you haven't heard from me or I haven't responded to your Facebook message or email, it is not intentional.

Matthew 5:43-48...

2011-11-16T07:19:00.001+02:00

I was reading John 13 this morning. I have been continually amazed by what I read of Christ’s relationship with His Father. We get a glimpse into the mind of God the Father through these conversations and revelations of the incarnate Christ. This morning I was amazed by something else. I was amazed by what is not written.

The Amplified Bible puts it this way:

1[NOW] BEFORE the Passover Feast began, Jesus knew (was fully aware) that the time had come for Him to leave this world and return to the Father. And as He had loved those who were His own in the world, He loved them to the last and [a]to the highest degree.
2So [it was] during supper, Satan having already put the thought of betraying Jesus in the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son,

3[That] Jesus, knowing (fully aware) that the Father had put everything into His hands, and that He had come from God and was [now] returning to God,

4Got up from supper, took off His garments, and taking a [servant's] towel, He fastened it around His waist.

5Then He poured water into the washbasin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the [servant's] towel with which He was girded.

Jesus as “fully aware” that the time had come. He was under no illusions of what was about to happen. He was under no illusions about who was going to make that possible and yet, he loved them to the last and highest degree and then he did the unthinkable.

He washed the feet of Judas Iscariot.

I can somehow find easier to comprehend that Christ could love and even die for all the sinners in the world. All those who ever spat in His face, for every atheist, child molester, unsaved church member and politician. All of that is very cerebral and detached and hypothetical in a way. But Judas. Judas was part of a twelve man group. A close knit apprenticeship of how to be like Christ. Christ has poured prayers and tears and hours of teaching into that man, knowing that he would betray Him. Knowing that Satan had already put this thought into Judas' heart, He made Judas a part of this last lesson.

He washed the feet of a traitor, an eleventh hour turncoat, a disgrace. He loved him to the last and to the highest degree.

Silent splinters in my soul..

2011-11-14T11:41:00.001+02:00

I am sorry that I have been so reticent to blog. The idea has crossed my mind various times, but usually it is shoved right back out by some or other excuse to do something else. It's difficult living on a beautiful farm. At times, the motivation to stay inside and stare at a computer screen just doesn't exist. I blame my lack of reading on this same excuse. It is simply too beautiful and too interesting to be hanging out inside.

There are other dangers on the farm. I may have mentioned in previous posts or Herron articles (in my Hobe Sound days) that I live in a house made by three separate generations. The kitchen, drawing room (or sitting room) and dining area as well as the hall way and pantry were built over 100 years ago. Another section, running perpendicular to the hall, houses the four bedrooms and two bathrooms and was built in the 50's by Uncle Johan's father. Uncle Johan built another addition (in the 90's when we were living in Lesotho) that is no longer connected with the main house by an inside door, but serves now as an exterior apartment. It is a charming place to live.

The danger. In addition to a lack of concentration due to breath-taking surroundings; there are the occasional puff adder or cobra that find their way inside. The oldest section of the house, namely the dining area and drawing room, is floored with beautiful, Oregon Pine that was laid down some one hundred years ago. As you can imagine, the original protective coating has long since parted ways with the floor and has been painstakingly scuffed off on countless pairs of shoes. This is another cause for danger. One often finds oneself the recipient of a piece of American exportation history in the toe or heel of an unclad foot. This is uncomfortable to say the least.

The other danger on the farm is the silence. Silence is unnerving. I don't know if you have ever experienced a place that has the absence of sound. In America, everything is sound. If a car is not driving by, a plane is flying overhead and if not that then the air-conditioner or heater just came on. We are surrounded by sound, but on the farm, in the dark of night, I am surrounded by silence. A deep, pregnant silence; full of possibilities that come up in ghoulish figures like ghosts from the past taking me on tours of mistakes and failures and missed opportunities. The silence is not really the danger. The possibilities that this silence presents to my mind are not the danger. The desire to destroy the silence, to hide these specters in sound, that is the danger.

