Month: August 2022

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The tumbleweed

First and foremost – is tumbleweed really the right word to use for tolbos? Anyway, it is Monday evening and the whole house is asleep. Fudge the Pekingese is snoring away happily on the bed between us. I hear the sound of the clock in the lounge, silently counting the number of times it rings. I actually know it will be 12. It is midnight. The hamster is having a race to the moon and back on her wheel in the cage in the lounge. I wonder how many watts a hamster generates in their lifetime?

It is officially Tuesday and not Monday anymore. My brain feels like a tumbleweed (yes I do seem to think this is the right word to use), being driven by the wind in a direction. Like something I have no control over. The wind and my thoughts.

I think about what is lying ahead. Provisional tax. How I am going to feel tomorrow, potentially like a worn out rag. All because I missed my little window of sleep (due to an unplanned task landing on my desk, not work related). I missed the opportunity to sleep by I don’t know how many hours.

How many calculations must be done before 31 August 2022? Was it right of me to remove someone from my list because they owe me money for months and I am unable to reach them by all means possible to me? Is my interpretation of a provisional tax payer correct? Am I reading and interpreting the Act correct? What am I going to wear to the event that I was invited as a guest speaker in November?

What must I tell the people??? Who wants to listen to me? I wonder how the Adorned camp is going to be like? Am I going to know anyone there? Am I going to share a room with a stranger? How am I going to submit all the tax returns by 24 October 2022? Why did I choose this job??? This job that makes me want to panic and run around the room, every second day, like Spongebob and Patrick. If you are wondering what I am talking about – go to Whatsapp and under gifs search for Spongebob and Patrick panic and then you can laugh with me with what I am trying to say here.

I AM now both Spongebob AND Patrick. Or can I let my husband be Patrick? He does not look like he has a worry of a day old. I envy him and my daughter that can just fall asleep when they get into bed. Why am I typing this? What am I going to achieve with this? Oh my word, are the 2023 diaries really going to look pretty? What am I trying to say with this entry?

Just like a tumbleweed being blown around by the wind, all my thoughts are tumbling and twisting through my brain. Without control and left at the mercy of the wind. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and try to sleep. But man oh man, it is like sleep is playing a dodge game with me. There is just too much traffic in my brain. Then, out of no where, it is as if God comes to create order in my thoughts.

That which must be said at the event later the year starts to take shape. Of course I am making mental notes, because it was just too cold to get up for a pen and notebook or even start up my laptop to capture the concept.

The uncertainties about how I am going to get everything done is moved to one side. Everything is going to be ok. I am going to finish in time with everything. I must just do my bit. If people do not want to pay, then I am not obliged to render a service. Pick ‘n Pay does not hand out sugar to people who does not want to pay for it. Why should our industry be any different?

I can feel how Tiredness is stalking me. Slowly but surely, on tippy toes and gently so that I do not get a fright that might change my DNA or blood group if I spot Tiredness. With a greatful heart, I snuggle in and pull the duck down duvet up to my nose, turn on my side, greeting Tiredness with open arms.

The Tuesday, as I was getting ready for the day, I find myself humming a song. Psalm 46 (featuring Chelsey Scott) by Bifrost Artists. The chorus stands out to me. Be still….and know… that I… am God. I realise again, that this is what God told me in the wee hours of the morning when sleep was avoiding me….

Die tolbos
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Die tolbos

Dis Maandag nag. Die hele huis slaap. Fudge die Pekingese, snork te heerlik op die bed by ons. Ek hoor die horlosie in die sitkamer slaan en tel hoeveel slae ek hoor. Eintlik weet ek dit gaan 12 wees. Dis middernag. Die hamster hardloop vir die eerste span daar in die sitkamer. Ek wonder hoeveel watts se krag wek ‘n hamster in ‘n leeftyd op?

Dis nou Dinsdag en nie meer Maandag nie. My brein voel soos ‘n tolbos wat deur die wind aangedreef word in ‘n rigting. Soos iets waaroor ek nie beheer het nie. Die wind en my gedagtes.

Ek dink aan dit wat voorlê. Voorlopigebelasting. Hoe potensieël op soos ou brood ek die volgende dag gaan wees omdat ek my slaap venstertjie gemis het (weens iets wat onbeplan op my tafel geland het, glad nie met werk uit te waai nie). Ek het die geleentheid om te slaap met ek weet nie hoeveel ure nie gemis.

