The Secret Ingredient of Pineapple Beer

“The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our sons forever, that we may observe all the words of this law."
Deuteronomy 29:29
(Readings for the Liturgy of the Hours at Mount St. Scholastica Lent 2010)

The season of Lent can be described as the Springtime of the Soul; or the chrysalis that wraps the heart, before a beautiful butterfly unfolds its wings.

So just before Ash Wednesday; I took a look at my Life and decided to clean out the clutter. I thought I would open the draws and reach up high on the cupboards throw out the dusty things that just take up place, and that I have absolutely no use for!

Well it turned out, that all the clutter was out in the open; dusted, freshly polished and ready to use, actually in use!
Yes, Lent is a time of self denial, self sacrifice, lamenting; meditation instead of clutter.
It was hard to realise that all of this stuff existed and that it took up precious time and effort that could be directed in something worthwhile. So I took a swallow of my own concoction; of course I had to pinch my nose and throw my head back, but I HAD to!

"...the chrysalis stage in most butterflies is one in which there is little movement. However, some butterfly pupae are capable of moving the abdominal segments to produce sounds to scare away potential predators."
(Wikipedia)

It's the fourth week of the Season, and the above quote is true. With getting rid of all the time consuming BALDERDASH!

OH MY WORD!

Honestly I thought that this would be a quiet time, six weeks of stillness, six weeks of closing my eyes and (breath in breath out).

Every time I close my eyes I hear noise, it does not stop. Every minute that I filled with claptrap, hid potholes in my Soul. I feel the noise, the brokenness, that lies there fermenting like pineapple beer. The stink, the vile flavour that I have to ALSO pinch my nose and swallow.

The noise, the brokenness is not only my pain; it is the pain that I have caused.
It is my pineapples that I have cut and peeled and slowly fermented under my kitchen sink and forced people and myself to drink.
But it is also the noise that scares me from doing this again, the sound that wards off my Soul, and welcomes a God of Light and Love.

"This is what has been revealed to me and now it is mine, I do not want it to belong to my sons, but I will observe what You have shown me"

Love and Light
>i<

Watching

For Jacques, Joshua & Elijah

I am watching my boys.
I am watching them.
Scared.
My heart beats a million beats.

I am watching my boys.
Their trust, intimidates me.
I want trust like that.
Their lack of fear.
Their freedom.

I am confined by the barriers I put up.

I am watching my boys.
They wave to me.
Not afraid.
I watch them run.
I watch them play.
No boundaries.
No walls.

I am watching my boys.

I take them in.

My fear eases.

My heart slows.
I trust.
I live.
>i<

Mama Africa

I am a daughter of Eve.
A daughter of the earth.
A daughter of Africa.
I have been defined by my Mama Africa.
I have felt Her soil in my toes and the smell of Her oceans.
I am painted by Her Sun and my hair twists to Her rhythm.
She has given me a history and I honored that by laying with Her enemy.
I gave Her grandchildren.
They define Her and give Her meaning.
I have played in Her fields with my brothers and sisters.
I have secrets from Mama Africa, but She still loves me.
She sends me gifts of rain and cold, wind and heat.
Some day's She loves me so much she sends them all.

Mama Africa I have hidden in Your shadows and under your skies.
You have made me brave, too brave.
I leave footprints in Your soil.
I have left a kiss on every star Your sky holds.
I have whispered into Your ground, to remember me.
I have asked the butterflies to carry my pollen.
To Your trees and flowers, Your fruits and berries.
I will be there, I will be here.

Mama Africa, you have let me pitch my tent by Your rivers.
My tent is in my hands and my stories are in Your heart.
Mama Africa, I will go to another land.
I will share your Love and Your Light.
And she will know You.


(For My Family)

my heart Your Heart

In life we walk various paths and sometimes we find ourselves walking ALL at same moment.
Life is meant to be embraced, and every moment that we can, be in Communion with God.

