Race race

This week I have been faced with dealing with a racial incident. It has exhausted me to burn-out levels. Dealing with this reminded me that racial issues continue to be a big part of our country's present. It has also highlighted for me the fact that whites (gross generalization here!) really can't talk about our Apartheid history and give adequate voice to the atrocities suffered by those of colour.

This evening I read an opinion piece by Verashni Pillay of the Mail & Guardian which basically pointed out some truths about how whites (again, gross generalization) still benefit.

I know that I have been guilty of thinking 'oh come on now... It's 20 years on.... Can't we just get past this now?' But how does someone get past the fact that they are still treated as a second class citizen because of the colour of their skin? Racial slurs continue to be a problem - the 'boy' in the garden, the 'girl' in the kitchen, the joke about how all coloureds are thieves, the 'fact' that blacks are so dangerous you have to cross the road to avoid walking past them on the pavement....

What I find incredible is how many adults don't get it, including a guy in his mid 20's I had dealings with this week - someone I would have thought would have known better. My actions have been called into question by some who don't get it, who are more concerned with saving face than in the pain their actions have caused others.

I'm not perfect, and I don't claim to be. I get this wrong. I still succumb to the old way of thinking and acting. The thing that keeps me going is that Jesus calls me to being better, higher, purer, more righteous. When I see racism, it is a reminder to me to root it out in myself. When I am falsely accused though, that is really hard to deal with - not to want revenge, or to retaliate, but to try to do the right thing because it is the right thing to do - to forgive and forgive and forgive. 70 times 7... 

Sometimes I really do just want revenge though.... But if I give in to that way of thinking, it will eat up my life, my thoughts, my emotions, my energy, my sleep,  my peace.... and then I will have lost.

So I hand this over, Lord, to your capable hands. You are the One who KNOWS. I am trusting you to see both justice done and mercy poured out on those who don't get it and who have harmed others as a result. I also trust you to pour out mercy and healing on those affected, and to see justice done in them too - for none is without sin.

Cos I can't. Ek kan hie meer nie. I'm just. So. Tired. 

Things I have learnt from gardening

After more than a month I got back to my garden and spent the morning weeding the front garden. I cleared a black bag's worth of weeds from a patch about 6m square. 

Apart from the terrible aches I have today (& no doubt tomorrow will be worse) I was reminded of something: weeds will always grow where you are not actively engaged in removing them. This is true of our lives as well as my garden. They start small - the white lies, the personal photocopying, breaking the speed limit because you're late. Unhindered though, the small weeds will grow, until the beauty of the garden is obscured and sometimes destroyed.

Just as I will trim back the wild growth, and kill plants I consider weeds, so too God will work in the garden of my soul - point out the weeds, prune the parts growing out of prompt ion, so the beauty of my soul can shine. It hurts, but it is necessary if I am to have a beautiful garden.

The other thing I was reminded of is that the gardener has a grand design in his or her head that may take years to come to fruition. I planted a few trees that will take about 20 years to reach the height and shape I want, so that I can then remove an alien tree that I don't want. I am also planning a pool in the back garden. Every decision I make about planting is guided by the grand plan for 20 years hence. So the garden doesn't look as stunning as I would like, but that's because I am careful about what I plant where, knowing that in a few years I am going to pull something else out. It struck me that, in the same way, God has a plan for my life and maybe some of the things he is doing now don't make sense, because I don't see the big plan - the future plan.

Gardening is good for the soul, and body.... But maybe I will regret it tomorrow when I have to toll out if bed! ;)

Things I have learnt about life from running

Last year I joined ParkRun, as a stimulus and encouragement for my running (ok, maybe running is being a bit optimistic .... It's a more like slow jogging staggered between bouts of walking, all while gasping for breath... I am not built for running!)

This past week was reminded about a way for dealing with life - something I had noticed previously, but forgotten. I can't keep running for long without a series of small goals - I run from green bin to green bin, or lamp post to lamp post, or to the next tree, or street sign.... I need small goals to help me reach my big ones. The thought of running 5 kms is overwhelming, and I would give up before I even began if that was all I focussed on. (That's why I can't run in a treadmill - no goal points to aim for.)

