Just five more minutes, all I ask is five more minutes of a life that is forever lost

While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground.

“That’s my son over there,” she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.

“He’s a fine looking boy” the man said. “That’s my daughter on the bike in the white dress.”

Then, looking at his watch, he called to his daughter. “What do you say we go, Melissa?”

Melissa pleaded, “Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes.”

The man nodded and Melissa continued to ride her bike to her heart’s content. Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his daughter. “Time to go now?”

Again Melissa pleaded, “Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes.”

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Life and how we respond to it is part of God's unique plan for our lives

An  FB friend, Gail Hansmeyer, shared the following, poignant ideas:

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"I was driving to an important appointment, but had a physio appointment that went on till after 08h00. Knowing it would take two hours to get to my next appointment at 10h00, I prayed that God would open the road ahead and give me favour to get there on time. The road I had to use had one lane in each direction, which opened up to two lanes at times. Heavy vehicles reduced traffic to a crawl, but every time I came up behind a truck the road split into two. I did not even have to slow down, and I arrived at my destination on time. It was just like the Red Sea crossing miracle!"

"My colleague had to do the same trip on the same road a few days later. She prayed the same prayer I had prayed, sayng, "Lord you did for Gail; please do so for me too. Unfortunately, her experience was quite different. Every time she got behind a truck, the road was in the single-lane phase, offering no double-lane relief. Needless to say she was upset - it seemed so unfair!"

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Costly, priceless, precious beyond measure ... is the church of the Living God

In a previous post I described a picture of a rich man's son. What to all others was valueless, because it was the amateur workmanship of a friend, was priceless to the father. So priceless was the son, that the gardener who successfully bid for the auctioned picture, secured the rich man's vast estate. In a nutshell, the rich man's will had said, "whoever takes the son, gets everything else."

My friend Jerry Hobbs, triggered a deeper set of thoughts about this illustration, when he argued that to many believers, value or pricelessness relates to the financial cost of the Christian institution, its buildings and other assets. No I am not having a go at Catholicism, because materialism is widespread in Christendom. It blurs all perspective for unbelievers, but many believers have been equally beguiled by its power.

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The simple sketch of a priceless life, became the priceless heirloom of a simple soul

My friend Arnold de Wet, a gifted musician, launched his latest CD last night. It was a great moment, but one of the highlights for me was the poignant story that Arnold shared.

He told of a very wealthy art collector, who first lost his wife and then subsequently lost his only son to war. As he tried to reassemble his broken world, he received a visitor. Before him stood a young man who had known the rich man's son and had also done a pencilled sketch of the boy before he died. He showed the drawing to the father, who saw beyond the amateur drawing to the heart behind it. It moved him enough to take the picture and frame it as a personal and moving tribute to his beloved son.

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A walk on the blind side

Sandra Bullock gave her career a major fillip in her role as Lee Ann Tuohy, the star role of the movie, "The Blind Side". I was never quite able to enjoy Ms Bullock, maybe because her career was spoilt by earlier silly roles. But she really does put that right in this great movie.

Her co-star, Quinton Aaron, plays the role of Michael Oher, a giant black boy who is given an outside chance in an upmarket Christian School. But he has no chance really, not as long as his core needs are left unresolved. Those needs include having no place to live, no bed to lie on, no regular supply of food, no ability to read or learn, no surname, no identity and a sadly diminished sense of self.

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So how does your garden grow?

Come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses....

My brother sent these thoughts, just after I published a post about apple trees and what makes them bear fruit. It is timeous and relevant.

A garden needs thyme: Thyme for each other, thyme for family and thyme for friends

Plant three rows of peas: peas of mind, peas of heart and peas of soul

Add four rows of squash: Squash gossip, squash indifference, squash grumbling and squash selfishness

Plant some lettuce: Lettuce be faithful, lettuce be kind, lettuce be patient, lettuce really love one another

No garden can be wthout turnips: Turnip for meetings, turnip for service and turnip to help one another

Water with patience, cultivate with love. There will be much fruit because you will reap what you sow.

Source: Chris Missing

To the victor, the victory spoils

It weighs almost 7kg (13.6lb), is made of 18 carat, hollowed gold and is 26.5 centimeters (14.4 inches) tall. Although its real value is probably less than $100,000 its intrinsic value far exceeds that. It may be regarded as priceless.

The former Jules Rimet trophy was stolen in 1983 and never recovered, although it had already passed into the perpetual possession of Brazil after they won the world cup three times. In 1997, a Jules Rimet trophy was auctioned and bought by FIFA for about $250,000, almost ten times the reserve price, but it was later found to be a replica of the original, which remains lost.

