Taking a chance?

Christ is the bread, awaiting hunger.

St. Augustine

Matilda took her father through to the retirement village in Wakkerstroom today. Within a few weeks we’ll be moving as well, so we’ll be close by, living on the farm a little out of town. We know that the retirement facilities and care are very good, but on a personal level we really want him to be happy there.

This past weekend we moved his furniture into his new room and furnished it with his favourite chairs, new curtains and linen and put up the family photos he loves. With us doing that, Matilda’s sister Marinetha looked after him and my father here on the farm at Rietfontein. A real logistical exercise to have our hands free and them taken care of.

Earlier this afternoon Matilda sent me a picture of him lying on his bed in the sun in his new room, listening to his favourite music and singing along. It is still early days, but he seems to like his new surroundings. To us it is such a relief.

This was the first phase of a huge task that we have to accomplish before the end of this year. All our stuff, the woodworking and engineering workshops and Matilda’s pottery studio have to be moved as well. And we have to find a flat for my dad in that same Dana retirement village and move him into that with hopefully the same positive outcome as in the case of oupa Frans.

Some might say we are giving too big a step; it is too much of a chance we take. In all honesty, there are days when we feel that way too. When the road ahead seems too daunting, our financial resources too limited, the challenges too many and our abilities and strength too little.

But there is something else. I don’t want to call it faith for it somehow places the focus too much on us. It is something much bigger than us. It is not so much a driving force as a calling force. That same living, loving force that infuses all of life. The Force who loves to see us taking chances living. Sometimes we are scared, but we are alive scared, shouting at the top of our voices as we swing far and wide over the water.

We would so love, in the steps of the loving Force, to see people being fully alive, discovering what has always been inside them, exploring their endless possibilities and gifts. We would love to see that in our fathers, our family members and friends, in the people who cross our path in wonderful ways. We want to create a most beautiful space to help them in whatever way we can to come alive.

Do you know how beautiful you are?

I think not, my dear.

For as you talk of God,

I see great parades with wildly colorful bands

Streaming from your mind and heart,

Carrying wonderful and secret messages

To every corner of this world.

I see saints bowing in the mountains

Hundreds of miles away

To the wonder of sounds

That break into light

From your most common words.

Speak to me of your mother,

Your cousins and your friends.

Tell me of squirrels and birds you know.

Awaken your legion of nightingales—

Let them soar wild and free in the sky.

And begin to sing to God.

Let’s all begin to sing to God!

Do you know how beautiful you are?

I think not, my dear,

Yet Hafiz

Could set you upon a Stage

And worship you forever!

                                                           Hafiz

If we have to take chances in the pursuit of that desire of ours that Hafiz has described so delicately, so be it.

Besides oupa Frans’ furniture that we moved to his room over the weekend, we also took a few of our belongings to drop off at our new home afterwards. At this stage the electricity connection has not been turned on at the farm, so we arrived in pitch darkness, driving through mist as thick as milk. While Matilda was busy lighting some candles inside, I went to open a water supply valve outside. I stood for a while in the dark and total silence at the corner of the old house. As soon as I moved the clear hoo! hoo! sound of an owl sitting in the high blue gum trees a little distance away, came through the mist. I stopped, stood still for a while and as I started to move, the hoo! hoo! sounded again.

At that moment, with that sound coming out of the mist, a deep peace came over me. I just knew that we’ve been acknowledged. As if to say: “I see you’ve arrived. Let us begin!”

George