An Almost Perfect 10

Ten years ago today, I became a mother. It sounds like a cause for celebration - I mean: it is, but it also isn’t. Not today, anyway. After all, how do you really celebrate something without the guest of honour actually being present?

When Zac was born, I wasn’t a young mom - I was 29 that year, and probably thought I knew a bit. I didn’t. I had no clue about all that life had in store for us. And perhaps that wasn’t the worst thing, because I’m not sure I would have volunteered to undertake this particular journey had I known all the ways in which it would stretch, scare, and surprise me. For sure, I never pictured a life where my son, by his 10th birthday, had already left the nest.

Like many others have mentioned to me lately, I often need reminding that Zac is only 10. Sure, he has grown and matured significantly since the start of the year, but then there have also been signs right from the start. He’s always been a little more independent, a little wiser than his years, holding us a little further away, with a slightly looser grip. And it’s always been a double-edged sword for us: such admiration for the young man developing before us, and such reluctance to have to let him go so soon.

It has been an incredible first decade, and while I don’t know what to expect of the next, here’s what I do know: Zac James, you are my boy. No matter where in the world you ever are, you are always with me: pumping through my veins, occupying my thoughts, whispered in my prayers, swelling up my heart. I thank God for your life, and His calling on it, and pray that He will continue to guide, equip and protect you as His plans for you unfold. Continue to trust Him; He won’t let you go.

Happy birthday Cooks. I am so proud of you, and I can’t wait for you to come home so that I can hold you close and take you all in. I love you!

Sam: SE7EN

 Turning seven is a kind of coming of age. In most educational systems, it’s at this point that children enter “big school” for the first time. It’s also a developmental stage in which the first of two major growth spurt usually occurs. I guess it should be unsurprising then that there is a lot of growth that is visible, and Sam, with you, it is no different. Over the past three months, I have become increasingly aware of this “big boy” that I have. 

Despite you being on holiday, this week has been chaotic for the rest of us, and in the busyness of what we have had to do, you’d be forgiven for wanting more of the attention. But that’s not your way. Instead, in typical Sam fashion, you planned your birthday wish list around everything else so that everyone could be involved. You postponed your class celebration from the last day of last term to the first day of next term so that no one missed out, you delayed your birthday dinner by a day so that you could have your brother present, and you invited your friends around to play soccer so that you could spend time with them without the pressure of a party.  All these things simply epitomise who you are: empathetic, intentional, kind, generous, funny, and full of love. 

I listen to your conversations, your reasoning, your sense of humour, and I love the big boy you are growing into. You surprise us as you reveal more of who you are - one tantalising taste at a time. Every time I think you couldn’t get any better, you show me how you can. My heart melts into a mess at the mere mention of you, and your smile seizes me. 

You have the heart of Jesus, my boy. And while because of it you are bound to hurt with and for people, you will also love the world a way that will change it. Hold fast to Him as He guides you. Be brave. Stay strong. We love you more than our hearts can handle. Happy birthday!

So, So Loved

 As we get closer to being reunited with Zac - regardless of the uncertainty and inevitable goodbye it brings with it - I am struck by a a deep sense of love. It's funny how, when you miss someone, you remember only the good things about them. Right now, Zac is perfect in my mind's eye, and my heart is full, waiting to burst out all over him. But it's not just that.

As I write, a colleague of mine from Cape Town finds herself in the The Berg with her family. She'll be going to the DBCS concerts today, then taking Zac to dinner, and afterwards she'll be bringing back Zac's big cricket bag that can't fit into his luggage allocation, so that he can play cricket at home next week. My colleague has probably not spent more than 10 minutes in conversation with Zac - in total - but she has decided to love on him, for us, today.

Incredibly, this is no an isolated incident. The last 10 weeks have been full of similar acts of kindness. Zac's dorm leader baked him brownies when he found out we wouldn't be attending the parents' weekend. And when we weren't at the tie ceremony, the Head Master had Zac celebrate with him and his family. Other boys' parents have sent Zac tuck, given him warm comfort hugs, let him call and send pics and videos from their phones, invited him to picnics and parties, and basically adopted him into their families. 

Zac may be far from home, but he is not far from Love. And by virtue of that fact, neither are we.