Hoeveel berekeninge ek nog moet doen voor 31 Augustus 2022? Was dit reg om iemand van my lysie af te haal omdat hulle my vir maande geld skuld en ek net nie hulle in die hande kan kry nie? Is my interpretasie van ‘n voorlopigebelastingbetaler reg? Lees en interpreteer ek die wet reg? Wat gaan ek aantrek na die geleentheid waarheen ek genooi is as gasspreker in November?

Wat moet ek vir die mense sê??? Wie wil nou na my luister? Ek wonder hoe die Adorned kamp gaan verloop? Gaan ek iemand ken daar? Gaan ek saam met ‘n vreemdeling ‘n kamer deel? Hoe gaan ek al my belastingopgawes ingedien kry teen 24 Oktober 2022? Hoekom het ek hierdie beroep gekies??? Hierdie beroep wat my elke tweede dag ‘n Spongebob en Patrick oomblik van paniek laat beleef. As jy wonder waaroor ek praat – gaan soek op Whatsapp onder die gifs Spongebob and Patrick panic en dan lag jy maar lekker saam vir dit wat ek probeer oordra hier.

Ek IS nou beide Spongebob EN Patrick. Of kan ek maar Patrick afstaan aan my man? Hy lyk nie of hy ‘n dag se bekommernis het nie. Ek beny hom en my dogtertjie wat net aan die slaap raak wanneer hul in die bed klim. Hoekom tik ek nou hierdie? Wat gaan ek daardeur bereik? O aarde gaan die 2023 dagboeke regtig mooi lyk? Wat probeer ek eintlik sê met hierdie inskrywing?

So tol en draai die gedagtes deur my brein, presies net soos ‘n tolbos wat deur die wind rondgewaai word. Beheerloos en aan die wind se genade oorgelaat. Ek vat ‘n diep teug asem, maak my oë toe en probeer slaap. Helaas, die slaap ontwyk my. Daar is net te veel verkeer in my brein. Dan vanuit nêrens is dit asof die Here my gedagtes kom orden.

Dit wat ek moet sê en vertel by die geleentheid later die jaar begin vorm aan neem. Natuurlik maak ek net mental notes want dis gans en al te koud om nou op te staan vir ‘n notaboek en pen, of selfs my rekenaar aan te skakel om die konsep vas te lê.

Die onsekerheid oor hoe ek alles werksgewys gaan doen word opsy geskuif. Alles gaan ok wees. Ek gaan betyds met alles klaar kry. Ek moet net my kant bring. As mense my nie wil betaal nie, is ek nie verplig om ‘n diens te lewer nie. Pick ‘n Pay deel nie suiker uit vir mense wat nie wil betaal nie, hoekom moet ons bedryf anders wees?

Ek voel hoe die Moegheid my bekruip. Stadig maar seker, op tippy toes, sagkuns sodat ek nie my in ‘n ander bloedgroep in skrik as ek Moegheid gewaar nie. Met ‘n dankbare hart trek ek die gansdons duvet nog hoër op tot oor my neus, draai op my sy en groet Moegheid met ope arms.

Die Dinsdag, toe ek regmaak vir die dag, vind ek myself ‘n liedjie neurie. Psalm 46 (featuring Chelsey Scott) deur Bifrost Artists. Die koor gedeelte staan uit vir my. Be still…. and know…. that I…. am God. Ek besef net weer, dat dit is wat die Here vir my kom sê het in die middernagtelike ure toe die slaap my ontwyk het….

The tumbleweed
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The Barbie moment

This entry is written on a lighter note. And actually just a bit of humor on a cold Saturday! This past Monday, I walked through our house, on a mission as always. Dressed and ready to leave to go to Cross Fit.

Somewhere while getting dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror and decided that the fat roll around my waste, that is making sure that I am exhausted from exercise, is due to all the milky coffees (and rusks) that I consume – more the coffee than the rusks I might add. I really try NOT to consume rusks daily! But with my exercise clothes on I decided it does not look that bad, if I am allowed to like and complement myself.

None the less, I walked to the kitchen to pack my cooler bag with Herbalife products – CR7 for the sore muscles and Protein shake to help repair the microscopic tears caused by exercise. Yes, apparently that is what happens when you exercise. You tear your muscles. So THAT is probably also part of why you feel stiff and sore?

This together with something else that I, for the life of me, cannot remember from matric Biology. Something like anaerobic (I used Google translate for this one so I hope it is right and in context) respiration. Yes, I think this is the term. Where was I? Oh yes, on my way to the kitchen. I walked past my son (13 years of age). We smile at each other and he says: “Mom, you look like a Barbie!”

