to teach…

I am a teacher. It’s not just my profession, it’s part of the essence of my being. The most phenomenal people I know are teachers – whether it be by nature or by profession. I will fight the corner of teachers ’til the day I die because I know how many times I’ve just gone with the smile and nod option simply because I didn’t have the emotional energy to defend my so-called ‘half day job’.

It really grates my carrots when people make flippant comments about teaching being a half day job or about how it must be so nice to get so many long holidays.

Most high school teachers I know engage with more than 150 teenagers face-to-face on any given day. Each of these 150 plus precious individuals require attention but they are individuals and they require different attention. One child needs me to tell her that her hair looks pretty (because nobody else bothers to do so), another needs me to tell them they can do better, another needs me to make a joke about how their biceps are busting out of their school shirt and another needs me to tell them about this interesting article I read in the week so they can go and research the matter further. One child needs me to ignore their desperate cries for attention, albeit negative attention and yet another just longs for one look, one word of affirmation. There are very few other jobs that require this level of emotional intelligence, energy and wisdom.

Many people don’t know this but according to the Norms and Standards for Educators as per the South African Government Gazette, an educator has 7 primary roles:

1. Specialist in a phase, subject discipline or practice 
2. Learning mediator 
3. Interpreter and designer of learning programmes and materials 
4. Leader, administrator and manager
5. Scholar, researcher and lifelong learner 
6. Assessor 
7. Community, citizenship and pastoral role  

The first time I encountered those roles was whilst reading one of my textbooks for my Post Graduate Certificate in Education. My first thought was honestly, “How can one person be 7 things all at once?” Little did I know that a teacher is often more than 50 things at once: a listener, an entertainer, a critical thinker, a creator, a referee, a disciplinarian, a mentor, an enemy, a consolidator, a planner, a communicator, a celebrity a therapist, a comedian, a mediator, an organizer, an evaluator,a police officer, a facilitator, a collaborator, an expert, a leader, an integrator, a philanthropist, a sacrificer, a hard worker, a thinker, a discerner, an encourager, a motivator, a challenger, a parent, a giver and a role model. Whilst this may seem like a long list of titles, I can assure you all the teachers I know are these things and more every day of their lives. They get paid peanuts, work harder than most and they earn every damn minute of their long holidays. I maintain that if it weren’t for these holidays that we’d see a whole lot more teachers in mental hospitals but that’s another story for another day.

Jonathan Jansen recently said, “Teaching is not for sissies. It demands deep thinking, courageous actions and human compassion. It combines the disciplines of drama, psychology, design, instruction, social work and networking. To teach in the 21st century requires knowledge not only of the subject and of children, but of digital economies that connect to real lives no longer enthused by paper and pencil technologies. In other words, it is a profession for really smart people on the lookout for a challenge.”

I really could write for days about this topic but I will say this: Teachers are superheroes. Full stop.

So, if you have a friend that’s a teacher, encourage them regularly. If there’s a teacher who made an impact on your life, look them up and tell them that – it will mean more than you’ll ever know. Don’t assume that you know what being a teacher feels like if you aren’t one. If you have children, thank their teachers at every opportunity you get. And if you’re brave enough, just go and sit in a classroom for a day, follow a teacher around from 6am til 11pm and you’ll see what I mean…

Often people tell me that being a teacher must be ‘so rewarding’ – I will tell you this: Teaching is like planting trees under the shade of which you never expect to sit. Every single day you labour, you plant seed after seed in good faith, you nurture them with all you’ve got and in your heart of hearts you just hope that in some way, the sacrifices that you make are worth it all.

restored

Two weeks ago I went hiking in the Cape Point Nature reserve. It was a beautifully perfect day for being outdoors; not too hot and not too cold. Not too far from the end of the hike, we came across an area that had been subject to a controlled burn. This is not uncommon in nature reserves where fynbos is found.  Fynbos is a fire-prone and fire-adapted form of vegetation and therefore prescribed burns play an integral role in the on-going rejuvenation of plant life in these areas.

It looked like a forsaken waste land. Something in the grey and blackness of it all reminded me of struggle, of seasons of searching and not finding, of loss, of grief and of unfulfilled emptiness. It was ugly and I found myself feeling somewhat disappointed because I go hiking to see beautiful sights and enjoy God’s glorious creation… not to see blackness and be reminded of emptiness and pain.

