Continue reading: Love at War. The Past Remains in the Past Only when We Deal with It Now.

 

Dagstukkie: 'n Aangename Geur

 

Daar is niks erger as die reuk van ʼn vrot eier nie.

Indien jy al ʼn koek gebak en een van die stink eiers oopgekraak het, sal jy verstaan wat ek bedoel. En baie kere, voordat jy dit besef, gooi jy dit oor die bak gesifte meel en val daardie grasgroen gemors binne in die meel. Dan moet jy alles weggooi, die bak skoon maak en van voor af begin. Met net een verskil: Dié keer breek jy die eier bo-oor ʼn piering, soos wat jou ma jou geleer het.

Hoekom ons altyd eers ʼn fout moet maak, is onverstaanbaar. Vernaamlik omdat ons weet ons moet die eiers eers breek oor ’n aparte bord. Ek was nie goed in huishoudkunde nie, maar ek onthou Mev Myburg se woorde nog steeds, “Gebruik ʼn piering en gooi dan die eiers een vir een by die mengsel.” Maar nee, ons vergeet sulke wyse raad in haastigheid.

ʼn Eier kan gemeet word aan invloed. Hoe varser die eier, hoe smaakliker die gereg wat jy voorsit.

Invloed werk op dieselfde manier. Hoe meer jy jou invloed gebruik ten goede, hoe verder versprei jou geur. Invoedryke mense dra iets by tot mense se lewens en verryk ons wêreld. Daarom is hulle so gewild.

Mense beny hulle en word dan jaloers op hul bekendheid. In plaas van om te leer, word hierdie mense negatief en kyk eerder hoe hulle daardie persoon kan benadeel. ʼn Vrot eier wat die wêreld ontsier.

Invloed werk op verskeie maniere. In elke area is daar bekende mense wat hul geur versprei op hul terrein van kennis. Bekende mense kan ook die juffrou by die skool insluit wat na kinders kyk asof dit haar eie is. Sy is gewild en almal wil hul kinders in haar klas hê. Die predikant of leraar wat gewild is onder sy gemeentelede. Die brandweerman wat so pas ʼn kind uit ʼn brandende gebou gered het. Die vrou wat net altyd iets mooi te sê het van/vir iemand. Elkeen se geur gaan hulle vooruit en mense wil naby hulle wees.

Dan is daar mense wat produkte verkoop en staatmaak op advertensies. Die ding van “word of mouth” kan jou voort stu na bekendheid of jou laat sink nog voordat jy begin het. Dit gaan alles oor die geur wat jy nalaat of die produk wat jy lewer.

In die Bybel kry ons dieselfde voorbeeld reg oor die Ou en Nuwe Testament. ʼn Lieflike geur is vir die Here aangenaam. Hy verheug Hom daarin. Telkemale lees ons hoe God die Israeliete geseën het gedurende so ʼn offer.

Openbaring 8:3-5 (AFR83) “[3] 'n Ander engel het toe gekom en by die altaar gaan staan met 'n goue wierookbak. Daar is baie wierook aan hom gegee om dit saam met die gebede van al die gelowiges op die goue altaar voor die troon te offer. [4] Die rook van die wierook wat deur die engel geoffer is, het saam met die gebede van die gelowiges opgestyg voor God. [5] Toe het die engel die wierookbak geneem, dit met die vuur van die altaar volgemaak en dit op die aarde uitgegooi.”

Die apostels het dit ook ʼn paar maal aangehaal. Daarom kan ons met all eerlikheid sê dat Abba Vader van ʼn lieflike geur hou.

Die vraag is, is ons lewens altyd ʼn lifelike geur? Ek weet myne is nie altyd nie. Die week het ek baie gestoei met donker gedagtes wat my aksies en spraak deurdrenk het met ʼn stink reuk. Ek moes behoorlik bely en vergifnis vra teenoor die Here voordat dit begin verander het.