For an ever so slightly millisecond my heart was pounding proudly in my chest. I thought to myself  – the exercising is WORKING!!! It was merely a figment of my imagination that I have a little fat roll from too much coffee and rusks!!! And just as quickly as what that moment appeared it dissappeared again. Going up in smoke so to speak. Poof just like that.

Like a balloon that briefly touched a thorn – that is how this moment was shattered. My son continues, he says “Mom, the stuff on your eyes makes you look like a Barbie! What is that on your eyes?” Oh my WORD!!!!! it was my MAKE UP all the time that made him think of a Barbie and literally NOTHING ELSE!!! I had an appointment with a client that day and put more make up on than what I normally do.

So now you know how I experienced a Barbie moment. Was nice while it lasted but I recon I must work a bit more by doing more core exercises, hopefully that will work away the coffee and rusks displayed around my waist. A six pack seems too much to try and achieve, because it starts in the kitchen they say. And I love lekker food too much to get a Barbie body with a six pack.

I know in real life, the proportions of a Barbie is not like that of the toy doll, (they are way off apparently) but that is not what I am looking at here when I think of a Barbie…I think of all the clothes that just fit when worn and of course, the perfect make up that goes with it. And the hair. Do not forget the hair!

Die Barbie oomblik
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Die Barbie oomblik

Hierdie inskrywing is op ‘n ligter noot. En eintlik maar net vir ‘n bietjie humor so op ‘n koue Saterdag! Laas Maandag loop ek deur die huis. Op ‘n mission soos altyd. Reg aangetrek om te gaan Cross Fit.

Iewers toe ek aantrek kyk ek weer vir myself in die spieël en besluit die vetrol wat my so uitput by oefening is te danke aan my melkkoffie (en beskuit) inname – seker meer die koffie as die beskuit reken ek want ek probeer regtig NIE elke dag beskuit eet nie. Maar toe my oefen klere aan is, toe lyk dit nie te sleg nie, as ek nou myself kan like en komplementeer.

Nie te min, ek stap kombuis toe om my koelsakkie met Herbalife produkte te laai – CR7 vir die seer spiere en Protein shake om die spiere wat mikroskopiese skeurtjies kry te help met herstel. Ja, dis blykbaar wat gebeur as jy oefen. Jy skeur jou spiere. So DIS seker deel van hoekom dit styf en seer is?

Saam met nog iets wat ek nou vervlaks nie uit my matriek Biologie kan onthou nie. Iets soos anaerobiese respirasie. Ja ek dink dis die term. Waar was ek? O ja, oppad kombuis toe. Ek loop verby my seun (13 jaar oud). Ons glimlag vir mekaar en hy sê “Mamma, jy lyk soos ‘n Barbie!”

Vir ‘n vlietende vlugtige oomblik klop my hart breëbors hier binne my. Ek dink by myself – die oefening WERK!! Ek het my net verbeel dat ek ‘n koffie en beskuit magie het!!! En net so vinnig as wat ek hierdie oomblik beleef het, word hy gebars.

Soos ‘n ballon wat op dorings val verbrokkel my oomblik wat ek beleef het. My seun praat verder, hy sê “Mamma, die goed op jou oë laat jou soos ‘n Barbie lyk! Wat is dit op jou oë?” Oh my WORD!!!!! Dis toe al die tyd my GRIMERING wat vir hom soos ‘n Barbie lyk en letterlik NIKS ANDERS NIE! Ek het daardie dag ‘n afspraak met ‘n kliënt gehad en toe meer grimering as normaal aangewend vir daardie doel.

Nou ja toe, ek het ‘n Barbie oomblik beleef die week. Was nice while it lasted maar ek reken ek moet maar nog so bietjie core oefeninge doen om die beskuit en koffie magie weg te kry. ‘n Six pack sien ek nie voor kans nie, want dit begin in die kombuis hoor ek die slim mense praat. En ek hou maar te veel van lekker kos om ‘n Barbie lyf en six pack te kan hê.

Ek weet in regte lewe is Barbie se proporsie glad nie so goed uiteengesit soos die speelding nie, maar dis nou glad nie waarna ek kyk as ek dink aan ‘n Barbie nie….ek dink aan al die klere wat net pas wat sy aantrek en natuurlik, die perfekte grimering wat saam met dit gaan. En hare. Moet nie die hare vergeet nie!

