Snow Balls

Ally McBeal was one of my favourite shows when I was at university. Studying law meant I was hooked on the antics of the people in this law firm. The snazzy suits, the amazing hair, the witty comebacks and the complicated lives of the characters. My favourite scenes had nothing to do with the courtroom. It was the Christmas episodes. Lights in the street, snow falling, logs in the fire, children laughing-having snowball fights and the general warm and fuzzies you feel when you picture a white Christmas. I always threaten to experience Christmas in a country where its snows. It has not happened yet despite numerous invites from friends who do get to celebrate a snowy Christmas!

A few friends have pointed out that they haven’t seen a blog piece from me in a while. These past few months have felt like I was one of those kids caught up in a snowball fight. Barely did I have a chance to contemplate what the year would hold, and the 1st strike came. And the hits just kept coming. Not the friendly, badly misshapen balls quickly moulded, thrown while running to escape the attack from another joyous soul but solid, big hits that struck my centre every time!

The more conversations I have with people, the more I learn that no-one in my circle has been spared. From illness to house breaking to vehicle theft to divorce to death. Someone has been enduring some trial and has been fighting to push through and make it into another day.

The key disruptor in our household was grief.

It’s different when you are one enduring grief and it’s different when you have to lend support to a grief struck person. Despite a hundred different excellent books on the topic, when grief comes, nothing you find between the pages of the best written book can help you. You must dig your heels in, acknowledge that you are grieving and go through it. There is no end to it. Oh, don’t get me wrong. The days become better and bearable. You laugh again. You can remember your loved one with fondness and not feel a piercing pain in your gut. You can watch videos and smile. You can touch objects that belonged to them and feel peace. You can look at photo’s and feel that warm and fuzzy I mentioned at the beginning. You can actually breathe again.

At the start of this Women’s Month, a month where I focus a lot of what I write on women, I want to take some time to honour my mother-in-law and my cousin Annelene, both of whom we lost this year. Both women who should be remembered for their brave fight and their unwavering faith.

My mother-in-law was one of the quietest, most gentle people around. She was of a generation, like my late mum, where she had left school at an early age to work and contribute to her family. She was also married very young and became a mum very young. At most times, I’m sure she probably wondered why the Lord gave her a hellion of a daughter-in-law who was loud, aggressive and over the top. She never gave me unwanted advice on how to raise my children, she never ever took sides against me with her son or anyone else and she was always the one calling to tell Roland, “I put some money in your account for Caitlin and Kelsie for their birthdays, (or for Christmas).” One of the first things my father-in-law said to me after we had broken the news of her death was that she loved me very much. I had the opportunity to pray with her during her time in hospital. She had a presence, even in her quietness. We lost her unexpectedly, but we are grateful that the Lord spared her any prolonged suffering. I would like to think that she and my mother are catching up in heaven, this time without the dryfish chutney and mielie rice but certainly enjoying the presence of their Savior.

Then there was Annie. In a million years, I never expected that my sister would tell me that Annie had passed away. Growing up, Annelene and I were buds, but as we got older, she became my sister’s Big Sister. The 2 of them would share confidences, encourage each other, share stories and chat all the time. It hits hard when someone is close to your own age, and you can’t wrap your head around the fact that that person is gone. I’m grateful that she was a big sister that my own sister could count on.

Since losing my own mother in August 2017, I have learned that grief is not my identity. Oh, it shaped me, it changed me, and it knocked me to my knees, when it happened.  Grief can be debilitating; it can rob you of your breath. It can have you questioning your will to live and the reason for waking up in the morning. But if you allow it, the only thing that your life will revolve around is your loss. It is tempting to become comfortable surrounded by memories, imaginations, thoughts and what ifs. It is tempting to shut out the whole world, especially those who cannot begin to fathom the weight of the loss.

But losing someone is a part of this life. I have heard people say their loved one didn’t deserve to die. Maybe we don’t understand or think they deserve the manner in which death came. Who can ever be ok with sickness, or injuries or violent death? Of course no-one deserves that. The truth is, since Adam and Eve’s fall in the garden of Eden, we all deserve to die. God in His infinite love and wisdom rescued us from eternal death and sent His Son to save us so that we could enjoy eternal life. This is our temporary home. Grief should not hold us captive and prevent us from living a life that ultimately allows us to get to heaven one day. That’s the end goal. Heaven. To get to celebrate eternal life with Jesus and those loved one’s who left us too soon for our liking.

The late Tim Keller explains it so profoundly in his sermon 'Stay with the Ship' and I encourage you to listen to it because I could not do justice and explain it like he does. There is a vast difference between us and our human comprehension of what should and shouldn’t be and the God of the universe, knowing us, loving us and having His hand over lives, during the good and the bad. In life and in loss.

https://youtu.be/u2M2-wDpxdQ?si=wfnbYw9clxZlAA-F

I wrote these poems to help with the grieving process. It’s dedicated to Jean Joseph the 7th anniversary of your death is looming and you are still missed. Even the way you drove me bonkers is missed! Mavis Moses - Aunty Mavis, you raised a gentle, loving, kind man, who loves the Lord. Anyone looking at your granddaughters know who their grandma was because they have your eyes. Annelene Joseph-I know you are singing as loud as you can. To a host of other family and friends who are in a place that is beyond our wildest imaginations-we keep you in our hearts until we meet again.

One Breath

One hasty breath stole you from my life

One laboured breath ended your battle and strife

One breath too short, why didn’t you wait?

One breath too soon, it sealed our fate

One breath each day brings me closer to you

One breath away, you were taken too soon

One long drawn breath, when will this end?

One breath too many, my heart will not mend

One breath between your home and mine

One breath between us and endless time

One breath until your next warm embrace

One breath until I get to see your face

Next

If you could see what I see

You would not cry for me

You would wish to be here

A place with no fear

If you could feel what I feel

You would let your heart heal

You would embrace the unknown

Just to kneel before the throne

If you could hear what I hear

Angelic voices so clear

You would live your life pure

To walk through the same door

Look up, wipe those tears

Has it been just a minute, or has it been years?

I’m waiting I long and look forward to the day

I will see you again, when you arrive here to stay