ramblings

i struggle to know the difference.
the difference between sacred and profane. the difference between the heart hearing the Heartbeats and the heart beating loud on its own time.
to understand how One came and made little so much so that flesh was put on and babe's cries echoed in the night.

sometimes i labor over crutches. lines drawn in the sand.
usually by myself.
"here is the line, bek. dont go any further. don't even bother. you can't. its impossible. see the line, you stay right there."

sometimes no line is seen.
run, run, run free and leap into the sea.

somedays when nothing feels right i pull one of the boys close. tight. tighter. dip my head low to the hollow of their neck. breath in deep the scent of little boy playing. pause. count to five. kiss sweet cheeks usually stained dirty. pull close and its as if His breath has filled me.
stilled me.

i feel an awful kinship with paul. why do i do what i don't want to do, and don't do what i want to do?
why?
and i still ask. beg.
still for an answer.

how can what i see in me and dislike be the constant knowing of my heart.
i can see and feel the panic that rises up far to easily. and before i know it, where i don't want to go is where i'm not only headed, but arrived. how is that possible. habits are hard to nip in the butt and kick.

sometimes Jesus is so sweet to me i just sit and weep.
weep over the love He has for me. the goodness He constantly bestows over me.
little wee me.
that i am the one He stays up singing over. dancing around. that i am the one that gave Him joy to withstand the pain of crucifixion. i can't fathom. i sit and weep thanks. prayers that my tears will clean the feet and that i'll follow forever. tuck me in close, Lord. let me not stray so far tomorrow in my wonderings.

what is in my head is not what makes sense. so i ramble. ramble and what for? and who reads? but my heart beats record, bek. record. the rambling is the Him in you, so i put down.
put down.
if i write Truth enough it will seep into my bones too.
if i sit long enough eventually my body will mold to where i am, mold to whose i am.

Jesus. Jesus makes me weep today. solid, good soul cleansing tears...
and He gets me. marvelous truth. marvelous love. marvelous truth.

sokkie

on saturday i took some girlfriends to a sokkie sokkie.
it was marvelous.
and hilarious.

Afrikaners are this weird group of people. i love them. i really do. like, a lot of love. but sometimes they just like the weirdest things to me and do the weirdest things. and i don't get it. i find myself thinking: "what could possibly be enticing about this?" a good portion of my life here.

to me, it is this strange mix of country, polka, and redneck in culture. but its different. its unique. wonderful and hilarious. and i know for a fact i amuse my friends here all the time with my american-ness so, to each his own. thats where love and grace and laughter come in, right?!?! =)

some friends from the states were here doing a training and i was darn sure i was gonna get them to a sokkie even if it meant going to one here in town instead of in pretoria where i've always gone before. ooooo mokopane. bless you. small, country town that you are. you are smaller than anything from back home. i shouldn't have had such high expectations.

i called my man friends from town and got partners for us ladies. we were told it wasn't super safe after dark for us as everyone would be drunk and colorful if you will. so we were fine going early and missing out on all that. we got to the dance hall at 630. talk about being THE ONL PEOPLE there. hahahha.....

close your eyes with me. (i realize you can't really do that and continue reading....so just pretend you are closing your eyes, and really keep reading *smiles*)
imagine, its already pitch black outside. an oldish barn/hall type building. old women in their 40s (at least) manning the counter with their 3 month or younger babies in their lap. a nice size dance floor, a stage. paying R20 because there is a special singer tonight, so its up from its usual R10. (roughly R20 is $3.75). you enter. there is no one there but your girlfriends visiting from the states and your man friends from town.

so you sit. sip your coke. watch.....you watch nothing. nothing is going on. the music is this weird polka/country/disco music. classic. and typical.
its already homey to you by now. you might dislike it, but its growing on you so much that even as you dislike it it grows fond and delightful and not as shocking and hilarious.