The Barbie moment
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The Life Guard

While I am sitting here, typing away at this entry, I feel like everything in my life has been blown out of order and it almost feels as if the August winds of a few days ago has something to do with it. For those who do not know – August is also a busy month work wise. Less hectic than February, but also a peak time with loads of things that have to be completed with limited time available in the day. Speed dating for taxes time again.

The pages on my deskpad are getting less and less. There are only 4 left and if I blink my eyes again, I am going to tear off the page for August too. Then there are only 3 months left in this year. WHERE DID THE TIME GO TO???? Where did 2022 dissappear to? In my mind I am still caught up somewhere in March.

None the less, the page for August is full of notes with additional maths classes and times, exercise times for me, exercise times for the kids at school and then a mountain of notes on the side of the page, competing with the beauty of the flamingos in the background.

Yet again I am not surprised about this month’s scripture. It is so applicable and appropriate, as was every other month’s scripture. You see, when I chose 12 verses last year, I literally chose 12 verses that stood out to me, and in the order I received them I allocated them to the months of the year. There is NO WAY that I would have known how this month’s scripture would be seen as pertinent and applicable to me and where I am now.

What a BIG WORD! Pertinent. There I am getting side tracked again. Something that I feel happens too often these days. Almost like Dory in Finding Nemo. I am busy working on something, searching for a document on our network, then I remember about an e-mail I was supposed to send to a client. Then I send the e-mail and then I forget what I was busy with in the first place!

When I thought about the scripture this morning and what I want to write about, I only got the words Life Guard. It was in English and for my Afrikaans version I had to think carefully what the Afrikaans word is for Life Guard. It is very interesting how God sometimes reveals things only in English to me and other times only in Afrikaans. Back to the scripture.

I remember the first time I read this scripture. Somebody sent me a picture. It was a little girl with arms full of flowers (a cartoon image) and it read something in the lines of God will help you. Something like that. 

When I read it in the Bible (I reverted to the Afrikaans version), I realised what a powerful scripture this is and how the picture almost dumbed it down too much, if I can state it like that. You see, at that time in my life, I had to present Financial Statements to a company and discuss it with them. A company that had a turnover of more than 1 BILLION RAND. I had to Google how many zero’s a Billion had (it is 9 just by the way), because I have never worked with that sized numbers in our business.

I even purchased a dress or two for these meetings (there were a few), because I felt I had to look the part and my clothes would not be able to compete with the turnover (sales if you are wondering what turnover is). I cannot arrive in my denim and sneakers like I dress most days when I work from home. None the less, the scripture just still stands out to me. Especially the part that says (in the Afrikaans version only) do not look around anxiously (kyk nie angstig rond nie). It makes me think of Peter who did not focus on Jesus and allowed the waves around him to loose focus and disabled him to walk on water.

And of course, when I think of waves, I think about what I wrote in June 2021 (or was it May?). About how I felt as if the waves of anxiety were trying to consume me. It still feels this way at times with a new routine with the kids, together with changes in work circumstances, other things and circumstances in our lives and all of that, added together, equals a moment of anxiety or three every two minutes and then it lasts the whole day it feels.

A month or two ago, I heard a new song on Spotify. Things that I’m afraid of by Ross King and Josh Wilson. I do not know who sang the song first (almost like what was first – the chicken or the egg?), and I like both versions. In the song he sings that the things that he is afraid of, fears God too.

That made me think. Because I NEVER thought of it like that. Sometimes we sit with so much fear bottled up inside of us, that we forget where fear comes from (it is not from God just by the by) and that which we fear, fears the Name of Jesus even more.

As I see the waves of everyday life around me, I try to stay focussed on Jesus. It is hard at times. Sometimes I fail myself when I get dispaired about so many things. Getting negative and not counting my words when I speak. Getting angry about circumstances in my life. Frustrations about things in my life that are not within my control. Many times the frustrations are about non-work related things.

And then, just as I feel the horison is rising, because I am not on top of the water anymore, the righteous right hand of the Life Guard reaches out to me, picking me up from the chaos. That which I fear has a bigger fear for the Life Guard. THAT is something that I must always remember. The things that I’m afraid of are afraid of you….I hear the words of the song wandering through my thoughts and mind….

Die Lewensredder
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Die Lewensredder

Soos wat ek hier sit en hierdie inskrywing tik, voel ek deurmekaar gewaai en dit voel amper of die Augustus winde van ‘n dag of wat gelede bygedra het tot die gevoel. Vir die wat nie weet nie – Augustus is ook een van ons besige tye. Minder besig as Februarie, maar ook ‘n kritiese tyd van tonne goed wat moet klaar met beperkte ure in die dag. Speed dating wat belasting aanbetref.