In 2038 it may be due for replacement when all the available name plates provided on the current trophy will have been used up.

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Its more than life and death

With four more matches to play, the world cup is all but over. Nations came and went. Some just came to play, some came for much more. Someone once said of cricket, “It’s not a matter of life and death, its more than that”. The same could be said of some of the teams and nations represented in this competition.

The Dutch team somehow managed to assemble an entourage of 100,000 people who joined their cavalcade through the streets of Cape Town. The Argentineans played their drums. The South Africans trumpeted their Vuvuzelas. Others sported their national colors on their faces and in their waved banners.

The picture of a Mohican warrior supporting his own team, captures the spirit of the occasion well enough. Not far below the smile, joy and innocence of the moment is a warrior mentality. Maybe the advancement of the human race has tamed much of that feistiness that set nation against nation and kingdom against kingdom in past eras.

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Your treasure is where your heart is

I posed a question to a group of learners today - if money was no consideration, would they choose a small, reliable car over a jewel encrusted, precious watch. After some debate they agreed that the car probably would then have to take priority, given its supassing utility value.

A bushman was taken into a big city and shown all the marvels of the modern world, but before returning to his arid wild place they asked him, "of all the things you have seen, what would you most like to take home with you?"

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Times and seasons

The beach vendor caught in a news lens, somewhat tells his own story. With only 4 games remaining in the FIFA world cup, the bonanza for vendors is fading, as is this season of football. Soon life for all will plod along again as we return to the grind of real life.

As I write, the sun is lighting the sky and the tinging the heavens with hope for a new day. However, the inexorable course of the sun across our skies dictates that for me to have a sunrise, others must be heading towards a sunset or some other phase in their life cycles.

The sunrise is just a subset of the greater dawns that herald the start of seasons. We all have our seasons. It starts with our birth: that most wonderful of all moments when life starts. Beyond that we face other seasons, some exciting, some not so. The start of school is a big milestone for many children, but later they enter the season of puberty or high school or college or marriage or parenting.

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Independence day

In 1776, the Second Continental Congress, chaired by Thomas Jefferson, issued the declaration of independence, by which the US was formally separated from Great Britain. The exact date is disputed, but not the fact. The day earlier, John Adams claimed the day as the most memorable epoch in US history.

The original document is now archived in the Smithsonian Institute, but it is sealed from exposure to light and air, so precious is the document to the people of America. Indeed, the birthing of that nation has resulted in arguably the most patriotic culture of earth. On this day, all Americans hold their heads high and strut their stuff in proud display of their priceless independence. Its a time of festivities, family meals and fireworks.

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Its almost over ... scarcely before it began

There is such sweet innocence in a child’s face. They are like a blank page, an unpainted canvas – pregnant with possibility and potential. In the hands of an artist, each canvas will be transformed to become a thing of unique beauty and wonder.

As life progresses that canvas then tells its own story – a weather-beaten, wrinkled and tired face speaks of years of sorrow or ill-living, but for every one of those faces I have seen many other older faces that reflect contentment, peace, fulfillment and dignity.

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The sound of trumpets

The FIFA world cup has had its highs - the opening ceremony, the arrival of teams, the national spirit of a land that has opened its heart to all, the celebrations and the general atmosphere of the occasion. The lowest moments have been where teams have been forced to leave the stage and head back home. It is already almost over, yet has scarcely begun. Oh and of course every team has criticised the Jabulani ball, which loves to curve and do its own thing at altitude, thanks to its superb aero-efficiency.

Then of course, there is that unbelievably annoying trumpet that has absolutely drowned out all noise at matches, the motorious vuvuzela. It plays a monotonous B-flat at such volumes that it is damaging to one's health. I have mentioned before that the name is drawn from its "Vu-Vu" sound.

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Thanksgiving - an appropriate prayer

Dear GOD:

I want to thank You for what you have already done.

I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards.

I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better.

I'm not going to wait until people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me.

I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears.
I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves.
I am not going to wait until the children are asleep and the house is quiet.
I am not going to wait until I get promoted at work or until I get the job.
I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief.
I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed.
I am thanking you right now. I am thanking you because I am alive. I am thanking you because I made it through the days of difficulties. I am thanking you because I have walked around the obstacles.
I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do more and do better.

I'm thanking you because FATHER, YOU haven't given up on me.

