Balm

This past week has been a struggle. Our sleeping patterns were affected. I was not even managing to make the beds by midday. Everything went into painful slow motion. Nathan’s death affected us more than anything else has since Loren’s death. I realized that there were a lot of things I’d consciously shifted to the back of my mind, not having the energy or emotional resources to deal with them. And they all came screaming at my head. Carina and Richard and their boys’ pain was our pain. Just as raw as ever.

But Nathan’s death brought home again how God doesn’t let His children fall from His arms. He speaks to us through new friends, through colours and signs, butterflies and books. He is all around us, folding us in His arms

And so yesterday after church we decided to drive out to the Drakensberg mountain range.

We had a late lunch at Monk’s Cowl and there we started talking to one of the staff members. She casually mentioned that they were busy selling their horses because they were emigrating to Canada. Liking both her and her husband, whom we’ve met earlier, an immense lot we expressed sadness. She might have misunderstood our expression of regret as critisism, because she added testily ,

“Who in their right minds wouldn’t?”

“Ummmm, us… apparently?” I answered gently.

Suitably chastened, she explained their circumstances, and put like that, yes, I would also consider emigrating if I were in their shoes. But this brought home to me again the difficult situation we are in as South Africans.

Here we were, surrounded by beauty, talking to friendly people, soaking up sunshine and suddenly feeling as if we might be putting our little family in danger by staying in the country. And she was feeling defensive about and justifying her decision to leave with a sweeping hurtful statement. Each of us with their own set of circumstances doing the best they can.

We had some ice cream in the car, we watched tame animals – bunnies and goats and pigs and ducks and chickens – at Champagne Hotel and then we slowly made our way back via Thokozisa shopping centre. One could arguably call this our local mall. Don’t pity us, Estcourt has plenty of shops all within five minutes from our home. But not that modern-day universe within a world called a local shopping mall. If local means at the end of a 30 km drive on a winding road dodging cows and goats and even sometimes people who’ve had one too many for the road. Thokozisa consists of a series of speciality shops, a restaurant and deli slung together in an arty building decorated with wood carvings, mosaics, life-sized sculptures and a wild indigenous garden. Here you might consider having ostrich steaks or a Karoo lamb curry wrap with a colourful salad by candlelight. Sipping warm and spicy Gluwein, impeccably presented with cinnamon sticks and a slice of lemon. All with a backdrop of Champagne Castle and Cathkin Peak mountains. We munched on cookies, roasted nuts and macadamia brittle on our way back.

A man, resting amongst the flowers.

Giraffes gathering to chat on a rooftop.

Evidence of cookie munching only too visible.

Champagne Castle.

Who can spot the friendly man, waving goodbye?

“Could you ever imagine that we’d be here, living in Estcourt, driving back home like this with two of our boys?” I asked Dirk.

“Uh-uh” he answered and I saw at once that he was too absorbed with driving in the twilight and occasionally glancing back to pull faces and babbling at Magnus just to hear him dissolve into throaty giggles. Marco was sitting quietly in his corner, dreamily staring out his window. Considering how busy he is otherwise, he must surely be the world’s easiest passenger. I felt my heart swell with pride.

And so I sat back and relaxed. Now was not the time for deep discussions. After a week of hard work and incredible sadness, we needed this day.

In the rear-view mirror I could see that the setting sun had worked its magic on the mountain range, suddenly making visible to the north, Cathedral Peak.

Who would think this, indeed?