In this deep silence I am laid bare. All my false pretense of strength and independence disappear and in the thick darkness I come face to face with who I am inside. When all is well and my soul is at peace, this silence is a comfort, but when I struggle with doubts, insecurities and failures, then monsters lurk in the shadows. The biggest danger I face is to put in headphones, turn on the radio, or a video and drown the silence in constant, seemingly innocuous noise. When I face this silence and the searching it brings and when I face these insecurities, failures and missed opportunities and deal with them, wrapped in this cloak of "holy darkness" before Almighty God, then I emerge a new man. A stronger man that has wrestled an angel and though I may come away with a slight limp, a thorn in my side, the struggle brings forth gold.

Christ faced His moments of darkness and silence. He was in a wilderness for forty days. Prior to commercial jets and large cities, I can imagine that the silence there was beyond anything I have ever experienced. But Christ suffered a far greater silence. He faced a silent God, an unresponsive Father. If you read the Gospels, Christ was constantly in contact with His Father. In John 8, He told the Jews that He does only what the Father tells Him to and says only what the Father tells Him to. This required constant communication with God and there are many places in the Gospels where we see Jesus going to get alone with His Father.

I have been experiencing a silent God. I know it is my fault. I have smothered the silence in noise and given God the "leftover" hours of my day when I am too tired to concentrate on His Word and to listen for His voice. I have sinned the sin of self-idolatry. Giving myself the best hours of the day and relegating God to the late-night infomercial slot. In the loneliness of this silence it has struck me how nothing we experience compares to the extent to which Jesus experienced it. He had constant and perfect communication with God the Father and suddenly it was taken away from Him in the completion of a task that God the Father asked Him to do.

In this I am reminded that when we face things like this, we have an advocate with God the Father. His name is Jesus Christ the Righteous and He stands at the right hand of God the Father ready to intercede for us. Does this mean that I continue on in my sin? No; as the apostle Paul would say, "God forbid!" I make time for Him, welcome the silence and ask Him if there is anything I can do to change.

I started this off as a short filler blog to tell about how I have been pulling splinters out of my foot, but I guess there was more inside. I hope the rambling hasn't been too distracting. I really hadn't planned on writing half of this.

Oops...missed one

2011-11-02T10:46:00.001+02:00

Shakespeare:The World as Stage by Bill Bryson

Have you ever wanted to know what a great writer like Shakespeare ate, what he thought, how he dressed, what he did in his spare time? Don't read this book. There are plenty of unscrupulous authors who have written some great fiction works on the life of Shakespeare. Bryson does the opposite. Thoroughly researched (as far as his life can be), this book basically tells you everything you cannot know about Shakespeare's life. So, the next time someone says, "Did you know..."; as far as Shakespeare is concerned, there is a pretty good chance it is nonsense. There is simply too much speculation for comfortable assertions. I suppose this is why this book is relatively short. I really enjoyed this book. I always enjoy Bryson's direct and to-the-point style as well as his interjections of dry humor. I give it two thumbs up.

Study Question:
Siskel and Ebert used to say, "Two thumbs way up!" if they thought a film was really good. Have you ever seen anyone try this?

Try it in front of the mirror. Do you look like a moron? Explain.

What's on your bookshelf?

2011-10-31T11:10:00.001+02:00

Life in the U.S. seems to have a frenetic pace. You constantly hear things like; "I just wish I had more time to read, or I wish I had more time to study." I frequently said such things to friends, or usually when speaking with someone whose "mind was greatly improved by extensive reading" in an effort to thwart any accurate judging of my character. I was shallow. On careful review I find that lack of time was not the issue; how I spent my time was the issue. I found ample time for Netflix, Hulu and a myriad of other forms of visual entertainment, but rarely could find time for a book.

Now, before anyone goes down this road, I know that there are educational things on TV. If you have any doubts about that, ask any 1st grader about sex. What I have noted is that even when it is positively educational; it is spoon-fed. So, upon my arrival in Africa I began to notice a difference. I was reading more and subsequently I was learning more. In addition to constant language study (living in an Afrikaans house) I was opening and expanding my mind and my knowledge base through reading.

