Between yesterday and tomorrow

It's been so long since I have written a blog, I feel almost as though a mental block has built up, so best I destroy it now before it becomes a pavement.  

My dear friends, I am in the mood to write, how could I have left such a long stretch of silence in cyberspace without an explanation?  It's simple, really; I stated it in my previous blog - a car accident has left me with a fractured pelvis, aching ligaments and muscles, and a rich adventure of building new and old friendships, plus an opportunity to work in a small German town called Kroondal, whose reputation thus far has only been positive.  

From the school I might work for being of good repute, a town which has a large if not sole German community, a church that makes you feel like part of the family, a scenery that's described as chilled and picturesque, to a lifestyle that might just welcome cycling from post to pillar, I can't imagine what God is still hiding in the brackets.  

So I'm a city girl, and before I was involved in this car accident, I would not have dreamed of living in a "dead-beat" town, as I may have considered it back then when we visited it - sorry!  I couldn't see that living in a town far away from the hustle and bustle could possibly bring me peace, joy and fulfillment.  Call it fate, destiny, God's will, I have a very strong impression that I am going to move to Kroondal to teach German to young children.  

I imagine - and I am really going out on a limb here, sharing my imaginings, since they could well slap me in the face - living in a small cottage, where the kitchen is small, but open, and it is made of wood, and there are plants snaking the pillars, and I have girlfriends over, and we drink tea or coffee and chat about life in general.  

I look forward to friendships, and I want to hold on to the ones I have made, and which I feel have been sealed since my accident.  I have felt such a love stream through them to me and I have felt that love going back into them, and so on and so forth.  Friends are precious.  

Cycling about town, from home to work, to the shops (maybe I will get the kind of bicycle they have in Germany, with a little basket at the front for your grocery items) and home again, joining the hiking club and going hiking with my boots, shorts and tank tops on weekends, and teaching children with their various personalities, character traits and talents in colorful and clean classrooms, is the life I imagine there.  

Karaoke or open mic nights, holy worship evenings, sharing my testimony, reciting poetry, and publishing a pocket-size book about my life with God, praying with and for others as though that were my true and greatest calling, being faithful to do as the Holy Spirit leads, without fear of humiliation, rejection, or need of explanation, but by faith in God's power alone, and to see people's lives transform, are some of the things I wish and hope and pray for.  

I have been given a second chance again, this time in the physical realm.  I have a body, and I lost no part thereof.  I will be fine.  Even now I remind myself to pray for complete healing of every part of me that has been in any way negatively affected by this accident.  For all the good that has come out of it - and believe me, there has been plenty! - I am so grateful.  The Lord knows.  

I miss my dear friend and neighbor in hospital Almut Cochrum.  She bubbled over with optimism and child-like enthusiasm, and she simply enjoyed other people.  I will never forget her, as long as I live on this earth. 

She has now left for "Obama's country" as she calls it - America.  She comes from New Mexico, where the dust blows dirt onto the windows; the Hispanics rake up their land, leaving the soil to be carried by the wind and hit their houses.

Almut had planned a guided tour of Tanzania.  She hadn't yet seen Mt. Kilimanjaro, when, on her first night, 24 January 2010, she slipped on the bathroom tiles and broke her femur, or upper thigh bone.  Included in the trip she had made was a trip to Zanzibar.  She thought Zanzibar to be a fascinating place, exotic and romantic.  Instead she landed in Milpark Hospital, Johannesburg.  But, she said, she was glad, for that too was an adventure, just a different one.  In the hospital she saw and experienced the South African culture in a way she would not have, had she seen lions, elephants and giraffes, and I thought this was a great attitude to have.  

"So what did you do today?" I asked her, when I had gotten out of rehab and she was still there, waiting to fly back home.  "Well," she said, as though she was about to tell a really great story, "I went down to the shop this morning, and I bought a banana, for R2." I had to laugh so hard that it hurt, literally.  It was so unexpected.

One of the nurses had reacted quite rudely to an innocent question she had posed one evening.  The night before there was lightening, so Almut asked curiously, "Is there always this much lightening here?"  

"Why, are you counting?" the nurse had replied.

Almut said nothing right then, but the following day she pulled her aside and spoke to her gently, "You know, nurse Tracy*, what you said to me yesterday night really hurt me.  I am not from here." I loved that!  I loved the way she confronted Tracy about her mannerism the previous night, and let her know that it hurt her.  The nurse, having realised she had had an effect on Almut, then apologised to her.

I enjoy memories almost as much as I enjoy looking forward.  But right now I am in between the past and the future, and I am enjoying that too.  For everything has its place and its purpose, and as long as I am in the present, I am living my purpose.  We have only the past and future to place us in the present.  May each time frame be fulfilled the way God intends.