A few days ago I came to the realisation that listening to God's heart and living in it's rhythm is hard and sometimes hard to render! What I mean is sometimes you have those days when you've heard something and you are not sure whether its Him, a weird dream or you trying to make it God's heart. (Sounds like being a teenager all over again!)

The purpose of this blog is not to give clarity on this situation at all.
I am just sharing.
I was praying about this recently, and I mentioned to God that this is my issue, and that sometimes its difficult to put my ears to His Heart and listen.
Funny thing! He replied, in that BOOMING Old testament voice and this is what He said:

There are times when I put my Ears on your heart and I listen to you.

"The mystery of the humanity of Christ, that He sunk Himself into our flesh, is beyond all human understanding." - Martin Luther

"Give her everything she deserves! Festoon her life with Praises!"

These days women are not celebrated enough for being who they are.
Remember the days when a woman's ankle was idolised, of course not, we lived way after that!

We have mothers day and womens day and sometimes birthdays. And getting a breadmaker for any of these occasions is NOT celebrating the women we are! A breadmaker would be appreciated though;)
In fact I am not sure if a single gift can captivate a girls heart to say wow you are an amazing women. There are things don't get me wrong:
You holding your tummy and saying you are special, or I am scared of you but I love you.
(or perhaps at 9 months saying 'please let yourself out already!)
Like when you hold your new babe in your arms for the first time, and they look at you and you can hear everything that you are going to say this little thing... forever.
And what about that look that you get get when you say 'no' to your toddler!
Or the first time you spot amazement in your child's smile and eyes, all at the same time.
You remember the smell of your mother and hope that your little angel will remember you the same way.
The hero you are when help fix a broken toy or the astonishment they have in their faces when you read a story and mimic the big bad wolf!
When your nephew hands you gifts of dried leaves and beautiful stones.
That little hug that only you get!
Oh and what about that daughter you did not have, all wrapped in beautiful nieces!
What about the time you heard that your child was going to be ill for the rest of their lives and you decided to be better!
Perhaps the endless night's you spent in a hospital with your babe, were a beautiful gift, cos you never prayed like that before.
The baby you never mothered and you treasure forever and a day.
And mummy hugs and lala kisses, and gigglygoos and wafer biscuits. Muddy feet and yogurt!

And all these things were done to us by our mummies or the women in our lives.
Elephant kisses, gifts of paper, wise words shared between friends. Rescuing of priceless pets. Being picked up from school almost everyday to scour trees on the side of the road!
Being loved silently or with a smile.

More of these in little bundles everyday, celebrate us, women, aunties, sisters... somewhere along this journey you have played the role.

Love and Light and a wonderful Mother's day to you all!
>i<

Proverbs 31: 10 - 19
The Message, Eugene Peterson


"A good woman is hard to find,
and worth far more than diamonds.
Her husband trusts her without reserve,
and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously
all her life long.
She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,
and enjoys knitting and sewing.
She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
and brings back exotic surprises.
She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast
for her family and organizing her day.
She looks over a field and buys it,
then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden.
First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,
rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.
She senses the worth of her work,
is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.
She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,
diligent in homemaking.
She's quick to assist anyone in need,
reaches out to help the poor.
She doesn't worry about her family when it snows;
their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing,
and dresses in colorful linens and silks.
Her husband is greatly respected
when he deliberates with the city fathers.
She designs gowns and sells them,
brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant,
and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.
When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,
and she always says it kindly.
She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,
and keeps them all busy and productive.
Her children respect and bless her;
her husband joins in with words of praise:
"Many women have done wonderful things,
but you've outclassed them all!"
Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
The woman to be admired and praised
is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
Festoon her life with praises! "

Keeping mum!

Well what do we have here, a keyboard, and a chance to not work and blog?
This is the life...
I have been hush hush for a while, but life as career woman, making lots of money and not seeing my kids, started looking a bit unappealing. (No, the fact that I had been a victim of unjust labor practices had NOTHING to do with it.)
So this is what I did...
Resigned, gave back my really nice mummy car, stopped shopping at woolworths, and now getting all ready to move on up to South Korea.
The most fun part is that my boys, Josh and Elijah, get to keep mum!
So far so good!
We get to play, lots of boy games, I know that one of these days a good girl day is going to be much needed!
Next week is week one of school, well home school, not actual school, we tried that it did not work:)

The reason why I blog today, is this.