Here comes the second disclaimer. Reading in and of itself is not that redemptive of a pastime depending on what I am stuffing into my mind. If I say to you that I am improving my mind and as proof you ask me how and I say, "I read three books last month." This boast would be effectively nullified if I said that they were cheap fiction novels (notice my hesitancy to delve deeper into any particular genre; I want people to still read this blog). Please don't misunderstand me. I do not read lengthy philosophies or endless biographies very often (almost never). What I say is more a challenge to myself and to others who may read this.

So, I thought that perhaps I would just share what I have read in the past few months to a year and share what I thought about the read. If you like it or it sounds interesting, perhaps that would inspire you to read it as well.

The Grand Weaver: How God Shapes Us Through The Events of Our Lives by Dr. Ravi Zacharias

A book recommended by (and I think given to me by) my good friend, Jon Stratton. If you have ever wondered why things happen in life; Why cancer? Why did I loose my job and wreck my vehicle in the same month? Though the latter could be due to incompetence on your part, this book, while not telling why, lets us get a glimpse into the mind of a loving Father who holds the strings of our lives and is busy weaving a beautiful tapestry. I might add, when you surrender your life to Him and allow Him control. Excellent read.

Out of Africa by Karen Blixen

Many of you may have swooned (that is if you were female and older than I was in '85) from Robert Redford's role in the film bearing the same name. Though perhaps grand on a scale that shows a little of the magic of the North-east African countryside, it does little or no justice to Blixen's greatest work. The book, though flowery to a fault in its remembrances of a by-gone, colonial era that many would wish to return to (unless you were a Somalian or Kikuyu native), is beautiful. Straight from its opening lines to its ending paragraph, Blixen weaves her magic in prose with descriptions that come alive in your mind. I cannot remember when I have enjoyed reading a book so much...wait, never-mind I can, but that is a little further down the list and for different reasons. Though beautiful, (at times horrific like in the shotgun incident) and thought-provoking, the life lived that is portrayed in the movie was just as sordid and just as full of heartache. However, she mentions nothing of her syphilis in her biography. We are often kinder to ourselves in our own memory.

The Man-Eaters of Tsavo by John Henry Patterson (Free on Kindle)

In this gutsy book, the hero, (played by a laughable Irish Val Kilmer) faces off against...oh wait, that's the movie. Okay, so if you have only seen The Ghost and the Darkness then you have received a few chapters of perhaps the most exciting time of Patterson's stay in East Africa. The rest of the book is full of colonial privilege, dispensable Indian workers (they were usually the lion's favorite dish) and the seemingly endless pastime of blasting away any poor creature the was unfortunate enough to walk in front of Patterson's rifle. Though I am perhaps a bit hard on Patterson, it does show the dearth of conservationist thought that was part of colonial Europe. See a new species of antelope never recorded? Well of course I'm going to pick the dominate male with the best horns and blast him into next week. Who cares about the future of the herd and their genetics and so on.

Going Solo by Roald Dahl

This is another in a line of fascinating biographies that I have read. These are Dahl's recollection of working for Shell in East Africa and then his entrance into the RAF in WWII. A fascinating read from a master storyteller, but I fear it may be just that, stories. I would not dream of discrediting all of his facts, but I have enough knowledge to know that some of what he posits as fact is in all actuality, myth. So, enjoy the book for what it is. It is a short read and easily accomplished in not too many hours and if you are a pilot or just enjoy good stories, it is a must.

Too Close To The Sun: The Audacious Life and Times of Denys Finch Hatton by Sara Wheeler

This should almost be required as a companion guide to Out of Africa. As is the custom when a biography is written decades after the deceased has well, deceased; it is full of details one would not be so quick to inject if he were still alive. It is the chronicle of one of the most-liked while perhaps the most singularly selfish individuals. He was adored and loved wherever he went, but he only adored and loved if it was convenient for him and his plans. He was not the dashing American of the '85 film, but rather a hawk-nosed, English graduate of Eton who was that particular brand of gentry that seemed bored with life in general. Wheeler's writing is top notch and her vocabulary left me stumped two to three times on a page. The advantage of reading it on a kindle is that a dictionary was always a few clicks away. Through modern eyes it shows the other side of colonialism as well as he and Karen Blixen's relationship. Interesting read over all.