Dit begin in die kern, daar waar ons ons eie wil afdwing of siening ongevraagd wil deel. Al wat dan uitkom is ʼn vuilgroen massa stink wat onbruikbaar is. Dan moet ons die meel weggooi, die bak skoon maak en van voor af begin. Net dan kan ʼn lieflike geur opgaan en ons invloed versprei wat mense en seëninge aantrek na ons toe. Deur te bely, aanvaar ons die reddende genade van ʼn liefdevolle Vader. Onmiddellik verander die stank en kan ons weer vrylik asemhaal.

Elke aksie moet aangenaam wees voor die Vader. Ek moes myself herinner aan die skrif in Hebreërs. Ek is vrygespreek en geklee met die onbesmette liefde deur die kosbare bloed van Jesus Christus.

Hebreërs 10:38 (AFR83) “En wie deur My vrygespreek is omdat hy glo, sal lewe; maar as hy terug deins het Ek aan hom niks meer nie.” Slegs dan kon die eie ek buig, my gesindheid verander en ek aangaan met my lewe. Miskien is dit vandag jou beurt om daardie meel te vervang, die bak te was en Jesus se liefde te aanvaar as Vader se werklike offer van ʼn lieflike geur.Waar sukkel jy vandag met jou invloed?

En hoe kan jy dit verander? Kan jy met alle eerlikheid sê dat jy ʼn welreikende geur vir die Here is?Gebed: Ek sit my lewe voor U, Here. Deursoek my hart. Wys my waar ek kan verander om ’n aangename geur af te skei en mense nader te trek.

Lynelle Clark

Skakels vn 'n Ketting 2

MY GEBED VIR ‘N BOER DRIE – word deel daarvan

ʼn Liefdadigheid- en deernisprojek deur Ns. Skrywershuis.

KOM SKRYF SAAM – skryf ’n kortverhaal, gedig, prosa, storie of ’n gebed.

TEMA (nie verpligtend nie):

DEUTERONOMIUM 8, verse 6 – 10: “Jy moet die gebooie van die Here jou God gehoorsaam en sy wil doen. Jy moet Hom dien, want Hy sal jou in 'n goeie land bring: 'n land met waterstrome, met fonteine en riviere wat in valleie en berge ontspring, 'n land met koring en gars, wingerde, vyebome en granate, 'n land met volop olyfolie en heuning, 'n land sonder armoede, waarin jy genoeg sal eet en niks sal kortkom nie, 'n land waarin daar volop yster in die klippe is en waar jy kan koper delf in die berge.

“Telkens wanneer jy genoeg geëet het, moet jy die Here jou God dank vir hierdie goeie land wat Hy aan jou gegee het.”

Suid-Afrika is selfs meer as net koring en gars, wingerde, vyebome en granate – dit is ’n land wat deur die geskiedenis God dien. Dit is die Skepper van hierdie land wat steeds voorsien deur die hand van die boer en sy werker. Sy ware en gelowige volk sal Hom nie versaak nie en sal bly by elke belofte aan Hom en dít wat Hy van ons verwag.

Skryf vir ons jou kortverhaal, gedig, prosa, storievertelling, gebed met hierdie Bybelgedeelte in gedagte. Skryf oor wonderwerke terwyl ons ook aan die boer ons dankbaarheid bied, want as ons die boer bedank, bedank ons God – en as ons God bedank, bedank ons die boer.

Hierdie boek is gemik om aan ons boere, werkers en slagoffers van plaasaanvalle hulp te verleen. Die wins van verkope word aangewend om traumaberading aan slagoffers van plaasaanvalle te bied.

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Fourth Principle of Creativity: We are, ourselves, creations. It means that we should continue creativity by being creative ourselves.

Studying a river, you will notice the ease it flows with. Flowing over and around obstacles as if they don’t exist. Why? They’re in the habit of creating. They do it without thought. A natural phenomenon which we admire.

In the week I saw three people, on inflatable mattresses, drifting off on a stream through a forest. Now and then you notice they bump against something and their course changes. It is so slight that it goes unnoticed by them as they follow the flow and enjoy the view. The treetops waving in the slight breeze and while enjoying the wonderous spectacle.

A fun way of relaxing and appreciating nature while you become one with yourself.

Likewise, our creativity should pour from us with an ease and comfort. It is not a strenuous task we have to think too much about.

