REDEEMED PIONEER

“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139‬:‭11‬-‭12‬ ‭NIV‬ “Nana, I’m sorry that I didn’t use your favourite colour, but I don’t know what happened to my red crayon….” A heartbreaking expression of tearful sadness filled Micah’s little face before he suddenly perks up and announces “But look, you have a giant crown on your head.    You are the boss of Botswana and you are the queen of the world.    I love you so much, Nana!” The artist of this masterpiece is my adorable 5-year-old grandson.    Although, at face value, his art skills might appear distinctly unsophisticated for his age and a certain mismatch to his precocious giftedness, with this particular picture, he manages to capture detail which cannot even be contained in the highest definition of digital photography without an artificial light source.    The night

“May I please sit on your lap, Nana?”    Micah is a blazing ball of excitement, because today is his fifth birthday and he just opened two very special gifts.    The first is from his  bestest best  Daddy Daniel, two red lightsabers and the second from his Nana and OupaAssie, a set of six books promising to help him discover the Bible.    While Micah releases the footrest of the lounge chair, Nana scoots up to make space for her beloved blue-eyed-blonde boy, the one responsible for her promotion to grandmother.    On the dining room table are boxes containing a total of 60 birthday cupcakes, 40 for the  Blouklasmaatjies  at school and 20 for family and friends and Micah’s best friend,  oom  Charles, at home.    All of the  Blouklasmaatjies , cousins and a few other friends have been invited to the big birthday party at Spur this coming Saturday.    There will be an ocean-themed cake and more cupcakes. “Oh my.    He’s gonna like Star Trek….”    This was Daniel’s first message to Nana wi

DISCLAIMER : The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. SUGGESTION : This story is a follow up of THE PRICELESS VALUE OF R100, last week’s post on RedeemedPioneer.    Readers are encouraged to read that story before reading this one. I will help you clean up this mess .    Ella stepped away from the comfort of his hugging embrace, sat back down beside John and allowed Tim’s words to sink in.    Even her current trauma-infused brain registers the profound irony - that this man has been doing exactly that since the very beginning.    Other than John, he helps her clean up every mess which she shares with him AND he has not caused a single one of those messes.    She is courageous, he is compassionate and together, in transparent honesty and with respectful consideration, they have embarked on a journey to expose, treat and heal her pain.    THIS mess, however, is VERY different and the pain is significantly deeper.    Tim is well aware of this, and,

  DISCLAIMER : The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. The young boy stood, mesmerised by the musical talent of the performing artist.    The artist is a thin, unremarkable woman with multiple scars on her exposed arms and a few on her face.    She sings in perfect pitch while playing a ukelele in such a way that it draws a crowd of people who appear to be experiencing the delight of listening to a full orchestral band.    The young boy in the crowd belongs to a group of tourists from a docked cruise ship, and by the time his parents, with signs of obvious worry on their faces, join him and draw him into their protective embrace, he wriggles free, steps forward and drops a ZAR100 note into the artist’s collection hat. She noticed the money immediately, the only one of its kind among mostly first world currencies.    By the time she manages to transition to a catchy African tune, the crowd joined in with clapping and cheering, but the young boy a

  I firmly believe that deep down every person on the planet desires to be loved, unconditionally, and to belong somewhere.  I have no academic qualification in the field of psychology and/or psychiatry, I am just a simple (albeit qualified) mathematician with extensive experience in UNBELONGING and MISFITTING.    I know what it is like to be patronized, rejected, side-lined, misunderstood, overlooked, manipulated, berated, betrayed, judged, criticized, mocked, slandered, defeated, overlooked, disrespected, abused, abandoned and controlled.    I am also intimately familiar with the pain of falling through the cracks as well as the suffering it brings when the pain from the resultant cuts, bruises and fractures persists.    I know what it feels like to have my heart ripped out of my chest and then bludgeoned and butchered into a bloody pulp-mess.    I know what it feels like to have invisible limbs ripped from my body which leaves me disabled and scarred.    Paralysing pain.    Indescri

  SUGGESTION:    To those who have not read my blogpost SCREENSAVER OR SUPERHERO (3 weeks ago), I suggest you read that before reading this one. As promised three weeks ago, today I am exercising my right as a woman to swipe away all the SCREENSAVERS (and their empty noise) and dedicate my celebration to the men who are on a journey with me and who bring out the best in me. DISCLAIMER:    Other than my beloved Assie, I have had the privilege, in this particular season of my life, of embarking on a journey with the other men to whom I am dedicating this post to.    I have come to know them as my friends and I am cautiously aware of their humble desire to NOT be celebrated (or hero-worshipped) on a grand public platform.    I would like to honour that by changing CELEBRATION into THANKSGIVING.    Today I relinquish my right to be celebrated in order to give thanks to my husband and my friends.    My list is by no means exhaustive. ASSIE VAN ASWEGEN My beloved soulmate, hunky husband of m