The Farmer's Wife

2011-12-19T01:18:00.001-08:00

DAYS BEFORE THE FUNERAL

The next few days before the funeral are a blur, a feeling of being somewhere yet nowhere, just an emptiness that was so indescribable and extremely deep – total despair and abandonment. I vaguely recall various events here and there – like a jigsaw puzzle, with so many missing pieces. I try to get the picture complete but it is impossible with so many blanks and life just seemed like one cruel, hideous experience with no meaning at all.

That very next day, flowers began arriving, people called, the church got together and for a week superb tasty meals, and delicious puddings were delivered to our home. But to me, nothing mattered, nothing made sense and eating was the last thing on my mind – I had totally lost any taste for life at all. I recall our home being so filled with flowers and cards that we began running out of space. Friends and family milling around, making tea and coffee and conversations where in hushed tones. I wondered around aimlessly, thankful for the support and those around me, yet also wanting to be alone, with my thoughts, memories and devastated state of mind.

The nights, came and went. Two days slipped by and time was of no essence. Then it happened, 29^th November 1993, we had to go and identify her body. Her body??? What a weird feeling, Karen had become just a “body”... Lifeless with no soul, spirit or character... just a body! Fear gripped my like a vice and I was petrified to go to the morgue and there and then decided to not go but to remember her as she was. How could I go to a place where she would be laid out on a cold slap for me to view – it all seemed so cold, so impersonal – this was my precious daughter, not just a body! In the end my eldest daughter Natasha said she would go for me – what would I have done without Natasha? Evonne could not be put through this as she was seven months pregnant. Natasha, my strong child, who took so much on her shoulders – and in years to come, would do so much more for us all. Cope, identify, and arrange the funerals of her own father, mother in law and father in law.

On returning from the morgue, I pumped Natasha with so many questions, and she to the best of her ability tried to tell me what she had seen. She was placed before a glass window, with a purple curtain in front of it. When they pulled it back, there lay her little sister .... her hair still mattered with blood, and trickles of blood that had run out of her nose, mouth and ears. The autopsy report was as follows: Multiple bruises and abrasions of the legs, Bruises and abrasions of the face, Conjunctival bleedings of the left eye, there is a 3cm laceration behind the left ear, large base skull fracture, extending from the right fossa to the left occipital region, Large bleeding into the right temporal lobe and uncus. How crushed her perfect petite little body was. Her lifeless eyes were half open and ........ I cannot begin to imagine what my daughter Natasha had to go through at that moment. I was suddenly angry with myself, that I had not gone with her, been there to support her and still regret this decision to this day. How one’s life can change in a split second – Karen, the person we knew and loved, no longer existed. She was yet another statistic of the South African Road Accidents and was now body number DR 3533/93.

Nightmare Reality

2011-11-01T08:20:00.000-07:00

I have many times tried to recall the events that followed that evening but they remain a mystery to me. It frustrates me because I cannot seem to remember in what sequence they took place. With our telephone out of order I could contact no-one and had to rely on my family to make the necessary calls. As each second passed I kept on thinking of how many hours Karen had been dead. The thought of her lying somewhere alone in a morgue was unbearable. All I wanted was for her to come home.

There are no words to describe the pain I felt inside. I was hurting and felt terribly afraid and lost. Over and over a picture flashed through my mind ..... Karen turning at a robot. I could see her - happy, music playing on her car tape .... Then, without warning, another vehicle hitting her car. I see her little body jerk from the impact, I see blood and hear her scream. I hear glass shatter and metal scraping - and then - a moment's silence. Suddenly, people all around her trying to help, and I am not there. She is alone amongst strangers and dies without one of her family at her side. I shut my eyes tight, tears flow as I try to push this picture out of my mind ... only to have it return moments later.

Family and friends began arriving. I remember each one, silent and at a loss for words. Stunned at the tragedy which had struck us so suddenly. I was anxious to see Evonne and Natasha, but also afraid because I did not know what to expect or what to say to them. I think I was more afraid of seeing their pain and heartache ... something I realised I would not be able to protect them from. Gerrie and Evonne walked in and my heart twisted in anguish. Her eyes were red and swollen, unbelief and horror written so clearly all over her face. She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed. My youngest brother and his family arrived and a while later my parents. We hugged each other and cried and each one tried their best to comfort me with words of encouragement and love. Tessa came, and when I saw her my last hope of Karen being alive faded. They had not swopped cars as they sometimes did. When I think back now of this hope I had, I feel guilty, but I suppose this is only being what they call "human".

