My Mountain, my home

It was a habit. - Funny though that I never realized it.
The first thing which I did when I got up out of bed every morning, was to walk over to the large window in our bedroom, stretching myself out whilst staring at the mountain. Yes there it was, about 3 000 meters away from the house. - The Outeniqua* Mountain peak, towering in all its majestic glory towards the Southern sky.

I never doubted the mountain’s existence; - I used its visibility though to determine what kind of day it was going to be. - If a soft mist would cover the peak, I suspected that later towards the afternoon, rain would blow in over the Indian Ocean. When its silver waterfalls would glitter in the bright African sun, I knew it was going to be a warm and friendly day. If the steam train was slowly worming its way down the mountain’s valleys and hills, to later pass my house with its triumphant whistle, I had to hurry, because the day had already begun!

It was as if the mountain propelled my day into its direction. It stood there as a witness of who our Creator is and what his character is like. It reminded me of God’s steadfastness; His covenant-making loving-kindness towards us and the whole of His creation.

The Outeniqua Mountain gave our city its identity. There is some kind of magic about this mountain. - Kings and nobles have traveled its passes, artists have painted it, adventurers regularly climb its silvery rocks. The peak always evoked in me a curiosity, a desire to see what lies beyond.

My clients could also view its magnificent display from my counseling office. Sometimes, if and when a moment of pain was too heavy to carry, they could always steer their eyes towards the peak for composure or reflection.

The mountain’s presence was everywhere. I will never forget those twilight evenings in the radio studio. – When the quivering guitar strings of the Recuerdos De L’Alhambra would slowly fade away, and my program was over. - I would look up in the sky to see the stars and their display of splendor from behind the etched dark peak in the distance.

One could never get lost in our city. As long as you had an eye on the mountain, you knew the sea was in the opposite direction. You would always find your way home.

Our children were born here, the church that my husband pastored, and the people that we loved lived here. The ‘honey bearer’ was part and parcel of who we were.

And then we immigrated…

And then we immigrated. - We came, with a sense of the hot Southern sun still on our backs, into the winter snow of Canada!

Gone was our one big mountain peak. Instead in a distance I saw that we were surrounded by many snow covered mountains. The steam Choo-choo’s whistle in the mornings didn’t warn me about time any more, it was now the constant flow of heavy traffic, which abused my senses and rushed the children to school every day.

We were new immigrants in a foreign country. Apart from the barest necessities, our modern square apartment was empty. Our furniture, paintings and other possessions had not yet arrived. The two suitcases per person could not bring much more than clothes. I had a hand-painted tablecloth that I draped over a wall, and a few pictures, to remind the children that this was now home.

Immigration implies the willingness to learn to adapt. As a journalist and later a ministers’ wife, we have traveled much. Immigration though, is not travelling, visiting, or being a tourist. It means to ‘resettle’.

Immigration is what Abram, the Hebrew did. – You ‘go from your country, and from your relatives, and from your father’s house to the land that you were shown..’

The children missed our family and friends, the dog, my grandmother’s rocking chair, the piano. And I? I missed the mountain!

Immigration also means to sojourn, at least for a while. – I discover that this sojourning-part was the hardest. It is during this time that one learns to identify with Moses and his clan who traveled through many deserts. It is in sojourning that everything that can be shaken within you shakes!

About two months after our arrival in Canada, I got very sick and landed in hospital. There I was, - connected to an oxygen mask, with my heart pounding so fast that my chest ached with every heartbeat. It was then, on that hospital bed that I identified with her. - Another woman from Judah. I understood when she cried out: “ Do not call me Naomi!”

The Stock-taking Process

As all people on life’s journey, one regularly has to come to a halt to regroup, to rekindle one’s purpose, one’s destiny. Every woman who immigrates understands this stocktaking-process that comes before, during and after immigration. (Hopefully all stocktaking is not as drastic as mine was during this time!). I realized then, like Naomi of old, that I have lost my joy and my pleasantness during the process.

Unconscious sorrow and grief over a murdered mother, and the country that I left behind, which was filled with violence, death and pain, consumed all my energy!
Jobless, and without the courage to start a new practice, I was tired and worn out. – “Indeed” I wanted to say: “do not call me Naomi any more…”

For a while I waddled in the pond of self-pity. – I wanted my family, my mountain, my big house, my radio program, my practice…My, oh My!

There will always be a Ruth

In God’s mercy He never allows us to sojourn alone. There will always be a Ruth, a friend, and a mate. – Someone who will be willing to go to the field on your behalf to pick some barley, when you need it most. - My Ruth was in place.
My husband, children, friends and family’s prayers carried me through those miserable days when I felt like Job - ‘lifted up in the wind, dissolved in a storm.’

One clear morning, on our way back through the magnificent Canadian Rocky mountains, I was reminded of one of the songs that the Jews would sing ascending their mountain. Lifting up my eyes to the mountains, I suddenly discovered it. – The Real Mountain that I needed most:
The Lord is your keeper, He is your shade on your right hand, the sun will not smite you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will protect you from all evil;
He will keep your soul. The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in.
From this time forth and forever. *

I knew, I was home again…