So I was retrenched in December 2011. It was a shocker, yes. It’s one of those things you never see coming, and then *BAM*, it hits you square in the face. I’ve had a little difficulty finding something temporary to bring in some cash while I sit and wait here in South Africa for my documents from Home Affairs (the docs that will allow me to apply for my German Visa!) Once people realise I’m not here to stay, they’re not interested – and those who do offer me anything, offer way too little – not enough to even cover my petrol costs.
This whole situation was making me a little edgy and I fell into the trap of lifting my hands up in anger, shouting…”WHY Lord?!” (I still do that sometimes…)
I decided about a week ago however that I’d just make good use of my time and volunteer at my church. It’s a decision I’ve not regretted and though I still sometimes worry a little about my financial provision for the next few months, I’m happy to be rooted in a place that makes me feel secure, and feeds me spiritually. My days are filled doing all sorts of things – from setting out thousands of communion cups, to inputting information on the church database – whilst at the same time, enjoying Hillsong’s well-known worship songs as they waft gently from the speakers, filling the entire building with magical melodies. I’m also meeting wonderful people, and there’s just nothing that could be better than that!
This morning, whilst clasping a cup of hot coffee in my hands and driving through the beautiful suburb I live in, I heard something on the radio which grabbed my heart, so I thought I’d share it:
“Lifes Lessons” by Paul M. Connors, an Inmate in Texas
And leave the past behind,
That much I had counted sorrow
But proves that God is kind;
That many a flower I had longed for
Had hidden a thorn of pain,
And many a rugged bypath
Led to fields of ripened grain.
They can not banish the sun;
And the earth shines out the brighter
When the weary rain is done.
We must stand in the deepest shadow
To see the clearest light;
And often through wrong’s own darkness
Comes the very strength of light.
After a wearisome day,
When the heavy burden of labor
Has borne from our hearts away;
And those who have never known sorrow
Can not know the infinite peace
That falls on the troubled spirit
When it sees at last release.
If we would value the spring;
And the woods must be cold and silent
Before the robins sing.
The flowers must be buried in darkness
Before they can bud and bloom,
And the sweetest, warmest sunshine
Comes after the storm and gloom.