When Craig walked in, my mind was suddenly alert and my attention totally focused. Craig was one of Karen's friends from work. I instinctively knew he would have been at the scene of the accident and would be able to tell us more of what had happened. He was pale and still in a state of shock. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say. It is such a shock" he whispered, fighting back the tears. "Were you there, did you see what happened?" I asked frantically. "I was two cars behind Karen. The robot was green for her, and she was waiting to turn right. There was a car in front of her. I'm not sure if the other car had stalled but it would not move. I don't know if Karen became impatient or if she was afraid the robot would change and she would caught in the middle of the road ... but she suddenly pulled out behind the car and turned. She never saw the minibus coming from the other direction. The minibus was travelling at a very high speed and it's on a steep downhill. Seeing the red robot, and most likely not wanting to stop, or could not stop at that speed, the minibus slipped to the left on the slipway, then proceeded to travel straight, and so hitting Karen’s car full on, and threw her car thirteen meters across the road into the robot. What we were hearing was awful, but I desperately needed to know every little detail of what had happened. "Was she alive, was she badly hurt, did she say anything to you ...?" The questions would not stop. I had to know! I had to know! And here was someone who was one of the last people Karen had contact with before she died. I knew it was hard on Craig but at that moment nothing mattered more than knowing. Craig, searching for words, tried his best to answer the questions pouring from me. "Karen never said anything. When I reached her car she was bleeding from her nose and mouth. Fred and I took her out and laid her on the ground as we were afraid that she may have chocked .... she seemed to have had difficulty in breathing ... then the paramedics arrived and took over. She wasn't conscious and I am sure she never suffered any pain. One thing was strange, her hands were still on the steering wheel ... not clenched but relaxed and she had a faint smile on her face." Craig took a few steps forward and held out his hand. "I took off watch, I was afraid someone would steal it." Clutching the watch in my hands, I thanked Craig. He would never know what this meant to me. It was a sort of contact with Karen. Over and over I kept on thinking; this was one of the last things that touched her. I wanted to cherish it forever. "Where is Marion I asked my parents?" suddenly realising that my sister had not yet arrived. "Her office has gone out to Hartebeespoort Dam for the day. Noel is only expecting her back home at seven." "You mean she doesn't know yet?" I whispered. "Noel will tell her when she gets home and then they will also come over." my father answered. I can't remember much of what took place for the next hour or so. My mind was in such a turmoil and my eyes ached from the constant flow of tears. All I wanted was for this to stop! Someone to tell me it did not really happen, but each aching moment dragged on. Minutes turned into hours and I knew these would turn into days, months and eventually years. My mind kept rebelling against the thought of how final death is. Marion and Noel arrived; I have no idea what time, because time meant nothing to me now. Life had little meaning, I just wanted to roll over and die as well. How could I go on living when a vital part of me was dead? Does not a child bury the parent? Aren't parents supposed to grow old and die before their children? Is that not the natural course of life? Nothing made sense; all was out of and beyond my control. Much later that evening Natasha and Martin finally arrived. At least my mind could now have a fragile bit of peace .... both my other children were at least safe and with me. We held on to each other tightly, each one desperately trying to draw strength from the other. Natasha was strained, and I could sense an anger growing inside of her .... I knew she wanted to know how God could have allowed something like this to happen. Someone made tea and coffee and we tried to comfort one another as the hours passed. It was late when the family began to leave, and as we hugged each other goodbye, I realised that one knows when you are saying goodbye for the very last time. Tasha and Evonne prepared sleeping place for themselves and Marcell and insisted that Hennie and I go to bed to rest. As I lay in my bed with the soft glow of the bedside lamp beside me, total exhaustion began seeping through my body ....... but knowing this would be the first night Karen would not be home was too much to bear. My heart ached for her. How could I be lying on a soft bed, warm between the sheets, while she was lying on a cold slab in a morgue. "O my God!! Help me!" I silently cried on the inside and felt once again the warm tears flow over my face. Softly and apprehensively, Tasha and Evonne entered our bedroom and insisted that we each take a sleeping pill so that we could rest. I wanted so much to escape and gladly accepted. Within minutes I felt the room begin to spin and finally fell asleep. Saturday morning as I opened my eyes to the sharp, bright rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, my very first thought was "KAREN IS DEAD!" The dull ache inside, the turmoil, the horrible dead, dull feeling inside of me returned in all its fury. It was the beginning of a new day, and the beginning of a new way of life for me. I would have to learn all over again how to live ..... you see I had also died the day before. How I was to accomplish this, I did not know ........ I had never been this way before, a journey I was to discover gave me no answers, no solutions - a journey that would continually raise questions.

Morning & Evening - the first day!

2011-08-17T06:13:00.000-07:00

Being a born again child of God, having a strong faith in Him, believing in life after death and that those who die in Christ will be resurrected to eternal life, does not in the initial stage of shock and grief ease the pain. I believed all this and had lived it, but at that moment it was of no comfort to me. I wanted my daughter with me. I wanted to see her grow into full womanhood, be married, bear me grandchildren, be a mother and live a full life. Her adult life had just begun to open like a rosebud, and death had come like a knife and cut it off. How could my Heavenly Father have allowed this to happen? Why Karen? Why me? It was only much later that I learned, despite the pain, through all the agony and heartache,to ask the question "Why not Karen? Why not me?" The questions kept flowing, demanding answers, which Noel could not give me at that stage. "Where's Hennie?" Noel cautiously asked. "At home with Marcell" I answered with despair, realising that we still had to break the news to them. How do you tell your husband his youngest daughter had been killed in an accident? How was I going to tell Marcell that Karen had died? There are no easy ways or gentle words to use. Death is not easy and not gentle, it is a thief which steals away that which is precious in life. When we stopped in front of our flat Noel asked me if I wanted him to break the news to Hennie and Marcell. Instinct told me it was time to be strong, pull myself together and do what I had to do. I told Noel I would be alright but wanted him to come in with me. The walk from the car to our flat was the longest and hardest journey I have ever trod. My mind was just a mixed maze of thoughts that made no sense. Fear and horror at what had taken place gripped every fibre in my body, and the reality of it all kept hitting at me with force. On entering our flat I first found Marcell resting on the sitting room couch. He was surprised to see me home so early, but immediately noticed something was wrong. "Marcell..." I lifted my hands to my face, trying to control myself. He immediately jumped up from the couch "Auntie Lydia, what's wrong!" he asked with concern pulling my hands from my face. In that split second my whole being ached for him, knowing that what I had to say was going to be too much for him to be able to grasp. "It's Karen, she was in an accident, she's dead." I kept my eyes fixed on his face. "No! ... No!" he kept saying, eyes wild with terror and disbelief and gasping for air. I tried to put my arms around him but at first he wouldn't let me near him. After a few seconds he held onto me and Noel and I briefly told him what we knew. We cried, still not fully realising the finality of it all. "Where's uncle Hennie?" I asked, my voice shaking. "He's taking an afternoon nap in the bedroom" Marcell answered in a soft whisper. I felt so drained and extremely tired as I went to our bedroom to wake Hennie and tell him. As I looked down at him sleeping so peacefully, I thought this is so unfair. My mind went back to the time I also had to wake him up in the early hours of the morning to tell him his father had passed away. I was also the one to break the news to him of his mother's death, his sister and two brothers. He had already lost so many precious family members. And now the ultimate loss .... his child. I felt the tears well up. How could I tell him? How could I once again be the bearer of tragic news to this man I loved so much. I felt so alone and lost in those few moments and was frightened as to what his reaction would be. Gently touching his shoulder I called his pet name I always use "Spook" .... he grunted, sleepily opened his eyes and smiled questioningly at me. Had he overslept and forgotten to fetch me from work? Then he saw the look on my face. "Something terrible has happened" the words started to spill out. "Karen, ... she's had an accident, ... she's dead!" I will never forget the look on Hennie's face, contorted with horror, shock, fear and unbelief. I desperately needed now to be held by him and feel his strong arms around me, reassuring me it would be alright. Instead, he sat upright and pushed me as hard as he could away from him and in a hysterical voice shouted that it wasn't true and I was lying. Over and over he kept moaning, rocking to and fro with his head buried in his hands. "No! No! Please God, not my child." He wept, and I could feel the tension and anger mounting. Staring blankly in front of him he asked me what had happened. "They better never let me near the person who smashed into my child and killed her!" he said bitterly "because I won't be able to control myself!" After, what seemed like an eternity, we joined Noel and Marcell in the sitting room. It was 4.30pm and I could not believe that only an hour had passed since I was first given the tragic news, it seemed like a lifetime had passed. Our telephones had been down for more than two weeks, and I suddenly realised that my two other children and the rest of the family needed to be told. Not being able to phone, Noel said he would go to his house, tell my parents and then start to contact family and friends. My thoughts drifted to Natasha and Evonne. Fear gripped me just thinking of them travelling on the roads to get to us. What if something happened to them? They would try and get to Johannesburg as fast as they could and this worried me. Their concentration would not be good while travelling. Evonne and Gerrie only had a half hour trip from Pretoria, but Natasha and Martin had to come from Barberton and would be travelling at night. "Oh God," I prayed, "please be with them and bring them safely home." Evonne did not have a phone at home, but Noel would contact my younger brother Lenny and let them go over and tell her. Evonne was six months pregnant with her first child and I was concerned that the shock of Karen's death could have disastrous effects on her unborn baby. My heart cringed at the thought of our first grandchild on it's way. Karen had looked so forward to this baby and becoming a real aunt. She had already bought little odds and ends for the baby, and now .... she would never see it. "This cannot be happening" I kept thinking. "Maybe they've made a mistake ... maybe Karen took Tessa's car instead of her own little Charade. They often swapped cars. That must be it" I thought. "Someone will come soon and tell us it was Tessa in Karen's car." My thoughts were running wild, looking for any way to escape facing reality. "I'm going to leave now, Lyd" I heard Noel say. "Mom and Dad will be over soon. We'll come over later when I've contacted everyone." I vaguely remember thanking Noel as he left. Hennie, Marcell and I were now alone. Each one silent, wandering aimlessly around the flat, not knowing what to do or what to say. The afternoon sun was setting, dusk was falling - we had a long night ahead of us and I was so terribly afraid. The only sounds were muffled sobs as each one of us felt the loss of Karen sweeping over us.

