Cherish Connections

Our last Cherish gathering for the girls, was a wonderful success.  The Mustard Seed has a total of seventeen girls in it's school support program.  Fourteen were able to attend the latest Cherish Day, the largest get together of our girls for a Cherish event.  

The early arrivers.

The Cherish Days function as a support group gathering for the Mustard Seed girls.  A time when they receive information, talk about matters of concern for them, and hang out together.  A number of the board members lead the group.  In addition, this time one of our Big Sisters showed up, and she too made a significant contribution to the fun and learning of the day.  My role is to take a few pictures, do a bit of back ground organization and stay out of the way.  

Sharing and learning opportunities.

Lesotho has a culture with different time constraints, or lack thereof.  The first group of girls arrived a half hour late, the last girl arrived four hours later, but still it was a time to be together and for developing and deepening friendships with their Mustard Seed 'sisters'.

The smiles I see on faces is something I always delight in.  Maybe it is a visible demonstration in the lives of the girls that what the Mustard Seed provides is making a difference.  Many of them come from such hurting situations, situations where they feel a burden and often receive only the basics of a place to stay and a bit of food on their plate.  Even, at a Cherish event, some visibly carry a weight on there shoulders that shows on their faces.  I think Cherish offers an oasis, if but for a brief moment, where they can let go of some of their cares and amidst the activites, the learning, and the FOOD, they can smile.


(Food:  I thought the amount of food on hand would be way too much, but fourteen active, hungry girls showed otherwise as there was not a crust left over.)

One of the exercises the girls did was to provide some feedback to the recently hired program coordinator for the Mustard Seed.  In reviewing their comments, I was further reminded that I still do not fully grasp the lives our girls live.  A repeated comment was how much they appreciated someone contacting their schools and teachers on their behalf; someone visiting them at their schools;  someone for whom them succeeding in school mattered.

They wrote how much it meant to them that the Program Coordinator, 'M'e Matseliso, told them they were loved, that God loved them, and that she encouraged them to persevere.    

I understand from past experiences that not all of our girls will succeed in school.  Not all will make wise choices.  I reflect on two girls who have left the program, and whose lives, on their own, have known pain and struggle.  Yet both of them are persevering.  They have not given up.  My prayer for the fourteen at the last Cherish is that they too will continue to persevere despite the obstacles they face, and as they persevere that they will be encouraged to dream bigger dreams, and in God find the courage and strength to achieve greater heights than they had thought possible.

~ Benno ~

Reason to Celebrate

When our children pass milestones, it is a moment of joy and celebration.  The Mustard Seed as an organization has witnessed another milestone, our first Mustard Seed girl going off to university.  Another story that causes me to stand in awe of God's grace, though it again also causes me to ask, "How does God work?", or maybe this time "Why?  God, why do you put people through what you put them through?"

This young woman is living with an wonderful and caring aunt and uncle after the death of her own parents.  They did all they could for her, but hard financial times left them in a place where they would not be able to fund her through her final year of high school.  With minimal support from the Mustard Seed they put together the application for the government bursary, and she was one of our girls who qualified for and was funded to complete her last year.  

The school she attended was not a strong school, but she worked hard, and passed her final year in the top ten in her school, though that meant only a 2nd class pass.   But 2nd class opens tertiary education doors.  She carried her determination forward applying to two post secondary institutions.  A first choice and a second choice.  

In Lesotho, students often end up in their second choice because that is where the funding fits.  Her second choice, accepted her application, and the funding body set a final date by which applications for funding to attend that institution needed to be submitted.  Once she submitted her application for funding to that institution it would be a challenge to transfer it over to her first choice should she hear from them later.

A resume is required to apply for the funding and I had the joy of helping her with that.  I must credit the staff I worked with in Red Deer who, by just rubbing shoulders with me I guess, taught me much about writing a better resume, or CV as they are referred to here.  I gave this young woman some instructions on information to gather for her CV.  She was a quick study, returning with excellent information to put together a CV, included lots of action words to describe past roles and learnings, and we put together her CV.  