you all sit at your table and small talk. finally, you see one of your friends ask one of the girls to dance. and you all watch. can't help it. nothing else to look at. they dance for a bit. at some point you get up and dance too. the hall is open on both sides. which would be nice in the summer when its so hot, but you feel at the same time chilly from the cold and warm from dancing just now and you wish that the doors were closed. but, wait! there aren't even doors on the sides! just open air where barn door used to be!

you dance with some good partners, some needing practice, some needing help. it doesn't matter. you are instantly taken back to being a little girl and all your years of dance practice and impromptu lessons with your dad in the living room. dancing is when you are at home.

you have to feel a bit of pride in your sokkie skills. you're getting pretty good. making all the turns. only mis-stepping twice the entire night. kudos to yourself.

you watch your girlfriends. their faces amuse you. your face must have been the exact same when you first arrived. but now its all old hat. the shock value has worn off.

about an hour or so pass. you have danced on and off. laughed a lot. felt awkward a lot. you watch your girlfriends face as a baby in a stroller passes by the dance floor heading towards the bar. wow. just wow. then in the very next moment, a dog. wonders across the scene as well. this is your life here. its normal. dogs, cats they all roam free. but to your friends. this is unreal. and so their faces freeze in a state of shock.

you stay a bit longer and are gone before its 830.

you digest the day in the car with your friends. you decide its been a fun evening. and that you'll never go back to a sokkie sokkie place in mokopane again. only in the big city.

a normal day.

....lest you think every day for me is sunshine and i always enjoy these african skies....

on wednesday i left my house at 640 in the morning. that is very normal. i didn't get home till after 10 pm. thats normal for a wednesday. normally it is earlier, but that day, with church and dropping off people on the way home and then my car not starting and then walking home myself....it was late.

thursday back up at 530 in the morning. at the school house by 640. i was home early yesterday, i got home around 5pm. thats fairly normal. give or take an hour *smile*

today began at 515. the sky is dark, the air bitter chilly and i wanted to stay under my blanket. i got up, ate, read, showered, went to start the car. we thought we fixed it yesterday. no such luck :(
i ended up walking to school and arriving late. my boys all bundled up in packs on their momma's backs. poor little ones standing chilly not sure where i was.

manassah, my gift car. that i paid for with my own money but in every way is a gift. he's not doing so well. and he wasn't able to get into a garage today. so broken he still sits in the yard. i don't even have a hope or an idea of what is wrong. so i've decided (and somehow its working?!?!) that its no help being upset and he'll work when he works, and i'll pay what i need to do get him running and he'll sit broken till someone can help me. so i put out the feelers and said what i needed and its out of my hands. so i wait and walk and enjoy knowing i'm exercising my body and feeding my spirit in not being upset.

i got to school. preceded to spill coffee all over my white shirt.

today was shaping up to be a grand day. car not working, coffee spilling.....

hung out with my little entourage of men for two hours then drove up the mountain for more EE training. (there's been a big children's conference on the farm that i've been blessed to participate in during the morning and early afternoon hours this week. more on that another day...) i felt like a hot mess with my big ole coffee stain and knowing manny wasn't working.

went through training. taught my break-out group to do a drama. couldn't resist. it was hilarious. it helped us learn. acting always helps me learn something....hahahahhaa

came down off the mountain after lunch and had a few long moments with the boys while they ate and told me what they did that morning. then my boys momma's picked them up. early. VERY early. i was happy. i love early friday's.

i got in the car to see how aunt liz's car works. we drove up to polokwane. i dropped aunt liz and beth off. then i took natalie and bec to the mall. err.....the closest thing to a 'mall' within 3 hours that we have. i had to get some groceries so we went to pick-n-pay. at which point all the check-out counters in the entire store went dead. as in, offline.

