The English countryside at it's best

I've been having a very relaxing time with friends in a lovely house nestled in the English countryside near Henley-on-Thames. Very posh. We are just over the line into Oxfordshire and North of Reading, almost an hour's drive out of London. Beautiful.

It's the perfect place to recuperate from an overnight flight from Calgary which involved crossing eight time zones. Caleb is gradually adjusting to the difference, although initially he was up for three hours in the night. We're enjoying wonderful hospitality, great food (thanks to Jo), a splendid garden (almost an acre) which includes fruit trees, birds, a variety of other trees and a lovely pond inhabited by one to three frogs, an indiscriminate amount of fish and the occasional dragonfly. Oh, and recently an action figure floating on one of the lily pads. It also includes a small fountain and waterfall. I'm a little paranoid about Caleb's interest in the pond, but we all keep a careful eye on him and the doors open/closed at all times.

Caleb is also enjoying his three companions who are all school age and love to play with him, and have the most interesting toys like train sets, bicycles, plastic golf clubs and soccer balls. His most recent obsession is with rocks and gravel, generally unable to resist grabbing a handful as he passes through the front door.

Today was typical of our time in this little bit of heaven. After an uneventful morning, a long nap and lunch on the front patio in the sun, we decided to go for a walk along the public footpath that passes through the local golf course.

The main obstacle was the initial crossing of the road - narrow cedar hedgerows combined with a curve made listening for cars as important as visual contact. After that I had to heft Caleb's stroller over a quaint country style and then we were on our way. The path was largely mown grass in a corridor of trees alongside the golf course (which I was hoping doubled as a shield from stray balls). Looking down it I felt as if I were entering a long green hallway with a leafy canopy and the occasional patch of sunshine breaking through. The sides of the pathway consisted largely of oak trees and blackberry thorn bushes with the odd outcropping of stinging nettles.

Overhead we could hear the buzz of light aircraft - apparently a training airport nearby which seems to specialize in vintage planes. I saw a spitfire and at least one by-plane engage in roles and loops. We walked for an hour and a half and only encountered three people, four dogs, numerous spiderwebs and two bunnies. We heard a horse passing by along the bridle path to our right but couldn't see it as we were separated by a thick hedge.

It's incredible that on an island the size of the UK, with it's dense population that we were surrounded by nature for such a vast distance. We could spot the odd golfer on the course but felt more like we were strolling in the forest.

It was somewhere around the forty-five minute mark when I finally realised that I had absolutely no concern whatsoever for our personal safety. What a contrast to South Africa! The day before my friend Jo had a conversation with one of the other Mom's at the local school who was a member of the Police for the area. She said that last year they had a murder there, which was quite something as they hadn't had a murder for sixty four years prior to that.

At one point in the meander, we came across the golf course "club house", or at least the reception and office. It was a converted shipping container with two port-a-potties behind it. Apparently it costs one pound to play a round of golf as it is a public course. All of the cars in the parking lot were sports cars; Audi, Mercedes, Alpha Romeo and the like. Obviously locals.

I kept Caleb happy by feeding him the occasional handful of blackberries as there were thousands of them. I also picked a few flowers (i.e. dandelions) and handed him other treasures that we came across such as feathers and pine cones. As we were nearing the house I had the thought that it may be illegal to pick anything but it was obvious from Caleb's berry-stained face that we had indulged. Oh well. We both returned tired and happy.

I offered to cook supper (I cheated by using frozen pasta and bottled sauce). I thought I might redeem myself by making an apple pie using some of the bounty from the two apple trees in the garden (this property is actually called "Small Orchard"). It seemed like a good idea, but quickly evolved into a culinary disaster. No recipe, no lard for the crust. I improvised by going online and changing to apple crumble.

Then I tasted the apples. Very sour, definitely only for baking. The question was, how much sugar to add? I dumped in a lot. I couldn't figure out the convection oven. Eventually it seemed to be cooked and we all ate it. My friends and their children were kind, and ice cream helped, but it was still sour and hardened like rock when it cooled.

The lovely thing is that we're on holiday and we all laughed it off and made tea.