So why is it that when it comes to things of faith, I do not employ the same principle? I want to go from zero to full speed, overnight, yet I know that's not realistic. Instead, I need to work on small steps,small  goals - hearing God once a day, rather than every minute, reading the Bible for10 mins rather than 3 hours. Of course, I have hear this before, and knew it before, but it was good to be reminded of this while running yesterday.

The second thing I was reminded of is that, when I run, the real competition is me. I can't compare myself to anyone else. That is just demoralizing, because almost everyone else is better than me, or seems to make faster progress. Rather, as long as I am improving against my own performance, I am doing well. Ditto for my faith. I can't compare the gifts I have, or experiences, with others'. This is not a race to see who can get to heaven first, or who seems to be the most holy, or whatever... This is a relationship in which I am he unique element, so of course my relationship with God, my gifts, my experiences, my faith journey is going to be different. And I have to remember that different is not wrong. Just because I am slower to learn a lesson, or reach a milestone, does not make me inferior.

Having said that, running (certainly at ParkRun) is a social thing. Families come, with dogs. I was reminded that in order to make the event enjoyable for everyone, everyone takes an interest in the welfare of the others who are present. Everyone looks out for the kids, and pet owners behave responsibly. The same is true of life in a faith community - we look out for each other. We behave (mostly) responsibly.

And finally, I was reminded of Paul's analogy - that our lives are a race of endurance, not speed. The goal is to finish well, to win the prize. It is to pace ourselves, and run with determination, up the hills, down the valleys, along the endless flats, to never give il and never give in, until we reach the finish line. Yes, we may trip and fall over tree roots, or broken paving, or on others' feet (if we're. It careful), but that's not the end... We get up, brush ourselves off, and start running again. Often in life, our faith takes a knock, and we may be tempted to think it's tickets for us, that we've blown it too badly, but all we need is to pick ourselves up, or allow God to pick us up, put our feet back in the path, and try again. In the words of Dory: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming..."

Things I have learnt from my tree

For a while I've been thinking about a photo blog that my sister-in-law did - a photo a day of her suburb. I've toyed with the idea, because I'm fascinated with how one can be forced to see one's surroundings in a different light, which reveals surprises one would otherwise have missed. But I'm not sure that I could get a new photo every day from my environment... So instead I have been thinking about what else I could do that could help me to see the world differently.

Over the holidays I've started working on a series of blog posts that I'm entitling: what I have learnt from.... Originally, it was just going to be about what I've learnt about life and God from my dogs (and wow! There's a lot to learn! In fact, I think someone did write a book about just that - Lessons from a sheep dog, I seem to recall it was entitled), but then I realized that I've been learning about stuff from all sorts of things. Pondering that led me to decide to write this series, because I'm a teacher and I love teaching others the truths I have learnt, whether about DNA or matters of the heart.

This first post is not the first one I drafted, but it feels appropriate for today. Not sure why, but it is. So if you want to read the ones about my dogs, you'll have to come back another day.

This is the tree in my garden. When I first saw it, I hated it instantly, vehemently. Why? Because it is a Syringa. Syringas are horrid trees for a variety of reasons - they drop millions of mountains ofwhite blossoms  everywhere; they produce poisonous berries; they drop those berries on the lawn till it looks like a pebble-covered beach; because their pollen makes me sneeze. I was determined to chop it down as soon as possible. 

Twelve years later it is still here, and I have moved from hatred through tolerance and acceptance, to appreciation. (I'm not quite at the love stage yet, but I'm sure I will get there in time.) How was that possible? While staring at it one day, through my window, I realised that this tree didn't ask to be a Syringa. It just is one. It didn't ask to be planted in my garden; someone else made that choice, because they liked it. This tree doesn't choose to produce poisonous berries or drop its blossoms everywhere - it does that as a function of the type of tree it is (which it didn't choose for itself).

As I pondered those facts, I suddenly realized I was willing to give the tree the benefit of the doubt. Weird, yeah, I know. I started to see the things I now appreciate about it - it is a beautiful shade tree; it has lovely strong and spreading boughs - suitable for hanging multiple swings and things from and building a tree house (which is currently still just a dream in my head); its flowers are actually beautiful (and numerous); it is a lovely safe environment for Wit Ogies and other birds to hide in as they flit from tree to tree looking for food; the leaves make a beautiful sound as they rustle together in the breeze.