I decided that having nothing, nothing is defined by what the world defines as temporary happiness, is the actual pursuit of happiness.
I have come to find that making a meal, running a bath for my boys, writing, dreaming, going on facebook, eating, blogging, is an enjoyment of time and not a waste of time!

In my pursuit of happiness, I pray that I find, Patience, so that she may give me company on this journey. I hope to find Joy, I hear she teaches us to appreciate life. I want to find God and let Him speak to me so that I WILL listen. I want the people that surround me to feel loved and celebrated by me. I want to learn respect. I want to learn freedom from the things that I feel I MUST have.

I am afraid for this pursuit, for I am not sure how I will emerge.

To muddy feet and peanut butter and jam sandwiches.
>i<

Nostalgia

I was going through my memory bank and found these, I thought for them to have stayed in my mind and heart, must have meant something. On some of these I cannot remember what or how, but I remember.

I remember playing hide and seek between windows and curtains. I remember rose bushes. I remember a sausage dog. I remember sugar plantations and peacocks on telephone poles. I remember a whites only bench and a rough sea. I remember running in front of a swing and getting stitches. I remember swimming in a dam and the sun touching its brim, like a lemon on a cocktail. I remember baseball, and rollerskating, and hopscotch, and oumas rusks and riding on the back of a van. I remember being called coolie for the first time and thinking that sounds awful. I remember befriending the caretakers at school and lunching with them. I remember gas stoves and hot tea on beach outings. I remember swimming past the pier, swimming from pier to pier, being sprayed with ink from a stingray. I remember having glued smeared all over my face. I remember being suicidal, while being happy. I remember my first splif and my first dance, my first award, my first regional colours, my first faint, my first R2, my first pair of jeans. I remember my hair cuts being at a barber. I remember fetching water from a river to take home to have a bath in, sitting in the boot with the water, it was open, I was the protector of the water! I remember not having everything, I remember being happy. I remember not having my parents say no, but trying everything to make sure that we were happy. I remember eating by candlelight, I remember big tomatoes with mince. I remember pretty dresses and short hair. I remember mitochondria but not logarithms. I remember bus rides and train rides and car rides. I remember a story about a white rabbit. I remember beaches and sunshine, I remember beaches and rain. I remember being called coolie for the second, third, fourth and fifth time. I remember becoming. I remember babysitting and bible verses, liking boys, liking philosophy. I remember my second splif, my philosophy tutor and thinking, I will be a freedom fighter! I remember sitting in front of the TV and watching Bruce Fordyce win the marathon. I remember a freedom march in primary school, I remember the song we sang. I remember long distance races and relays, high jump and long jump. I remember driving. I remember making invites and knowing that Madiba, Father of our Nation, will hold one. I remember loving God, loving my sister and loving my brother, and loving my mother and loving my dad. I remember riding on the back of a bike with Jacques in country that I will make my home. I remember the lady that I spoke to everyday and did not understand a word. I remember sugar plantations and running in them looking for the perfect sugar cane. I remember my best friend. I remember my first contraction, I remember the last stitch. I remember crabs in rivers and climbing trees, I remember an accident. I remember an accident, I remember an accident. I remember the Life those accidents took. I remember being good, i remember being bad. I remember dropping out, I remember being focused. I remember pool parties and floating candles. I remember the little baby that caled me 'mama', (I think of him often). I remember my wedding day. I remember geckos and monsoon rain, the shy lizard and the snake that slithered past, I remember falling on electronic fecnces. I remember helping build a church. I remember the colour purple and the colour yellow. I remember the birth of my children. I remember a Life that has been worth it.
I remember that LIGHT and LOVE were always with me.

>i<