The Restory Retreat Centre

When I opened the packet with the prescription medicine that I bought for my dad, I found the pen. Delmas Pharmacy inscribed on the side. “Someone will be looking for it, having no idea where they might have placed it. I must remember to take it back when I go to Delmas again.” I put it on my night stand, in plain sight. As a reminder and so that it doesn’t get lost or somehow damaged.  But to my dismay I forget to take it with on the occasions I go to town. About a month passes. It is time to get a repeat on my father’s medicine. I have to go to the pharmacy. That in itself reminds me of the pen. I take it with, relieved that I still have it, undamaged. “Here’s your pen. It was in the packet with the pills you gave me last time” I say at the counter after asking for the medicine. “I’m not sure whose is it exactly but I thought you’ll be looking for it. Sorry that I’m only bringing it back now.” The pharmacist and the assistant behind the counter laugh...

Delmas again. (See the post Christ plays in ten thousand places ) The young receptionist and I enjoyed the silence that settled around the two of us in the waiting room. She was paging through some files and I was busy filling out the form with all my dad’s information. In one of the procedure rooms I could hear the dentist chatting with my father while working on the problem tooth.   The bell at the security gate rang. The young woman on the outside struggled to open the gate as the receptionist pressed the release button. I got up to help her. In a strange blend of confusion and determination she stepped into the room and walked towards the reception counter. Her thin dress did not provide much protection against the chilly winter morning.  Neither the receptionist nor I understood what she was saying when she started talking. By the sound of it it must have been one of the foreign languages from another part of Africa. The receptionist tried throug...

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came. I say móre: the just man justices; Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces; Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is — Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his To the Father through the features of men's faces. *                                                                       Gerard Manley Hopkins Delmas, our closest town, is no dif...