Ready or Not Here We Come

So I've finally stopped talking about it and did it - my own blog. I'm feeling younger already.

Of course the challenge will be to keep it current, but for now I'm filled with the optimism of a new venture.

I'm sitting at a good friend's computer in Vancouver, Canada, just over halfway through a much needed vacation back to the land of my birth. I'm assuming anyone who is reading this knows me and the history of how I got to this precarious place in my life, but for the benefit of any who don't, I'll give a skinny version of my life so far.

I was born to a hard-working farming family in Western Canada. I was the eighth and final child. When I was nineteen my Mother died of cancer.

I studied Theology, graduating from NTC Manchester, England in 1992. That same month I married the love of my life, Derek Liebenberg, a true gift from God. He was the most mischievous, brilliant, God-centred Pastor I've ever met.

We returned to Canada to repay debts and lived there for 10 years. Derek's passion for helping hurting people led us to start a Non-Profit Organization that worked largely with children at risk and their families, immigrants, refugees, and basically anyone who wandered across our path. Our ministry was rather unorthodox, trial and error, exciting and controversial, but Derek always made it fun.

Finally in 2003 we handed the work in Calgary off and moved to South Africa to help with the AIDS crisis. As Derek was a South African citizen, it was relatively easy to settle into living in the Province of KwaZulu-Natal.

Derek trusted God in crazy ways, worked with exceptional energy and consistently witnessed miracles unfold. Our work was established in a rural area just outside of Amanzimtoti, called Bhekulwandle (South of Durban). During all this time we had been (not so patiently at times) waiting for a child. In August 2005 I discovered that I was pregnant. We were negotiating on our first ever home of our own and were on the verge of "settling down". After some initial problems with the pregnancy and much prayer, baby and I were doing very well.

Friends from Canada were helping us with the project for six months and we all celebrated Christmas together with much rejoicing and anticipation for the following year. 2005 had begun with our official Grand Opening, complete with the blessing of the King of the Zulu Nation, King Goodwill Zwelethini. Things really took off after that.

Derek travelled a lot, and also packed as much into each day as possible, often taking huge risks. Three times that year I felt close to losing him; he had a motorbike accident, was taken out to sea by a rip tide (although a very strong swimmer), and had surgery for a bladder condition that we thought might be cancer. He always manged to cheat death and live to tell a very fascinating tale.

Then on the morning of December 28, 2005 he suffered a massive heart attack and died. Just like that. Gone. I was almost six months pregnant with our long-awaited miracle child.

I attended three of four funerals on three continents (two had five hundred people each), speaking at two of them. The work that we had started went through a difficult time of transition with a change in international affiliations, a name change and some staffing and leadership changes.

Caleb arrived April 22, 2006 via an emergency Cesarean section after twelve hours of labour and a whole new world of motherhood began.

This past year and a half has been the most difficult of my life. I truly thank God for bringing me through it. I pray that my character has been purged in some way and my heart softened to the suffering of others.

God has been faithful in his provision of a wonderful couple, Carl & Michelle Waldron, to come and take over as CEO for the work in South Africa. They are perfect for the role and doing a brilliant job already, allowing me to take a leave of absence for the rest of the year.

Some dear friends provided me with a plane ticket to Canada which Caleb and I are now able to use, hence our present stay in Vancouver (Aldersgrove to be exact).

So there you have it! A frequently asked question on this trip so far has been, "so what are you going to do now?" I generally feel a bit of pressure to come up with something really spectacular and impressive, but the truth is I'm not all that sure. I'm planning to return to South Africa and continue my role on the Board of Directors, but I have stepped off of staff.

I may try my hand at some entrepreneurial venture or another, find a "regular" job, or just be. The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm already spending all my time with Caleb, who is now 16 months old, and absolutely loving it.

Derek taught me many things, one being how to throw caution to the wind and take risks on God. Of course, that usually assumes that you have some kind of an inkling as to what God might be directing you towards. If I felt confident of his plans I would do whatever is necessary to follow. So for now I'm trying to rejoice in the now and learn how to listen ...