My deskpad se bladsye raak nou min. Daar is net 4 oor en as ek weer sien gaan ek Augustus se bladsy ook afskeur en dan is daar net 3 maande van die jaar oor. WAAR HET DIE TYD HEEN GEGAAN??? Waar het 2022 heen verdwyn? In my kop is ek nog vasgevang in Maart iewers.

Nie te min, die bladsy vir Augustus is vol geskribbel met ekstra Wiskunde klasse en tye, oefen tye vir my, oefeninge vir die kinders by die skool en dan hope nota’s aan die kant van die bladsy wat kompeteer met die prag van die flaminke in die agtergrond.

Weereens verbaas dit my nie dat die maand se skrif so van toepassing is nie. Jy sien, toe ek die skrif laas jaar gekies het, het ek letterlik 12 verse wat vir my uitgestaan het geneem en in orde soos wat ek dit ontvang het gaan allokeer teenoor ‘n maand. Daar is mos nie ‘n MANIER dat ek nou kon weet dat die maand se skrif vir my so pertinent sal uitstaan nie.

Sjoe – dis ‘n GROOT WOORD! Pertinent. Goed, daar raak ek alweer side tracked. Iets wat vir my voel gereeld gebeur. Amper soos Dory in Finding Nemo. Ek is besig om te werk aan iets, gaan soek iets op die netwerk, dan onthou ek van ‘n e-pos wat ek moes stuur vir ‘n kliënt, dan stuur ek die e-pos en dan het ek heeltemal vergeet waarmee ek besig was!

Toe ek vanoggend dink aan die skrif en wat ek wil skryf kom Life Guard by my op. Ek moes mooi gaan dink wat die Afrikaans is vir Life Guard. Dis vir my bitter interessant hoe die Here soms net in Engels goed vir my openbaar en ander kere net in Afrikaans. Terug by die skrif.

Ek onthou die eerste keer toe ek die skrif gelees het. Iemand het nog vir my ‘n prentjie gestuur. Dit was ‘n dogtertjie wat baie tevrede met haarself gelyk het met arms vol blomme (‘n cartoon prentjie) en dit het iets in die sin van Die Here sal jou help en red gelees. Iets soos dit.

Toe ek dit in die Bybel gaan lees, besef ek hoe powerful die skrif is en hoe die prentjie dit net amper te veel vereenvoudig het, as ek dit nou so kon stel. Jy sien, op daardie stadium in my lewe, moes ek vir ‘n maatskappy hul Finansiële State gaan voorlê en bespreek. ‘n Maatskappy met meer as 1 BILJOEN RAND se omset. Ek moes gaan google hoeveel nulle is ‘n Biljoen (dis 9 net so tussen ons), want ek het voor dit nog nooit met sulke groot syfers gewerk in ons besigheid nie, en ook nie iets so groot soos dit alleen moes voorlê nie.

Ek het selfs ‘n rok of twee gaan koop, want ek het gevoel my klere steek af teen die omset (verkope as jy wonder wat omset is). I had to look and dress the part jy weet. Ek kan nou nie daar gaan opdaag in my denim en tekkies soos wat ek meeste van die kere maar in sit en werk by die huis nie. Nie te min, die skrif staan vir my uit. Veral die deel wat lees kyk nie angstig rond nie. Dit laat my dink aan Petrus wat nie op Jesus gefokus het nie en toegelaat het dat die golwe om hom, hom laat sink het.

En natuurlik met die golwe saam, dink ek weer aan wat ek geskryf het in Junie 2021 (of was dit Mei?). Oor hoe ek gevoel het of die golwe van angs my probeer verswelg. Dit voel steeds by tye so met ‘n nuwe roetine met die kinders, saam met werksveranderinge, ander omstandighede in my lewe en dit alles saam is vir seker gelyk aan ‘n angstige oomblik of drie elke 2 minute en dan hou dit aan die hele dag lank voel dit vir my.

Ek het so maand of twee gelede ‘n nuwe liedjie gehoor op Spofity. Things that I’m afraid of deur Ross King en Josh Wilson. Ek weet nie wie het eerste die liedjie gesing nie (dis nou amper soos wat was eerste – die hoender of die eier?), en albei se weergawes is vir my mooi. In die liedjie sing hy dat die dinge waarvoor hy bang is, ook bang is vir die Here.

Dit het my laat dink. Want ek het NOOIT so daaraan gedink nie. Ons sit soms met soveel vrees in ons opgekrop, maar ons vergeet waar kom vrees vandaan (dis nie van God af nie) en dit wat ons vrees, vrees die Naam van Jesus nog meer.

