The light of the candle burns ever so brightly.

Candles, I like them for a number of reasons. What's not to like?

I have a fresh odor candle in the WC, I have 3 candles on the table in beautiful crystal holders. I have candles outside on the deck on a wee shelf for a cosy feeling while sitting outside. I have special candles for different seasons. Most important though, I have blessed candles I use in times of need and joy!

During my childhood I can't even begin to count the number of candles that were spent after being lit due to a stressful event. When we heard about someone in need, whether ill, in dire straights or hoping for a job, out would come the matches and the flame would light up the wall behind it. Didn't matter what time of day it was. Seeing the flame, one would immediately have the person in mind for who the candle had been lit. Positive thoughts and prayers therefor were constantly zapped to the needy.

My mum was a fervent believer that that flame would somehow be part of the solution. That the prayerful messages to the Heavens would be loud and clear. Not so much her 'wish' be granted, but that the person needing strength, courage, hope or energy would get whatever they needed. A job, good health, a child, a house. For the thankful moments the candle was also lit. The good results of an exam, the desired wish, car, home, child, job etc.

And I've always done the same. It brings comfort - also to me! Makes me feel that I am contributing in some way to the need that has arisen or reminding me that thankfulness is an important facet of and in our existence.

For the past few weeks my special candle has been doing overtime. For a number of people who are listed in my 'special people in my life book'. All of them ill. Some of them terminal, others hopeful for recovery in the not too distant a future. I'm praying their prayers will be answered. The lighting of the candle is a tangible and practical way I can be involved. Funny thing is, that the person of family thereof is comforted by just that gesture of mine! So maybe lighting a candle isn't such an empty action after all.

I looked at my candle today, felt humbled and concerned, and wondered, 'How any people to one candle?'

Mary, the mother of Jesus, the HUMAN side of her (6)

A sword shall pierce your heart.

Did Mary's awareness of her son's divinity and her knowledge of the prophecies make it any easier to bear the pain of his suffering and death? I think not. She saw him arrested, tried, imprisoned and sentenced to death as a criminal.

A sword shall pierce your heart.

She walked near him as he carried the cross to the place of execution. When  his followers and friends became afraid of the authorities they deserted him, his now aging other did not forsake him. Mary stayed with her child throughout the agonising hours of his dying and then took his lifeless body into her arms. Mary must be with women who suffer this the heaviest of burdens, the death of a child and she must ask God to relieve their pain.

A sword shall pierce your heart

I am personally touched by this statement. It was delivered to Mary right at conception- and must have been on her mind - not so much all the time - but there lingering and popping up at intervals of unrest and events that troubled or confused her.

Many mothers, myself included can identify with Mary here. Mother's whose children have for some reason or other chosen an path that leads to grief and unhappiness. I think here of parents of children who have diverted off the right track and have lost their way - taking drugs to alleviate their pain, drinking, surrounding themselves with people who 'take them down'. They are themselves lost souls having strayed from the path of life leading to God and goodness. They too need a Mary, someone who doesn't abandon them or put their plight in the 'too hard basket'. Understanding and guidance, not judgement or neglect.

It takes a special love. Courage, determination, love - a special love! Mary love. She had this love. I too pray that in moments when that sword pierces my heart ( which it occasionally does) that I have the strength, wisdom and courage to carry my burden, knowing God is there with me and those I love in times of trial.

The encounter - part V

Right at the start I explained that the past week had made such an impression and was so intense that I wanted to share all that transpired. I do hope you aren't bored and will forgive my somewhat longer than usual passages.

My most moving moment came that Wednesday evening. Now I had experienced my share of downs in my life ( who hasn't) but this one will go into my memory books as 'never to be forgotten'.  God had never felt so far away- so distant, and I had never felt so abandoned and alone.

Re-settled (again) on my couch I cried ( literally)  out loud to God. " A whole week is slipping by, all that you wrapped in those days to be gone and lost forever. I am sure that wasn't Your intention. I am convinced You had plans for me- I know I had plans Lord. Tasks to perform. How come I get the feeling You are preoccupied, not listening or at least not hearing my cry for help. Where are You? What am I doing wrong?

When I left New Zealand to return home to the Netherlands I left nearly everything behind except for a few personal belongings. In the small crate was one piece of furniture. My dad's old comfy chair. I 'inherited' the chair from him kinda official like, with a note and all, stating this 'handover' which made the gift even more precious. When I am down, or happy, or lonely, or filled with energy I sit in that chair and feel my dad's arms around me. It is a very special feeling. I close my eyes and dad is right there with me. This chair is upstairs in the office- and due to my state of mind and unwellness- out of reach. The climb just too steep, the energy not present to attempt to go and sit in my comfort chair.