as in, nothing worked. and of course it happened just moments after swiping my card. SO, we had to wait till get our receipt and money back. otherwise, we'd just have put our stuff back and left. but no, we waited.
and we waited.
and i still had my coffee stained shirt on, lest you think i changed. i hadn't.
34 minutes later (yes, i timed it), we were on our way out. i had become good friends with lucas my checkout boy and he was cute and funny and we talked about soccer and the world cup and how in 6 days the entire world will be here in our south africa.

and then i wanted to take the girls to Mugg & Bean to get them good muffins. but they were out of muffins. as in, they had none.
how is that even possible??! that is what they are known for....
and so we wondered and sipped a milkshake, smoothie, and iced coffee respectfully.
and i got home around 7pm. which isn't too bad.
and now i am preparing lesson plans for next week. and writing stories for those books i mentioned once before.
and i finally put my coffee stained shirt in the wash.

sometimes its normal for an entire store to go offline. for cars not to work. for the cold bitter air to seep into homes. thats all normal.

the good news is my clicker works at the big gate so i can now get in and out without panicking. thats good. and i did manage to pick up my world cup tickets! i squealed at the counter and the people inside said i was the happiest person to get my tickets they had yet seen. i was dumbfounded. could you really be unhappy to get your tickets? yes, apparently you can, because they said lots of people were angry. weird. so weird...

still, winter days

i have all sorts of pausing.
stilling.

still, see all the
glory.
glory moments.

still moments.
moments when the only sound i hear is the sound of His step. His breath blowing and showing in the dark blustery days that are here now.

Winter has come.
not over my heart. but over my heart.
the heatbeats and pumping and cold numb fingers are my companion now.
winter has come.

so i still.
still under covers and blankets.
i broke down and got a little space heater for my room. a little bed sheet that heats up for my bed.
warmth for the cold.
the biting cold.

i keep saying it really isn't so bad. and so it isn't.
its only so bad because its never-ending.
how africans go with no heating inside is something i can not understand.
once its cold (and, its cold), its cold till it gets warm again.
come, come, come soon late august. i miss your warmth.

you imagine going inside would warm you up. and no, its just as cold inside; if not colder! the cold is everywhere and no hope of warming is to be found. hats, scarves, gloves.
i pull tight.

the sun shines in the daytime. it warms cold weary bones.
i still.
still.
look up and blow kisses to the Son-shine on my face.
i feel it seep into the bones.
i see its evidence on white blonde strands.
i feel it freckle my back.
thats a lie, i dream of it freckling my back; it really only warms it.

someday, in Heaven, i'll have freckles. you better believe it. i believe it. i believe it and pray prayers for a freckled man to marry so i have freckled babies. but thats anther story....

i still in these winter days.
days when the dark creeps in before the day has had a chance to really shine and expand and be.
i still under covers.
pull tight and pull closer.
hear the Breath steps of Him ahead of me.

isn't it amazing that you only see your breath when its very cold and dark out? when you are just about to doubt everything about everything it is then the breath moments are seen.
catch your breath. wish on a star. sing a song.
and still.
still and watch and listen.
listen to the wind whistling in the leaves.
listen to your fingers type out stories.
listen to the movements in your heart.

still. and glory.
it is blustery winter time.
and there is glory.
all around.
just be still. and wait. its coming. He's coming. He is almost here.
He's on His way to warm my days and pull closer.
pause, pause long and linger.

being left at the piano

i've been thinking a lot the past weekend about this one night last year. it was september or october.

i was alone and vulnerable and exposed.
and in a way, thats sorta how i feel now.

last year before the time Manassah entered my life i was rather stuck on the farm. i would have to hitch a ride into town or beg one of my friends from town to drive out to the farm to get me. i didn't really like doing that because its 30 minutes to the farm, then 30 minutes back to civilization, then 30 minutes to the farm to drop me off, then 30 minutes home for whichever friend it was. but i was desperate to get into town and get to church.