He is jealous for me

Love's like a hurricane, and I am a tree

Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy

When all of a sudden

I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory

And I realize just how beautiful you are and how great your affections are for me

And oh

How He loves us oh

Oh how He loves us

how He loves us oh

We are His portion and He is our prize

Drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes

If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking (ha ha)

So heaven meets earth like a unforeseen kiss

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest

I don't have time to maintain these regrets

when I think about the way

Yeah He loves us

Oh how He loves us

Oh how He loves

Let it go deep go deep go deep

Oh, How He Loves Us - Jesus Culture

The Seven Week Itch

 I’m sure you’re all familiar with the 'Seven Year Itch' (the belief that after 7 years, the level of happiness in a marriage or longterm relationship begins to decline). Well, let me introduce you to the 'Seven Week Itch'. It’s probably coincidental, still, I’m going with it because, suddenly, the honeymoon phase of being a boarder’s parent is coming to an end, and I really miss Zac.

It’s not that I wasn’t missing him before. I guess it just hadn’t been this long. Perhaps there is a length of time during which dealing with longing is manageable. It would certainly make sense then, that the school grants the boys midterm long weekend each term. That was last weekend, and most of the boys were reunited with their families. Zac did not come home, but he did enjoy a weekend in Gauteng with my mom who met him there, and by all accounts, his time with his Yaya was a treat from start to finish. 

Also, there has been nothing but good news coming from the ‘Berg. Good reports are coming from Zac’s teachers and house parents. He was even Boarder of the Month in his first month. Good reports have been coming from Zac too. He is loving class and life on campus, and he has been eagerly doing one test after the other in his bid to make concert choir status. He genuinely never sounds homesick, and doesn’t even call every day. In fact, I have been mentally preparing for the fact that when he comes home for the holidays, the young man we welcome back may be a far cry from the boy who left. 

Then yesterday two significant things happened: I went grocery shopping, and Zac called.

Both of these things, in insolation, would be irrelevant, however, their collusion impacted me. Usually, I do grocery shopping with Zac - just him and me. He's very helpful and it's a very efficient process. This was not the first time I’ve gone without him since he left, but this grocery trip was particularly painful. Andel, who is juggling multiple crises at work, was on the phone all the time, and the kids, who needed to be caged in an additional trolley, were not being cooperative at all. I almost left my both trolleys in the shop to go home. And then Zac called - on a Saturday afternoon, while we were in the shop - frantically asking us about the conflict in the Ukraine, and a bombing that had taken place in Pietermaritzburg. 

You see, no matter how many grown up things Zac is doing, or how well he’s adapting to this new level of independence, he is still a nine year old boy, and nine year old boys cannot process the injustice and terror and pain around us - heck, most days, I battle to process it. I love that Zac chose to call us, to find truth from a source he could trust, and be directed to Comfort and Peace that we share. Still, I really just wanted to grab him through the phone, put him on my lap, and hold him until he felt safe. 

The seven weeks that have passed since we last saw Zac are starting to feel like a lifetime, and there are another four to go still. God be with him, and us. 

Thirteen Words

They warned us about the second week. How it would be harder. How the excitement and novelty of everything would begin to wear off, and reality begin to set in. We were waiting for a wobble - that didn’t come. Not from Zac, anyway. It seems he didn’t get that second week memo. In fact, if anything, he has become more independent. Even this week’s email was only a single sentence of, “Hope you’re having a good day,” followed by another so closely thereafter that I couldn’t even send my reply off in time that read “It’s going well. Need to go. Bye!"

Still we are navigating the space between getting on with things, and holding onto things. We are settling into a new normal at home, grateful to be doing better than we imagined, but still acutely aware that we - or Zac - could feel differently at any time. I realise that, more and more, we will start to see the gap Zac’s absence leaves - like in church today when he wasn’t there singing. This week was hard for reasons far removed from Zac, but I missed him more. And I missed him most when, in an anxiety-induced tirade brought on by too many work demands and too little sleep, he was not there to come to me with a quiet hug and say, “it’s ok, Mom”.

It is both exciting and excruciating to consider my boy already becoming a young man. If you can break habits and form lifestyles in 21 days, how much more can a child change? I guess we’ll find out on the weekend - assuming of course that he can muster more than thirteen words. 

One Week

It's been a week since we said goodbye to Zac.