Crushed to the Core

2011-08-14T23:51:00.000-07:00

I vaguely remember trying to speak. My mouth was dry, my tongue felt thick and my breathing was shallow. Arms reached out as Noel and Colin supported me. We were standing in a large shopping mall just outside the restaurant. People were going about their every day duties and here I stood so totally alone amongst the crowds.

I wanted to scream at them – “How can you shop, how can you just walk around here? My child is dead, the world MUST stop, nothing will ever be the same again!” We made our way to the escalator ... curious stares were directed at me from passersby .... I was mumbling, eyes wide open and white as a sheet as I dragged my legs trying to carry this dead weight I felt hanging onto me. Strange though how wonderful the human mind is. Amidst all the confusion of those first few minutes your mind demandingly reminds you "what must be done".

"I don't even have money to bury her" I groaned. Both Noel and Colin said that was the least of my worries, they would assist me through the company. We finally reached Noels' car and they helped me in. This is not happening I kept on thinking. My heart was crying out in such agony "Karen, oh Karen. Please dear God, take this bitter cup from me, I cannot drink of this cup, I am too weak, I will not stand this test ... OH dear God help me!" I had severe difficulty in breathing and kept on gasping for air. Very gently Colin tried to reassure me ... "Lydia, we will be praying for you. Remember although we do not understand, put your trust in the Lord, He alone can help you." Someone answered "I know, I know". It must have been me, it sounded like my voice. Already extreme shock had set into my numb body.

All the way home Noel comfortingly held my hand and tried in his own way to let me know I was not alone.

Suddenly my mind was being flooded with questions. "What happened?" ..... "I don't have all the details yet, only that Karen was turning at a robot and was hit by an oncoming car" Noel answered.

"Was she badly hurt .... did she suffer?" ..... "I don't know."

"Where is Karen?" ..... "They've taken her to the Johannesburg morgue."

"What time did it happen?" ..... "At 1pm" Noel patiently answered. A quick glance at my watch told me it was 3.30pm. My mind was in a turmoil, I couldn't think straight and I was still struggling to breathe. My daughter had died two and a half hours ago and I had only just found out. I was devastated, crushed into millions of pieces and every fibre in my body cried out in anguish... "My baby, my precious child, my daughter, my youngest, my best friend ... gone, taken away forever. Oh God, this cup gets more bitter with every passing second, please let it pass, I have not the strength to lift it and drink".

Shocking News

2011-08-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

At 1pm we set off for our Christmas lunch. I had a very heavy feeling hanging over me while everyone else in the office was in high spirits. I have never been a party person and feel lost in crowds. At the lunch table I neatly positioned myself with one of my colleagues whom I knew did not use alcohol. At least I would have someone to talk to while we waited for the food. By 2.30pm still no lunch had arrived and around the table drinks were flowing freely. Everyone was in a festive mood, the music was loud and the people even louder. I felt totally out of place and just wished for this day to end so that I could escape to the comfort and security of my own home. Some people will think me dull, but each to his own. I am who I am and I will not change my nature to suit others. Just as much as my friends have the right to party and enjoy themselves, so have I the right to do what makes me feel comfortable. Eventually lunch was ready and plates of food were brought to the table. I was just about to dig in when our Manager, Colin Walker, came over to me and asked if I had my handbag with me. I said yes and he asked me to go with him.

I thought he had some or other gift for someone that he wanted to sneak in, so I grabbed my bag and followed. At the door he turned to me and said "Lydia, we have had some very bad news, you must be strong ... Noel is waiting outside for you". I looked at Colin and saw the expression on his face. Terror gripped me, my mind started racing, and I felt my heart literally beating in my throat. "What is it!!??" hysteria rising in my voice. He gently took my arm and led me through the door where Noel, my brother in law, was waiting. In these few split seconds my mind was jumping all over ... something has happened to my husband Hennie, maybe its mom or dad. "Noel ... what is it ... what has happened?" The look on Noel's face portrayed such despair and when he opened his mouth to speak I heard the most cruel, crushing and devastating words as he reached out to put his arms around me. "Lyd, it's Karen ... she's been killed in a car accident."

SHOCK is not the word to describe what I felt. DISBELIEF is not the word. There are NO words that can ever reveal or even begin to explain that feeling, it defies every humanly possible description. I suddenly went ice cold, my body started to shake, I felt faint, my head was spinning and the whole world came crashing down upon me. I felt like a statue, a dead weight, as if I was dreaming. This cannot be! It's impossible! There must be some mistake! Someone else yes, but not Karen.

This is Karen's Story!

2010-12-05T00:55:00.000-08:00

ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI? (Mark 15 v 34) –My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken me?

Friday, 26 November 1993, 1pm, Lonehill, Johannesburg. A day, a date, a time and a place destined to change my life so drastically that I still struggle to find answers to the reason why this happened. Anything ..... just to understand.

At 6am that morning my bedside alarm went off as usual. It was just like any other day, but it was to end in a nightmare and be burned into my memory forever. I dragged myself out of bed to start the normal routine of making coffee, running bath water, and then my major task of the day - to get Karen out of bed and to work on time. She just loved to lie in until the last minute and usually all my efforts and coaxing were in vain - except this specific day.