The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyss

Does anyone else hear a giant stretching sound? If you thought the movie was unbelievable, do yourself a favor and give the book to the library before you are tempted to read it.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford by Ron Hansen

Hansen's prose is breath-taking. He has the ability to turn a rather sordid part of our history (US) into poetry. He pulls no punches as to Jesse's true nature and does not do his victims the injustice of calling Jesse a "robin hood." Though it is in the genre of historical fiction (being full of conversations and feelings that cannot possibly be known), I think he stays close to the facts that he researched. Since I grew up in the midwest and had known Jesse James' name since infancy, this was of particular interest to me.

The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis

This was my second time through this book and I am so glad I did. The first time was on a plane en route to Phoenix, AZ for a family reunion. I was 15 at the time and lacked the necessary maturity to understand (as if I really understand now) what Lewis was saying. A spectacular visual journey and full of deep insights into the heart of man, God, redemption and depravity. Some may balk at his purgatorial depiction of hell, but keep in mind, it is a dream and the point of the book is not a treatise on the nature of heaven or hell, but our relationship with God and the things that keep us from accepting His greatest gift; salvation.

What's So Amazing About Grace by Philip Yancey

I was recommended this book years ago and never read it. I recently decided to read it and was glad I did. Like Lewis, Yancey doesn't mind asking questions that many of us are afraid to ask. The reason being that when we go to tell the world about this grace, they will not be afraid to ask those questions. We need to think about why this grace we tell others about is so wonderful. What makes it amazing? This book is well worth your time and if nothing else, Yancey got me to think and moved me to tears several times.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I really don't need to say much here. This is a fantastic book and the characters in it are memorable. There is a reason it is has been made into several film versions and its hero and heroine are household names. After reading this I would say that of the film adaptions, BBC's six part series does the best (if you have that much time to commit), but as with all films, it pales in comparison to the original. "Read it. I know you'll love it."

Facing the Lion: Growing up Maasai on the African Savanna by Joseph Lekuton

A short, vivid account of growing up in the Kenya wilderness, getting an education and eventually coming to America and becoming a teacher. If you think you have had a rough life, think again. This man endured unbelievable obstacles to be where he is today. A fascinating read and a wonderful triumph. It is short (intended more for children) and simply written. It wouldn't win a Pulitzer, but it is a beautiful story and well worth the time.

Don't Look Behind You: A Safari Guide's Encounters with Ravenous Lions, Stampeding Elephants and Lovesick Rhinos by Peter Allison

This would also not win any Pulitzer prizes, but it is hilarious, warm and engaging. I wish I could include a few excerpts because there were times that the tears were flowing. He tells of the humor living in the wild, dealing with European and American tourists who were more than a little naive and of the heartache of watching animals suffer.

Mahlengeni by Kobie Kruger

Personal anecdotes by a game ranger's wife in the Kruger Park. This is an interesting take on living in the wild. Instead of the usual stories from unattached men, living in tents and dangling their life on the edge, this is a stay at home mom in the middle of nowhere, trying to keep her sanity, her house and support her husband. A beautiful set of stories and very interesting.

At Home: A Short History of Private Life by Bill Bryson

I love this book. This is the other book that I enjoyed as much as, if not more than Out of Africa. I don't know what else to say, I'm afraid I would start gushing. I love little facts. Things that escape most people's attention just fascinate me and this book is full of them. If you have ever wanted to know why we use salt and pepper predominately over other spices, why there are three or four innocuous buttons on your suit sleeve or why the Eiffel Tower was built, you have to read this. It is very secular in its outlook and its approach to science and history, but that aside, Bryson has pulled together an unbelievable amount of facts and deposited them in a relatively small book that is very easy to read.

I hope you have enjoyed the list. I will add to it as it grows. I am currently reading Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain and will include that when I am finished. Feel free to let me know in comments, an email or Facebook what you have been reading lately.

A slight correction...

2011-10-26T07:43:00.002+02:00

I apologize to all who read the article from the World Update that may have noticed a problem with Stuart McAllister's quote. I somehow mixed his words with mine, put them both in italics and then didn't finish the sentence, only to finish it in the next paragraph. It was missed by the editors somehow.