About God’s Goodness, Faithfulness & Protection

 

 

At 07:14:50 this morning, I stopped at our local Shell garage.  I had been to Spar prior to that and I forgot to buy cigarettes.  Upon realising this, I told my girls that I forgot and I’ll just stop at the garage.  Abigail begged me “mommy, please don’t go buy cigarettes”.  I ignored her.  I ignored a HUGE warning sign which I believe God had tried to give me.

 

I got out of my car and walked into the garage shop.  Usually the kids get out of the car with me, but I decided to lock them in the car instead.  God’s Goodness at work.  I had not been in the shop for 10 seconds when I looked around, just to check on my girls and stared right into a group of men all wielding guns.

 

They yelled at us (customers & staff) to get down on the ground.  While dropping to my knees I tugged my engagement ring off my finger and stuffed it into my bra.

 

There was a lady in the line ahead of me.  As we dropped down, she grabbed my hands and calmly told me to just breathe and pray with her.  I wept quietly and told her my kids were in the car outside.  She started praying for their protection, that they would not see or hear what was going on inside the shop.  I “double locked” my car – this makes it impossible to open the doors from the inside – this way I knew that they would not be able to get out of the car and walk into danger.

 

While we were lying on the ground, the armed robbers demanded our cellphones and wallets.  I handed them over without hesistation, and without looking up.  I just saw this hand grab my phone & purse, and the next thing he threw my purse back at me – I had no cash.

 

The angel with me just kept praying and kept reassuring me that my kids and I would be fine, that God ALWAYS protects His children.

 

The robbers yelled at the owner to open the safe (they assaulted him badly)

 

Suddenly, the shop was quiet.  You could hear a pin drop.  I asked out loud “are they gone” and we started getting up.  I ran to my car to check on the girls.  They were laughing and playing on the back seat.  Kathrin asked me “mommy, what just happened, why did those guys run out and jump on the back of a bakkie”.  That was all they saw.

 

I got a business card from my car and gave it to the garage manager so they could get hold of me if they needed to.  I got back into my car.  According to Matrix, it was now 07:17:58

 

I dropped the girls at school with a smile on my face, hugged them really tight and told them I love them.  I was incredibly calm, I had Shalom Peace until the moment I drove off the school grounds – they never saw the fear or terror that I was experiencing.

 

 

God tried to warn me through my child, but I didn’t listen.

God protected them by not letting them come into the shop with me.

God protected us all in that shop for the entire time that the robbery was taking place.

God heard every prayer, and showed His faithfulness in keeping us all safe from harm – not a single shot was fired, my kids were safe and besides the obvious shock, I am okay.  Rattled beyond belief, but okay.

 

God doesn’t always speak in a loud thundering voice, He uses a still small voice on the inside, or the still small voice of a 7 year old girl.  We should just learn to listen to Him.

 

All thanks, glory and honour go to my Heavenly Father who sent his angels to protect us today.  I thank God for the promises He made in Psalm 91, and I thank Him for keeping those promises today.

 

Psalm 91

 Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.[a]
 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

 Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
 You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.

 If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
 no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
 they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
 You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

 “Because he[b] loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
 He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
 With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”

 

Thirty Three

Short Story writing prompt:

In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. – David Markson, Wittgenstein’s Mistress (1988)

 


In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. Unobtrusive messages. If you didn’t know what you were looking for you were not likely to see them. I was elated as the morons I was dealing with shrugged their shoulders and made nothing of it. Mankind is strange in the way that they believe they are already knowledgeable enough, intelligent enough. Alas, they are mistaken. But I digress. In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. Had they been paying attention the game would’ve progressed much more rapidly and it would’ve been to a great extent, simpler.

The first message was right outside Amanda’s residence, a compass carved into the plaster on her wall. It pointed unswervingly at her location. I remember the night as clear as if it was yesterday. She had returned from work at a late hour, as usual, while her infant son had been weeping for her the entire day and eventually fell asleep, exhausted. Worn out from crying for his absent mother. Exhausted from yearning her soft bosom against his rosy little cheek.
She had walked into the house barely glancing at him before falling onto her bed like the spoilt pocket of potatoes that she resembled. The alcohol induced lull into which she fell suited my needs perfectly and it was with very little if any effort that I was able to confiscate her from the house where she never lived.

In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. Such as at the second locality. The historians tell us that the ancient Egyptians were intelligent beyond their own means and I do believe they were correct. Consider the Giza pyrimads, not the structure, but the alignment to the Belt of Orion. There lies great wisdom and mystery there. But I digress. Had they been paying attention to the alignment of Orion on that night, it would’ve pointed them to the same location as the compass pointed. Had they been paying attention, they would’ve seen the feint markings on the pavement, Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka were proudly displayed and aligned with their counterparts in the heaven.