The final day came when she had to submit her application to funding for her second choice.  She still had not heard from her first choice.  But she had everything prepared and dare not miss the chance of post secondary funding.  She was at the National Manpower Development Secretariat (NMDS) offices first thing that final morning and that is where it seems God began to do his thing.  For some reason, the reviewing officer asked why, considering her involvement with the Mustard Seed, she had not included the Mustard Seed as a reference on her CV.  Could she also get a last minute letter of reference from the Mustard Seed the office suggested.

At 8:30 she called me explaining her need.  Could I help?  Ah, the joy of computers.  Adding the Mustard Seed as a reference to her CV was completed in short order.  Even putting the reference letter together was not all that difficult as I had provided her with one related to a past situation.  The bare bones were there, and it was just a matter of amending and adding some updated information.  Poverty.  She had not the taxi fare to come out to our offices to pick up the letter and updated CV, so I drove the 15 minutes in to the NMDS office.  When I arrived I sent a quick text message that I had arrived.  A few minutes later, she, with her aunt, walked over.  Our Mustard Seed young woman with a difficult to understand look on her face.  

She told me she had just received a text message.  My first thought was, "Yeah, I just sent one."  Then she clarified.  She had just received a text message from the National University of Lesotho, her first choice, informing her that she had been accepted!!  At the very last minute God intervened.  If the staff at NMDS had not asked for the additional information, she likely would have been on her way home by then, having applied for funding to her second choice.  Why does God sometimes test one's faith by leaving until the last moment the answer or desire we hope for.  Like Abraham who was on the mountain, his son on a alter, his knife raised, before God said "Stop!"

It was tears of relief and joy she shed, as we quietly talked about God and the mystery of how he works - testing, and challenging us to trust him.  It is an exciting time for her, and for us at the Mustard Seed.  Our first "baby" off to university.  She has since been out to the university, we are helping with transport costs and initial registration costs.  This week or early next, she will be back at the NMDS offices applying for funding, but this time to the Department of Education, at the National University.  What can I say, but that God is good, and we are celebrating his goodness with her. 

~ Benno ~  

Forced March

Wendy and I took a short break away from the cold of Lesotho in the latter part of July.  We left the snows of Lesotho, to drive through the snows of South Africa, but finally reached the Indian Ocean coast.  At the coast it is still winter, but the moderating effect of the Indian Ocean waters does mean much warmer nights relative to Lesotho.

At one place we stayed, we looked out over the ocean and along the coast.  In the ‘near’ distance, up the coast, was a promontory with a big rock at the end.  Maybe a hiking goal we thought.

I was out early the next morning on my own and thought in an hour or so I should reach the point. Off I went to check it out, but after walking for an hour, and seeming only half way there, I thought I better get back and try again later with Wendy.  The next day we set out early with the tide going out.  It was an auspicious start with a whale surfacing just off the shore as be started, beckoning us on with a wave of a flipper.

The outgoing tide left the sand on the beach beautifully packed, and the walking was easy under a clear blue sky.  We reached the one-hour point I had reached the day before in about the same amount of time, and I was thinking, another hour to go and lots of time to get back before the tide would be in.  The promontory however, seemed not to be getting any closer as we continued on for the next hour.

At the end of the second hour we had reached a rocky section of shore, where some locals were harvesting oysters.  The first fellow was on the shore having a smoke and tending a small fire, while it was a woman out wading in the water with a short iron bar, searching for and chipping the oysters from the rocks.  She methodically checked in, around, and under the rocks, prying off the oysters she found with a deft stroke from her bar, and then placing them into a sack tied to her waist.  A bit further along we saw a couple of other fellows, half heartedly it seemed, poking around for oysters amongst the rocks.  Much like what I so often see, I thought, the woman doing the bulk of the work while the men have it easy.