But I kept walking…

And then I stopped dead in my tracks…

Moraea ochroleuca known by some as the Foetid Cape Tulip,known by some as the aas-uintjie, known by me as the flowers of hope…

And as I stood there with tears in my big blue eyes, I marveled at these yellow beauties decorating the darkness with their tenacious growth. In that moment came to the forefront of my mind the names of my friends who have faced death, divorce, seasons of barrenness, miscarriage, unemployment, bitter disappointment, rape, addiction, injustice, illness – these brave souls who have carried excruciating pain through days, weeks, months, even years of burnt out blackness.

And I was reminded of the thing that I love the most about life…

There is always hope.

my year @HUBA

I’ve battled with my weight throughout my life. I love sport and the outdoors but I have always struggled with bad asthma and a slow metabolism. I don’t remember ever being able to love my body. In fact, most of the time I hated it. No matter what I did, I always struggled to lose weight and when I did, I could never keep it off for very long. In fact, for a good few years I just gave up on my body altogether.

Around this time last year I decided that I’d had enough. I decided that I could not handle being overweight anymore and so I asked my parents to give me some personal training sessions as a birthday present. My friend and colleague, Johry, had taken a huge leap of faith in opening up his own gym so I figured it would be a win-win situation to give him some business and get what I needed.

 

I completed a month of personal training sessions at HUBA with Johry. I then joined the group sessions and have been attending them 2/3 times a week since then. HUBA is centered around Functional Fitness training.  In short, functional training focusses on those movements we use to get average things done in our daily lives and it basically allows our bodies to perform the way in which they were engineered. I’m really no expert on this so you can read more about it here, but what I do know is that each and every workout at HUBA is different so I always look forward to each session as a new challenge.  This type of exercise really requires some serious mental strength and perseverance but I’ve found that Just being part of the HUBA team pushes you to achieve your best each session.

Without sounding melodramatic, training at HUBA has honestly changed my life. I’ve hardly altered my diet, still enjoy my beers and some good ol’ junk food on the weekend, have not taken one supplement, protein shake or any of the other extras yet I have seen my body change by the week. My metabolism has sped up considerably and not only have I lost 17kgs so far but I have lost major centimeters, dropped 3 dress sizes, built muscle and toned considerably. I have also come to wish that I had someone who could sponsor me a new wardrobe because nothing fits anymore 😀

But more importantly than all of these changes, I now love my body. Although my body is still not yet at its optimum, I love it because of what it can do. I love the fact that I’m strong, that I can lift weights, flip tyres, do burpees and run a half marathon. My whole lifestyle has changed. Looking after my body is now a priority.

With my father and brother after my first ever half marathon – The Gun Run – 13 October 2013.

Thinking about their weight is something that brings a lot of women down. It helps me to rather focus on being healthy, looking after my body and to stay off the scale.  I’ve come to learn that numbers are deceiving and discouraging – it’s all about how you feel and how your clothes fit. Comparing yourself to others is a bad idea. I’ll never be a size 6 and I’m ok with that. I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been and I’m still getting fitter and stronger and that’s what counts.

When people see that I’ve lost weight (which is an odd expression because I don’t ever intend to find it again), they often ask me what my “secret” is…

In my experience the “secret” is to decide that looking after your body is a priority – no-one can do that for you, only you can make that decision. It’s like a switch that has to flick in your mind – I can’t really explain it any better than that. After you’ve made that decision, you need to find some form of exercise that excites and challenges you (or just come to HUBA!), stick to your guns in the tough early stages and make the necessary sacrifices to put your health and your body first.

And as I write this, I am ironically reminded of the words of C.S Lewis who said, “You don’t have a soul, you are a soul, you have a body.”

As important as health and fitness is, let us not forget that our bodies are only temporary and true beauty is more than measurements…

my heritage up in flames?

As much as I really do love a good braai, I refuse to reduce my heritage to some meat cooked over a few coals…

My heritage is the land on which I live. The fauna, the flora, the rivers and the mountains. It is wide open spaces that have brought peace to my weary soul many a time. It is the sand between my lazy toes on a summer’s afternoon. It is the trail in a nature reserve I trudge through in the pouring rain to prove to myself that I can. It is that single, brightly coloured flower at the top of a granite peak. It is the giraffe that always gives hope to my heart for reasons inexplicable.

My heritage is eleven languages, each with their own soul. It is words like ‘kuier‘ and ‘jou ma se…’ and ‘tsotsi‘ and ‘babelas’ and ‘mamparra‘ and ‘voetsek’ and so many more.