At the first call she was up. Today was special to her. She wanted to look her best as it was the first official company lunch that she would attend. This was a time of the year I hated most - Christmas lunches and parties for every conceivable occasion. But for Karen it was exciting. She had started working for Tacholog in Midrand on 4 August 1993. It was her first job after leaving Technikon - she enjoyed her work and was a favourite amongst her colleagues. This was HER day.

The mornings we shared together in front of the dressing table mirror were unique. Laughter, music, irritations when we couldn't find the mascara, chatting about this and that, more irritations when our stockings would ladder, grabbing another quick cup of coffee and then dashing out to work in the nick of time. This particular Friday morning was no different. With a quick hug and a kiss, wishing her a super day and to enjoy her Christmas lunch, I dashed off, never ever knowing it was the last time I would see her, the last time I would touch her, ... the last time ... the last time!

Work was busy as we too had our Christmas lunch scheduled for 1.30pm that same day. Everyone was rushing about trying to get work done as it was nearing month end. At 10.30 a.m. I decided to give Karen a quick call, find out how her day was going and what time she planned to be home. Their lunch was being held at the Lonehill Country Club and Karen said they would be leaving work at 12.30pm and driving there in convoy. She had contacted her friend Tessa to phone our home at 6.30 that evening to find out if she was back yet. She did not want to stay any later than 7 o'clock. Her boyfriend, Marcell, had arrived that Wednesday on a long weekend pass from the army and she wanted to be with him. Karen had told Tessa that if she was not home when she called, Tessa was to come out to the Country Club and make some excuse for her to leave. Karen knew that her colleagues would try and persuade her to stay till the end of the party, but she wanted to go home as early as possible. With their little "plan" neatly worked out, all was settled. I told her I hoped to be home by my normal time and would see her later. Whenever we said goodbye she never once failed to say "Love you lots". But today she said it in a different way. "Mommy I love you very much". "Me too", I replied and put the phone down totally unaware that this would be our last time we would share a conversation .... the very last time I would hear her voice.

(to be continued .....)

About Time!

2010-11-05T02:50:00.000-07:00

Wow, I cannot belive it has been almost 3 months since I last popped in here! Life has been hectic to say the least, and I have hardly touched ground ... things have been good & bad! Last time I blogged I told you about the matric reunion ... what an amazing success and an experience I think everyone of us will have burned into memory forever! Old friends seeing each other again for the first time in 42 years, was amazing! No silent moments, just happy faces, huggs and handshakes, as if we had only left school a month ago! It was wonderful, and well worth the year's work and effort to bring it all together. Many friends were found ... and in all 31 of the students attended. All in all with spouses, we hit 42 in total. We were blessed with a lovely sunny day, which matched the spirits of everyone. Our head girl, flew over from Oxford in the UK to South Africa to attend ... wow! I gave each one a printed book of their life histories since the day they left school, as well as it all in power point presentations on a CD. They also each received a DVD photo story with all old photos of our school, hometown, friends and teachers.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=292195&id=581228071&l=3a5cd9fbff

About a week after the reunion, my father landed up with Shingles, absolutely the worst case .... I am still trying to nurse him back to health. Shame at 82 it is difficult to experience this and most uncomfortable. I understand that the pain is excruciating, but my dad, like he is, does not complain, yet I see it in his eyes!

My mother is doing a lot better, and getting stronger each day! She can now walk small distances without the walker, much to my dismay, as I panic every time, that she may fall. But I have to let go, she needs her independance.

This has been a really busy time for me! Stress levels have been high and at times I want to stop the world and get off! Can I??? I wish! However, life is what we make of it, so I close my eyes and carry on.

In September, my husband Danie, and my two girls, Natasha & Evonne, along with my brother in law Noel, arranged a surprise party for my sister Marion & myself for our birthdays! Oh what a great event it was ...! My two daughters arranged the venue so tastefully in red and black! I turned 60 on the 22nd of September and my sister turned 50 on the 18th. We had both hit a great milestone, and the family decided it had to be celebrated in style! Hahaha my daughters even arranged two male "strippers" for us ... however the only thing they did was rip their shirts off .. much to my surprise it was my two grandsons, but it was hillarious and we had a great great time - go check out the album on FaceBook ....... http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=273107&id=581228071&l=d35051eff1

Here on the farm, we need rain ..... a good downpour. The air is humid, hot and each day as the clouds gather we wait in anticipation, but it passes over and time is running out to prepare lands for the crops! Being a farmer, I have found, is most definitely not for the weak hearted .. being a farmer's wife is only for those women who can encourage their men, when the going gets tough!

Until, I get back here again .. hopefully soon, take care and God Bless!

Reunion

2010-08-13T15:48:00.001-07:00

Last year Danie and I attended his 50th matric reunion at their school in Heidelberg. I was amazed to see how these old school friends, had over the years kept in contact with one another. I watched as everyone tried to catch up on "old times." They had all aged, some well and some not so well. I was intrigued at how good some of them still looked after all those years.

On our way back home, I was lost deep in thought. Where were all my old school friends? I had absolutely no idea! I had left school after matric in 1968, married a year later and just carried on with my life. I became a mother at 21 and at the age of 26 had three daughters. I was just too busy living my life, to think about old friends. Now after 42 years I suddenly wondered what had happened to everyone, and shared my thoughts with Danie. "Well" he said, "Why don't you see if you can find them?" Thus the whole scenario of a Matric Reunion was born.

Where does one start? My first stop was Face Book! Hmmmm there I found a few, but not many as most of us would be in our 60's and not computer literate! Then, I found some by searching through the faces of young people my children's ages, and trying to see the similarity of either mother or father in them via our Year Book! This was very time consuming as I wrote to many young people on Face Book - "Hello sorry to trouble you, but was your mother so and so or was your father so and so, and were they in Frans du Toit High School in Phalaborwa?" Most of the time the answers came back "No, good luck!" But I did hit a few jackpots.

I Googled names, wrote to companies and as the list grew, old friends gave leads and numbers and so I progressed slowly but surely. This year, on 16th October, we will be having our reunion on our farm. Everyone is excited to see each other again, and even our head girl is flying out from the UK to attend. I asked each one to send me a life history with photos of their families, and so did a presentation of each life and emailed them one by one to the group.

While doing these searches, it was shocking to hear of how many of the friends were no longer with us. So many had died, some from cancer, some in accidents, some had committed suicide, some from alcohol ... so sad. Some had died very young, and when you hear this, you realise how blessed you are!

Many of the old friends have done so well for themselves. Some have their own companies, one is an orthopaedic surgeon in Canada, some have travelled the world, quite a few have conquered cancer and are in remission, some have just had a good life .... others have not. Some are still married to their teenage loves, some have divorced, some have lost their spouses.