That night too is a fond recollection; Mari had arrived home punctually at 17h30 as every other day. Her two young children greeted her at the door. Beautiful babies. The boy was a mere six years old and the girl not yet four. They sparkled they were so uncontaminated and clean. Mari did not indulge the grime and untidiness that walks hand in hand with a child. Mari was not mommy, but Mother. A firm peck on each cheek while the children cowered as they looked at her. After the customary screams of fear and pain had subsided one could still hear the silent sobs of the two frightened children alone in their beds. Mari’s sleeping tablets ensured that she could not hear the incessant noise of their wailing at night and soon took effect. Perfect. I was able to lift her off her bed and carry her to the car with no exertion whatsoever.

In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. As the realization that my messages were being overlooked dawned on me, the subtlety was replaced by cruder more obvious messages, yet they still could not find me. I think that it was after the sixth or seventh time that I started using these women’s own blood to leave the trail. The direction was always clearly indicated, whether using a compass, constellations or astrological signs, yet, there was no-one that could break the code, that could understand the wisdom of the Ancients.

After every incident I would watch the newspapers like a hawk, but they were unable to connect one incident to the next. It was then that I realized that I had become a ghost. I was invisible and ultimately untouchable. That was my tipping point, yet, I also understood that now, more than ever I could not make mistakes. Thus I became more attentive, more meticulous and more cautious with my every action.

The warehouse where these women were held was rather comfortable. Each of the 33 cells was fitted with a lavatory, basin, shower, desk and bed. The food was in no way cuisine, but it was nourishing. They were unable to see or hear one another, thus believing that their confinement was solitary. 32 of the cells were now occupied and still there was no indication that I would be found. I did not fear being caught as I am an enlightened individual. I have been fated to sacrifice my life for the sake of my destiny. Destiny also thought it well to bestow on me the gift to express the shadow side of the collective consciousness of mankind. I am not a tyrant, nor am I a malevolent being, however, I will through my actions transform the world’s perception, the world’s morality and the world’s mothers.

It had taken me years to formulate my plan, to ensure that every cog in this great wheel would run smoothly and above all, to scrutinize the inventory of items that would qualify these women to be included in this, MY destiny. My own mother had been the raison d’être of this path I now found myself on. It would not go unnoticed any longer. As a child I had longed for her presence in my life, I had dreamt of doing things with her as a mother and her child should but she chose to bring me into this life and then leave me to fend for myself. Her drunken stupors, incessant yelling and harsh blows had shaped me, as the sculptor shapes his clay.

It was time. I readied myself for the last moment, for the culmination of the events that would finally bring into fruition all my hard work. Tonight it was Lana’s turn. Lana too was a atrocious mother who would drug her children and then leave them with no supervision while she cavorted with any man she could find.

The anticipation of this night had been building over a period of 33 weeks, this one being the last. Tonight, when Lana was safely in her cell, when the only sound was that of a crying child, when, as every one of the others she starts writing that farewell letter to her children, then the grand finale can eventually take place.

33 Women who should not carry the name mother
33 Families who have been rid of these shameful creatures
33 Cells
33 minutes before they start choking on their own words and thoughts
33 minutes until death creeps in through the cracks

As I leave the warehouse to complete this last task I switch on the recording of the crying children. On the monitors I can see each one of the 32 women screaming into the darkness, their eyes fill with tears and the insanity claws into their souls just a little bit deeper. I walk to my waiting vehicle and flip open my Cellphone, number 3, speed dial. A tiny voice answers the phone. “Hey baby” I say; “Mommy will be home by supper”.

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The State vs The Accused

On 6 February 2001 at approximately 14:30, while driving from the office where we had had a meeting, my car’s right front wheel broke off, somewhere between the Hans Strijdom and William Nicol offramps on the N1.  I lost consciousness and my vehicle crossed the middleman and went straight into oncoming traffic.  Two vehicles crashed into me and three people were seriously injured.  I was one of the injured parties and was transferred to Sunninghill hospital.  The other two injured persons were a husband and wife visiting their children from America.  On the way to the hospital, the man passed away and after being comatose for 16 days, the woman passed away.