As I pondered these things I appreciated, I realized that in life, it is the same. We hate or dislike others because of what they are, forgetting that (often) they did not choose to be born into that family, or to be a certain race, or to be rich, or poor, or from a certain nation, or of a particular spirituality, or to think in a particular way. Often, all these things are a feature of our birth - whether genetics or the environment in which we are raised, or a combination of both. Either way, we cannot choose our genetics or our childhood environment. These two things make us what we are, fundamentally. (Of course, we can choose to change, but that requires a certain amount of reflection, a lot of hard work and deep motivation, which many people lack.)

In this extraordinary nation of ours, we celebrate diversity in public, but in private we are frequently much more conservative and exclusive. We love those who are like us and despise those who are different - different gender expressions, or ages, or social-economic status, or education level, or family status, or races, or nationalities, or different mother-tongue speakers, or body shapes, or thought processes, or priorities, or whatever - or we despise ourselves and wish fervently we could be like someone else instead.

How do we begin to bridge the divide? How do we begin to celebrate our diversity in truth, and. It just in name? Looking at my tree, I don't think the answer is in trying to find our commonality, nor to focus on our diversity. Focussing on our commonality denies the value that our differences bring, leads to exclusivity and make us more likely to hide who we truly are from each other. Focussing on our differences and celebrating them because they are different denies our common humanity and leads to pride. I think a third way is a better way.

When pondering my tree I did not look for commonality - my shared DNA (we share a lot more genes than you would think!), or that I am a strong woman (metaphorically) and it has strong branches, or that I shelter my children the way it shelters the birds... - nor did I look for our differences - to celebrate that it is larger than I, or greener than I, or a tree instead of a human. Instead, I looked to see what value it brings to my garden. That value is based on what the tree is - both a tree, and specifically a Syringa. By focusing on the intrinsic value it brings, I learnt to appreciate it. 

I love lying in the shade of my tree. I love seeing the birds resting in its boughs and sheltering in its leaves. I love to see the beautiful flowers it produces. I love to see my children playing on the swings we hung from it. I love the fact that when I drive home along a particular route I can see my tree before anything else - it marks the spot that is my home. This is the value this tree brings, not because it is the same as me, or different to me, but because it is a Syringa tree in my garden.

If I can see people in this third way, by putting them at the centre instead of how they relate to me (which is putting myself at the centre), for the value they bring because of who they are, and not for their similarities to me, or differences, then I think there is hope for me, and for my environment, and for my city. If I can, then I think I can avoid both pride ("I am better than them") and despair ("they are so much better than me/ I am worthless"); I think I could then overcome my fear of the other, and walk in true freedom with the other.

But how is this possible? Well, I'm not sure it is. I am so given to comparisons and snap judgements, albeit secretly in my head and heart, that on my own I don't think I can truly change my mind-set on this. Plus, despite my best efforts, I still have so many stereotypes rolling around inside my head, many of which I'm not even conscious of! But fortunately, I'm not on my own. Fortunately, I have a Helper. Even with His help, I know it will be tough, but nothing worth having comes easily or without a price tag. Still though, this will be something I will need to choose each day, every day - to allow the Spirit to open my eyes to the value of others, not because of how they relate to me, but because of who they intrinsically are.

Thanks be to God for my Syringa tree!

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

As I was driving home the other day, I passed near to the home of a friend, James Thomas, who was killed in the Nairobi Westgate Mall shooting on 21 Sep 2013. I began to contemplate the events and its consequences, and was surprised how quickly my anger at both the fact of James' death and the manner of his death rose to the surface again. Grief is a strange animal, walking in circles and spirals, never fully resting.

(Some great articles were written about it at the time. Here are a selection: iol news, Mail & Guardian, Daily Maverick.)

In allowing my rage a voice, I found myself quoting from Dylan Thomas' epic poem to God, so I wanted to share this poem with the world again. James was one of those individuals who simply did not consider getting old. Every moment was one to grabbed by both hands and exploited to the fullest. He had a deep and abiding joy, and a zest for life, that is rare. He was a 'wild [man] who caught and sang the sun in flight'. I know that it came from his deep faith in God. I miss him terribly. I know the world is poorer because he is no longer in it.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Is there any hope for the SA education system?