It was raining and moody last Sunday - quite uncharacteristically so, even for KZN - and it was kind of fitting. I’m awkward with goodbyes - unnecessarily stoic and appropriate. Andel is more open and spontaneous. Zac was unmoved - in a good way. I don’t think I could adequately explain or describe how, the one day Zac was this nine-year old boy from Cape Town, barefoot in shorts and little else, full of energy from being cramped up in a car for two days, and acting like a literal monkey. And then the next day he was the picture of maturity and independence, dressed in his Number Ones. A proper Drakie.

 The week since has been long and short at the same time. There’ve been a couple times in our life together that Andel and I have made the mistake of working the day of departure and returning to work 12hrs after arrival. This was another one of those times. Exhaustion has nothing on the levels of fatigue I’m feeling right now! But here we are: one week into the three weeks we aren’t allowed to phone each other, and Zac, Andel and I are fine, actually. Many people, all well-meaning, have checked in on us, and it’s been surprising for them just how fine we are. I put it down to these two things: firstly, we are now absolutely convinced that this is God’s plan for Zac’s life. We did not pursue it, we did not have to struggle for it all to work out, and we have had supernatural peace. Also, and perhaps this follows on from the first point, we have never seen Zac as happy and comfortable as he is at his new school. It’s hard as parents to be sad when our child is so, so happy. 

It takes some adjustment all the same though, and the two younger kids are still getting to grips with that. They don’t have the benefit of parental love and sacrifice. Sam misses Zac when he feels he has no one to play with, or when he wants someone to show or tell him something new that he can learn. Bayley misses Zac’s energy and quick wit, and how he lets her get away with things he shouldn’t. But they are both doing so well. Even with changing schools, they have amazed us with their resilience and confidence. I look forward to see them bloom now that they both have a little more room. 

We miss being a family of five, but we are not heartsore. Right now, we are enjoying not being outnumbered, and having the bread last more than two days. Let’s see if it’s still the same next week.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

To say that I am tired is a grave understatement. I am not simply knackered; I am broken. My eyes are on fire, and I can feel my nasal bridge vibrating to the sound of the lawnmower cutting the grass outside my office window.

It started Sunday night, and I figured it was my fault. I returned to work yesterday, and I am not a Monday person. In fact, my Monday blues often begin around noon on Sunday already. On a Sunday afternoon you will find me at home, physically getting things ready, and mentally preparing myself for the week ahead. I'll seek some kind of temporary comfort (usually in food), and go to bed early. This weekend though, we we busy Saturday afternoon, had a church farewell on Sunday for lunch which ran unto tea time, and then a family birthday tea which we ended up leaving at 22h00. I was actually quite proud of myself (because I do recognise that my family prefers the holiday version of me anyway). 

When I got into bed at 23h00, I was already tired, so I expected to fall asleep easily. I didn’t. In fact, I tossed and turned for an hour before finally drifting off. It was short-lived though. Cape Town has had a pretty mild summer so far; the weather only really got hot on Saturday - and it was still there Sunday night. It was so uncomfortable that Andel actually got up at 02h00 to get something to drink and open the sliding door in our bedroom. That, and the mosquitoes the open door invited in, was all it took for me to rouse, and despite my desperate attempts to go back to sleep, I only got about an hour’s sleep before getting up for work.

Last night I was determined to go to sleep a little earlier, and I did - even after more goodbyes - only to be woken at 02h00 again. There was less heat, no open doors or visiting mosquitoes, and yet I still lay there awake. I eventually just got up at 04h30 - but not before realising something significant. You see, sometimes we may think or believe something, and we are so convincing, even to ourselves, that we don’t recognise all the signs pointing to the contrary. 

I have been pretty stoic the last while regarding Zac’s departure. I’ve resumed my juggling act of being employed, espoused, and endowed with children - but really, my sleepless nights are reminding me of the change in season that is, now, 2 days away. As I considered this, in the middle of the night, I went before the Lord - not because I was sad or worried, but because I wanted to hear from Him. He did not disappoint. As I picked up my phone to check the time, my social media was open, and on my screen read a post from someone I don’t even know personally:

God knows, man. Even the things we may not yet know, He knows, and He is there working all things out for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. 

Pause - January 2022

 I recently had a little time on my hands (wink, wink), so I thought I’d get everyone back up to speed.

