Diane, a young Christian university student, was home for
the summer. She had gone to visit some friends one evening and the time passed
quickly as each shared their various experiences of the past year.
She ended up staying longer than she had planned and had to
walk home alone. But she wasn’t afraid because it was a small town and she
lived only a few blocks away. As she walked along under the tall elm trees,
Diane asked “God” to keep her safe from harm and danger. When she reached the alley,
which was a short cut to her house, she decided to take it. However, halfway
down the alley she noticed a man standing at the end as though he were waiting
for her. She became uneasy and began to pray, asking for God’s protection.
Instantly a comforting feeling of quietness and security wrapped around her,
she felt as though someone was walking with her. When she reached the end of
the alley, she walked right past the man and arrived home safety.
The following day, she read in the paper that a young girl
had been raped in the same alley, just twenty minutes after she had been there.
Feeling overwhelmed by this tragedy and the fact that it could have been her,
she began to weep. Thanking the Lord for her safety and to help this young
woman, she decided to go to the police station. She felt she could recognize
the man, so she told them her story. The police asked her if she would be
willing to look at a lineup to see if she could identify him. She agreed and
immediately pointed out the man she had seen in the alley the night before.
When the man was told he had been identified, he immediately
broke down and confessed. The officer thanked Diane for her bravery and asked
if their was anything they could do for her, she asked if they would ask the
man one question. Diane was curious as to why he had not attacked her. When the
policeman asked him, he answered, “Because she wasn’t alone. She had two tall
men walking on either side of her.”
Ek wil haar stem hoor ... ek wil hoor hoe sy vir my sê:
‘My wêreld, is dit jy? En hoe gaan dit ...?"
Maar ek kan nie my ma bel nie.
Want die Hemel het nie ‘n
Nie onder die "H’s" in die telefoongids nie;
nie eers in die Geel
Bladsye nie – dis verstommend:
in hierdie tegnologiese eeu, met knoppies en
rekenaars en satelliete,
is daar gee direkte lyn Hemel toe nie.
In desperaatheid droom ek een nag, dat ek deurkom Hemel toe.
"Kan ek asseblief met my ma praat?" vra ek. "Sy is Hettie
Ellis – net vir drie minute, asseblief?"
"By watter afdeling is sy?" vra ‘n sagte stem.
"Afdeling? ... Sy ... sy is seker by die hekel- en breiafdeling?"
Haar hande was nooit stil as sy televisie gekyk het nie, altyd hekel- of breipenne wat saggies, gerusstellend, klik-klik-klik.
Maar die stem sê: "Ons het nie ‘n hekel- of breiafdeling
nie. Ons is omgewe van die lig ... ons word omvou deur Sy warmte ...” Hulle dra dus
nie klere nie. Hulle brei nie.
"Probeer asseblief die bak-afdeling."
Natuurlik, sy sal
Na haar dood het ek naarstiglik die laaste stukkies beskuit uit die
blik gaan haal en dit gevries.
Ek sou dit nie kon eet nie ... ek moes dit hou –
sommer net om na te kyk.
Maar die stem sê: "Ons het nie ‘n bak-afdeling nie.
Ons lewe van die vrugte van die Gees"
Ek bly ‘n rukkie stil. "Probeer asseblief die tuinafdeling."
Sy was so lief vir die grond, so deel van die aarde ... maar die stem antwoord: "Ons saai nie en ons plant nie. Ons besit reeds die Ewige Saad"
Ek raak desperaat en ek vra:
"Nou watter afdelings is daar dan?"
Die stem is sag en geduldig. "Ons het kore ..."
"Kore?" vra ek, "Ek weet darem nie ... sy was nooit juis ‘n
voorsanger nie ... wat is daar nog?"
Die stem raak nie ongeduldig nie. "Daar is ook hulle wat sit
by die voete van die Een wat onderrig."
"Sit hulle net?" vra ek nuuskierig. "Ek weet darem nie. Ek
het my ma nooit juis sien sit nie."
"Hulle sit en luister na die Stem."
"O, ja! Sy sal dáár wees!” jubel ek. Ja, ek moes dit mos
My ma was ‘n simpatieke, en intense luisteraar. Haar oë,
haar gesig, haar hele lyf het altyd saam geluister. "Kan ek met haar praat?" vra ek opgewonde. "Ek is seker sy sal daar wees!"
"Hulle wat luister, word nie onderbreek nie," sê die stem
baie sag. "Maar as jy wil, kan jy kom saamluister."
Die droom is verby.
Maar in die môre, toe ek my stiltetyd
hou, onthou ek dit weer.
En toe ek kniel, bid ek nie.
En ek hoor ‘n
stilte vol vrede ... en in die vrede is daar troos.
En in die troos is daar Sy
arms wat my vashou.
En Sy vashou voel soos my ma se lyf ... nog beter: volkome.
Ek word bewus van die direkte lyn Hemel toe.
Die lyn wat
daar was, van die heel begin af.
Nog voordat almal so slim geword het.
wat nooit onderbreek word nie, nooit beset is nie.
Die lyn wat verniet is, en
waarvoor jy nie eers ‘n rekening hoef te betaal nie.
Jy hoef selfs nie eers ‘n
nommer te onthou nie.
Want die Hemel is net ‘n stiltetyd, dis net ‘n gebed ver.
When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?" She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 movable parts...all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands."
The angel shook her head slowly and said. "Six pairs of hands.... no way."
It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."
That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.
One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."
God," said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...."
I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."
The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.
But tough!" said God excitedly. "You can imagine what this mother can do or endure."
Can it think?"
Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.
There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."
It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."
What's it for?"
It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."