Did you know that 42% of the pregnant women in Swaziland are HIV positive? That's what Tertia told me anyway, via Twitter. I'm not sure where she got the stat, or even whether the stat is based on ante-natal clinic attendance. Still, it's a pretty shocking stat.
According to UNAIDS/WHO, around 5.7 million South Africans were living with HIV at the end of 2007, including 280,000 children under 15 years old. This means that 1 in 5 adults is HIV positive and almost 1,000 AIDS deaths occur every day.
In 2007, 337 641 people were reported to be living with TB, and this figure was expected to rise to over 500 000 in 2008. The WHO ranks SA as the 4th worst TB country in the world, and TB is SA's number 1 killer, not AIDS.
When plagues hit the UK and Europe several centuries ago, and everyone was fleeing the cities, it was the Christians who stayed to care for the sick and dying. Today, in SA, we are surrounded by two deadly diseases, which might be considered new 'plagues'. With illnesses like these on our doorsteps, what is our response in the 21st century?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Cyclists
I thought I would avoid this topic completely, but find I am being drawn into making a comment on this hot topic. In SA, over the past few weeks, several cyclists have been struck and killed by motorists. In some cases, the cyclist was obeying the rules of the road and it was entirely the motorist's fault. In others, it was the other way around. Needless to say, the media has been full of comment from both sides - each accusing the other of being idiots and self-centred. One blog I follow has a particularly biased opinion on this matter, which almost made my stomach turn.
In general, I try to avoid thinking about media-sensationalised topics, because I know that logic will not prevail, so why bother trying? However, on this topic, I feel a good rant is needed.
Are motorists to blame? Yes. As my father once said to me - when you drive a car, you are handling a weapon that is more dangerous than a loaded, cocked gun. If you don't handle it properly, the gun will go off in your hands and you will kill either yourself or someone else. If a car is not driven with due care and attention, someone will be killed. Since motorists can kill cyclists easily, but the reverse is not as often true, the onus must be on the motorist to be vigilant and avoid a collision, EVEN IF the cyclist is not obeying the rules of the road. However, many motorists develop this 'king of the road' attitude the minute they get behind the wheel, and resent the presence of anyone else on the road - whether cyclist or motorist. As a result, many motorists are very poor drivers, especially in Cape Town!
Are cyclists to blame? Yes. Many cyclists are law-abiding individuals, but there are more than a few who simply don't follow the rules of the road. They ride 3 or 4 abreast. They weave in traffic. They don't signal. They don't wear appropriate gear that highlights their presence. They jump a red light to avoid having to take their feet out of their pedals grips (laziness!!).
Any rational human being could admit that BOTH sides are at fault. With that out of the way, it becomes possible to sit down and discuss real solutions to the problem. It's only when we stop pointing fingers at each other that dialogue becomes possible.
Is the media to blame in any way? Yes. Because instead of encouraging dialogue, they encourage finger pointing. Blame is much more scandalous and sells better. Dialogue is boring.
As a cyclist, I'm not perfect. Yet, I try. I take back roads when I can. I wear light and/or reflective clothing. I wear a helmet. I obey the rules of the road. As a motorist, I'm far from perfect. Yet, I try. I try to make a point of checking for cyclists (and motor cyclists) before I turn or cross lanes. I try to give them room on the road so they don't feel intimidated or frightened I'm going to run into them. I try not to use my hooter near them, particularly when they're in front of me. (Do you have any idea how terrifying it can be as a cyclist to hear someone hooting right behind you? Enough to make you fall off your bike!)
I'm not perfect, I admit that. (Just check the number of speeding fines I've had in the past 3 months!) But I try to see both sides and I try to make allowances for both sides. Is it really that hard for others to do? Surely, if we're going to try and build a better future for ourselves, for this country, we should stop and listen to each other? Isn't that the rational thing to do? Or am I just some weirdo out on a limb here?
