Separated for Holy Service…

I posted my Afrikaans blog entry on this one by accident this morning. And the translate function usually does not convey the true meaning of words. So let me share my heart this morning in English too…

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It is Monday Morning. Half past nine. I am supposed to be out there, visiting all the sick people in our church. Afterwards I have to work hard, on the presentation of tomorrow morning’s Bible Study. I have to try and explain Romans 9- why God loved Jacob, and hated Esau. My mobile phone is supposed to be switched on, I have to answer all the complaints about yesterday’s sermon, why the music was too hard or too soft, too fast or too slow… Somewhere in the fields there are still some cattle that must be attending our church fete in September, somebody still has to ask the farmers for some more contributions to the meat section…  Steaks for Jesus!  There are still a thousand people waiting for their yearly House Visitation. A Pastor must visit them at home, so that they can know and serve the Lord, with that choice piece of baking they prepared and serve on a Royal Doulton cake plate, with their grandmother’s little golden cake fork.

It is Monday Morning  twenty five to ten. I am the sick one. My wife has confiscated my mobile phone. The doctor has booked me off for three weeks. I may not even drive my car. I am just sitting here. Three weeks is a long, long time! I miss my mobile phone…

It is Monday Morning twenty to ten. The phone does not ring. Beethoven’s Piano Concerto #1 in C Major, Opus 15, Largo is playing loudly on my hifi in my Study.  Behind the clear notes of the piano there sounds the most beautiful notes of violin and clarinet in the background.

A Silent Presence has come with me into my study. Peace. Rest…

I don’t have to do anything. I may just… BE…

And that is good enough…

Afgesonder vir diens…

Dit is Maandagoggend half tien. Ek is veronderstel om die siekes te besoek. Daarna hard te werk aan more se Bybelstudie oor Romeine 9- dat die gemeente kan verstaan waarom het die Here Jakob liefgehad, maar Esau gehaat. My selfoon is veronderstel om aan te wees, ek moet al die navrae hanteer oor die onduidelikhede in gister se preek. die klagtes oor die musiek te hard was, of te sag was, te vinnig was of te stadig was…  Intussen loop daar erens op die vlaktes beeste rond wat eintlik by die kerkbasaar hoort- Steaks vir Jesus! Daar is nog duisend wat wag vir huisbesoek, dat hulle die Here kan vind en dien…  deur die koeksistertjie vir Dominee te gee, keurig aangebied op die Royal Doulton bordjie met ouma se goue vurkie…

Dit is Maandagoggend vyf en twintig voor tien. Ek is die sieke. My vrou het my selfoon afgeneem. Die dokter het my drie weke lank afgeboek. Ek mag nie eers kar bestuur nie.   Ek sit net hier. Drie weke is darem maar hel lank! EK mis my selfoon!

Dis Maandagoggend twintig voor tien. Die foon lui nie. Beethoven se Klavierkonsert no 1 in C Majeur, opus 15, Largo speel kliphard in my studeerkamer. Agter die helder note van die klavier klink die mooiste klarinet en viole in die agtergrond.

‘n Stille Teenwoordigheid het saam met my in die studeerkamer ingekom. Vrede. Rus.

Ek moet niks doen nie. EK mag maar net… wees.

En dit is goed genoeg…

 

 

Food is very important…

Ok, useless header. Without food we die.

But today is my 4th day without eating. This is breakfast:

a nice beer mug filled with… apple juice!

Was it not the apple that got us kicked out of paradise in the beginning?

On Friday, my day off, I love to go out and eat breakfast somewhere. Usually with my younger colleague, for it is his day off too.

There are so many possibilities around our town. The most beautiful setting is at the clubhouse of our golf course. They have a nice view, and a beautiful restaurant. Even the prices are very good- surprisingly.

Then there is the Koffiekan, maybe translated as the Coffee Pot They have bottomless coffee,, today’s newspaper (that is not fun to read in South Africa anymore with our respected president, and the mine strikes, and the rhino slaughter for impotent people in Asia, and the killing of so many people in crime… and usually the sport page is a tear jerker too… except our Junior Springbok rugby team, that beat New Zealand twice in one week- that gave something to smile about…)

We have the various franchise restaurants, most with a budget breakfast consisting of a baked egg, two rashers of bacon (sorry Spike!) a piece of cooked tomato and a slice of toast. Very budget indeed. But even that is better than a beer mug of apple juice.

Last night I asked my wife what we will do for dinner tonight. As good South Africans we usually barbeque (Braai!) some red meat, accompanied by red wine. Usually we look for friends that want to dine with us. And it is a ceremony on its own, from the lighting of the fire, opening of the wine, the sharing of stories and jokes. The meal around the table with some candle light on.

And then I remembered: Tonight, on my menu, there will be Apple Juice….

The revenge of the Apple for sins of days gone past…

The attack of the killer apples…

I think: from tomorrow apple juice will be banned for life from my home…

 

4 hours on a Monday morning…

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And so I landed in my doctor’s surgery, flat on my back with some kalium dripping into me for the next 4 hours. Nothing serious, but I would much rather be working. It does give me a time to reflect. I am so blessed with good health normally. There are so many things and people that add so much value to my life…
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Damn; it is hard tyPing with my left thumb! Take care!