For those I could find ... I cannot wait to see everyone again! I am sure we have all changed in stature and character, but I am sure we will have a blast catching up on the 42 year gap!

Looking Back

2010-08-13T15:16:00.000-07:00

At last ... or should I say "about time!" I have been trying to get back to this space since my last blog, but circumstances have stolen so much of my time, and left me feeling so guilty, but hey, here I am again. I last blogged on my mother's awful time in hospital and am happy to say that she is well and gaining her strength once more. It was hard in the beginning, and trying to find a happy medium between nursing her and arranging my own life, was at times quite a mission.

Each day I prayed for wisdom, strength and above all patience. In the three months that she has been at home, she has astounded doctors with the progress she has made. Having had severe kidney failure, the physician did not expect her to live. At times it was touch and go, but prayer changes things. With her last visit to the doctors, they said, that they had expected her kidneys to stabilise at a stage, but never ever revert to their former health. Well, I am pleased to say they have much to the doctor's surprise!

In the beginning, I had to do everything for my mother. Now, she walks around well with her walker. The only thing I still do for her is bath her, and I cook the food. Other to that she is up and about and doing her own things again. She has lost a lot of weight since all this happened, and she is thrilled about it, as she has for so long tried to shed those extra kilos!

What can I say? I come from good genes, mom is one tough woman. But then, one must remember, that having been in an orphanage from the tender age of eight up until sixteen, she has that strong inbred will to survive. I am thankful, for every prayer and for the extra time we have been given by the grace of our Lord. It could have been so different .... she has changed since all this happened. I find a softer look in her eyes and her voice. Life is precious and we need to take time to enjoy our parents as they age, before it is too late.

My Mother

2010-06-03T00:16:00.000-07:00

I cannot believe that it is only a month since I last posted on my blog. It feels like a year! So much has happened, and I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning.

Sunday - 25^th April 2010

We took my mother to see the doctor. She had been complaining for days of a pain in her back which kept shifting from place to place. Once examined, the doctor found she had shingles, and was also dehydrated. At 83, he felt he needed to admit her for tests to make sure she was ok.

Monday - 26^thApril 2010

My cell phone rang beside my bedside at 4am in the morning. Like a bolt of lightning I grabbed it, just knowing that a call at this time of the morning could only be bad news. With bated breath I heard the voice identifying herself as sister “so and so” from Robinson Life Hospital. She needed to inform me that my mother had gone to the bathroom and tripped over her drip stand. She had broken her femur bone in the right leg and would need to be operated on. My heart raced, at the thought of anesthetic with my mother at 83. I knew this could not be good. Four years ago, she had also fallen and crushed her right shoulder, and had a replacement. Having nursed her then, and remembering how difficult it was to pull her up out of bed, I felt this dead dull dread in my heart, how would I cope with this?

As there were no beds available in ICU, they strapped my mother’s leg up, and she had to wait until the following day to go into theater. We rushed through that morning, as early as we could, and found her under heavy sedation for the pain.

Tuesday – 27^th April 2010

My mother was operated on early in the morning. My Father and I, my sister & her husband, two brothers with their wives, and my two daughters all sat waiting in the hospital lounge just outside ICU. The atmosphere was tense, as we were unsure of what to expect. Eventually we were allowed to go in to see my mother, but only two at a time.

It was not a pleasant sight. Monitors beeping, oxygen mask over her face, drips and pipes hanging like spaghetti from their stands. She was breathing shallow, but managed to open her eyes and greet us. The news was not good; she had a very bad break and another less sever lower down on the leg. A steel pin had been inserted from the knee, fastened with two screws, all the way up the leg to the hip, then another very long screw that fastened the pin onto the hip bone.

That night, at 8.55pm, I received a phone call from my cousin in George in the Cape, to let me know that my mother’s eldest sister, aunt Minnie had died. I wept, as she was like a second mother to me, and her and my mother were very close. How was I to tell my mother, in her state? I was afraid it would have a devastating impact upon her. Even though we had been expecting this news for some time now, the shock of her death was no easier had we not known. My sister and I discussed the matter, and decided we would not tell my mother at this stage. We were not even sure she would understand.

We were told that my mother would be in ICU for a day or two… it turned out to be 7days in total, under extreme sedation and morphine for the pain, she started to hallucinate. Doctors do not tell you this, and do not warn you either. It was a very scary time for us, as we thought she had gone totally insane. She was hearing things & seeing things that did not exist …It was devastating to see her like this … but there is much more to the saga which I will continue in the next blog and will perhaps help others understand their loved ones in a situation such as this!

My best Investment

2010-04-25T21:56:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to get back to my blog for weeks with no success. Life has been hectic and there is no end in sight in the near future for me that it will tone down to a calmer state. I last wrote just before the Easter weekend. After the shocking news of the murder of Eugene Terreblanche, I thought “This is something to blog about!” Then the controversy concerning the Julius Malema saga, of the song “Shoot the Boer.” I have never heard the song myself, do not even know what the words are, only that they are to shoot us, the Boers (farmers). I decided to find the song on the Internet, and when I did, my first reaction was HUH??? It made no sense, had absolutely no message for the nation. I then decided to count how many times the words "shoot, shoot, the boer" were in the song. WOW – 20 times! I refused to count the times "shoot, shoot" was used - there were too many. Other words in the song? - minimal. 99% of the song is "shoot, shoot, shoot,shoot, shoot the Boer." I was convinced this would make a great blog, but life throws many issues along one's path and the direction changes.

Enough has been said regarding the ET and Malema issues, negative and alarming statements have been made injecting fear into the hearts of many South Africans regardless of race or colour. We have two choices in life - to grow bitter or better. I chose the latter. I have decided to be positive, regardless. I have come to the conclusion that bad news sells; good news is not as exciting. No wonder that the Good News of our Saviour is so easily discarded. Write a book about the dark side - demons, vampires, ogres, werewolves, Satan and the like - and be sure it will become a best seller. In no time it will make it to the big screen. Write a book on goodness, purity, God, Jesus, faith, love, hope - anything that is far from the dark side - and you are rejected time and again to get published. And forget about the big screen! That is life I suppose. Or is it? Is life not what we ourselves make of it? I can decide this morning to be grumpy and moody, or I can decide to walk around with a smile on my face and be friendly to each soul that crosses my path. What is your decision today? Everything we decide upon is a choice. My best investment in life has been Jesus. Does that mean nothing bad ever happens to me? No, absolutely not! In fact, a lot of bad things have happened in my life, but, were it not for Him, I would not have made it through the storm. Even reading my blog was a choice you, the reader, made. So I challenge anyone who reads this: Will you grow bitter, or better? You decide.

