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Happy Go Stuckey

Tethering Grace & Togetherness

Finding Perspective in a South African Garden.

February 22, 2017 by HappyGoStuckey 3 Comments

We met them just miles from a turquoise sea, but everything was the same shade of muted brown here. A million tiny houses surrounded by grass-less yards and high stone walls; the only ocean we see is one of sand. Still, a smile makes its way to her eyes as she leads us behind the house and points one finger at her garden.

It’s takes up the few feet of outdoor space they call their own and we gasp to see it there. It’s beautiful and surprising, because to us– nothing else seems to grow here except trepidation.

Still, here in the middle of it all, there is headstrong green sprigging up from black dirt. Who knows where that rich soil even came from? Maybe they scrimped and saved for it. Maybe it was given as a gift. But it’s here and it’s dark, holding fast to tender roots. They’ve created an irrigation system out of emptied two-liters. Fanta and Coke- Light bottles water the green and block the fiery wind.

Lettuce, green peppers, tomatoes, and something else I don’t recognize. They’re all springing up amidst the dare that they won’t flourish.

It’s just that way here.

Culture has pushed them out beyond the boundaries. Just far enough from the ocean and its compassionate breeze. One of them tells me, “I was born here. I will die here. I’ll never leave because this is all there is.”

I might struggle to find the beauty in a dry and dusty land; a place where no one can go out after dark, where the gates are all iron and the evil often still seeps in. I strain to truly see and my eyes ache from the hardness of that life– so different from my own. So unlike my world of crisp sheets and safety and a really good immune system. Everything that comes easily for me is harder won for them.

Nevertheless the beauty is here. Once I know what I’m looking for, I see it more clearly. It is in their community. In the way they care for one another and mother together. It is their kinship that cloaks those truly related and those thrown together in a fight to thrive.

It is in their stubbornness to plant and water and see growth springing up amidst recalcitrant concrete. It is in a life that is hard but lovely in the same guttural sigh.

It is the secret delight of noticing God dot the landscape of their community with His people– strengthening them to share.

It is the reflection of hope in the eyes of one who knows the Bringer of the rains. And they celebrate the drizzle as though it were a deluge. It’s barely enough for rain boots, yet they can’t stop talking about the sprinkles of His favor falling on their cheeks.

It is here that I find my perspective as I see theirs. Gratefulness doesn’t even begin to plumb the depths of what I’m feeling as I look into countless pairs of brown eyes. I listen to their stories of hurt and heartache and loss and aloneness, and it’s all an incredible weight to hold in my soft american hands.

But we must try anyway.

We must listen twice as much as we struggle to bring anything helpful. Because all we have is hope to give. We are not the rescuers, we are the fellow rescued. And that makes a big difference, friends.

We cannot always answer why their lives are so much harder than our own. But we can tell them just how in the very image of God they have been made. We can touch them with our bare hands and share the mysteries of His love. We can extend the gospel with eyes that reflect of knowing that same luminous hope within our needy souls.

We can go and help and bless and give– and we should. We absolutely should. But at the end of the day, at the end of the trip, when we sit in an airport terminal with sore feet and weary hearts, we need the comfort that comes from knowing  that God was already there, long before we came. He was there before we felt that pull, and He will be there once we’ve gone.

Until we go again.

Italian Chopped Salad (and my trusted salad tips.)
On Waiting Well (and a recipe for Multi-Grain Sunflower Bread.)

Comments

  1. Mary Anne Fellows says

    February 24, 2017 at 11:42 am

    I loved your post today and shared it with friends of mine, who live in S. Africa. In fact, I do quite a lot of charity work with them (knit a square). We crochet or knit items, for the disadvantaged and orphaned children, and it has been such a blessing to me, to be part of this program. I’ve literally fallen in love with these children, who smile and laugh, in the most desperate situations! I would love to go on a mission trip there some day, but due to back issues I wouldn’t be able to handle the long flight (at this time).
    Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful story….your writing is magical!
    Wishing you blessings!
    Mary Anne Fellows

    Reply
    • HappyGoStuckey says

      February 25, 2017 at 4:30 pm

      Hi Mary Anne!
      I’m so glad you stopped by and that you shared with me your own involvement with S.A. Knit a Square sounds like a neat venture!
      There are so many opportunities to serve in a country like South Africa– we were met with such unity and kinship there!
      Thank you again for your kind words– you are welcome here any time!
      –Cynthia

      Reply
  2. Susan Arico says

    March 3, 2017 at 1:47 pm

    My family lived in South Africa for two years, and my older sister (who was born there) spent a year teaching in a rural school up north after she finished college. I met her there and we traveled for months in southern Africa – spending four weeks in South Africa. Privilege of privilege. One of the most glorious countries I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter. And also a country of dissonance, one that at times left me feeling whiplashed and confused.
    I love what you wrote here.

    Reply

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Surely he has borne our griefs
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 yet we esteemed him stricken,
 smitten by God, and afflicted. 
 
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When all is well, we often forget to pay attention When all is well, we often forget to pay attention.

We forget to look for daily provisions and mercies as we do when they are life and water to us.

It is not sunny optimism, but hope-filled obstinacy that pushes us to count our gifts instead of our trials.

To know that when the season is hard, and awkward, and everything seems backwards— we are not forgotten.

You may well know, it’s not an easy task. It’s hard work. Like those last few reps of lifting weights— when your muscles burn and you need to quit. What does the coach always say? “Don’t stop. These are the ones that count.”

Perhaps we think of gratefulness like this— It’s still important when we’re sitting with so much grace around us that we hardly remember our thanks.

But when it’s hard?
When it hurts?
When we cannot possibly see the light at the end of this particular tunnel— ✨there✨ is where we make the list of all we know to be true.

That is the place where it counts.
Where we squint if we must, to see what God is doing for us and in us— and definitely in spite of us.

I don’t know about you, but I’ll just be over here filling pages with provision I never want to forget. #solideogloria
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✨Whipped Coffee✨ 
2 TBS. instant espresso
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Whip/ Beat the espresso, syrup, and water with an electric beater, immersion blender, or hand-held milk frother until frothy and light in color. Scoop over the milk and ice and enjoy!
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