Soos wat ek golwe om my sien en ervaar in alledaagse dinge, probeer ek gefokus bly op Jesus. Dis moeilik soms. Soms laat ek myself in die steek deur moedeloos te raak oor so baie goed. Negatief te praat en nie altyd ‘n wag voor my mond te plaas nie. Kwaad te word vir omstandighede buite my beheer. Gefrustreerd met ander goed in my lewe, meeste van die kere nie eens eintlik werk nie, wat ook buite my beheer is.

En dan soos wat ek voel ek begin sink, kom die Lewensredder se reddende regterhand en tel my op uit die chaos uit. Dit wat ek vrees, het ‘n groter vrees vir die Lewensredder. DIT moet ek altyd onthou. The things that I’m afraid of are afraid of you….hoor ek weer die liedjie deur my gedagtes dwaal….

The Life Guard
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You are… part 4

Navy court shoes, silver grey stockings. If you have to ask me what I remember about my school clothes, then it is probably that. I walk through reception, probably the first time in 24 years in daylight, on a week day, at the school where I matriculated. Goudrif High School. I notice the school emblem against the wall with the slogan (is this the right word for leuse as we call it in Afrikaans?) Roepingsbewus and I suddenly wonder if it was always there. I recon that I did not visit this part of the school enough to actually remember.

Elsabé Lartz meets up with me just as I exit the ladies room – the one for staff and teachers only, prohibited for use by kids. This is now part of the area that I am allowed to move around in. Strangely enough, I am convinced that this ladies room was bigger than what it appears now. We walk to my car to take out the things I brought with. She asks me a few questions – what year I matriculated, what my maiden name was, do I have kids. Mrs. Lartz will be at this school for 20 years in 2022. We missed each other in the school passages by 4 years.

She tells me that I probably still remember where the school hall is, letting me walk ahead of her. The moment I walked into the hall, it was as if 24 years disappeared. The shy, uncertain matriculant is back for a moment. A flood of memories flash through my mind. I recall the night we were announced as Prefects in grade 11, how we practiced for hours and hours for the Revue in that same hall.

The stage stands proud with stairs and various platforms, ready for a Revue to take place on it. The hall still smells the same. Is it not amazing how smells can take you back in time? I can still relive the layout of the tables while writing the various exams in matric – probably all the exams for that year were written there? I cannot remember. I only remember the one around August / September and then the finals in October / November.

She asks me how it feels to be back at the school. My answer was one word – Weird. I stand opposite the Head Girls nameboard against the wall. I take a picture for my sister who was Head Girl in 1994. A while later, the sound team come in to set up a microphone for me (one which I decided not to make use of). One of the boys asks me if I have music that I want to play. I have this dumbstruck look on my face – that is certainly something that I DID NOT think of. Music and a slideshow. “Maybe next time” I answer them.

The bell rings for a break, the kids enter the hall. More than what I had expected. Mrs. Lartz said that she asked her grade 12’s to invite other kids that are not Consumer Study students. I hope I have the translation right here! I can never remember the English for Verbruikerstudies.

This time round my nerves are gnawing at me, a bit more than usual. It feels like I will be judged by the young hopeful kids in front of me, about where they are now and where they will be one day, measured by me and what I say to them and how I am presented to them. I know this is not true and push through the gnawing to deliver my message.

I even sing a song for them, one that I remember from church as a child. “Weet jy nie, weet jy nie, jy’s ‘n tempel? Vol van lof, vol van krag, vol van vreugde” hand movements and all. For the life of me, I do not know the English version of this song, so I am not even going to TRY to translate that one. A few looked at me as if I am Crazy Daisy, others giggled because they knew exactly what I was talking about.

They were, by far, my most interactive audience to date (not that I have done this a 100 times before – this is the fourth school that I have visited). When I asked the question – “Who of you knew that Flamingos are not born pink?” the hands shot up into the air, answering the question that was asked.

Seed was sown, that I know. One girl, who appeared to be in tears, came to thank me for the beautiful message. Absolutely a Holy Spirit inspired moment and all the glory be to God, not to me. Another girl’s spirit was so open and receptive, I spotted her a mile away and told her that too.

Those who chose to take a picture with me for Facebook and Instagram, looked more than chuffed with their aprons. When I look at the photo, I can see the laughter and giggles of the kids. I can feel and see the energy, remembering how it was being 17 or 18 years of age. In a way I miss that, but I am also grateful that I have moved on and am where I am in my life.