The Star Newspaper 7 February 2001

The Star Newspaper 7 February 2001

My car at the scene of the accident

My car at the scene of the accident

While I was lying in ICU, a counsellor came to speak to me and informed me that the man had passed away.  I was shattered.  When I was later informed that his wife too had passed away, I was devastated.  It felt like my entire world had come to an end.  I cannot explain to you how it feels knowing that at YOUR hand, someone has died.  I was tormented with nightmares for a very very long time after that.  Even though I couldn’t remember a single thing about the accident, my mind constantly tried to recreate what had happened.  Every time I drove on the N1 between the two offramps, my chest would close up and I would start shaking uncontrollably.

I was at home recovering when I was served with a summons to appear in court.  I was charged with a count of reckless and negligent driving and two counts of culpable homicide.

Almost exactly one year after the accident, I stood in the dock as the accused.  I heard the eye witnesses testify and I heard them being cross-examined brutally by my attorney.  I heard them saying that it was my fault that two people had died.  That children were without parents, that parents were without their children, that sisters and brothers had lost their siblings.  I had devastated families, I was responsible for their heartache and they wanted justice.  They wanted my blood.

The State Prosecutor gave me his everything, between him and the detective they battered me, I felt emotionally raped by them.

My attorney had warned me of this prior to the trial, he had prepared me for as much as he could.  Because the fact remains, in every story, there are three sides, my side, your side and the truth.

The purpose of any trial is to get to the truth, to filter through the version and testimony of the witnesses, to filter through the version and testimony of the accused.  Somewhere, in there, usually deeply hidden is the truth.  It is the exposure of the truth that allows justice to prevail.

I was found not guilty on all charges, the scene reconstruction showed that my version (put forward by eye witnesses) was the truth, the tracking device in my car showed that for minutes before the accident I had been travelling at a constant speed of 116km/h (well within the legal limit), the toxicology reports showed that I had not been drinking.

I was probably traumatised by the trial, I can’t remember those emotions anymore, but I still think of the families of the husband and wife that sadly passed away in this accident.  I still feel heartache that I had a part in them losing their lives, today I know it wasn’t my fault, I know that I wasn’t responsible, I understand that my car was the tool that ended their lives, it was not at my hand.

I’m thinking of this today because there is such an uproar about the #Oscartrial about how Barry Roux tormented the state’s witnesses, about how Gerrie Nel is badgering Oscar, and I realise that it is nothing new, it is nothing out of the ordinary.  The only difference between what Oscar is going through in trial and between what I went through on trial, is that mine wasn’t televised,  I was not a celebrity that went from hero to zero in a single moment.   We have a good justice system, it is fair and every accused is offered the same rights.  Sure, not all of us can afford the “hot-shot” attorneys and advocates, but there are thousands more of them that are just as good as Barry Roux and come at a much more affordable price.

I have sympathy for how Oscar is feeling regarding the unfortunate death of Reeva Steenkamp, but I do not have sympathy for him being on the stand.  When a life is taken, someone has to be accountable for that death, and the law must be allowed to go its course.

 

“Neither you nor I nor Einstein nor the Supreme Court of the United States is brilliant enough to reach an intelligent decision on any problem without first getting the facts” ~ Dale Carnegie

Deur my eie oë

Ek dink vandag aan mense wat diep spore in my lewe getrap het.

Gevul met nostalgie herroep ek spesifieke gebeure.  Oomblikke, dae, selfs weke en jare.

Dit verstom my hoeveel mense al deur my lewe geloop het, hoeveel hierdie mense bygedra het tot wie en wat ek vandag is.

Verbaas besef ek dat elkeen gehelp het met die vorming van my menswees.

Daar is mense wat vir ’n oomblik daar was en ’n diep positiewe bydrae gemaak het.

Vreemdelinge wat ’n leeftyd met my gedeel het.

Goed en sleg, mooi en lelik, lekker en seer.

’n Balans van bydraes.  Positief en negatief.

En hier is ek.  ÉK. 

Tevrede.

Gemaklik.

Rustig.

Tussen die herhinneringe deur onthou ek ’n gesegde wat ek eenmaal gelees het:

“As jy nie hou van wat jy sien nie, moet nie kyk nie”

Ek besef dat wanneer ek in die spieël kyk, na myself deur my eie oë, hoef ek nie my kop weg te draai nie. 

Ek is gemaklik in my eie vel.

Tevrede met myself, foute en al.

Sonder dat ek myself hoef te regverdig kan ek lééf.

Elke oomblik aangryp, omhels, geniet en later in nostalgie dit weer herleef .

Kind, Vrou, Mens, Ma, Lover. Wie is ek???

‘n Vriend se kommentaar op ‘n blog van lank lank gelede het my laat dink.