Take, for instance, a dancing couple. Each step is perfectly coordinated to sync with each other because they have taken the time to practise. I believe the dancing gene was already within them. The flawless movements were already alive within their bones as they glide across the floor. The gentle sway of the hips, the graceful lifting of an arm or leg already brimming with energy earmarked their passion.

I envy people that can move like that. I love to dance. Alone, I can glide over the floor with relative ease, but when a man asks me to dance, I tense up. Why? Because I don’t know him, nor have I ever danced with him. Basically, it comes down to trust.

A dancing couple trust each other. When the woman turns away, she trust that the man will bring her back fluently and will bring her no harm. Likewise, a man will walk away in a sassy swagger because he knows the woman will not leave him on the dancefloor. They are both invested into that routine.

That is how we should be with our creativity. Like dance partners, we should trust in our ability to bring out the best in us. To trust ourselves is to allow devoted time for play/practise. Without adding time into the routine, your creativity will come to naught. Then you will lose the free flow of the river-like movements which promise to take you to a restful place.

The more we create, the more we trust the process. The more we create, the more we become invested into our creations. Like a couple that takes the floor, we trust each other. It becomes an investment we pour ourselves into and we continue to become better at our craft.

When your body, soul and spirit operate as one, your creativity flows with a river-like ease. Any obstacle you might encounter becomes an opportunity to grow, to change direction, to tweak and grow some more. A dynamic duo exists between our body and spirit, and we pour our very heart within its recesses to become bigger than us. So big that it becomes a legacy which last forever.

Your thoughts are always welcome, so add it in the comments.

Let the river flow.

©Lynelle Clark 2023

https://linktr.ee/AuthorLynelle

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Love at War by Lynelle Clark: Chapter 3: Lines upon lines of need.

 

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The area of Bentiu, South Sudan, Africa. April 2019.

Sonia Main watched the human line intensely.

It often included women and children. Even early in the day sweat coated them with a glossy sheen. No one bothered to swat the persistent flies away - silence their only resolution. The ragged tent was not adequate, and a lengthy line trailed listlessly outside the tent.

It was the last day at this camp. Tomorrow they would continue to another line much bigger than this one, the war-torn country in desperate need of help.

In partnership with David Sulliman, her interpreter, they examined the patients. He was of average build, his constant smile exhibited pearly whites against the darker skin. Based in South Sudan for two years, they had developed a good working relationship. He genuinely cared about his fellow countrymen.

"David, she needs to see the doctor." Sonia pulled an older woman from the line-up. Her concealed face was feverish at the touch.

"As-Salam Alaykum, awewe," he greeted the woman and showed her where to go. With slow steps she met Alice inside the tent.

"It will be another long day," Sonia said.

"Yes, it will," came the answer.

Armed with the vaccine she followed him, the clipboard present while he spoke to each person. Scanning the crowd, she shifted her attention to the landscape. The deserted area gave no hope of rain. Each breath laboured, the patients a mirrored image of the countryside, as barren as the parched earth.

"They reported another case of diarrhoea." David broke the silence during a break.

"Head Office promised to look at the quality of water." Sonia redirected her attention back to her work. "They sure can send more tents. Food and medicine are much-needed."

"The critical needs are dire," David said.

"And personnel. We need more help," Sonia said.

"You know they struggle with trained personnel." Medical personnel were difficult to find. The hours, heat and minimal luxuries held no appeal for many.

"The war doesn't help," she stated.

A sudden outcry interrupted them and both scanned the people. A woman wailed as she gripped her abdomen. The next moment she fell. Wisps of dust swirled upwards before they spread over her. Impassive bodies stood aside.

"I got this." David motioned and went closer. Sonia administered the child's drops while monitoring David. By the time she reached them, the woman was comatose. Her black skin strained over a thin frame; dull eyes stared upwards.

"She is unresponsive," David said with trepidation as Sonia knelt next to them.

"Stretcher!" Sonia called when she detected a faint pulse. The heartbeat was cumbersome.

"What do you think?" On closer examination, she replied: "She is losing the baby," and stood aside as the two soldiers approached.

"Be careful with her." In her delirious state the woman slumped around on the stretcher and Sonia calmed her with a warm touch on the arm and reached the tent with no incident.

