Women's World Day of Prayer 2016

Friday 4th March 2016, the women of Marquard met at the Christian Center Church to worship in the World Day of Prayer. 

As I got into the car Grant asked if I had my camera; I said, no, I wasn't going to take it. It was the first time I'd been anywhere without my camera and I really regretted the decision.

Off to the World Day of Prayer service (sans camera)

The theme of the service was "Let the little children come to me" ; the country that women across the world were praying for, was Cuba. Marquard school children - ranging from four-years old to 18 years-old -, entertained the congregation with beautiful song and dance. The main speaker was Palgrave Boakye-Danquah, a director for J-Life in Ghana. The service was well attended by an eclectic mix of young mothers and their little ones; elegant matrons - their children away at school in the city; grandmothers and aunts. Three rows of residents from the retirement centre included great-grandmothers to many of the children in town.

After the service I went over to Palgrave and thanked him for the beautiful and powerful message. He asked who I was and I said: "I'm Jo, recently returned from East Africa and previously from West Africa." Then his attention was claimed by someone else. I joined Rina and the other ladies for snacks in the church tea room. Suddenly I felt my wrist being gripped; it was Palgrave. He'd asked another lady to take a photo of him and me as I was a fellow East/West African. Rina joined us. 

Palgrave, Jo and Rina

After Rina and I had had our tea at the church, we went over to the Marquard hotel. The oldies from the retirement center were being treated to scones and tea there. 

A group of elderly ladies enjoying scones and tea at the hotel. 

MIL Pam is second from the right on the other side of the table

Have a great week! 

My word for 2015

Reading through other blogs, I've come across their Word for 2015. I've never before given much thought to having a specific word; but now I'm joining in this positive and interesting phenomena too. 

I would normally choose "[being]positive" or [having] faith"; I practice these at all times and have done throughout my adult life.  Now however, as I'm becoming more antique (I'll be 62 in five weeks' time) I'm concentrating being consistent. 

Actually I learnt this lesson the hard way way back in my mid-twenties.  I'd been in the city all day, with my son, John, then five years old, in tow. The little lad was hungry and whining,(why do young mothers do this to their children?) My feet ensconced in 3" stilettos were killing me and I had a headache fit to bust my head open. 

My last port of call was the bank. It was the '70's and we still cashed money inside the bank;  John and I waited in a long queue.  At the counter, the teller asked me for identification as this wasn't my home bank  (which was 50kms away). I banged my handbag onto the counter top and unpacked almost everything before I found my green ID book. The teller, lifting his eyebrows heavenward, slid the money across to me and called, Next Please. I pushed everything back into the bag, remembering to take out my car keys, and took John's hand with my keys dangling from my little finger. 

Arriving at the car in the steaming hot car park, I told John to hold onto my skirt while I opened the door. Lifting my hand closer to my face, I realized that the keys that had been hanging off its end a few minutes earlier, just weren't there any longer. taking John's hand again, and pulling him non-too gently along with me, I retraced my steps : across the hot car park again, up the ramp into the mall, along the walkways towards the bank. 

Nothing. 

The mall was still thronging with shoppers which made it almost   impossible to scan the floor and surrounds properly. Eventually I found a telephone kiosk and phoned my friend, Lucelle who lived nearby. I told her of my predicament and within a few minutes she and her husband, Dennis arrived. He had the day off and came armed with tools to break into my car if we were unable to find my keys. All three of us (with John still trailing alongside) scoured the mall from one end to the other. 

Eventually Dennis said there was nothing for it but that he use force to open my car. He did and within in minutes he was inside my little car. Only problem was how to get me home without the ignition keys. Dennis eventually removed the steering wheel,  lifted the bonnet, hot-wired something to something else and fired my car up. Lucelle placed John on the passenger seat next to me (no strapping children into car seats  in those days) and with the car engine running, I got into the driver's seat and took off. 

I drove home on the National Highway to the town nearest to my home (50 km from the city, remember?) and then 34 km to our home which was situated in a rural farming community. To this day I can remember how stressful it was to drive a car with NO steering wheel. The steering column jutted  out from the dashboard, with two ears on each side; something , but not quite, like the pilot's controls in a plane.  I  also knew that I couldn't afford to stall or stop the car until I reached home. 

Back home after I'd bathed John, fed him and put him to bed, I phoned Lucelle to tell Lucelle we'd arrived safely and to thank Dennis for his help. Lucelle then told me that I should always be consistent in everything I do. For instance, I should replace my keys in a certain pocket in  my handbag. Once Grant had replaced my steering wheel, and we'd had another set of keys made, and I used the car again, I did exactly that. I never forgot this lesson. 

As I becoming more and more of an age, I concentrate on doing things consistently. 

It's working. 

So far...


James 1:17

Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadows

Hebrews 13:8

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

Matthew 5:37

"But let your statement be, 'Yes, yes' or 'No, no'; anything beyond these is of evil.

My word for 2015: 

CONSISTENCY

Today is John's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOHN! 

Hedges Crown Jewels

Five of family gem collection currently in the Drakensberg;  top left: Bethany, Joshua, Elijah and Eryn. Top right, Eryn. Bottom left: Baby Israel with a royal wave and right: Bethany on the peewee with older brother Joshua (Photo credit: Debbie Hedges)

 Top left: Elijah;  right: Baby Israel; bottom left: beautiful sisters: Eryn and Bethany and right: Bethany on her bicycle (Photo credit: Debbie Hedges)

Joel, our shining diamond in the Free State (Photo credit: Angus Hedges)

A pretty pearl, Abby more concerned about climbing UP the slide than sparkling for the family collection! (Photo credit: Amanda Hedges)

Grandchildren are the crown of old men, And the glory of sons is their fathers. Proverbs 17:6\

I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend. 