The more things change the more they stay the same. This I saw that day again. I wonder how many people have walked through those passages and classes? How many have matriculated there? It feels like an impossible calculation to do. 24 years have flown by in an instant. In the blink of an eye.

I realised again that being a Teacher must be one of THE most difficult jobs under this sun. To teach children from different backgrounds, domestic circumstances, cultures, habits and who knows what else, so that they UNDERSTAND and are able to write exams and pass, is most certainly not everyone’s cup of tea. Not everyone is made for that, I am certainly one of them who is NOT made to be a Teacher!

My prayer is that each student, not only the Consumer Studies students, got a little something that day. That God will water it on the right time so that the trees will grow to produce His fruit, reflecting Pink Feathers for Him.

My mind wanders back to the slogan. Roepingsbewus. I chew on this for a while. What does it really mean? I use Google translate to get the English word. Vocation Conscious I see on my screen. I think to myself, WHAT does Vocation mean? I do not think I have even heard of this word before!!

Yes you guessed it, I Googled the word Vocation too. The meaning? A strong feeling of suitability for a particular career or occupation. WOW!!! This revelation seems even better than the Afrikaans version that I wrote. But it comes down to the same thing. It means to be CONSCIOUS of your CALLING (and in worldly terms career and jobs) that God has called you for.

How interesting is this? The slogan and message that was portrayed comes down to the same thing. God is TRULY AMAZING!!!!!! May everyone that go through those school passages, live that slogan in this world that we find ourselves in.

In my mind I can hear the tune of the school anthem, as I remember it. The words that I am singing in my mind are most certainly wrong, but I am singing it to myself and I know I will remain ROEPINGSBEWUS (or VOCATION CONSCIOUS as I have learnt it is translated into English). Without realising it and making a conscious effort in my life after school, I feel that I have been living this slogan in my life.

Jy is… deel 4
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Jy is… deel 4

Navy hofskoene, silver grey sykouse. As jy my moet vra wat onthou ek van my skooldrag dan is dit seker maar dit. Ek stap deur die ontvangs, seker maar die eerste keer in 24 jaar weer in daglig, op ‘n weeksdag by die skool waar ek gematrikuleer het in. Hoërskool Goudrif. Ek merk die skoolwapen met die leuse Roepingsbewus op teen die muur en wonder of hy altyd daar was, en reken maar dat ek net te min op skool dáár waar die wapen hang, gekom het om te onthou.

Elsabé Lartz ontmoet my net soos ek uit die kleedkamer uitkom – die personneel badkamer wat verbode grond vir kinders is en nou deel van my grondgebied is waar ek mag beweeg. Dis vreemd, ek was oortuig die kleedkamer was groter as wat hy nou voorkom. Ons stap saam na my kar toe om die goedjies uit te haal wat ek saam gebring het. Sy vra uit na my, watter jaar ek gematrikuleer het, wat my nooiensvan was, het ek kinders. Juffrou Lartz is hierdie jaar 20 jaar by díe skool, ons het mekaar spreekwoordelik met 4 jaar gemis in die gange.

Sy sê vir my dat ek seker nog onthou waar die saal is en laat my voor stap. Die oomblik toe ek by die saal instap, is dit asof 24 jaar verdwyn. Die skaam, onseker matrikulant, is vir ‘n oomblik terug. Ek herroep die aand toe ons in Graad 11 as Prefekte aangewys was, hoe ons geoefen het vir ure en ure vir Revue in die einste saal.

Die verhoog pronk breëbors met die trappe en loopvlakke, reg vir Revue om op hom uit te speel. Die saal ruik nog dieselfde. Is dit nie amazing hoe reuke jou terug kan vat in tyd nie? In my geestesoog sien ek hoe ons nog parallel met die verhoog by ons enkel tafeltjies gesit en Rekord eksamen en later ook eindeksamen geskryf het. Eintlik seker maar al die eksamens in ons matriek jaar? Ek kan wragties nie onthou nie.

Sy vra my hoe dit voel om terug te wees by die skool. My antwoord was een woord Weird. Vreemd. Ek staan en soek die hoofdogters se naambord. Neem ‘n foto vir my sussie wat in 1994 hoofdogter was. ‘n Rukkie later kom die klankspan om ‘n mikrofoon vir my op te stel (wat ek toe later besluit om nie te gebruik nie). Een van die seuns vra of ek musiek het wat ek wou speel. Ek kyk verdwaas na hulle – dis wragties NIE iets waaraan ek gedink het NIE. Musiek en ‘n slideshow. “Miskien volgende keer.” Antwoord ek hulle.