so i called a friend of mine to come and get me. i don't even remember everything from that day. we got to church and there was no church. so we played a bit of poker with friends. i was demolished. i can't fake or lie or anything, my face gives me away. but i love playing. really, i just love playing any game. but soon i realized after losing again, that the church was empty and so i asked and meandered my way into the sanctuary.

and there she sat. quiet and still and beckoning.

since i wasn't on my own schedule i remember whispering to shawn where i would be and that i wouldn't be leaving the piano, so he would have to come and get me when he was ready to go and take me home.

and so freely i sat and played. it was the first time i had really played since i moved here to south africa. and i was alone. something about the night quiet, and the stillness of a house of worship makes my heart sigh and relax and my fingers move and find the melody that lays buried.

i didn't realize it at first but shawn had come in and was laying down listening to me sing and worship. he said he was there awhile before i realized it. i always get embarrassed when i notice someone listening. i stopped playing, made to move away, and he gently coaxed me back to my seat. it took a few songs but i forget he was there again. the piano is my place. my happy secret place.

i heard richard come in before i saw him. he too sat and listened. i had an audience. a bit later i glanced up and realized shawn had left. he wasn't there. i asked richard what happened and he said shawn slipped out and had to leave. some phone call.

i remember the panic, the frozen paralyzing fear that gripped me. i remember not being able to think. and praying, pleading that no tears would escape. i would not cry in front of richard over something i knew was so small. i was abandoned. alone. my ride had to leave. i didn't know who to call to come get me. i was afraid. i felt so betrayed. shawn said he'd take me home, and here he had left without a word. richard could tell i was antsy and apparently the whole time he was smiling and apparently shawn's car keys were right on the floor.

but for those moments, who i was, and where i was, was enough to send me into a near tailspin.

a few more minutes passed. i had walked back to the piano. i had lifted my fingers but i couldn't play. i was alone. left. maybe it was not even a minute, i don't know. more time passed. then the familiar face reappeared. i stood. tentative. fearful. i struggled to come up with words saying i was ready to go home. but my movement was enough.

soon we were in the car. and on the way home and we didn't reach the edge of town before the tears came.

i wasn't ready to cry in front of richard (that would take about another month till we'd get to that point), but in front of shawn silent shame-filled & hot tears poured down my cheeks. it took almost the entire drive home for me to put to words the lunacy in my tears and why i had gone from so normal to so afraid. and i knew shawn wouldn't leave me but i felt he did, and it was more richards words than the absence of shawn, but i couldn't shake the anger over what i thought happened. and i couldn't stop feeling so ashamed to have doubted one man off of another man. (and isn't that so like us? constantly comparing and judging from what we know. glory, glory He doesn't do that!)

i was vulnerable. and exposed. and there wasn't much i knew here yet, or understood, and what i thought i understood in having a friend to depend on, and then having that friend go against everything (so i thought) and leave, and being abandoned...it was too soon to feel that.

i cried because i thought it had happened again. someone i trusted left me. and i cried because i didn't know how to be fixed. and i cried because i'd just have called my parents in america and at least they could tell me who to call and how to get home and i was all alone in a strange place.

all alone in a strange place.

i've been thinking about that night a lot lately. wondering how i'd react now? would it be the same? would i laugh at the teasing? would i look and notice the keys before i felt it was true? i don't know. i don't know.

but i do know that i see growth in my life in simple things. in small things. today i see growth in that i have a host of people i would call if i was really abandoned somewhere. in the fact that i wasn't abandoned that day, nor since and that He will never ever leave me.
growth is often painful and confusing.
and thats the point, right? so we don't stay confined to the shell we're living in. so we branch out and spread wide wings and go soar.
higher than the last time.
with stronger wings, and more gumption in our tail feathers.

when i can figure out why i keep replaying that story i will be sure to share....i feel like there are nuggets there from Jesus for me, and i think i have an idea of where and why its heavy but He does tend to move in mysterious ways and so i wait. i am waiting....