By this time we were beginning to consider a “turn-back” time.  The promontory seemed not much closer, but we figured we still had time.  The rocks were less easy to make good time on, but we soldiered on.  At one point we thought, just another 15 minutes.  But at the end of the 15 minutes we were just as far away it seemed.  But we must be getting close.  I thought of how hard it must be for those Mount Everest climbers to turn back when the goal seems so close.  We gave out selves a further 15 minutes, which we stretched out to 20 and we arrived, three hours after out departure.  Our goal, the rock at the end of the promontory that seemed to get smaller at times, now rose above us, a small hill.

We clambered to the top and enjoyed a fine view.  The view included, on a pretty little bay the other side of the point, maybe a kilometer away, a parking lot.  We could have driven.  As we rested at the top and enjoyed the view, and a quick lunch, we considered continuing on to the parking lot in hopes of finding a taxi back.  But what if there were no taxis?  We settled for the beach.

Back we headed.  First over and through the rocky sections.  The tide had turned, but high tide was still five hours away.  Some ways on, we met the oyster gatherers, and I had to retract my critical thoughts about the men.  Two of them, each carrying on their shoulders a large sack of oysters, maybe 40-50 pounds, led the way.  They had come a long way already and they still a good part of an hour trudge over rough ground to reach the promontory, and then the distance to the parking lot.  The last fellow was carrying the woman’s iron bar, and having completed her task, her now strolled along unencumbered.

As we proceeded past the rocky section the incoming tide was disrupting the firmly packed sand we had enjoyed on our walk out.  The sand higher up the beach was too dry and soft and made the going tough.  The sand where the surf had surged in was now too wet and also soft.  As we continued the narrow strip of firm sand in between too dry and too wet grew smaller and smaller.  Trying to pick a path between too dry and too wet gave me a whole new appreciation for Goldilocks and her fixation on “just right”.

There was no easy way out and on we trudged.  The warmth and the sun trying to keep out spirits up as our legs and ankles complained more and more.  Our march was broken at one point when a school of dolphins swept by, leaping in and out of the swell.  I got out our binoculars, and watched.  The binoculars enabled me to see the dolphins up close, even just below the surface of the leading edge of the surging swells.  To my amazement, in the leading edge of a swell, I would frequently see three, four, and sometimes more dolphins, in a row, facing down the swell.  It was if they were body surfing in the waves!  Leaping and surfing, the dolphins continued their way along the shore line and were soon lost from view.  Back to our trudging we turned.

After we had been trudging for nearly three hours we arrived at a place that it had taken us an hour to walk out when the sand was firm.  We still had at least an hour’s walk ahead, and now the incoming tide caused me to think ahead to rock cliff bands that reached down to the sea.  If the tide was in sufficiently to block our return, it would mean backtracking and taking another, longer path, up and around, to get back to our accommodation.  We arrived at the cliff bands some fifty minutes later and the incoming surf was surging up to the base of the rock before briefly retreating.  Timing the surge, I scrambled over the sand under the first band.  Wendy followed, but not before giving me a brief moment of anxiety, waiting where I feared she might get wet.  The second band, Wendy nimbly darted through and around, while I took the more laborious route.  I managed the ‘through’ part on the sand, but then clambered up and over, rather than around, the final section of rock.

The steep climb back up to our accommodation lay only another ten minutes beyond the rock bands, and soon we were making our way slowly up.  It was with aching legs and ankles that we dragged out tired bodies over the last metres to the top.  What had taken three hours out, had taken four hours back.  What had been planned as a four-hour day, had taken seven.

Our goal,the small sand coloured rock,
 as viewed from our accommondation.

Why things along a coast sometimes seem closer I do not know.  Consulting a map later that evening we realized that the walk to the point had been over eleven kilometers, one way.  The taxi might have provided a quicker ride home, but we would have had no story to tell of our forced march back.  :-)

~ Benno ~