"Here." Sonia directed them towards a bed in the corner. People pushed against them before they stepped aside. With only cardboard on the worn springs, she pulled a sheet from an empty gurney.

"Lay her down." The acrid stink of rotting flesh and sickness made breathing difficult.

"Doctor … "

"What's wrong?"

Soft weepy sounds immersed from the patient's lips.

"The baby will not make it," the doctor whispered. A lonely tear trickled down the woman's frightened face.

"Doctor Wek will help you," Sonia said with a calmed tone. Her own heart rate already galloping.

"I struggle to find her pulse, Doctor," Sonia informed him.

The woman cried. A sudden spasm pushed blood-water from her legs. Sonia glanced at Doctor Wek knowingly, her own heart in pain.

The doctor's face was a blank canvas as he explained to the woman what had happened. More water stained the white sheet and with it came the foetus. In sync with her baby, the woman's last breath slipped from her parted lips.

Oh, Lord, no! Not again. Please!

Blocking her line of thought, Sonia turned back with a sheet. Dr Wek stood aside as she swathed her. Afterwards she notarised the death.

Another death in a senseless war no one cared about.

"Let's go people. We must be at home before dark," David called. Sonia closed the van's backdoor. David hitched the trailer as she took her seat, the sliding door the last act of the day.

Children ran alongside them, their energy appreciated as they waved at them. Amidst the poverty they still beamed with joy.

Behind them the sombre landscape displayed tints of orange and deep yellows from the last sun rays. It softened the harshness and tedious state.

As they sped away, a boy waved at them in his run. Up ahead his donkey's gait a two-step as the cans jiggled from side to side.

Each trip to the refugee camps met her with humbleness, the children's toothy grins a personal highlight. What she valued most was their carefree attitude. They cherished life in every moment. With only the bare minimum, they seemed unworried about the future.

For the medical staff it was crucial to venture out to lift the tremendous burden. The influx of exiles gave them no rest while they suffered. She could leave, but the South Sudanese people had no choice. To help them, remained the closest she could come to excellence.

At the hospital they filed out - a tired but satisfied group. Sonia unpacked the van like a robot.

"We will help you."

"Thanks, Alice."

"They shot a doctor today," David informed them when he returned.

"Where?" The weight of their predicament oppressive.

"Khartoum - trapped with protesters inside a house in Buri. They shot him without reason," David said.

"I don't understand this wave of murders. We are here to help them," Sonia said.

"These people have no consciousness," Alice replied.

"We have to be watchful," David agreed.

Reluctant and uneasy Sonia removed the bags with filthy linen. "Take this and I will take those bags inside."

"Thanks, Alice." Sonia placed the clean linen inside the marked crate and closed the lid.

"Good night, Sonia."

"Goodnight, Alice. See you tomorrow."

In the compact kitchen Sonia drank a supplement she always had at hand, showered and went straight to bed. Lathered with enough Tabard, she added a flimsy sheet as a shield against unwanted night crawlers.

It was well after eleven when she flicked off the light. A thick blanket of darkness wrapped around her. A miserable sense which devoured you if you were not careful. Restless she stared out the small window, her thoughts far away. The moment she fell asleep, the woman's face intertwined with her own. It haunted her till she woke. Drenched in sweat she reached for the water. Once her thirst was quenched, she laid back.

The soft mattress's peaceful embrace drew her back, but sleep evaded her.

When the orange globe tinted the sky, she prayed. A solitary commodity that kept her sane. The constant battle for self-control became worse in the last couple of days.

Sticky after the night's heat, she made her way to the showers for a refreshing spray of cool water. By 6h00 she left.

Copyright Lynelle Clark

Interview with Sonai Main

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Dagstukkie: Opgehoopte niks

 

Het jy al ooit rustig genoeg geraak dat jy ʼn horlosie kon hoor tik? Ritmies tel dit die sekondes van ʼn minuut af. ʼn Minuut word ʼn uur en voor jy mooi weet, is ʼn dag om. ʼn Week voel soos ʼn vlietende gedagte, ʼn maand soos iets ver in die verlede, ʼn jaar weggespoed in dwase soeke na … elkeen van ons se afsluiting van die sin sal anders wees.