My heritage is colour and a myriad of patterns that transform walls, fabrics, faces and spaces into vibrant expressions of life and passion.

My heritage is traditions that honour, that challenge, that maintain, that transform my Mzansi.

My heritage is mouthfuls that attack my senses with bursts of flavour. My heritage is potjie, umqombothi, koeksisters, bunny chow, biltong, melktert, vetkoek and a million secret family recipes.

My heritage is the sound of ancient drums, of the beat of mineworker’s tired boots, of the call of the hadeda and the piet-my-vrou, of gunshots, of the penny whistle, of vuvuzelas and of the lady whistling while she works despite her great sadness.

My heritage is the buildings, the structures, the signs and the homes whose walls tell stories of fear, of triumph, of sorrow, of hope, of justice and injustice, of dark days and of miracles and of fortitude – a tenacity of spirit entirely unique to my people.

My heritage is apartheid. My heritage is division and racism and poverty and fear. My heritage is ridiculous forgiveness and unthinkable reconciliation. My heritage is an almost irrational hope in spite of it all.

My heritage is a people who sing and dance when they are angry. My heritage is a people of immeasurable character, of boundless resilience. My heritage is the anthem of a unanimous cry for God to bless our land and hear our prayers.

My heritage is what I choose to leave behind in this country long after I am gone.

run like the wind…

Sunday morning rain is falling… Steal some covers, share some skin…

I awoke to the sound of howling wind and the rain pelting against the window pane. It was Sunday and I didn’t have to brave the cold and the wind and go to work…

Bliss…

But then I remembered that The Sunflower Fund 7km fun run was happening in a few hours’ time. Naturally, my first instinct was to turn over and go back to sleep but something kept me awake.

My mind’s eye took me back to a memory from 1999. I saw Chris Corlett, such a brave and beautiful soul, lying in the hospital bed, losing his battle against leukaemia – chemotherapy having destroyed his organs past the point of no return. How drastically that image contrasted with my reality of being perfectly healthy, snuggled under my covers; utterly content.

I was suddenly acutely aware of my perfectly health body – fitter than it has ever been. How could I just lie there in my bed when there are so many who would love to run 7kms but can’t? So many who suffer from debilitating illnesses through no fault of their own.

In that moment I resolved to get out of bed and take my perfectly working body to the finish line with a grateful heart… For those who couldn’t but would love to…

Soaked to the bone from the pouring rain and sea spray that splashed all over the Sea Point promenade, ushered by crazy winds, I ran…

I ran past a group who wore signs on their backs… They were running for a boy called Jamie, whose 6 year old face smiled at me from the photograph… I ran faster, for Jamie who probably couldn’t run anymore.

I ran past a group of teenagers in maroon Westerford tracksuits and I remembered my days there. I remembered the legacy that Chris left and for a moment I remembered why I teach, why I give my days to opening people’s eyes to the reality and potential of this world. And then, filled with renewed purpose I ran faster…

I ran past the park where over 15 years ago I first felt the presence of God. I ran past the railings where I stood that night and remembered watching the waves crash again and again against the rock solid walls. I remember hearing the voice of the King of the Universe, whisper to my soul that His love for me was unending, just like the waves I was watching. I remember my overwhelmed tears that ran down my teenage cheeks that night and I remembered that sense of perfect peace that changed my life.

And I ran faster and faster. My heart swelling with gratitude, with heightened awareness, with love and hope…

I ran my fastest ever time for that distance.

Somehow I don’t think I’ll ever forget why I ran like the wind that day…

Chris Corlett- Sunflowers of Hope

 

http://www.sunflowerfund.org.za/

Dear Parent of a “Troublesome” Teenager

As a high school teacher I have worked with teenagers for over 5 years and although I have no children of my own I often wish I could say some things to parents based on my experiences as a teacher. I am well aware that it is very easy to write down a couple of pieces of advice and that it is possibly the most difficult job in the world to parent a teenager.  Due to circumstances, I am often not able to give parents the below advice face to face and so if you’ll forgive me, below please find a few things I wish I could say to parents of teenagers. Please understand that I too, struggle to communicate with teenagers and I spend at least 7 hours each day doing so and that these suggestions come from a place of love and deep compassion.

• You can never tell your child that you love them enough. Even if they ignore you, make a sarcastic remark, don’t say it back or give you some blasé reply. Tell them again and again every day. One day they’ll get it.

