The Restory Retreat Centre

In between farmsitting George is reading a book by Peggy Noonan, called, What I Saw at the Revolution. He reads bits out loud to me and I add her to my list of heroes.  I admire people who have a clear view of exactly what it is they are meant for in life. Peggy Noonan, a journalist in the 1980’s, had a very definite dream. She wanted to be a speech writer for President Ronald Reagan. She writes: I had no connections in Washington, knew no one in the Republican Party, no one who’d worked for Reagan. But I was right for the job, I knew it. So I did a number of things, from telling everyone I knew what I wanted to do to praying that God would open a door. (I know now I was asking for a small miracle, but I believe in miracles. The way I see it, life isn’t flat and thin and “realistic,” it’s rich and full of mystery and surprise.)  I think miracles exist and happen every day, form the baby’s perfect shoulder in the sonogram to saints performing wonders. I think saints are w...

Note: This is a piece written in Afrikaans. It is my mother tongue and therefore I sometimes need to let rip in it in order to express myself without the constraints of having to really think (as in using the right tenses and getting the right word). I will gladly translate it if need be. Please let me know!    My flower, seek not thy paradise in a fool’s buttonhole.               -        Tagore Hierdie is my quote of the moment . Nou al vir die afgelope twee jaar! Hoe kan ek dit stel? Wat maak dat iets daardie inklikklank maak as ek dit lees? Asof iets net reg lê en presies in plek gedruk word – soos ‘n verlore legkaartstukkie wat onder die mat uitkom en in sy plekkie inklik met ‘n piepklein sug van verligting. Daar is nie baie sulke aanhalings nie. Wel, daar is, maar dis ‘n klein hoop teen dit wat mens als lees en sorteer na die Snert, Oulik, Hmm, Waar, en Sjoe hope. En anders as die ander hope, is hierdi...