One of the sessions at the Global Leadership Summit was a talk by Allen Catherine Kagina. She heads up Uganda's Revenue Authority, i.e. the tax collection system. Over the past 10 years she has taken this corrupt and inefficient system and turned it around completely. 

Granted, she did take some pretty dramatic steps, like firing absolutely every single person in this government department and making hem reapply for their position. She did this so that only this most honest and competent people would end up working for her. 

If we tried that here, with our education department, to get rid of both incompetence and corruption, there is no doubt that SADTU would throw a frothy. (I doubt that Naptosa would, because they aren't politically motivated the way that SADTU is.) Never the less, that remains a tempting action.

Yet, all that she has accomplished, she did in a relatively short space of time. The URAhas gone from vying for first place as the most corrupt organisation in Uganda to having her staff head hunted by UN, WHO, etc. because of their high level of integrity.

Is it possible that this could happen in SA's education system? Is it possible that this failing institution, rife with incompetency, could be turned around?

I was sure that it couldn't. I had washed my hands of this system, given up, content to just influence the small number of children I teach and colleagues I interact with. I had become completely disillusioned with the DBE and the provincial governments. 

But now? 

Having heard Allen speak about what God can do, having heard about how the URA has changed completely, I believe the same is potentially true for us. 

YES, I believe there is hope for education in SA. Why? Because The God we serve is a big God, for whom nothing is impossible. NOTHING.

What will it take to make this happen? Prayer, and lots of it, and leadership - strong, ethical, visionary leadership. 

I hear God call - 'Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?' And my heart responds - 'Here am I. Send me.'

What will you do with your dash?

Having been on a leadership conference the past two days, I wanted to share some of the moments that really touched me.

While many of us may choose to be cremated when we die, the principle illustrated in this photo is true for all of us. Our lives can be summed up by that little dash between our birth date and death date. It's such a little thing, and, cosmically speaking, our lives are actually that insignificant - unless we choose to make them significant.

What are you doing with your dash?

You only get one life. It will probably only last about 80 years (excluding the possibility of a dread disease or accident killing you before then). 

One of the most recent Nobel Peace Prizes was given to the youngest ever person - a 17 year old girl who, at age 15, had already been campaigning for the rights of girls to receive education. At age 15 she had already angered a group of people to such an extent that they shot her. Her name is Malala Yousafzai. I tell you about her because I know that when I think of 80 years as a life span, I am tempted to think that 'my life only really began when I started working'. Doing so allows me to excuse myself from having made a difference until I was age 20-odd. Yet, here's a girl who, by age 15 was already making a SIGNIFICANT difference.

So I challenge you again - what will you do with your one and only dash?

And before you start thinking that only young people can make a difference - remember that Mother Theresa was 87 when she died, still active in her calling of helping lepers and that Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu is currently 83.

And if you start thinking that your socio-economic status is a hindrance to making a difference, or your gender, then, again, you're wrong. Over the years I have seen plenty of news stories about women in the townships who have taken in scores of AIDS orphans on next to nothing, out of which the GoGo's Trust has been established.

So I ask you again, what will you do with your dash?

I have been challenged by this. I believe I am already making a difference - by trying to raise my kids in the best way I can, by being the best teacher I can, by getting involved in leadership in my local church, by volunteering with Cape Town Expo to help train and teach teachers and pupils about the scientific method, and by having started Born Sleeping. Yet, I still feel the challenge. I still feel there is more I could be doing. I am so conscious of the incredible need around me. At times, I am overwhelmed by it, to the point of emotional exhaustion when I feel I have to tune out the entire world - from the beggar at the traffic lights to my own kids just to survive.

But when I die, the legacy I want to leave is a trail of lives that I have affected for good. I want there to be a long line of people who have come to faith through my actions (and I'm rubbish at even friendship evangelism!), whose faith has been deepened and encouraged by me, by people who got an excellent education, who were inspired to DO something (not just to feel good), and who felt the comfort of God through my words and hands. I want my kids to say that I have left them more than just money, but a legacy of faith and trust in our Lord.

What legacy do you want to leave behind? What are you doing to make that legacy a reality?