Grey Day

The world is grey. It is the middle of winter. Grey clouds hover menacingly over the drab landscape. Mist obscures the details of anything cheerful. We are driving to Bloemfontein. The nurse at Bayswater Village spoke to Brian last night about Dad. Verwag die ergste,” she said.
On the CD player bagpipes are playing “Whispering Hope”. “Look for the sunshine tomorrow, after the breaking of day.”

Dad is 90. I suppose that is not all that old in a country whose icon and inspiration, Nelson Mandela, is almost 94, but it is certainly more than the threescore and ten that the bible talks about, He started following the Lord as a boy as a result of his parent’s faith. Grandpa Howard Young was a Methodist minister –“ a little man who served a great God.”

As a result of the war and his father’s influence, Dad too became a Methodist minister. It is a tribute to him and mom that all 3 of their children are dedicated Christians, serving God in different ways in different church’s in different places.

Dad served faithfully as the minister of many small town church’s, retiring to Bloemfontein and continuing to serve as a supernumerary, sowing into the lives of the people at Bayswater Village.

After Mom’s death 8 years ago, Dad lost the will to live. He pined away, getting weaker and frailer until he was saved from certain death by an angel in disguise called Adie. She admired him, loved him and married him, making it her life’s mission to take care of him. Dad left frail care to get married and then bloomed like a flower given water after a long spell of dryness.

Towards the end of last year, despite Adie’s valiant efforts. Dad had to move into frail care again, visiting Adie in their little cottage by day where he would be loved and cherished. Now the spectre that he managed to evade seven years ago has caught up with him.

We don’t know what to expect when we get to Bloemfontein. We’ve packed for any eventuality and cleared our schedules for the next 3 or 4 days. We are in God’s hands.

On the way to Bayswater village we are going to get some helium balloons to release at 5pm to co-incide with when the rest of the family in Randburg is going to do the same to celebrate Zachary’s short 11 hours of life.

How incongruous. Colourful balloons into a grey day. Messages of hope and inspiration into a gloomy midwinter world.

The message of Christ still stands. “I am the Resurrection and the Life. Whoever believes in me, though he dies, yet shall he live.”