Easter - A Time to Remember

2010-04-01T15:07:00.000-07:00

It is Easter! Walk into any shop, and the shelves are dressed out in shiny chocolate bunnies & bright coloured Easter eggs. It is a long weekend, and many sigh a great relief at the thought of a quick getaway for a few days, albeit a short one. Children squeal with laughter at the thought of the Easter Egg Hunt they will embark on over the weekend.

Highways are jammed, as families rush out of the cities for a long needed break. This is the one public holiday of the year, in which many people loose their lives on the road. Thousands of buses, taxis, trucks and motor cars, take the journey to Polokwane in the Limpopo Province, where the Zionists have their annual Easter Conference. I hear this year is their hundredth anniversary, so it should be a major event. Metropolitan traffic police are on high alert, and the news media warns that they will show no mercy to those who break the law, in speeding and drunken driving.

Amid all the turmoil, and rushing to and fro, I stop, and think, and wonder … how many of us remember what this time is really all about? The One who should be remembered, honoured and praised is pushed aside, made an outsider while mankind indulges in his own selfish pleasures.

This is the time to remember, our Lord and Saviour, who willingly gave His life, to die on a cross that we, may be saved. This is the time, to be thankful that Salvation is free to us, that we can have the gift of everlasting life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

This is the time, to remember that through His death, and resurrection, we have life eternal! This is the time to remember His unconditional love For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes on him should not perish but have everlasting life.

For Karen

2010-03-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

My Darling Karen

Next week Tuesday, 23rd March is your birthday and you would be 34 years old. I still have the vivid image of us laughing together on the morning of your last day with me! Do you remember? You were so excited about the Christmas dinner that you were to attend for your company’s year end. Your excitement was also flamed with the fact that Marcel was on a weekend pass and was visiting us. I remember lying in bed the previous night and hearing the two of you laughing and joking, so happy to see one another again. What I did not know, was that it would be the last time I would hear that ever so contagious laugh.

What can I say? I have no words, as they all choke up inside of me, and melt into tears of a mother’s emptiness at the loss of her daughter. It has been 17 years, and still, I try to see you in a crowd, imagine I hear your voice, and many times feel your presence around me. You were so precious to us, the bubbly one, who always smiled through the storms and helped everyone around you!

I remember your call at 10am that fateful morning of 26^th November 1993, and you last words still ring in my heart “Ok mommy, love you lots.” These were always you last words to us.

I get this awful feeling inside of me when I think that next year you will be gone from us longer than you lived! This is such a frightening thought … but mommy wants you to know that we have that blessed assurance, that you are safe, in the place Jesus promised to go and prepare for us.

Remember the night God allowed me to see where you are? It was the most striking experience I have ever had in my life. You looked so beautiful, so full of peace and the light and power that emanated from you was astounding! I then knew what it meant in the Bible about an earthly body and a heavenly body. I could clearly see and feel that you had shed the corruptible earthly body for the incorruptible heavenly body. You were amazing, and I stood in awe of what I saw.

I remember the mansion you were in, called Mizpah (meaning May the Lord watch between you and me while we are absent one from another) I recall the magical music all around me, the beauty indescribable and when I woke from this vision – Our Father gave me total peace about where you were.

In April 2002, Tasha, Evonne and I had you moved from Midrand cementry, to have you buried alongside daddy in Pietersburg cementry. It felt good to have you together.

Karen, we miss you so much, but everyone is doing well. We have moved on from the pain, to precious memories of you and carry you in our hearts. You will always be with us, no matter what. Your life was one of total commitment to your Lord and Saviour an example to us and your deeds were a testimony to all.

Happy Birthday my precious, sweet Karen

Love you lots

Mommy

FARM ATTACK!

2010-03-16T16:22:00.001-07:00

18th September 2009, 4.30pm. A date that would be burned into my memory forever!
My parents and I had just returned to the farm after a day of shopping. I parked my car in front of the garage, and told my parents to wait while I went in to call the maid
to help us with the packages. As I opened the side gate to the back yard, I saw Danie lying on the grass under the washing line, with three black men around him.

I instinctively thought he was having a heart attack, and that the farm labourers were trying
to help him. Fear gripped me, and I called out to him, "Sweetheart, are you OK?" and started to run towards him. As Danie lifted his head and turned towards me, I saw the blood and heard him shout in desperation "Run Dia, run!" I then realised something was very wrong, as I sensed the urgency in his voice. My mind went haywire, and I turnedand started to run, grabbing the gate to close it behind me. The next minute I was looking down the barrel of a pistol, and was grabbed with force at the neck of my blouse. The man kept twisting my blouse until I was walking on my toes in an attempt to breathe.

I was in total shock, and a voice demanded "Where are the pistols, where are your guns?"
While hitting me at the side of my head, he pushed me towards the back door of our house. At that moment I knew, we were in great danger. The man forced me into our house still muttering and demanding me to give him guns. I walked down the passage to our bedroom, and trying to play for time, I told him, I had not been married to Danie for long, so did not know where he kept the keys to the safe. I could sense, that the man was getting frustrated, and at that moment the two other men dragged Danie into the bedroom, with his hands and feet bound with nylon rope.

In our country, having slogans blatantly promoted in Youth Ralleys and over TV - "Kill the farmer, kill the boer!" you suddenly realise that you could become one of the statistics. They sat me down on our bed, with my back to Danie, and began hitting him and shouting "Open the safe! Where are the keys! Open or we will kill her!" I hear the gun cock against my head and the man swears, then again says, "I kill you!" I hear Danie pleading "Please, do not hurt my wife, I will give you what you want"

"Quick, quick, hurry, open up" they keep whispering in urgent tones. I hear the key turn in the safe, and hear the excitement in their voices, guns, ammunition, money ... everything they want.

As I sat on the bed, with the gun against my head, I suddenly realised, now they have what they want, they have no more use for us! I began to pray out loud, and Danie did the same. The men were disturbed by this, and asked us "What are you doing?" Danie said "We are praying". As I prayed, I heard myself say ... "Father, forgive them, they do not realise what they are doing is wrong" Where did that come from? I would much rather have prayed that they get struck by lightening.

The three men, grabbed everything they could get in the safe, stuffing their pockets with as much ammunition as they could. As they began leaving the room, one of the robbers knelt in front of me, and asked me what was in my bedside drawer, and demanded I open it or he would shoot me. I told him it was only my bible and glasses.

In a flash,they were gone ... Danie loosened himself and ran outside but they were nowhere to be seen. Now I was frantic, where were my parents? What if they had taken them hostage? I ran to the window but my parents were no longer in the car. I felt my heart gripped with fear, and ran to the front door. I opened it and there they stood safe and sound. My father had walked my mother to the front door, and when he found it locked said he would go around the back to open up for her. He took some parcels out of the car, walked into the house, and as he set them down, he saw the men dragging Danie down the passage. My father also thought Danie had been hurt
and that labourers were helping him, but then he saw the guns, and Danie shouted to him to get out of the house. My father then ran back to my mother and told her to stand dead still as we were being robbed inside.