In my onlangse nuusbrief het ek die lewe met ʼn boek vergelyk. Net soos ʼn boek skryf ons die storie van ons lewe met tussenposes van stiltes. Stiltes waar ons die sekondewyser duidelik kan hoor. Ander kere vergeet ons van die horlosie in ons gejaag na aanvaarding en die afhandeling van pligte. Daar is gebeure in ons lewe wat ons skuur en skaaf, die tye waar ons stukke van ons lewe moet oorskryf, redigeer en weer moet probeer. Met al die sorg om ʼn perfekte boek gepubliseer te kry, is daar tog nog foute wat deurglip. Al die stres en “worry” kom weer na vore, en ons word herinner aan ons lewe. Aan die dinge wat saak maak.

Dit gebeur gewoonlik om Kerstyd en Nuwejaar. Tye waarin ons besin oor ons lewe, die foute raaksien van die jaar soos dit afspeel in ons gedagtes, en besef daar is min kwaliteit en te veel kwantiteit in ons lewe.

ʼn Vlietende oomblik waar ons wonder oor ons lewe, tot die volgende taak opkom en vergeet van ons ‘amper’ goeie voornemens en die sekondewyser uitdoof.

Soos wat ek luister na die sekondewyser, besef ek dat hy met elke tik ons ʼn kans gee om iets goeds te doen. Om ʼn nuwe besluit te neem. Soms hoor ons daardie stil stem, ander kere ignoreer ons dit.

Maar die vraag bly – en daar is net een wat dit kan beantwoord. Het jou lewe ʼn doel? Kan jy met alle eerlikheid sê ek het waarde tot my, my man en my kinders se lewe gevoeg? Of is kwantiteit meer belangrik?

Wanneer ek terugkyk na my 57 somers, dan besef ek daar was tye wat ek werklik kan sê ek het kwaliteit na die tafel gebring. My drie kinders se opvoeding was vir my ʼn prioriteit waaroor ek ernstig was. So ʼn jaar nadat ek tot bekering gekom het, het ek mense ontmoet wat tuisonderrig gedoen het.

Hulle het die saadjie geplant: as ouer, is dit my verantwoordelikheid om my kinders te leer. Ek het dit my eie gemaak en met tuisonderrig begin. Daardie vyf jaar was die kosbaarste tyd in my en my kinders se lewe. Selfs my man het daarby gebaat. Ons was nou ʼn span wat daadwerklik in mekaar se lewe belê het.

Netso toe ons ʼn besigheid begin het. Elke persoon wat vir ons gewerk het, het ʼn sendingveld geword in wie ons kon bou.

Op die ouderdom van vyftig het ek geleer om in myself te belê. Voor dit het ek omverskoning gevra as te ware wanneer ek iets wou doen. My ‘gut’ was iets waarvan ek gelees het, maar min gevolg het. Sedertdien het ek geleer daar is groter waarde in kwaliteit, en het die sug na prestasie en besittings verdwyn.

Kwaliteit is die gehalte van lewe en hoe jy dit toepas in jou lewe. Dit is die verwydering van die kaf, sodat jy met die werklike ware ‘ek’ sit. Gepoets en geslyp om diensbaar te wees in jou plantingsplek. Dit maak nie saak wat jou rol in die lewe is nie, jy gee waarde net waar jy is. Jou hoedanigheid as persoon is waardevol.

Kwantiteit kan nie die plek van kwaliteit vervang nie. Jy kan twintig koeke maak en mooi versier, maar indien een kluitjie in die middel is, sit jy met negentien koeke wat nie sal verkoop nie. Bak eerder een perfekte koek waaraan mense smul en vra vir nog, en jou waarde het ʼn hupstoot gekry.

Jy, as mens, voel volbring. Jy is nie ʼn opgehoopte niks nie, maar iemand met waarde.

Jesus se laaste woorde aan die kruis was: “Dit is volbring.” Hy het gedoen waarvoor Hy gekom het. Hy het sy lewe afgelê sodat jy vrede kan hê. Daarin is ʼn groot les te leer.