Die klok lui vir pouse, die kinders stap die saal binne. Meer as wat ek verwag, Juffrou Lartz het gesê sy het vir haar graad 12’s gesê om ander maats ook te bring al is hulle nie Verbruikerstudie leerders nie.

Die keer knaag die senuwees so bietjie meer as normaal. Dit voel of ek geoordeel gaan word deur jong hoopvolle kinders oor waar hul nou is en waar hul eendag gaan wees, gemeet aan wat ek vir hulle sê en hoe ek voorkom. Ek weet dis nie waar nie en druk deur die geknaag en gaan voort met my boodskap.

Ek sing selfs vir hulle die liedjie wat ek in die kinderkerk onthou. “Weet jy nie, weet jy nie, jy’s ‘n tempel? Vol van lof, vol van krag, vol van vreugde” handgebare en al. ‘n Paar kyk my aan asof ek nou van die lootjie getik is, ander giggel lekker want hulle weet presies waarvan ek praat.

By verre was hulle my mees interaktiefste gehoor ooit (nie dat ek die al 100 keer gedoen het nie – hierdie is die vierde skool wat ek besoek). Toe ek die Vraag vra – “Wie van julle het geweet Flaminke word nie pienk gebore nie?” vlieg daar heelwat hande op en in die lug.

Saad was gesaai, dit weet ek. Een meisie het selfs, wat vir my gelyk het of sy in trane was, my kom bedank vir die mooi boodskap. Absoluut ‘n Heilige Gees geinspireerde oomblik en alle eer aan God, nie aan my nie. ‘n Ander een se gees was net so oop en ontvanklik, ek het haar ‘n myl ver gesien en dit vir haar gesê ook.

Die wat gekies het om saam met my in die Facebook en Instagram foto te wees het meer as in hul noppies gelyk met hul voorskote. As ek kyk na die foto kan ek die opgewondenheid, gelag en giggel SIEN! Ek kan amper tasbaar die energie van die kinders voel. Ek kan nog onthou hoe dit was om 17 of 18 jaar oud te wees. In ‘n mate mis ek dit, maar aan die ander kant is ek dankbaar dat ek is waar ek is in my lewe.

The more things change the more they stay the same. Dit het ek daardie dag weer gesien. Ek wonder hoeveel asems is al deur daardie skoolgange en klasse? Hoeveel het al daar gematrikuleer? Dit voel vir my ontelbaar baie en ‘n moeilike som om te maak. 24 jaar vlieg verby in ‘n oogwink.

Ek besef net weer dat Onderwysers seker een van díe moeilikste werke onder die son moet hê. Om kinders uit verskillende huislike omstandighede, agtergronde, kulture, gewoontes en wie weet wat nog alles te moet leer sodat hulle VERSTÁÁN en kan eksamen skryf en slaag, is nie almal se cup of tea nie. Nie almal is gemaak vir dit nie, ek is vir seker een van hulle!

My gebed is dat elke leerder, nie net Verbruikers leerders nie, die dag ‘n stukkie saam met hulle kon vat. Dat die Here dit gaan natlei op die regte tyd, sodat die bome sal opkom wat Sy vrugte dra en Pienk Vere vir die Here reflekteer.

Ek dink weer aan die skool se leuse. Roepingsbewus. Ek herkou so bietjie aan dit. Wat beteken dit regtig? Ek reken, direk uit dit uit, om BEWUS te wees van jou ROEPING en waarvoor God jou geroep het.

Hoe interessant is dit nie net nie? Die leuse en die boodskap wat oorgedra is, kom op dieselfde neer. Sit in wat nodig is sodat jy jou werk waarvoor God jou geskape het, kan doen – wees bewus van jou roeping. Die Here is voorwaar AMAZING!!! Mag elkeen wat deur hierdie skool se gange stap, die leuse uitleef in hierdie wêreld waarin ons onsself bevind – nie net in hul beroepe nie maar ook dit waarvoor die Here hulle geskape het en op aarde voor gesit het.

In my gedagtes neurie ek die deuntjie van die skoollied soos ek hom ken en onthou. Die woorde is seker verkeerd wat ek in my kop sing, maar ek sing hom vir myself en weet Roepingsbewus sal ek bly. Sonder dat ek dit besef het, het ek doelbewus my roeping, dit waarvoor God my geroep het, uitgeleef in my lewe na skool, voel dit vir my…

You are… part 4