while i wait, let me count up more endless gifts...35-53

• for good friends who i can cry in front of
• growing up in Jesus and growing stronger
• parents who made me diligently practice piano every day even when i was grumbly and complaining
• a sister who showed me how to write music and create
• truth, good, painful, real truth spoken over me
• a marvelous weekend away
• new favorite drink: red cappuccino
• new favorite fruit: persimmons
• someone gifting the Brits family with real maple syrup from america. oooooo SO, so good to me!
• not having to drive to jozi this weekend
• falling asleep to the sound of the wind whipping in the car.
• in fact, car naps in general
• sleepy boys who love to snuggle when they wake up from their naps
• sleepy little boys who smile when i smile at them
• potato soup on cold winter days
• LOST. wow. tonight was so intense!!
• the bulls won the championship on saturday night. its so superficial but it seriously made me so delighted
• little amelie and i playing make believing all day sunday.

a mindless normal day

i have deadlines to meet.
places to go.
people to see.

i have homies to my right.
homies on my left.
not really, that last part at least.
no homies for me.

i have little jacques directly in front of me drawing and writing. he's abnormally subdued since i made him do wall sits for disobeying. they worked for me in basketball practice to get better at making my free throws, and they worked marvelously for him just now. kid is stone faced repentant and scared and its almost freaking me out. nicole is just to my right finishing up her homework. we're waiting on her to finish so we can make our cookies. i felt like it was a goodnight for cookie baking.

but, uh...isn't any night a good night to bake cookies? YES! yes. of course, yes.

i'm off to jozi for the weekend to stay with lelane and her family. my family, or at least my parents in the states, are off to the cabin.

i'd rather be at Little Beaver with them and the deer and bears and the linx. but jozi is a very good second option. and i hear lelane lives on a hill. and it overlooks the city and i think i could be quite happy if that is true. we'll have to see.

i'm leaving at mid-day. and i can not wait. like i could barely sleep last night i was so excited and i have such nervous excitement butterflies in my belly even now!! geez, calm down, rebekah! you'd think i never did anything off this farm, or for fun, or anything for how giddy i am feeling.

i can't wait because as much as i enjoy the farm and love being outdoors in nature and passing sable and a million other critters on my way to work each morning i love cities. lancaster ruined me for them. and more than loving city life, i really think so much more freely and quickly in a new place. i guess i'm a gypsy at heart because i like the constant coming and going and change. and i'm so looking for Jesus to speak into some very specific areas of my life for guidance and next steps and just to hear Him. i'm achy to be still and listen.

before lunch today i felt like laughing and i truly have the most perfect job for quick pick-me-ups. so i sat on the floor and snatched up the nearest wee one and we tickled and giggled and i blew on bellys and we laughed and we laughed and like always happens the crowd arrived quickly. and so soon we were all rolling on ground and laughing and i lost calories and more than that, i let in Holy Spirit air and it filled and flowed out and it was marvelous.

i've become quite amazing at convincing the boys they must take an afternoon nap.
(side note: o dear, just realized its Thursday and this is already over three minutes. o well...)
so they are all laying down. all of a sudden matthew sorta wakes up. enough that he was able to stand, not enough that he was thinking. and in typical boy form, he pulls his pants down and uses the pillow as a toilet. no joke. i'm hearing this pee hit the pillow and looking over and seeing splashing and my mouth hangs open and i stare in shock and hilarity and what can i do? its already over and i just laugh. and shake my head. and grab him.

i have never heard of a girl forgetting something is in fact NOT a toilet and using it as such, only boys, and i've heard stories like that so often...what is it with you, men?!?!

its not at all surprising to me that it was matthew either. he is the one that quite regularly puked and peed on me all of last fall till he learned to adjust to being in a school and not at home and till he learned me and i learned him. yup. it was that matthew. gotta love him. at least he doesn't' pee on me anymore and its just the pillow. which can be washed. and at least he pulled his pants down so i dont have to wash those...