I get so frustrated at the stupidity I see around me, the entrenched stereotypes that only serve to create misunderstanding and conflict. Sometimes I want to take some people and shake them: Wake up and smell the coffee - your reaction is only making things worse!
In general, I try to avoid thinking about media-sensationalised topics, because I know that logic will not prevail, so why bother trying? However, on this topic, I feel a good rant is needed.
Are motorists to blame? Yes. As my father once said to me - when you drive a car, you are handling a weapon that is more dangerous than a loaded, cocked gun. If you don't handle it properly, the gun will go off in your hands and you will kill either yourself or someone else. If a car is not driven with due care and attention, someone will be killed. Since motorists can kill cyclists easily, but the reverse is not as often true, the onus must be on the motorist to be vigilant and avoid a collision, EVEN IF the cyclist is not obeying the rules of the road. However, many motorists develop this 'king of the road' attitude the minute they get behind the wheel, and resent the presence of anyone else on the road - whether cyclist or motorist. As a result, many motorists are very poor drivers, especially in Cape Town!
Are cyclists to blame? Yes. Many cyclists are law-abiding individuals, but there are more than a few who simply don't follow the rules of the road. They ride 3 or 4 abreast. They weave in traffic. They don't signal. They don't wear appropriate gear that highlights their presence. They jump a red light to avoid having to take their feet out of their pedals grips (laziness!!).
Any rational human being could admit that BOTH sides are at fault. With that out of the way, it becomes possible to sit down and discuss real solutions to the problem. It's only when we stop pointing fingers at each other that dialogue becomes possible.
Is the media to blame in any way? Yes. Because instead of encouraging dialogue, they encourage finger pointing. Blame is much more scandalous and sells better. Dialogue is boring.
As a cyclist, I'm not perfect. Yet, I try. I take back roads when I can. I wear light and/or reflective clothing. I wear a helmet. I obey the rules of the road. As a motorist, I'm far from perfect. Yet, I try. I try to make a point of checking for cyclists (and motor cyclists) before I turn or cross lanes. I try to give them room on the road so they don't feel intimidated or frightened I'm going to run into them. I try not to use my hooter near them, particularly when they're in front of me. (Do you have any idea how terrifying it can be as a cyclist to hear someone hooting right behind you? Enough to make you fall off your bike!)
I'm not perfect, I admit that. (Just check the number of speeding fines I've had in the past 3 months!) But I try to see both sides and I try to make allowances for both sides. Is it really that hard for others to do? Surely, if we're going to try and build a better future for ourselves, for this country, we should stop and listen to each other? Isn't that the rational thing to do? Or am I just some weirdo out on a limb here?
I get so frustrated at the stupidity I see around me, the entrenched stereotypes that only serve to create misunderstanding and conflict. Sometimes I want to take some people and shake them: Wake up and smell the coffee - your reaction is only making things worse!
Farewell Marcello
I mentioned that last week our home group meeting was spent discussing Marcello - a man in our church who committed suicide. At the time, I couldn't picture him. Then I read this incredibly beautiful tribute to him, and suddenly I remembered who he was. He used to take Nellie for SuperChurch (the kids church group)!! Thinking about the man I met, I would never have guessed that a) he was depressed, or that b) he was suicidal. He struck me as someone who loved the kids deeply, someone deeply committed to Jesus, and to helping his fellow man. Although I never knew him personally, I found the tribute to him helpful - both in terms of learning more about who he was, but also in terms of how the church eldership viewed his act of suicide.
Sunset
Could this be a tornado in the making? (Of course, the photo doesn't show the startling detail you could see in real life... it's always the way with photos.)
Sunday, February 22, 2009
I love Cape Town
Jonah - apart from being in the belly of a large fish, what else do you know about him? I thought I knew the story well, but this morning we heard a really great sermon on his story, which brought a fresh perspective to the story for me.