I can just imagine the fear they must have felt. Both in their eighties, and their daughter and son in law being held at gunpoint inside.

Do I hate our attackers? Do I want to immigrate to another country and leave South Africa? Have I become a racist after this? My answer is NO! I love my country, and I refuse to live in fear. Many people have told me to go for counselling, but I feel that if I could survive the death of my daughter (killed in a motor accident - by a black driver of a mini bus) then I can survive this too!

When you read of how many woman are raped in farm attacks, how people are cruelly tortured and then killed, I can only thank my Father in Heaven for His divine protection, when we needed it the most!

These men had come to the farm earlier on that day, with the pretense of wanting to purchase a sheep. Danie told them, they were still out in the fields, but that they would be in the "kraal" later on ... so they waited, and watched and noticed that Danie was alone on the farm. When the sheep were finally in, Danie told them to come with him so that they could choose their sheep. As Danie opened the gate to the 'kraal" and walked in, they grabbed him from behind and began
beating him. They kicked him, and hit him with their pistols, and kept saying to one another "Let us kill him now!" They then bound his hands and feet and dragged him to the lawn, and that is when I came through the gate.

No arrests have been made, and we have not heard from the police in a while, not that we think anything will come of this. The mere fact that these men did not hide their faces from us, nor did they wear gloves to avoid any fingerprints makes one wonder? When the police came that night to investigate and found not one finger print ... well what can I say! Do they really care? We have no guns now for protection ... but all we want to do is put it behind us and carry on with our lives.

Life Goes On!

2010-03-09T06:26:00.000-08:00

On 28th April this year, 2010, Danie and I will celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary! Goodness how time has passed. I have found that the older we get, the more time seems to fly. I remember so clearly, as a young girl how long a year was.

I love every moment of being a farmer's wife. It is so different and exciting to the business world I had become accustomed to. I look at my hands, and no longer are there long, red painted nails, with little butterflies or pictures on the tips! There just is no more time for that. My mind goes back to the first time Danie slaughtered a sheep for us for meat. I stood opposite him at a table, with the meat master machine between us. As he sliced the meat into sections, I was to pack into plastic bags and put them into the freezer. My nails, so immaculately kept, were sticking to the bags, I battled to get the them open, and I remember breaking out into a nervous sweat, as I heard Danie's voice saying "Come on, quick, quick you're getting behind me." Suddenly, this business woman, had to dirty her hands with the blood from the meat, stand the smell of it, handle it, and then later on have to cook it and eat it.

Well, four years down the line, I pack faster than what Danie can cut, I can hold down a dog when he needs to inject it. I can do a whole lot more that I could when I arrived, but have put my foot down when it comes to helping deliver a calf! Not after having seen the mess Danie is in, I have decided that is a no no for me. I also refuse to pull any ticks off the dogs. I can be a farmer's wife but there are limits! I walk to the dam, ride with Danie on the quad bike and get full of dust, no more the neatly dressed made up lady of the city. But after all is said and done, if we go out anywhere, I know how to dress and look the look again!

Married at Last!

2010-03-05T01:25:00.000-08:00

The drive back to Pietersburg was strange. As my hands clutched the steering wheel of the car, the promise of "forever" on my left hand kept reflecting blinding sparkles of light. As I drove, my prayer was, that my new found love would sparkle even brighter. With unhappy children, Danie and I began preparing for our wedding. Thanks to my sister, Marion, who did most of the work, cards, flowers, dress and so much more, we were able to plan everything down to the last detail in minimal time. As the few months slipped passed, the reality of the huge step I had taken began to set in. I would have to leave my home, and business in other hands. A few times a strange fear gripped my heart, trying to squeeze the very life out of it. What if? Yes, I had doubts, what if it did not work out, and I had given up everything that was precious to me?

I had to pack up my home, give away everything I owned, leave my parents and children, and move to a strange town, strange home, and children who did not want to accept me. On the outside I was strong, but inside I felt like a frightened child. What had I gotten myself into, I kept asking myself.

Four months later, on 28th April 2006, the church doors opened, and I walked down the isle to Danie, my new husband to be. As we met in the isle, he took my hands and softly said, "For too long you have walked the road alone, come, take my hand and let me walk with you" Tears immediately streamed down my cheeks, and peace flooded my soul. No more fear or doubts, just the blessed assurance that I had met a man who would love me, take care of me, and be at my side unconditionally.

As we took our vows, I remembered the night I had called out in desperation to God to send me the right man in my life, and here he was, right next to me. Hand picked by the Master, what more could I ask for? My life had changed, but there were many rivers still to cross, high mountains to climb, valleys to pass through - but I knew that at no time ever, would I be alone!

With This Ring

2010-02-24T21:25:00.000-08:00

One week after my arrival at Merindol Farm, Danie took me out for lunch. We drove to Rustenburg, the nearest town, and went to the Waterfall Mall. Arriving early, we decided to walk around the mall, until lunch time. Holding hands, laughing and joking with each other,we slowly strolled along the wide isles, lined with bright lights, and Christmas Carols playing in the background. I realised, I only had one more week with this amazing man, and then had to return to my hometown to spend Christmas with my parents and children. I clutched tighter to his hand, knowing I would miss him more and more each time we were apart. So kind, so gentle, so caring ... this kind of love was new to me. Undemanding, unselfish, giving all of himself. I felt special, almost priceless. As I relaxed and enjoyed the moment, I suddenly heard Danie saying - "Let"s get engaged!" - With a sudden bump I fell off cloud nine and hit earth with a force. "Get what?" I gasped. "Engaged!"

I turned my head, and gazed into those striking blue green eyes that always had a sparkle in them. Danie was smiling, with so much expectation, and I could clearly see he was dead serious. Mind racing, sudden fear gripped my heart - Should I? Could I? What if? - I had prayed so hard for God to choose the right man for me, as my choices had not been good, and all I had was a heap of ashes. I wondered, "Is this the man, Lord? Is Danie Your choice for me?" From far away I head my voice cry out in anticipation - "Yes, why not?" Like two kids on a merry go round, we held tightly onto each other, our feet shuffling in a frenzy amongst the crowds, and headed for the jewelry store.