• If you feel like you don’t know who your child is anymore, don’t worry, they don’t know who they are either but stay who you are and love them as they try to figure it out.

• Despite what you may think, you don’t need to be your child’s best friend. In fact, you don’t need to be their friend at all. They have friends. They need you to be their parent. Trying to be friends with them, or friends with their friends is probably the worst thing you can do. Be their parent, the annoying, strict, consistent, supportive and encouraging parent, and one day they will thank you for it.

• Give your child boundaries. Boundaries make teenagers feel safe. They want to know what’s ok with you and what’s not ok. They will never admit it but structure, routine and consistency make teenagers feel safe. So much is constantly changing in their worlds that consistency is key. They will try to push the boundaries you set in place… They will try again and again because somewhere in their subconscious they want to be sure that those boundaries are in their best interests and that the things that matter do stay the same even when the world feels shaky under their feet.

• Don’t be afraid to punish your child. Hit them where it hurts… figuratively. Take away the phone, computer, Xbox, Playstation or whatever it may be. Just make sure they know why they are being punished. Even better, ask them what they think their punishment should be – you may just be surprised at their maturity.

• Praise more than you punish. Everyone needs affirmation, recognition and encouragement. Praise your teenager for the smallest things. Like telling them that you love them, their response may not reflect their true feelings but tell them anyway. Focus on their positive traits.

• Know your child’s “love language”. There’s a great book by Gary Chapman titled “The Five Love Languages” – get it and read it. Essentially, his idea is that each person gives and receives love in different ways. You may be trying to show your teenager that you love them by buying them expensive things and your child may prefer some quality time with you or some form of physical contact or affection. Conversely, your teenager may be trying to show their love for you by doing things for you and all you want is for them to give you words of affirmation and tell you that they love you. Understanding your teenager’s love languages may change your relationship.

• If people suggest that your child may be on drugs, hanging out with the wrong crowd, have an eating disorder, be depressed or in any other form of danger or trouble don’t dismiss them. No parent really wants to believe that their child has a problem but your denial or refusal to admit that there is a problem, may be the very thing standing in the way of them overcoming their challenge. No teenager is perfect, neither is any parent. It is easy to perceive such suggestions as an attack on your child, family or character but being humble, level-headed and wise when faced with such challenges is the best thing you can do for your teenager. So many parents either overreact or prefer to live in a state of denial. I have seen the detrimental effects of both of these options.

• Know about the realities of technology and the internet. Teenagers readily view pornography, engage in sexting (if you don’t know what that is, do what a teenager would do and google it), chat with strangers via various forms of social media, post compromising pictures of themselves on social media sites and as profile pictures on messengers and generally create a digital footprint for themselves that they may live to regret. Teach your child about these things and know how things work in this digital age. Don’t live in denial.

• Be honest about your life, your weaknesses, your joys, your anxieties and the lessons you’ve learned.  Don’t try and be perfect, be human – teenagers see right through facades and fakeness.

• Teenagers need consistent love and consistent discipline. Try as hard as you can to give them both.

• Trust your child until they give you a reason not to. If they break your trust explain to them why you are disappointed, punish them and then forgive quickly.

When discussing puberty in my classes I always ask the learners to think of the person who was their hero in junior school… The answer is always “My Mom” or “My Dad” or both.  “And now?”, I say to the response of many knowing nods or rolled eyes. “What’s changed?,” I ask, “Who’s changed?” and inevitably the mumble something like “Umm, me, I guess” as they come to the realization that they have changed and are changing and that you are probably still the same awesome, loving parent that you always were.

One day they will stop giving you uphill, being embarrassed by you, ignoring you, being rude to you, shouting at you, telling you that you don’t understand, treating you like their personal slave or taxi driver and all the other terrible things that teenagers do. One day they will get it and until then I will leave you with the words of Bill Cosby.

“In spite of six thousand manuals on child raising in the bookstores, child raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck – and, of course, courage.”

xxx

 

en-list-ed

I love lists. Every day I make a “to-do” list and even though most days I don’t get through everything because there simply aren’t enough hours, when I have lists I get things done. There’s nothing quite like that feeling of crossing something off and knowing that it is DONE!

Putting things down on paper (albeit a digital version thereof) forces me to commit to doing things and heightens accountability… It seems to me that as time passes people are more and more hesitant to commit to any thing, to many things, to commit at all. We like to take one day at a time but then somehow the days seem to slip through our fingers all too fast, and along with the days, our dreams. All because we are too afraid to commit and to make the sacrifices necessary to honour those commitments.