Source: unknown

Have ball will play

There was a time, not so long ago, when youngsters could derive fun from the simplest of things. Washington found pleasure in unseating his squatting father and the great Sir Donald Bradman learnt to bat using a golf ball, which so attuned his eye that by the time he retired from world cricket he had established an unassailable record of 99.9 runs for every wicket he conceded. Newton also turned the simple pleasure of an apple into an idea, to which Einstein added, when an idea simply presents itself, then God speaks.

All over the world poor kids like the one in the picture, derive profound joy from flat balls, broken toys and unstringed instruments. My own boys have reshaped sticks, pipes, tubes, tables and whatever else they could lay their hands on, including the house and my face, to fulfill their insatiable quest for adventure, intrigue and fun. I once took them fishing along a river, with very basic equipment - though we caught nought, they had inexpressible fun just doing it.

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Tilting the odds

Once again I lay my ignorance of the game of football on the line. Officianados could bore you to tears with technical debate abut the nuances of what is called "the beautiful game" and I have no truck with that. I respect its place in our culture and dare not ignore the sheer magnitude of the game. 

However, as an aloof observer I can't help feeling that scoring is a lottery. A team visits its opposition goal area and takes a pot shot or two, with a generally low ratio of success, then they all go and camp on the other side of the field to allow the opposition their chance to have a go. That is over-simplifying the issues a bit, but it certainly looks that way. Scoring is a lottery, a pitching of odds that tilt in the favor of the attacking team under very trying circumstances.

The trick is to minimise the odds of the opposition scoring, through solid defence and effective goal keeping. At the same time, knowing that attack is the best form of defence, a team must tilt the odds of scoring in its own favor, by retaining possession of the ball, spending more time in the goal area, whilst positioning players as favorably as possible and ensuring as many shots on goal as possible. Other aspects that tilt the odds are fitness, agility, knowledge of the rules, avoidance of penalties and referee management.

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Simple joys

It passes all understanding how anyone could chase after a round ball for 90 minutes, produce no score or maybe a draw and occasionally a result, whilst really just going around in circles in a recurring lottery that occasionally yields a goal. It is especially ludicrous when one could be doing so much more with what was once a pig's bladder. Simply put, Soccer costs the average spectator about $150 per point, whereas rugby costs about $5 per point, so which is really delivering the greater spectator value?

The fact is that half the world could care less and the adjacent Netherlands world cup supporter, who was caught in a news camera, certainly cares less. Soccer is their game or football as they prefer to call it, even if that is actually a generic name for many sports.

So why is it so popular? Have you ever taken a ball to an unblooded two year old black boy. His response is written in his genes. He knows instinctively what to do with it and will not lose much time in setting up goals or coopting a few friends.

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Reversing the lost generation

I can Change the world and I refuse to believe I am part of a lost generation.

I realize this may be a shock but

"Happiness comes from within"

Is a lie, as is

"Money will make me happy"

So in 30 years from now I will tell my children

They are not the most important things in my life

My employer will know that

I have my priorities strait because

Work

Is more important than

Family

Once upon a time

Families stayed together

but this will not be true in my era

This is a quick fix society

Experts tell me

30 years from now I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of divorce

I do not concede that

I will be in a country of my own making

In the future

Environmental destruction will be the norm

.

No longer will it be said

My peers and I care about the truth

It will be evident that

My generation is apathetic and lethargic

It is foolish to resume that

There is Hope

And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it “

Read this backwards after reading it forward.

Source: unknown; image: http://www.sherricarterart.com/

Peace in the storm

"It takes much building and rebuilding to establish a kingdom", said my youngest son. I had just lost months and months of work on my blog site, all accidently overritten in a moment of madness. My initial reaction was a mixture of sadness and anger. Even the postings had gone and that really saddened me, for each post represented a priceless moment of reflection. It was also just another brick in the wall, another setback amongst so many in a long journey with God.

I did not understand Daniel's counsel at first, but then my 12 year old added, "Dad, Israel was given to the Jews, yet it rose and fell, sometimes to the level of a smouldering ruin. It was attacked again and again and again, especially Jerusalem. But they carried on building it anyway."

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Fallen

One of my favorite singers is Sarah McClachlin, who must have one of the purest voices I have heard. She sings a haunting ballad, called Fallen, which has such powerful lyrics. For those in great crisis, she sings words of hope ....

Heaven bent to take my hand - and lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer - To a long and painful fight

She also reflects such honesty in her crisis ...

Truth be told I've tried my best - but somewhere along the way ...
I got caught up in all there was to offer - and the cost was so much more than I could bear

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