We stopped in front of the jewelry store window, and gazed in awe at the shining stones, as the lights that shone upon them, bounced off like sparks. In we went, to view the entire range. Ring after ring was placed on my finger - and then my eye caught the most exquisite one - silver gold, with one single diamond perched in the middle. It must have had my name on, because as it slipped onto my finger, the fit was perfect..."This one" I whispered. Danie looked at me and smiled. As I took it off, the price tag inside fell off - "Oh my! No ... No ... not this one!" Danie looked puzzled - "It is far to expensive" I mumbled. Throwing his head back, he chuckled and told the shop assistant he would take it. I tried to argue, but he ignored me saying - "Nothing but the best for you Dia" Dia being the love name he had begun calling me.

Over lunch, he slipped the ring on my finger saying "I love you Dia, and I want to marry you" I was blown away, like a feather in a brisk breeze. I was ecstatic as the diamond brightly and proudly sparkled on my finger. Then reality hit home! What about our children, his and mine. I had never even met his girls, he had met mine twice. Excitedly, we snapped the ring on my hand with the cell phone, and sent the photo via mms to parents, children, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. I am sure you can guess the reaction - most were as happy as punch ... except the kids!

Accepting Jesus as your Saviour is very much the same. He is also dead serious when he chooses His bride - you and me. He gave everything, even His life! He loves us unconditionally, He is kind, caring, understanding, does not demand, but gives us freedom of choice. Yet, when we accept Him, we may loose friends and family. We have to count the cost, and decide for ourselves, if we are willing to become His bride. I took the chance,- and have never looked back.

Two weeks to Forever

2010-02-23T04:59:00.000-08:00

My two week vacation on the farm had kicked off to a good start. Impressed with what I saw and naturally seeing Danie again was the absolute highlight. What was it about this man? I did not have those butterfly flutters I had experienced as a young girl - I had only really loved once before. No, this was something deeper, and it seemed to grow stronger each time we were together.

The farm was like an oasis in the desert, so different from the stress and strain of work in the city. Waking in the morning to fresh air, birds singing and blissful calm - now this I could get used to for sure.

Danie and I drove all over the farm on his quad bike. Down the long rows of peach trees laden with fruit tinged in pink and gold. Lush green foliage lined the rows in the ten thousand tree orchard. We picked and ate of the sweet fruit as the quad bike bumped past. In the distance lands, proudly sprawled with various crops - red, green and yellow peppers, hubbard squashes, pumpkins, butternuts, sweet potatoes, and hectares of tomato lands lay basking in rays of sunshine. What a sight! I realised, that beside the beauty of it all, lay many months of hard work and planning, planting, fertilising and watering in order to grow a crop worth harvesting.

I pondered as Danie drove me around, thinking how our relationships with God, so resembled the work on the farm. He plants us, nutures us, has plans for our lives, sees to it that we have the watering of His Word to help us grow - waiting to harvest us as His own. Looking at Danie, showing me all that he had done, proud of what he had accomplished thus far - I could almost hear the Master's voice saying to us, after He has accomplished all on the Cross ..."This is my Son (daughter) in whom I am well pleased."

The question is - Is He well pleased with our lives? Only we ourselves have the answer to this important question.

A Visit to Merindol Farm

2010-02-14T21:19:00.000-08:00

The moment Danie and I realised we had found something special in each other, he invited me to come and visit on the farm for two weeks. I was excited yet apprehensive at the same time. What was waiting for me on the other side?

The drive to Magaliesberg was breathtaking. Mountains, valleys, lush and green. It was all so beautiful I had a hard time focusing on the road.

Next to Danie's farm stood a large feedlot where approximately twenty two thousand cattle a day were fed. He had failed to tell me this. Naturally, when I turned onto the Merindol farm road with thousands of cattle to my left and peach trees to my right, I thought it all belonged to him. While trying to take it all in, a stench suddenly hit my nostrils with such a force it caught me unawares. Cow dung mixed with urine! The smell was strong, almost like acid. I gagged for breath. The first thought that crossed my mind was, "I could never live with this."

I ventured on down the narrow road and finally turned left up a long lane to the farm gate. When I entered the gates, I thought I had arrived in the Garden of Eden. So much green, so much colour. It was filled with life. Water cascaded down rocks into a rock pool below.

I drove up the driveway, stunned at the beauty of the place. The stench I'd just experienced was no longer present. Birds sang, leaves waved to me in the breeze and Weeping Willows bowed as I passed. This is Paradise! I reminisced on the stench life had thrown my way, contrasted with the beauty of Christ stooping down, picking me up, and setting me in a "Paradise Place," assuring me He was always there with me, not matter how hard it may have been.

In The Beginning

2010-02-11T21:17:00.000-08:00

It all started on an internet dating site. Ouch, many would say, but hey it worked for me. One day I got a short message saying, "I cannot type, please send me your phone number." Now who in the world, in this day and age cannot type I asked myself. Weird, to say the least, in an age of rapidly evolving technology. Quickly I scanned the man's profile. Danie Malan. . .married 45 years. . .a farmer. . .wife died. . .living in Magaliesberg. . .and so on. Reading the profile, I found we at least had something in common--the loss of a loved one. I was a business woman and him a farmer. . .what a mixture! Like oil and water. Cutting a long story short, after a few sessions of emails, in which he would type only a few words, I finally relented and sent my number. It was not long after when the phone rang, and after a two hour conversation we had struck up a friendship. On instinct I trusted this man, and after talking on the phone for five months, I finally agreed to have him drive down to meet me. Six months later we were married. Wow, that is quick you may think, but hey, at our age you do not have all those nitty, gritty issues; you no longer have to prove yourself to the person; you have found you space in life and you know what you want. The rest is history--we married and what a wonderful four years it has been. Finding your soul mate is awesome!

No thinner place for a mother

2010-02-11T15:48:00.000-08:00

For over thirty years I was married to an alcoholic, so I’ve known many thin places in my life. Even after my husband was killed in a car accident, the thin places assailed in different disguises. I knew that God was with me in each miserable, frightening and tragic place, but I couldn’t always sense his presence. Many times I felt alone.

The time I most questioned God’s perfect love was when my youngest daughter, only seventeen, was snatched from my life in a tragic car accident. Could there be any thinner place for a mother than to lose her child?

In the dark months that followed, I pleaded with God to let me see Karin again in a dream and have the assurance that he really does care. For months my nights were silent, filled only with tears.

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, four months after her death, I once again fell asleep on my tear stained pillow. But that particular night I found myself in the most beautiful place, surrounded by heavenly music, perfect peace and a love so intense I could literally feel it. Karin was going about life in her mansion called Mizpah, perched high on a hill. Paul says he knew a man who’d been transported to the third heavens. Had God allowed me there too?

When I woke, I could still feel her kisses on my cheek. I hurried to my Bible. Mizpah, a watchtower: “May the Lord watch between you and me when we are absent one from the other.”

http://www.blogtourspot.com/2010/02/thin-places-blog-tour/