Last year on my birthday I made a list of 26 things I’d learned in 26 years. This year, I have made a list of things I want to do or achieve before my next birthday in the hope that not only writing down, but publicizing this list will help keep me accountable enough to achieve them. Perhaps it will inspire you to make a list or two of your own 🙂

Let us not be afraid to commit to things that are good.

By my 28th birthday I will…

1. Run 10kms in under 1 hour.
2. See the Namaqualand flowers in bloom.
3. Write a song and be able to play it on guitar.
4. Give a stranger a bunch of flowers for no real reason.
5. Watch the sunrise at least once a month.
6. Have something I’ve written be published by someone else.
7. Go somewhere with no cell phone signal for more than a week.
8. Draft a proposal for my honours thesis (Anthropology of Education).
9. Sing on a stage.
10. Learn a jazz piece on my clarinet.
11. Fit into my favourite pair of jeans again.
12. Go cherry picking.
13. Spontaneously fly to another part of the country for a weekend.
14. Learn how to hold a basic conversation in French.
15. Dance a Foxtrot with my man.
16. Have high tea at the Mount Nelson.
17. Read a book in a weekend.
18. Start my own YouTube channel and populate it with videos to help young people.
19. Ride a horse on a beach.
20. Join a choir again.
21. Try kitesurfing.
22. Change my hairstyle totally.
23. Sort all the files on my laptop, phone and hard drive into well organised folders.
24. Record with my a capella group.
25. Knit a scarf.
26. Hike up Lion’s Head by full moon.
27. Spend a whole day under the trees at Kirstenbosch writing and reflecting
28. Do something completely remarkable! (Watch this space)

May you be inspired to set goals, dream dreams and live your life to the fullest  – whatever that may mean to you…

I leave you (and myself) with this most pertinent reminder…

x

Birthdayness

Recently my blog turned one year old (if blogs have birthdays) and if you’re a regular visitor to Champagne Thursdays, you will notice that it looks a little different. I think it looks fresher and happier. That’s probably because I am happier than I was when I first started this blog…

I trust that this blog’s ‘birthday suit’ will remind you of what this blog is really about…  celebrating life and love.

I love birthdays. I am a birthday person. And if you read my blog post around about this time last year (26 things I’ve learned in 26 years) you may remember that I see birthdays as an important opportunity to celebrate life and everything that is fabulous, including myself. But I have come to find that birthdays are curious things… Not everybody seems to share my sentiments on the wonderfulness of birthdayness.

So, if you’ll forgive a bit of ranting, I’d like to share some thoughts on one of the things that I do not love about birthdays with the aim of encouraging us all to celebrate better and to love better.

The Facebook birthday wall post… Most often from someone you havn’t even thought about over the last 5 years saying nothing but “Happy Birthday” or, even worse, “HB” or “Happy Happy” or something of the sort.

Now don’t get me wrong, whilst I do appreciate that the posting individual has yielded to a reminder on facebook and has taken 2 seconds out of their daily internet browsing quota to grace my “wall” with their cyber presence and some positive vibes, I do question whether such an act is merely motivated by some form of twisted social networking etiquette or any number of other societal expectations. Quite frankly, I just don’t see the point. Maybe I’m cynical but I’d rather no wall post than one of those.

Now, if you are actually going to take longer than the aforementioned 2 seconds and write a meaningful/encouraging/humourous/nostalgic/enquiring message that actually means something a little more than two or three socially-acceptable, event-applicable words on my wall, then that’s a different story altogether. I am, however, aware that not everybody loves writing, words and encouragement as much as I do but I still don’t think it’s too difficult to make a birthday wall post something that reflects the importance of birthdays or the one celebrating it.

So, at the risk of sounding patronizing, here are a few ideas on how you could spruce up your digital birthday messaging:

1. Why not mention something that you value about the birthday boy or girl? (And guys, if you’re not the sentimental type something like “You’re a legend” will suffice.)

2. Remind the birthday boy or girl of a funny or happy memory that you have shared to make their day that little bit brighter.

3. Take a couple of extra minutes to search for and post a song/video that the birthday boy/girl would enjoy watching and share it with them.

4. Take the opportunity to share some of your own news. If person celebrating their birthday cares about you they would probably love the simple gift of taking some time to put them in the loop about what’s happening in their life. Obviously sharing happy news would be first prize here.