All these years, I've merely thought of Jonah as this rebellious guy who eventually succumbs to God's will, and Nineveh is saved as a result. However, maybe it's been a long time since I really read the story (you know how it is with stories you know well... if you re-read them, you often skip over bits because of what you're expecting to read). Yes, that is part of the story, but there's much more to the story of Jonah than just that.
Our preacher this morning was talking about Cape Town, and linking the story of Jonah & Nineveh to our story today, in Cape Town (or whichever city you live in). The reason that Jonah rebelled wasn't because he was afraid of failure, or afraid of being made to look like a fool. Rather, he was rebellious because he was afraid of success. He knew that if he went, the Ninevites would repent, and God would forgive them; that his mission would be a success. He didn't want that to happen because he didn't think the Ninevites deserved that measure of grace. He would rather have died than allow them to repent and receive God's grace. After all, these were heathens, non-Jews, with a history of violence & blood (not to mention other atrocities).
It's interesting that the history of the Bible, and of the whole creation, has been moving towards urbanisation and culminates in a city and with a city. (Let's not get into a debate now about the place of nature in a city - we are going to occupy a new EARTH, which implies places of natural beauty, not just urban environments.) Nineveh represented one of the greatest cities of the day, with a population of 120 000.
Essentially, the message that God told Jonah to take to them is the same message He has been bringing to the world since mankind first rebelled: you are more sinful than you realise, but you are more loved than you can ever imagine, so turn to God.
The challenge to us was this: will we be like Jonah, or Jesus? Are we more interested in keeping our religion 'pure', or in saving lives? Are we more interested in our own comfort zones, or in saving others? Are we willing to die to keep the status quo, or are we willing to die to save lives? Do we run from our cities, or to them?
I have to confess that my answers didn't please me. I don't really want to engage with the marginalised, the poor, the needy, the smelly, the ugly, the disabled, the homeless, the drug-addicted, the immoral, the amoral, the broken. I want to be left alone to just get on with my life in peace and quiet, in comfort and ease. I don't want to have my eyes opened. I don't want to have my heart broken again, or to feel so helpless and hopeless again. I don't want to have my hands and pockets emptied. I don't want to have my diary reorganised and my time reallocated. I've had enough tears to last me several life times, and I've lived through "enough" (isn't that such a relative term?!?!) economic hardship to write books on. I've experienced brokenness and isolation, abandonment and pain, and quite frankly, I don't see why I should put myself (or my family) through any more.
But the gospel of Jesus calls me to more. Very often others say Christians are just people who need a crutch. If only!! If I call myself a Christian, then I am called to pouring out my life, my love, my money and my time to others - and not just others like me, not just others who meet the standards I set for myself. I'm not just called to this self-sacrifice once, or for a season. This is a calling that is a way of life.
You want to know what the problem with God is? It's that he loves us too much to leave us alone. As I've prayed for God to restore my faith, to restore our relationship, to bring me back to a place where I can worship him with passion and abandon (rather than out of a sense of duty or academic recognition that he is worthy of it), to a place where the pain of losing Zoe fades as his goodness shines through that tragedy, he has taken me seriously.
In the first few months after losing Zoe, I couldn't pray. I couldn't worship. All I could do was cry. I was so angry with God that I knew I risked losing everything. I didn't want to be held by him, or have anything to do with him. It was my Christian family who kept me safe. They prayed for me when I couldn't. And their sole prayer was that God would honour his promise and bring me through this storm with my faith intact; that he would hold on to me when I could no longer hold onto him.
When I was eventually able to pray, that was my prayer too. I recognised that only God could save me, only God could bring me out the other side without losing my mind, my faith, my entire reason for being. I recognised that I had no power to hold onto God. I was stuck at the bottom of this hole and could not pull myself out. Everything I believed about God was up for debate, and unless he wanted me to drift away, he would have to do the hard work of bringing me back into the fold. In his gracious mercy, that's what he has done.
