Lent Day 8: Dear Kaylan

 

I'm so sorry you're in such terrible pain. Teenage boys should feel the pain of fatigue after a hard rugby session, not the kind of pain you feel.

I'm so sorry you're back in hospital far away from home. The smell of hospital is never a welcome one, specially on an unexpected return.

Kaylan you don't know me very well. I'm your neighbour's daughter, Aunty Ren's girl. We probably don't have that much in common, me being a forty year old mom and you being a teenage boy. But we do share a farm boundary. When you're home maybe my kids and I can walk over the hill and meet you for waffles at the Waffle Hut? I do love a waffle from the Waffle Hut, or a 'Tribe Deal' of six pancakes. And Eva, my daughter,  loves the Watermelon Crush. they're the best in the world, she says. 

That's the thing about home - everything about it is so much better when you have time to miss it. We would know hey? We're both boarding school kids - you don't really have a choice when you grow up in Winterton.

So Kaylan I cant do much from far but I do want to give you a moment at home because its a place that we share. In my deepest times of pain - both physical and emotional - I journey home in my mind because when we go home in our imaginations that's where we often find Jesus. Because Jesus is home...

I want you to imagine the dam below your house. Picture the shadows of the bass as they weave in and out of the emerald green reeds that hem the waters edge. 

Look at the fish eagle perched in its spot in the dead tree. See it survey its territory, like a king. Watch the length of his wings unwrap as he beats the wind climbing up into the thermals, letting out his cry of dominium.

I want you to hear a busy clutch of guinea fowl darting their way through the long grasses of late summer. I want you to smell that grass. Its the promise of fire breaking and winter, of days getting shorter and nights getting longer and cozier.

I want you to picture the long stretch of the Drakensberg mountains as you weave your way home in the bakkie sitting next to your dad. Imagine the plume of dust that ingulfs the cab when your dad winds down the window to give instructions to someone. 

See the smile of your brother's face as the two of you race along muddy farm tracks on your motorbikes. Traverse the long stretches of pivots marching across the lands, painting rainbows across their spray. 

Feel the comfort of being home, cuddling up on your favourite couch, the smell of mom's cooking filling the air. Listen to the normal sounds of your household - mom chatting to her customers, dad talking farm stuff, your sister doing and saying what only a sister can do - everything and nothing, your little brother lost in a game somewhere.

I want you to imagine waking up in your own bed, pain free and excited for the day. Maybe you guys are headed to Vidal for some fishing, a great adventure awaiting you. Or maybe its the first day of school holidays and you know that you don't have to pack a school bag for the next six weeks. Or maybe its just an ordinary Saturday, spreading before you like an unopened present. 

I hope, for a moment, that I've given you even the smallest part of home Kaylan. I'm only human though. I do know, however, that you are great friends with our home maker, Jesus. Please know that when He is with you, and in your heart, home is with you too. 

May God bless and heal you precious boy.