5. Put all that facebook stalking you do (we know it’s true) to use and, if applicable, comment on what’s been happening in the person’s life. Saying something like, “I’m glad to see you seem to be loving your new job” or anything along those lines shows that your facebook stalking is not in vain and that you really do care.

Of course, all of the above, applies to emails, BBMs, whatsapp messages, texting etc.

But then again… Why not just pick up the phone?!

I love modern technology and relish the digital age in which we live but there really is no substitute for hearing my friends’ voices on my birthday, it just makes me feel that much closer to the people I love, especially those that are far away.

I guess my philosophy is to love with my whole heart or not at all 🙂

In other news I look forward to fabulous messages on my facebook wall on Saturday 😉

a fence…

A fence…

You hurt, betrayed, disappointed, failed me

and so I took a fence…

I took a fence and walled you out

away from my heart forever.

Somehow, however, my fence failed

It did not wall you out as you were never far

from my thoughts,

my heart

You got through my fence

like you always did…

Instead

it walled me in,

wrapped me up in unforgiveness,

kept me cold, distant and unaware.

I took a fence and walled not you

but me

trapped in bitterness

captive to my pain

cornered by my fears

ensnared

by my own offense.

– Lindsay Durell 2012

For a while now, it has been on my heart to write about unforgiveness, yet I find myself doubting what good my words will do and whether I really have anything to say on the topic that has not been said before. And yet, I find that I am learning that not everything has to be revolutionary or full of purpose and it’s alright to just write for the sake of writing. But, being the idealist that I am, I do somehow hope that these words will at least make your heart a better place, if not the world.

“Offense is taken, not given” – A friend of mine once said these words in passing and yet they have never left my mind; in fact, they inspired the poem you just read.

So often we are offended by the words, choices and actions of others, yet the offender is not even aware of their offense. The offender continues with their life, oblivious to our anguish, disappointment or wounding and we are left in the aftermath, which we so often choose to carry with us on our journeys. And unfortunately, all too often the aftermath results in calloused, bitter, angry hearts replete with unforgiveness.

The irony of it all is that somehow we sometimes believe that unforgiveness is a sort of revenge and yet as someone rightly put it, “Unforgiveness is like taking poison and expecting someone else to die.” Unforgiveness is poison, it will and does destroy people. It destroys relationships, it destroys hope and it holds us back in more powerful ways than a fence ever could.

We all harbour unforgiveness of some sort, I guess it is part of our human condition. We harbour unforgiveness towards those who have abused us, hurt us, discriminated against us, lied to us, abandoned us, betrayed us, disappointed us. We harbour unforgiveness when people are not who we need or want them to be. We harbour unforgiveness when the people we love don’t live in the way we would want them to. We harbour unforgiveness  against people we don’t even know; “them”, “those people”. We harbour unforgiveness against God, usually because we have been hurt by people acting in His name. We even harbour unforgiveness against ourselves for choices we have made, the hurt we have caused and for our ‘failures’.

I once read one of those cheesy sugar packets that said, “When you forgive someone the knots are untied and the past is released.” Cheesy it is but it’s true though. Forgiveness is NOT easy, in fact it is probably one of the hardest things to do, particularly when we have been deeply hurt. And it will never happen instantly. It is a conscious, repeated decision that has to come from a place of humility where we understand our own imperfections and thus, those of others. But it will release us to live in freedom.

To forgive is to no longer hold past wrongs against someone, so that in one’s thinking, feeling, and acting towards and in regards to them, there is no barrier to love. That is an incredible challenge.

The practical outworking of forgiveness looks different for every person and in every story but I know one thing, it always looks good, does good and is good.

xx

Freedom

Freedom

It was stolen from my brothers and sisters by my very own kind

I cannot judge their cruelty for it could well have been mine

But the courageous fought and fought to take back what was theirs

Praise God they got their freedom, though it took too many years

They slowly downed their weapons even though their hearts were raw

They forgave the unforgivable when deep fear had turned hatred into law

The sanctity of our country’s miracle we too easily forget

My children will live and love freely because others paid the debt

Although we now live in freedom we are somehow so far from it

We are held back by unforgiveness, bitterness, fear,  regret

We can go to any place, we can celebrate our rights

Yet dark thoughts and feelings are sadly never far from freedom’s light

But then I remember the miracle of 1994

when somehow there was peace instead of bloodshed war

I still cannot comprehend how grace conquered hearts of stone

But then again, that’s my Country for you… my beloved miracle home.

Tata Madiba - Father of my Rainbow Nation