I’m thinking about... how divisive this pandemic is, generally. I don’t want to get into it except to say that there is enough pain, disappointment, and confusion without people disrespecting and disregarding each other. Agree to disagree. Be kind. And the church - use the opportunity to direct the world to living Hope who doesn’t change, regardless of which side of the arguments you stand.

I’m watching… cricket. Living in South Africa (maybe a couple other countries share this), cricket is almost synonymous with the festive season. I have these vivid memories of hot summer days, left over Christmas or New Years Day dessert, and the hum of commentary in the background. It’s just a pity that no spectators are allowed - and that the Proteas are playing so poorly. 

Aspiring Protea in an Indian shirt

I’m listening to… choral music, naturally. Not only have we been getting into the Drakensberg Boys Choir, I have thoroughly enjoyed listening to the One Voice Children’s Choir. I first heard them during lockdown doing a cover of Memories by Maroon 5, and then recently watched them perform What Child is This? on The Chosen: Christmas Special. 

I’m loving… tidal pool dipping. We are pretty fortunate to have a number of really picturesque and safe tidal pools to swim in. Tarrin, who dips almost daily in Ireland (yes, that cold country) has been trying to get me to do these dips more regularly, and when she was here in November we had a great early morning dip with the family. I since done two more - which isn’t much, but it’s a start considering it’s been bloody cold both times.

Miller's Point Tidal Pool

I’m busy… labelling everything. All three kids have changed schools, and the amount of stuff each one of them has that needs to be labelled is insane. I actually have a hole in my middle finger where the sewing needle has pierced it a couple times. I look forward to a time where my kids are older, more responsible, and less likely to lose items - or can label them themselves!

I’m going to… graduate soon. I mean, I hope so. I finished my Masters in September last year, and am eagerly awaiting my results. When I finished my teaching qualification, I was not invited to the graduation ceremony. They said something about it being a part time, correspondence degree. Anyway, considering the blood, sweat and tears, I do hope to at least have a Zoom photo or something this time around.  

I’m battling with… having to go back to work. On top of the usual anxiety I experience around it, I don’t really feel like I’m had any time for rest and relaxation, and I’m still tired. I also wonder if I’m over this season. I realise that I crave more flexibility to be involved with the kids while they are young, and to have remote working options while Zac is away. If 2021 taught me anything, it’s not to plan too far ahead, so who knows what may become still. 

I’m resolving to… erect healthy boundaries. I need to protect my time, my privacy, and my mental and emotional health. If I commit to do the best I can with what I have, then I don’t have to feel guilty about saying no to anything more than that, or worry about people’s (often unrealistic) expectations. It’s going to take some work, I know, but I have some good people in my corner who are going to hold me to it. 

Single Digits

 A bit of a blur. 

That’s how I’d describe the last few weeks. I blame it partly on the multiple, daily Covid-induced naps, partly on the hustle and bustle of the silly season, and mostly on the endless list of things to do for everyone heading into this year. Significantly, this blur has brought us within single digits of Zac’s departure. 

Surprisingly, after my wobble at the 6-week mark, I have actually been ok. No emotional outbursts, leaking eyes, or existential crises (yet). In fact, as I have sat sewing labels onto every item of Zac’s clothes (100 and counting), I have become increasingly excited at this opportunity for him. Even with him being ill, I was relieved to have had it happen here, at home. Rationally knowing that nothing could or would have been done differently means nothing to a control-freak mom like me. God, in His mercy, has allowed me to already have experienced my “worst” health fears for Zac, and I’m grateful for it. 

With a week left at home, Zac remains steadfast in his commitment and anticipation to leave. But I have seen him realise just how different it will be. He was vocal in his dislike of isolation, and had to adjust to being separated from Sam (with whom he has shared a room for two thirds of his life). I have also noticed him persevere in patience and gentleness with Bayley, and cuddle a little closer and longer with Andel and me. There is no doubt this is going to change his life - and rattle his cage - but he is unafraid, and I am so proud of him for that. 

Despite our best attempts to keep the next week simple, I suspect the haze we are in will remain as we do all the goodbyes, and extend beyond that into our 3000km road trip. And let’s not forget about the emotional cataclysm I’m expecting sometime thereafter. Nevertheless, we continue to take one day at a time; powered by the Peace that passes all understanding.