lion of judah

       "Hello everyone, I'm Tom, your guide from Cape Town. Welcome to the Full Moon Hike up Lions Head Mountain. Does anyone know why you picked the right month to make this hike?"
        "It's a Super Perigee Moon", said the person next to me.
        "That's right. It means the moon is larger and closer to the earth than it has been in almost twenty years, so this should be awesome! The climb gets progressively more challenging as we go up, with one part being an actual rock climb, should you choose to take that particular path to the top. Keep your buddies nearby. Everyone got water?"
       He looked at me, "Where's your group?"
       "Just me." I grinned. "Always just me."
       "Ok cool. Well, follow me." As we headed up the hill, he was soon surrounded by people asking questions.


       Cape Town, South Africa reminds me of San Francisco. It's a cosmopolitan city on the edge of an ocean with a kaleidoscope of people and many exciting things to experience. One can go Sand Boarding down a huge dune, shark cage diving with the Great Whites, hang out with Penguins, go to Carnivale, visit Robbins Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned, and one of my personal favorites; climb Lions Head Mountain.

    

Lions Head 

Views from the climb

  

       As we worked our way up the mountain I fell behind the crowd, becoming engrossed in the same thought patterns and questions that dogged me the last months.

       ‘I’m at the tip of the continent; there’s nowhere else to go and I am confronted with myself. What do I do now? What is my purpose? What does my life even mean? I should have these answers by now.’ 

       In a moment of complete exasperation I looked up and for the first time on this entire trip, cried out to the heavens in my head, ‘What do You want me to do?!’

       “I’ve given you a lifetime of experiences. Use them to help people.”

       I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around to see who was speaking to me.

       No one. 

       I was alone.

       The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

       In that instant I recognized the voice. I’d heard it only two other times in my life, and I clearly knew the source. A sob erupted from my chest that doubled me over and threw me down on one knee. I grabbed onto the rock to hold myself upright. Chills ran all over my body, chills of awe. At the same time a frequency that can only be described as the purest form of love flowed throughout my body.  The voice that speaks to me is without judgment, not commanding. It is more like a statement. A helpful piece of information given in a slightly matter of fact way. The voice was also wrapped up in a tone of endearing love. It was there, and in the next instant, it was gone.

       The low sun pierced my eyes as I looked upwards and shouted out loud, “Where…? How…? What people…?”  But I knew there would be no reply. There never was. He had given me what I needed at the moment, and no more. The rest was up to me. I pushed myself off the rock beside me, brushed my hands and steadied myself to stand.

       When my life fell apart, the pain was so deep that I went numb. An explosion of epic proportions had obliterated my heart. Walls shot up around it for protection and, God Himself, was not immune from the emotional standoff I was having with the world. But this separation from Him was new to me.  I have known I was a child of God since I was old enough to have a conscious thought. I sought out His word, studied it, memorized it, and taught it as I grew older.  More than words, though, was His steadfast unconditional love for me and mine for Him. He has always been my anchor, my strong force, my companion, and I’ve always understood that His place in my life couldn’t be separated from who I was.  Even many years ago, when my daughter died, I didn’t turn away.  I determinedly told everyone who questioned the tragedy, that God had a reason and one day I would understand.  But this time, I didn’t question, I didn’t get angry, I didn’t do anything; I went blanket numb. And so I ignored Him, covering my eyes to His stars of light, denying even His comfort.

       I would have thought by now He would have turned His face from me, but He waited patiently for my pain to run it’s course, gently reminding me of His love by periodically placing people in my path to tell me.  An American woman on the plane to Rwanda, an email from home, a new South African friend in Cape Town, and the wise words given to me by Mama Tofu.

        I know Him, but I couldn’t feel Him, and I operate on feelings. I know in my head He loves me and so had not turned from me, but I didn’t feel it.  And if I don’t feel, I’m like a little boat in the water without a rudder. I’ve been paddling around in circles. He knows this, of course.  He knows everything about me.  He knows all of the parts that make up my whole, and He loves me so completely anyway. At this moment, on the mountain, I can’t imagine why.

       The sob poured forth gratefulness that I am not alone, that He still cares for me and has a plan for my life that is greater than I could ever hope for or imagine. I let His love wash over me, and at the same time I am ashamed that He had to speak audibly to reach me.

       I don’t know how much time passed as I stood there.  The others were long gone up the path, but I had done some rock climbing when I lived in Colorado so I knew I’d be ok to make it to the top on my own. He had given me an answer to the long, sought out question that took me all the way to the other side of the world. I wiped my eyes with the tail of my shirt, and the snot, with the back of my hand. I’d like to say I returned His love with a moment of thanks, but as I started up the path, my human nature surfaced.  I am a child, after all, a stubborn infant, and knowing that He was still near I mumbled under my breath, “You know, a billboard on Interstate 40 would have been a lot easier.”
I watched the sun set beautifully in the west, turned, and watched the moon rise in the east from what felt like the top of the world. I realized it was time for me to move on.  Africa had given me all that it could, which encapsulates the irony of this great continent; I was supposed to help Africa and yet, Africa had helped me. 

