God's Love is Manifest

He calls you unforgettable: "Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she no compassion on the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you!" (Isaiah 49:15).

God says He has always loved you and always will: "...I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness". (Jeremiah 31:3).

Khartoum Dust and Riverside Fruit Sellers

There was a thick layer of dust on everything in my bedroom

On Sunday my husband and his technician managed to get parts for the airconditioner in our bedroom (it had broken down!) and repaired it. However, when they turned it on, half of the desert blew into the bedroom, whirled around and settled on everything. I mean everything.

My least favourite household appliance: the humble vacuum cleaner!

Hubby came indoors to tell me what had happened and nonchalantly suggested I vaccum the room. He reckoned it was a "bit dusty".

Now those readers who know me well, will know that I do not like housework. In fact I have a total aversion to housework. You can read a little about this here. Don't get me wrong; I've had my share of housework in my life. Since I can remember my mum set my sister and me to doing the chores in the house. When I reached my teens, my mum worked outside the home and my sister and I took on the responsibility of running the house. When I married, it was second nature for me to "do the housework". Until eight years ago when Emily came to my door and asked me for work, I used to do all my own housework. (Here in Khartoum I have a lady who comes in twice a week, but Sunday isn't one of those days!)

Back to the problem of Khartoum dust in my bedroom. I unearthed the vacuum cleaner from behind a cupboard in the spare room and dragged it (none-too-gently!) to the bedroom. When I saw the damage, I was horrified. It was far worse than hubby had made out but I set to vacuuming the floor, the bed, the curtains. When I got to the dressing table, I suddenly thought I should photograph this. I fetched my camera but as I'd already cleaned up the worst grit and dust, the [top] photo doesn't do the situation justice.

When I'd finished my husband offered to take me to the fruit and vegetable stalls along the Nile river. He could see I needed a diversion! I'd asked him previously if we could go there, but we never seemed to take that route to or from the city. He parked the ute on the side of the busy street and cautioned me to watch the traffic as I crossed over. This is not a problem though, because women seem to have the right of way when crossing a street. I have watched them from my flat balcony: a women would step into the street, hold up a hand (almost limply) and the traffic stops and allows her to pass. On Sunday as I stepped into the street, I held up a limp hand to the oncoming traffic. I was thrilled when the driver of a Mercedes stopped and a whole line of cars stopped behind him. By now I was in the middle of the street, held up my other hand and viola! The first car came to a gentle stop (no screeching brakes, no horns blowing) and the cars behind it stopped as well.

The proud stall owner poses in front of his beautiful vegetable display

At the stalls on which the produce is beautifully displayed, I began to make my choice. The sellers always want you to take "kilos" of any one type of fruit/vegetables. The more I insist I don't need more than I ask for, the more they try to press huge quantities on me. Firstly I pointed to the potatoes and held up four fingers. The seller place four potatoes in the carry bag. Next, I pointed to the onions (they sell them in bunches: large spring onions) I held up one finger. And so I went with my order. When I was finished, I asked how much and he said something in Arabic. (He kept saying to me: "no English") Then he held his fingers and showed me what I owed him. I said, "la-la" / no-no (conveying that it is too expensive) and began to remove the potatoes. He immediately showed me to leave the potatoes in the bag and added six more. Then he picked up another bunch of onions, showed it to me and placed it in the bag. So he went until he had doubled the amount in the bag. I had to give 10/10 for public relations skills! I paid with a smile and then asked if I could take photos of him in front of his stall.

What a lovely refreshing outing after having to vacuum my bedroom.

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To everyone who commented on yesterday's announcement of our new baby grandson, thank you for your congratulations. Bless you all for the lovely comments. He is indeed a beautiful baby. (I know, I know: I'm the grandmother and I'm biaised!)

The waiting is over...

The end of January was the due date for our younger dauthter-in-law, Amanda to give birth to their firstborn. On Saturday morning I called Angus who said Amanda had been booked in for a Caesar on Monday. We, the grandparents in the Sudan, relaxed.

On Saturday night at 9.30, Angus sent me a text message: Amanda's waters had broken; he was calling from the hospital. Now we, the grandparents in the Sudan, were not so relaxed. I asked him to message me no matter what the time. An hour later he said the doctor had arrived and would perform a Caesar within another hour. All we could do was wait.

Angus (the guy wearing a sheer beanie and huge, proud smile) was with Amanda throughout

After what seemed like an eternity, the message from Angus arrived on my mobile: "Hi Grandpa and Grandma, you have a new grandson, born at 11.30pm on 30/01/2010 weighing in at 3.44kg.". What a blessing. Thank You, Jesus, doctor and staff for the safe delivery of our precious, new grandchild.

Oh, it's exhausting, this business of getting born

On Sunday evening Angus called us on a video call and we could chat "live" and see our cuddly little grandson in the flesh. Like the photos of him here, he didn't do much except yawn, open his eyes briefly and fall asleep in his mum's arms.

I look just like my beautiful mummy

Fast asleep with my toys

The newest, littlest Hedges takes a well-earned nap