Sy woorde was:

“Mmmmmmm…nadat ek nou van die kommentaar gelees het, lê ek gou nog ‘n eiertjie. In ons huwelik kom die kinders nie eerste nie. Sure, as daar gekies moet tussen ons behoeftes en hulle kry hulle voorkeur, maar ek en my vrou stel mekaar se emosionele behoeftes eerste. En die kinders weet dit. Dis seker nie almal se koppie tee nie, maar dit werk vir ons. (Ons baseer dit op ons huweliksbeloftes.)”

Ons as mense, nie net vrouens nie, vertolk soveel rolle.  Ek is ‘n vrou, so ek gaan praat oor vrouens.

Heel eerste was ek ‘n dogter.  Om ‘n dogter te wees vir ‘n enkel ma is moeilik, sy maak staat op jou vir emosionele ondersteuning, om te help besluite neem oor verhoudings, ek was die lyfie wat haar in die koue wintersaande moes warm hou.

Om ‘n dogter te wees vir ‘n pa is lekker, maak nie saak hoe groot en lelik jy is nie, jy is altyd pappa se prinsessie.

Ek is ‘n stiefdogter, gelukkig is my stiefma supercool en baie goed vir my pa en ‘n verhouding met haar is maklik.

Verder is ek ook ‘n kleinkind wat altyd daar is vir my Ouma & Oupa.  Van my niggies en nefies het nie ‘n saak met Ouma en Oupa nie so ek maak ‘n punt daarvan om tyd saam met hulle te spandeer en my kinders tyd saam met hulle te gun.

Ek is ‘n vriendin, ek gee 100% van myself in ‘n vriendskap, en dit het my al baie seergemaak en skade in my lewe veroorsaak.  Steeds is ek nie bang om nuwe vriendskappe te begin nie en as jy my vriend/vriendin is, gaan jy sukkel om van my ontslae te raak.

Ek is ‘n groot sussie, my twee sussies is onderskeidelik 18 en 21 jaar jonger as ek, dit is nie altyd maklik nie want ons het baie min in gemeen.  Die oudste is nou ‘n teenager, so dit word nou makliker, sy kom vra my my oor die “feite van die lewe”, iets wat mos ongemaklik is met jou eie ma.

Ek is ook ‘n jonger sussie, en dit is nog ‘n nuwe rol vir my.  Ek het mos my sussie eers in 2009 ontmoet.  

Ek is ‘n vrou vir my wonderlike man, ons is nou al meer as 9 jaar saam, sewe jare se sakke sout opgeët, saam besluit om kinders te kry en te trou.  Ons is al vir 9 jaar lovers, vriende, soulmates.

Ek is ‘n ma vir ons twee dogtertjies, dit is ‘n groot verantwoordelikheid maar die belonings is ongelooflik.

En iewers tussenin moet ek nog tyd kry vir net EK wees.

Nou is die vraag, wie en wat is ek eerste?


Dogter

Kleindogter

Stiefdogter

Vriendin

Sussie

Vrou

Ma

Ek

Hoe behou ‘n mens die balans tussen al hierdie rolle wat ons moet vertolk.

Wie stel jy eerste?

Hier is wat ek dink.

Ek sal altyd ‘n kind vir my ouers en grootouers wees, niks sal dit verander nie.  Dieselfde geld vir my sussies.  Maar, die dag toe ek getroud is, is ek “uit my ouers se huis”, en ek het ‘n vrou geword vir my man.  

My kinders kan beslis nog nie na hulleself omsien nie, dus het hulle my nodig en dit is my verpligting om na hulle om te sien, aan hulle te verskaf, om hulle groot te maak.  Maar, eendag gaan hulle ook uit die huis uit, en dan is dit net ek en manlief wat oorbly…

Wat gebeur dan?  Wanneer ons weer alleen is en ons het in al die jare nooit aan ons verhouding gewerk nie…..

Dus, en julle is welkom om van my te verskil, is ek heel eerste EK.  My eie ek, my identiteit in al hierdie rolle is vir my van baie groot belang.  Ek het nodig om tyd vir myself te hê, om te onthou wie ek is, hoekom ek so is, wat my so gemaak het en waarheen ek oppad is.  Slegs wanneer ek lief kan wees vir myself kan ek lief wees vir iemand anders.

Dan is ek ‘n vrou vir vir my man, dan vertroetel ek ons verhouding sodat ons saam gelukkig kan wees en saam ons kinders kan gelukkig maak.  Dit is my lewe, my bestaan, my man en my kinders.  My familie en vriende kom daarna.

So, wie is jy?  Wie is jy eerste en hoekom?

Ek sien uit na julle kommentare op hierdie een!

 

 

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