let me tell you what. if this job hasn't given me a more humble, servanthood, and patient heart nothing will. and i bet i'll be a much better mother some day for how much its calmed me this constant chaos and figuring out how to work in that and how to thrive in that...yes, yes, its possible. i tell you. these boys teach me more than i teach them.
every time.
every day.

simba's blood, and how it dripped on me

little crimson drops spread on the white shirt i wore today.

i wear clothes to cover up my skin, my heart, my thoughts. i wear them because society tells me too. though strangarity genes scream "freedom!" i whisper "no, no, no" and gather something semi-matchy matchy, thats presentable and waltz out the door.

little Simba dog was shot this morning at a neighboring farm. its all still a bit surreal. he is a much loved dog on this farm. two holes. in and out. shaved skin, droopy eyes, and heart cringing yelps of pain escape his little mouth. he whimpers with each movement. no side is good to lay to find comfort because the evidence of pain and opening is there, is everywhere. each turn, its there. i shudder to think how i would feel with the marks of what happened...*

i walked home from school today and met my family on the drive. i sat in the back with jacquie and nicole. simba was crying from the pain of the bumps. these farm roads do not soften bullet wounds. i climbed in, i didn't think. i reacted. i reached and held and gave stability as much as possible to brace and take the bumps myself. only minutes later realizing that i was wearing white.

white to cover my white.
cloth to cover my skin.

and simba had dripped and his red blood poured on me.
and i was marred.

we got home and i gathered pillows and blankets and cleaned and scrubbed blood, and then i saw myself. i paused in the mirror upstairs. i saw me. i paused and i saw me still. i lingered. and as much as i am ever able to see what lies in the deep, i lay uncovered.

the red spotting my white.

and i undressed slowly. whispering prayers for simba, and myself as i did so.

i like wearing white. its so clean and fresh and i think better when i have white on. and my skin isn't so nice and creamy milk white like some of my friends, but i am, by far, the whitest in the family, and i tan a nice shade of white and you'd never know the sun and i met. and still i wear white. because i like it.

and i put on cloth to cover and i haven't really thought before of wearing white to enact and hope it changes me and purifies me, but i do like the light more than the dark. and perhaps maybe subconsciously i have put on white to make me feel more clean. make me feel more alive and just fresh.

and i wear clothes to cover up what i don't want you to see. and i wear little masks to cover what i don't want to see or show. and i'll paint my nails and wear mascara and twirl and swirl and pitter patter on and wonder if its working or not. do i cover up half as well as i think? and do i want to?

its awfully amazing the thoughts that are conjured up when your beloved dog has been shot.

simba's blood stained me. and i watched the droplets spread over my clothes. and strangely all i wished was for it to cover and coat more.

somehow, red blood always makes me think of the cross. and how i wish to be coated full so it stays. how easily i forget that the once dripping was enough for ever. for all. how silly i am. how often i forget.

i don't need more of the crimson to come today. enough was spilled that day. enough for today.
and i don't need to find and search and hope for something to cover me and what i wish no one will know, and that not even myself, sees.

his blood is altogether enough for me and its coated and soaked through and its all and everything and more. and no need for me to wear anything or need more red drops to cover either....

and i sang little shouts of praise that i am coated in His blood. and i am free to live and be and wear myself and my heart cloth-less. and His blood has sang and danced and washed me and no amount of stain-remover can remove the parts that he's branded and bought and paid for. and i rejoice and sigh deep that i'm all at once clean white new and also oozing the red blood of life. all at once. all at once.

little simba was shot today. please say a prayer. this beloved family dog will heal and be running soon again and that the circumstances around it will be smoothed and somehow good, deep, peace will come....

*normally, farm life is not this exciting, this terrible. in fact, most days pass in a semi-vegetable like state where i search and see and discover beauty. today was a bad day. but He's holding little simba. and i'm not worried about being shot myself...for numerous reasons not blog worthy...so, relax mom and dad. love you *smile*