Jesus het in sy drie jaar van bediening, meer vermag as mense wat tagtig jaar leef. Na 2000 jaar is Jesus se lewe nog steeds ʼn voorbeeld van kwaliteit, in plaas van kwantiteit.

Indien jy nie jouself eers bekeer in stede van die wêreld probeer oorwin nie, is dit als ʼn gejaag na wind. ʼn Opgehoopte niks wat jou leeg laat.

Kan jy met alle eerlikheid vandag erken dat jy volmaak is?

Indien nie: Wat gaan jy daaromtrent doen?

Bestudeer die lewe van Christus en volg Hom na. Jy kan nooit verkeerd gaan nie.

Jy is ʼn geseënde van die Here.

 

Lynelle Clark

Skakels van 'n Ketting

Third Principle of Creativity

 

The third principle: When we open ourselves to our creativity, we open ourselves to the creator’s creativity within us and it expands to our lives.

In the presence of the Lord, we find answers. Because, in His presence, we open ourselves to God’s impartation. We allow Him to take centre stage and perform the creative miracle we are longing for.

I can honestly say that I have never gone into a fast-moving river, lay on my back, and enjoyed the ride. My analytical-realistic brain stops me at the edge as I watch the water pass.

I grew up next to the Orange River in the Northern Cape. It is an intimidating river that snakes through the Kalahari with a quiet stillness. From a far it is beautiful and inspiring but up close it shows a strength that warns you to step lightly. The riverbanks at some places so steep to keep you away and at other places you can step into the shallow waters as it laps at your feet. Even in the days when we were standing on the sandbanks inside the river, learning to swim, I always approached it with high regard. Its presence left a great impression on my younger soul. It still does.

Currently, it is in flood, its power sending shock waves through the community and awe in the rest of us. Then, it accumulates at the Augrabies Waterfall as a thunderous body of water into a very steep ravine. It is a sight to behold. I was there in 2021 when it was in flood as well. That mighty roar spoke to my spirit-man, and I cried. A mixture of awe, fear, and respect that you cannot explain to another person. The roar to deafening and the presence of God so real that you could feel the tantalizing power right into your bones.

Right at this moment, the thunderous roar of the Augrabies Falls is ten times that and has been closed for public viewing.

Can you imagine, Father God, inviting us into that powerful body of water to reveal His greatness to us? Yes, even His creativity is shown to us as He urges us to relax and ride it out with Him.

With that image in mind, it can be intimidating to approach God’s presence, but God wants us there. A place where we can trust Him. Rely on Him and experience God’s creative power to come to its fullness.

“God, are you for real?” I would ask, then I would see a smile spreading across His beautiful face as He nods. Yes, He is real.

When I was younger, I always accompanied my father and uncles on the small blue boat across the river. It was such an adventure, even though it was scary. But that small boat was sturdy, and the men understood the streams and rowed us safely across to where my grandfather’s farmland was. Today you can access the island by car much easier. Back then, it would take too long to go around reaching the island from the other side. Besides, you would miss the splendour of such a journey. So, we always took the boat, and my uncle’s dog swam next to us. Always reaching the riverbank first.

(My cousin replaced the oars with an engine which made the trip so much quicker.)

I remember the firm hold I had on the sides of that boat as my father and uncles rowed us across that brooding water. The water sliding underneath your fingers as sunrays danced on the surface. Capturing you into silence. The stretch of water so close you can taste its very existence.

For some reason, I always think of that river when I read about the rivers in the Bible. The mesmerising awe it inspires to lie back and enjoy the ride while God does His thing.

This is what I experience when I see point three of the basic principles of creativity. God invites us into the mighty river to show us what He has in store for us. The question is, will we trust Him enough?

Once we do, our creativity flows from our heart to our mind, to our hands and fingers. Our hands and fingers are only the tools God uses, but the creativity itself begins in our spirit. There, God the creator gives us images of what He wants to birth in us. It is only in a place of trusting and relaxing that we truly can experience God’s creativity to work through us.

Your thoughts are always welcome, so add it in the comments.

Let the river flow.

©Lynelle Clark 2022

https://linktr.ee/AuthorLynelle