10 December 2013
Dear Jesus, we really are an injured people. If life here we a sore. We need a plaster urgently. We crave healing that lasts.
I write with a heart trying to take in all that is going on around me in the last few days.
Today at 11am, they proceeded with the memorial service for our great former president Nelson Mandela.
Affectionately known as Tata, as he was seen as a father to many of this country and continent.
This day was for him.
And yet dear God, I am embarrassed to be a South African.
It was a day to REMEMBER a great man YOU blessed us WITH
And people in the stadium (Soccer City) today decided to make it about themselves and their feelings for certain individuals.
How rude and disrespectful!
That day was to remember Madiba, not to bitch and moan.
These tweets captured it best and made sense to me:
Our land has been injured by greed and stupid choices.
So we do call on YOU to bring a healing and vision that makes sense.
There is a 4 lettered word that packs punch and is what you give us.
May that bring peace? May that bring perspective?
Because dear God, that’s what we need.
So forgive us, when we moan too much.
When we hate too much!
And I want to say thank you for the life of Nelson Mandela.
I am ignorant to all he has done in our country and the world.
But in my heart I know that these past few days of mourning have carried an “extra weight”
This was no ordinary man
This was no ordinary memorial service.
There is a lot more going on here.
One more thing, I was TOTALLY MOVED and given goosebumps over this past weekend at the start of the football games.
Before each game, at the blow of the referee’s whistle EVERYONE in the stadium cheered and applauded for an entire minute for Madiba.
Across many miles of land and seas, people know… that a VERY profound moment in history had occurred!
One man, who was not perfect (or didn’t want to be seen as a saint) somehow depicted many characteristics so many of us, could do with a whole lot more.
Fill us, please.
Song Lyrics or Twitturgy:
“Oh the sea is cold and the sky is grey
Look across the Island into the Bay
We are all islands till comes the day
We cross the burning water” (Johnny Clegg)
And I like these ones too:
“We were sons of insurrection
Doomed to face the dark alone
Til’ vicarious perfection
Dearly won was made our own
So where’s your landslide
Where’s your victory
Tell me now, where’s your sting” (Thrice)