I still struggle to worship, but it's getting easier. My heart still wells with tears most Sundays, but alongside that, I can now give thanks (if not effusively, then at least honestly) for other blessings in my life. But God is not satisfied with that. He loves me too much to leave me at this point. While I will probably continue to grieve at some level for the remainder of my life on earth, God wants far more for me than I am currently experiencing. And that 'far more' includes growing me to the point where I can once again offer my life sacrificially in service of and to others.
Ugh! Right now, I could think of nothing worse. But I know that in time, God will change my heart. He will show me ways of being, ways of doing, that will make it possible for me to choose this way of the cross. He will enable me to follow in Jesus' footsteps, and to be involved in helping save the people of this city. The really interesting thing is that I actually look forward to that day. I look forward to the day when my life is wholly outward looking, rather than inward focused. Even though I know what it will mean, part of me also recognises that the best life is the life that is given away, not the life that is jealously guarded.
But I'm not there yet. One thing I have learnt though, is that God only asks me to take one step at a time. He doesn't' expect me to get everything right immediately, or get my life sorted out today. Right now, the step I'm taking is to get involved in church again, meet some new people, and start to build a new community and Christian family around myself. I can't walk this journey alone, and I will need people of faith and wisdom to walk alongside me, to share in the successes, and to gently correct me when I wander off the path. What comes after that, well, I'm sure God will show me when the time is right, and by then, I know it won't seem as big a jump as it does today.
So although my answers displeased me, I also know that I don't have to beat myself up about it. In his time and in his way, God will deal with me, and that's okay with me.
All these years, I've merely thought of Jonah as this rebellious guy who eventually succumbs to God's will, and Nineveh is saved as a result. However, maybe it's been a long time since I really read the story (you know how it is with stories you know well... if you re-read them, you often skip over bits because of what you're expecting to read). Yes, that is part of the story, but there's much more to the story of Jonah than just that.
Our preacher this morning was talking about Cape Town, and linking the story of Jonah & Nineveh to our story today, in Cape Town (or whichever city you live in). The reason that Jonah rebelled wasn't because he was afraid of failure, or afraid of being made to look like a fool. Rather, he was rebellious because he was afraid of success. He knew that if he went, the Ninevites would repent, and God would forgive them; that his mission would be a success. He didn't want that to happen because he didn't think the Ninevites deserved that measure of grace. He would rather have died than allow them to repent and receive God's grace. After all, these were heathens, non-Jews, with a history of violence & blood (not to mention other atrocities).
It's interesting that the history of the Bible, and of the whole creation, has been moving towards urbanisation and culminates in a city and with a city. (Let's not get into a debate now about the place of nature in a city - we are going to occupy a new EARTH, which implies places of natural beauty, not just urban environments.) Nineveh represented one of the greatest cities of the day, with a population of 120 000.
Essentially, the message that God told Jonah to take to them is the same message He has been bringing to the world since mankind first rebelled: you are more sinful than you realise, but you are more loved than you can ever imagine, so turn to God.
The challenge to us was this: will we be like Jonah, or Jesus? Are we more interested in keeping our religion 'pure', or in saving lives? Are we more interested in our own comfort zones, or in saving others? Are we willing to die to keep the status quo, or are we willing to die to save lives? Do we run from our cities, or to them?
I have to confess that my answers didn't please me. I don't really want to engage with the marginalised, the poor, the needy, the smelly, the ugly, the disabled, the homeless, the drug-addicted, the immoral, the amoral, the broken. I want to be left alone to just get on with my life in peace and quiet, in comfort and ease. I don't want to have my eyes opened. I don't want to have my heart broken again, or to feel so helpless and hopeless again. I don't want to have my hands and pockets emptied. I don't want to have my diary reorganised and my time reallocated. I've had enough tears to last me several life times, and I've lived through "enough" (isn't that such a relative term?!?!) economic hardship to write books on. I've experienced brokenness and isolation, abandonment and pain, and quite frankly, I don't see why I should put myself (or my family) through any more.