The clock showed 23:00- almost another day gone, wasted. My husband slept, not surprisingly he was also becoming more unsettled due to my situation. My emotions and despair were penetrating the whole atmosphere of our home. Here I sat, on the couch, hands in my lap, shoulders almost on the floor- being as miserable as I could be.

Worn out with love- time for a recover job

My thoughts turned to my chair, I missed that ' arms around me feeling' I so desperately needed. I wanted to surrender, my energy level at an all time low. I fought and felt I had lost. Deep in my thoughts I suddenly felt the strength of arms around me, physically present and holding me. My father's arms- no, my Father's arms. Yes, as real as if they really wrapped themselves around me- I was being held up, comforted in my misery. Internal calm descended upon me and I reveled in this emotion, I sat as still as a mouse not wanting to break the spell. Not wanting to twitch a muscle in case I broke this moment of complete serenity. I sat, I enjoyed, I felt supported, comforted, understood, heard. All the thoughts and anxiousness I had experienced these past few days melted away into nothingness. Not a whisper, even a prayer passed my lips- I sat oh so very still....

His presence filled the room, He had come to be with me, to hold and comfort me, just me. I knew He was here, for me.

When I became aware of my surroundings again, awakening as if out of a dream- which it wasn't, I saw that 1 + 1/2 hours had passed. No I wasn't pain free, I did still feel nauseated and unwell, but different. I wanted to sing, dance, jump up and down. A joy filled my body- the room appeared filled with the brightest sunshine yet is was night and I had been sitting in a darkened room.

I crept downstairs, I wanted to sleep- at least I thought that was the best thing to do- so as to be fresh in the morning. But sleep didn't want me and after some time..... I returned upstairs. After making a cup of tea and buttering a cracker I re-captured the emotions and happenings of the previous hours. How absolutely awesome had this encounter been with my God. Right here in this room, on this couch after all my cries of woe, my prayers of despair. All those 'issues' I so struggled with had become mere 'things' to deal with. I felt unburdened and light.

Due to my pondering I hadn't heard the door open, or the footsteps on the stairs. All of a sudden  my husband appeared as if out of nowhere. He told me he had woken earlier and felt unsettled- so he came and joined me, poured himself a cup of tea also. Then he sat down opposite me and said " I have been doing a lot of thinking and I want to talk to you. Maybe this is the perfect time to do just that- would you come and sit by me so we can talk?"

Friendship

Almost 12 years ago I returned home to the Netherlands. Not that NZ wasn't a home for me all the years I was privileged to live there, but it did feel different. That difference was quite plain once I resettled myself and joined the daily humdrum and routines of daily life. Two sorts of relationships with two different countries. Yet the same. A strange experience I can tell you. Still baffles me when I think about it.

Last Saturday was one of those moments that emotion was hugely present whilst I attended a book presentation in Leeuwarden, my dad's place of birth and where I spent my adolencent years and young adulthood.

With locals, on holiday from NZ frisians and others we sang the NZ anthem in both Maori and dutch. Tears welled up, goodebumps on my arms my emotions bubbled up to the surface. I felt a strong bond with these people it felt like family.

Last night I watched the soccer match between the Netherlands and Germany. The national anthem was played for both teams. I sang the National anthem whilst sitting on the couch.... Goosebumps again. A strong feeling of belonging like which I experienced the Saturday before.



You could say that I am privileged to have two homelands. And in some ways it is. It is also a heavy burden. My children have a different home than I do. They are welcome here...but NZ is their home. Reece has in some ways, my experience. His home is NZ but also due to the nature of his realtionship, birthplace of Ros, Kirk and Max is Australia his home now... And here will also be home for him should he ever want and be able to visit.

With the birth of Indi, second daughter of Steve and Kylie this distance, this fenomena of " home" is once again food for lots of thought. I know I have a strong sense of belonging here... But that brings with it a strong sense of yearning. Not of regret, but a feeling of whishfulness. Of separtedness, of sadness and the knowledge that " hopping accross that great ditch" not always realisable is...certainly not in the situation at present.

In my heart and in my thoughts I am close to my children and grandchildren. They are part of my day. Although the contact is regular... And I am " kept in the loop" so to speak, I cannot ever get too much requests for skype, for messages, for txts on my phone. They keep me connected and close. They are my life line. Without the contact I would certainly feel allienated. Cut off from what feeds me- the love I have for my children.

Sometimes when I start writing I have no idea what it will be about, sometimes I have a plan. Tonight I let my fingers do the walking- no plan!