Jesus said...

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”(Matthew 19:14)

After one day of sunshine and warmth on Wednesday, the heavens opened again that night and it rained all yesterday.  Mid-afternoon I took a photo of the sky (an abnormally pale greyish-blue for Africa) through the big trees in my garden. 

  Pale African skies seen through the trees in my garden

On Thursday morning Amanda picked me up at home; we were on our way to visit the grandson of Janet,  one of the hospital Admin  clerks.  The little boy, Baraka, was five years old and blind since birth. Amanda had made a soft felt ball and another square box-like touchy-feely object, covered in felt and with buttons, ribbons and gathered bias-binding glued onto it. 

*Note: between me and Amanda we keep all items that can be recycled to make toys for the local children: face-cream tubs, tube lids which make perfect wheels for cars, old ball-point pens which she uses as car axles, ointment tins and more.

Once we'd collected the Janet at work, she directed us to her home. It's quite normal when you arrive at an African house to find several people there: the dada who cleans, does the laundry and looks after the children. Then her brother may be there and his friend whose younger cousin has accompanied him. The dada's boyfriend's mother may also be visiting while she's left her elderly father to wait for her in the garden.    

This household was no exception.  As is also normal, the television was set on ultra-loud volume with Swahili pop songs belting out across this room. Amanda and I waited in the lounge while the granny dispatched dada to fetch the child from a neighbor's house. 

The housemaid returned carrying the child on her hip and put him down in front of Amanda. He immediately grabbed Amanda's hand,  pumped it up and down and shouted "jambo" (hello) at the top of his little voice.  The rest of the household members had come into the lounge and were sitting around watching. At this action, they all burst out laughing. This seemed to be a cue for this little boy to pull himself up onto Amanda's lap, creep over her shoulder and perch on her back. Now he wass shouting "beba" which means "piggy-back". 

Eventually Amanda managed to get him off her back and placed him on the floor in front of her. She told him that she had a "zawadi"/gift for him. When she put the soft ball in his hand, he shook it frantically and threw it over his shoulder. More laughter from the invisible-to-him audience in the lounge. Then Amanda and I spoke softly to him and told him to shake the square box and listen to the sounds. He did shake the box and then it slid from his hands while he twisted his little body to face her again and climbed onto her lap. His attention-span is virtually zero. 

 Little Baraka  lurches forward to grab Amanda's hand!

 

While Amanda spoke to the grandmother, telling her that the child needs attention, I turned to a young man sitting on my left. He spoke very good English and said he was the dada's brother (what did I tell you?) and a regular in the house. I suggested that if he wanted to help the little boy, the first thing that he should do was to turn down (preferably turn off ) the the television. Then he could sit and teach the child to count, describes colors and sights to him and perhaps even sing to him. He was most intrigued by my suggestions and I only hope he gives them a try. 

 Amanda managed to get Baraka to sit on her lap for a couple o seconds before he tried to creep around and onto her back again. Granny Janet looks on

 

Earlier on Amanda had spoken to Linda, the American missionary who does counseling amongst the pupils of the Lutheran-run school in town while her husband teaches there. Linda has agreed to visit this little boy with us on Tuesday and work with him. She has a very good command of the Swahili language and I believe she will be instrumental in creating a sense of normalcy for little Baraka.

Amanda has an old computer keyboard which Linda says she can use in her efforts to help the little boy; together Amanda and I are going to buy a mouth-organ (no drum or trumpet for this hyperactive little lad!) and a small disc-man with nursery rhymes and songs on CD's. Linda can teach the various carers/helpers in the home to operate the CD player for the little guy.

Amanda tried to interest Baraka in the toy she'd made to help stimulate his interest through touch and sound

When it was time to leave, Baraka clung to Amanda and wouldn't let go. She has the most incredible manner with children; I' ve seen it with the young patients we visit in the hospital or the children we see on the road when we stop to hand out lollypops. They already know Amanda and her car. (and that she dishes out sweets and toys). But this child had obviously never seen Amanda yet he took to her completely;  even though I reached for his hand, he ignored me totally and turned his sightless eyes on her and that was that!  Now  the dada took him from Amanda and we left the house. As we got into the car, we saw people walking briskly from several directions towards Janet's house. They'd heard via bush-telegraph that two Mzungus were visiting her blind grandson. 

  

On the way home, I mentioned to Amanda that unfortunately this poor child's affliction is regarded as a handicap and an oddity by all who know him. Only Janet seems to think there's hope for her grandson. And while little Baraka has been greatly challenged in his young life so far, we both agreed that there is nothing wrong with his mental ability. In a first world country, though, he'd probably be diagnosed with ADHD. But with his environment and situation as it is, filled with half-a-dozen mostly strangers all day, and continuous noise from these people and from a source (television) which he has never even seen, so cannot picture it, one can only imagine the turmoil and confusion in that young mind.  

I ask readers and followers of this blog to pray for Baraka and think good thoughts of this little boy.  Not for any other reason than that with co-operation between Mzungus helping this child and his carers, he may eventually have as normal a life as possible. 

I wish you all a wonderful weekend ahead.

I am linking my post to Skywatch Friday here