But the gospel of Jesus calls me to more. Very often others say Christians are just people who need a crutch. If only!! If I call myself a Christian, then I am called to pouring out my life, my love, my money and my time to others - and not just others like me, not just others who meet the standards I set for myself. I'm not just called to this self-sacrifice once, or for a season. This is a calling that is a way of life.
You want to know what the problem with God is? It's that he loves us too much to leave us alone. As I've prayed for God to restore my faith, to restore our relationship, to bring me back to a place where I can worship him with passion and abandon (rather than out of a sense of duty or academic recognition that he is worthy of it), to a place where the pain of losing Zoe fades as his goodness shines through that tragedy, he has taken me seriously.
In the first few months after losing Zoe, I couldn't pray. I couldn't worship. All I could do was cry. I was so angry with God that I knew I risked losing everything. I didn't want to be held by him, or have anything to do with him. It was my Christian family who kept me safe. They prayed for me when I couldn't. And their sole prayer was that God would honour his promise and bring me through this storm with my faith intact; that he would hold on to me when I could no longer hold onto him.
When I was eventually able to pray, that was my prayer too. I recognised that only God could save me, only God could bring me out the other side without losing my mind, my faith, my entire reason for being. I recognised that I had no power to hold onto God. I was stuck at the bottom of this hole and could not pull myself out. Everything I believed about God was up for debate, and unless he wanted me to drift away, he would have to do the hard work of bringing me back into the fold. In his gracious mercy, that's what he has done.
I still struggle to worship, but it's getting easier. My heart still wells with tears most Sundays, but alongside that, I can now give thanks (if not effusively, then at least honestly) for other blessings in my life. But God is not satisfied with that. He loves me too much to leave me at this point. While I will probably continue to grieve at some level for the remainder of my life on earth, God wants far more for me than I am currently experiencing. And that 'far more' includes growing me to the point where I can once again offer my life sacrificially in service of and to others.
Ugh! Right now, I could think of nothing worse. But I know that in time, God will change my heart. He will show me ways of being, ways of doing, that will make it possible for me to choose this way of the cross. He will enable me to follow in Jesus' footsteps, and to be involved in helping save the people of this city. The really interesting thing is that I actually look forward to that day. I look forward to the day when my life is wholly outward looking, rather than inward focused. Even though I know what it will mean, part of me also recognises that the best life is the life that is given away, not the life that is jealously guarded.
But I'm not there yet. One thing I have learnt though, is that God only asks me to take one step at a time. He doesn't' expect me to get everything right immediately, or get my life sorted out today. Right now, the step I'm taking is to get involved in church again, meet some new people, and start to build a new community and Christian family around myself. I can't walk this journey alone, and I will need people of faith and wisdom to walk alongside me, to share in the successes, and to gently correct me when I wander off the path. What comes after that, well, I'm sure God will show me when the time is right, and by then, I know it won't seem as big a jump as it does today.
So although my answers displeased me, I also know that I don't have to beat myself up about it. In his time and in his way, God will deal with me, and that's okay with me.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
No more happy doors for us
Nope, we've decided to go with a pivot door instead. About double the price, but it offers greater security, and looks great. The only thing to decide upon now is exactly which style to go with. Really, this modern consumer world offers us too many choices. I mean, I love having choice, don't get me wrong. I love that I can express my creativity by having a door that very few others in my area have.
But just sometimes, I find it all rather exhausting. Life would certainly be simpler if there were only 10 doors and I had to choose one of them.
Of course, the trip was made much more interesting by having Nellie along, with the measuring tape. Between her constant, "and what do you think of THIS door, Mommy?" and her pulling out the tape measure to measure toilets ("3,5,2,7"), I had several chuckles to myself. Fever or no fever, she was a joy to have along with me today.
So we're one step closer to having a front door.... only several more to go.
