Just about to hit the road...

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

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

But seriously, I would appreciate your prayers.

Merry Christmas!

The Great Trek...

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

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

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

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

The back courtyard of the house.

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

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

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

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

This guy saw it in style.

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

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

The panorama view is incredible.

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

On the road...

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

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

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

The last week...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Checking for updates...

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

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

Tape on my arm...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew 5:43-48...

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

The Amplified Bible puts it this way:

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

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

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

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

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

He washed the feet of Judas Iscariot.

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

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

Silent splinters in my soul..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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