      

Moon Rise

right humans

       One of the best things about reaching Cape Town was being reunited with Seri.  You remember her, right? Seri of "Seri's Cross Culture Porch, of "Asante Sana" and kissing a giraffe, Seri of "Kili and Zanzi" the ice climb up Kilimanjaro, and the list goes on. She's practically a blog legend! It's not enough that Seri volunteered for three months in Tanzania, making a huge difference in the lives of everyone she touched.  That would be plenty for any person, who could then race back to the states, guilt free for hot showers and Starbucks and beds without nets. Oh no, that's not the stuff she's made of. Seri went straight to South Africa for another three months of volunteerism, with yet another school.  This is a woman who is clear about her purpose and passion. She's a ninety pound fireball of activism for children, and the importance of educating them to brighten their future.  Her enthusiasm is contagious and just being near her, the glow of it rubs off on you. After we'd caught up with excited, rapid fire talk-over-each-other sentences about our experiences during the last few months, Seri said,

       "I think you should participate with me in a march on Human Right's Day. We'll march for Minimum Norms and Standards in the schools, from the city center to Parliament where we'll remind the government that these kids must have the basics to get an education."

       Of course that would be her normal conversation. And of course I couldn't say no.

So march we did.

Having Tabletop Mountain as a backdrop, the rally started with a concert and speeches about education. With mostly middle and high school students in attendance, 

the final count was over 20,000!

Seri's posse also included some other amazing volunteers.

The band Freshly Ground performed. They were the band that sang
"Waka Waka" with Shakira at the FIFA World Cup. They
got the crowd pumped up!

Spontaneous dance circle 

um. yes.  another spontaneous dance circle.

backpack wisdom

Then the march begins.

At close look, the crowd behind stretches for a mile. wow

The students were so happy to have their say and stand up for their rights.

It was inspiring.

These are the things needed in the schools out in the Townships:

Water, toilets, electricity, enough classrooms, a library, textbooks, 

a playground, and an administration center. 

It's difficult for us to understand it, 

but these are the things they don't have. 

Parliament

TWO SCENARIOS ~

1.  Kids who have everything...

The Grio reports:

A dozen people were arrested after several fights broke out at a back-to-school rally in (a US State).Police were called in to clear the streets after the rally started to wrap up and several fights broke out in downtown (a US City) Thursday afternoon. Twelve people were arrested and several people were treated for injuries they received in the melee.  

2. Kids who have nothing...

The New York Times reports:

In a peaceful demonstration, more than 15,000 people marched in Cape Town on Monday to demand libraries, computer labs and other resources for township schools, many of which are vastly under equipped. 

Hmmm, interesting... peaceful?... violent?... what does this say?

I choose not be discouraged though, look where we ended up.

cape of good hope

       I reached a goal. I made it to the southernmost point of the continent of Africa. To give you an idea of how large this continent actually is; I started halfway down the eastern side and still traveled over 4000 miles. I went about the same distance as driving from Seattle, Washington to Costa Rica! Crazy big. At the southern tip is Cape Peninsula, the meeting point of the Pacific and Indian Oceans, the Cape of Good Hope, a light house, numerous animals, and towering mountains.

       This is the adorable South African Black Footed Penguin.  They appear to be very social, which makes them fun to watch. They breed in colonies yet are monogamous. They return to the same spot each year to breed, and it must seem like a huge reunion. The average lifespan is 10 to 27 years! The most amazing thing though, is that the pattern of spots on their chest is completely unique to each one, as a fingerprint is to us.

Where is everyone?

penguin conference
Fred, did you get the jpeg I sent of last year?

I'll go check

Hmm,  guess that wasn't indigestion

Hank, mandatory meeting, get your tux up and let's go.

Good to see everyone again. Ok listen up...

Dude check out her spots, she's gorgeous!

Act cool man, just act cool.

No, really baby, you're the only one for me.

Home again yippee!

ouch

Chacma Baboons

Water mongoose

       I came down here to be no one, to be invisible.  To have no demands placed on me, no one needing me night and day. No one bringing their emotional needs for me to carry, shoulder, and return only when the owners were capable. I ran away. Away, literally, as far as I could go from the United States of America. More so, I ran from the rat race of the great surpass, of needing to watch this, study that, own more, keep up, and stay on top. The unspoken translation is: conformity by up-sell. You know this. The same happens to you. It keeps you awake at night and makes you want to run away sometimes too.  Well, evidently I did just that and here I am, at a southern tip of the earth.  I reached the goal, and guess what drifted ashore?

Nothingness.
Just like I wanted.
I took a long deep breath          expecting        something        anything.  
A revelation maybe?    A new lease on life?      But do you know what I found?

Emptiness.

Complete and utter blankness.

       It had nothing to do with the scenery, which was gorgeous; it had nothing to do with the number of people, there were plenty. It had everything to do with my life. Lacking aspiration I was just coasting daily, creating a void.  As much as we think we want utopia in a world with no responsibilities, the truth is, that is the very thing that makes us alive and human. It is what sets us apart from the universe. The ability to carry another's burdens, show compassion, work to change the world, give hope, lend a hand, and sacrifice for the things we believe in. These are the privileges we are afforded.  It costs us, yes.  The price is vulnerability, change and at times disappointment, heartache, and fear.  The reward; not remaining stuck, breaking useless patterns, and living with meaning, which then leads to a deliberate life full of merit. I realize now that responsibility and purpose are spirit enhancers not soul crushers, and that a life without them makes one a desolate vessel.
        God designed me with my own set of fingerprints.  I forgot how cool this is. I am unique. I should value this, treasure it, and not let it go to waste. My very uniqueness is my greatest asset, and should be used for something bigger than me.  Not in a way of conforming, or in someone else's version of who I should be, but in a way that is true to my authentic self. I will search for purpose, direction and my true north.  If my intentions are pure, I am certain I will find them.  No more running. It seems no coincidence that my serendipitous realization came the day I wrapped myself up in a cape of good hope.