But just sometimes, I find it all rather exhausting. Life would certainly be simpler if there were only 10 doors and I had to choose one of them.
Of course, the trip was made much more interesting by having Nellie along, with the measuring tape. Between her constant, "and what do you think of THIS door, Mommy?" and her pulling out the tape measure to measure toilets ("3,5,2,7"), I had several chuckles to myself. Fever or no fever, she was a joy to have along with me today.
So we're one step closer to having a front door.... only several more to go.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
An 18th birthday party story
It's taken me a day or two to post this story, but I still think it's hilarious... now, that is.
I had had the day from hell at work: had too little breakfast, then missed tea because I got to be yelled at by one of our grounds staff about how Science Fair wasn't going to work, then developed the headache from hell. While I managed to get lunch, the headache persisted. After school, a gazillion things needed doing, all of which got interrupted by Science Fair kids asking questions and needing help. Rushed home a little late (second time this week. Sorry Priscilla!) only to find that Baggins had ONCE AGAIN chewed the irrigation system to bits.
And I lost it. Totally lost it. I dropped my bag, and my shoes, charged after the dog, grabbed him, dragged him back to the site of his destruction and gave him the biggest hiding of his life. It took me a while to get my blood pressure down again. That was just happening when Graeme arrived home. I can't remember why we were in the garden, but we were. Graeme thought I had a remote with me, so asked me to open the gate. I didn't, so I sent Nellie inside to push the button.
Several seconds (felt like minutes) later, the gate still wasn't open, so I wandered over to the window to see what she was up to. Lo and behold! What a sight met my eyes: Janel squatting on the bankie (Afrikaans for little table), poised above my handbag, diary and a set of marking.... weeing!!!! Full volume, full speed ahead, bladder bursting weeing.
Needless to say, my blood pressure shot SKY high instantly. I charged inside to try to rescue the kids' books and work, get Janel into the bath and stop the wooden floor underneath from getting stained. Boy was I mad!!!! Livid.
I think what happened was that she was so excited about everything she simply didn't recognise the symptoms of needing to wee, and then once she started, she simply couldn't get down and run to the toilet. It definitely wasn't deliberate, and I can laugh about it now. At the time though, I only saw red.
Of course, I will have to tell this story at her 18th. Simply have to.
I had had the day from hell at work: had too little breakfast, then missed tea because I got to be yelled at by one of our grounds staff about how Science Fair wasn't going to work, then developed the headache from hell. While I managed to get lunch, the headache persisted. After school, a gazillion things needed doing, all of which got interrupted by Science Fair kids asking questions and needing help. Rushed home a little late (second time this week. Sorry Priscilla!) only to find that Baggins had ONCE AGAIN chewed the irrigation system to bits.
And I lost it. Totally lost it. I dropped my bag, and my shoes, charged after the dog, grabbed him, dragged him back to the site of his destruction and gave him the biggest hiding of his life. It took me a while to get my blood pressure down again. That was just happening when Graeme arrived home. I can't remember why we were in the garden, but we were. Graeme thought I had a remote with me, so asked me to open the gate. I didn't, so I sent Nellie inside to push the button.
Several seconds (felt like minutes) later, the gate still wasn't open, so I wandered over to the window to see what she was up to. Lo and behold! What a sight met my eyes: Janel squatting on the bankie (Afrikaans for little table), poised above my handbag, diary and a set of marking.... weeing!!!! Full volume, full speed ahead, bladder bursting weeing.
Needless to say, my blood pressure shot SKY high instantly. I charged inside to try to rescue the kids' books and work, get Janel into the bath and stop the wooden floor underneath from getting stained. Boy was I mad!!!! Livid.
I think what happened was that she was so excited about everything she simply didn't recognise the symptoms of needing to wee, and then once she started, she simply couldn't get down and run to the toilet. It definitely wasn't deliberate, and I can laugh about it now. At the time though, I only saw red.
Of course, I will have to tell this story at her 18th. Simply have to.
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