Good evening all from a nice and wet Cambodia. The weather is nice but the jetlag is still biting the old folk, hahaha. Seems it takes longer to recover, every time we come back. Lots of maintenance as usual here at home and keep myself busy with new wood projects in order to get ready to go bush again.
Toinette is busy with the kids in the village. She said that the younger ones gave self-made flowers and candies to her when she came back. Toinette says that the younger children are joining the Mighty Kids on Sundays but the teenagers do not want to come. Please pray for protection for the center as some bad people go there over the weekend and make a mess out of the place. One of our staff reported that she saw a lot of children in the clinic close by with lots of different illnesses. It is rainy season and Dengue fever and other illnesses are rampant.
Praise God that Anton passed his Grade 11 and he is a busy man with grade 12. We are already looking at some universities in order for him to study, and believe me that is a task not for the faint of heart. Reality is around the corner for Anton to finish school.
Continue to pray for Ouma Paula as she struggles with more pain.
The dogs got out of the yard on Saturday and after the landlady phoned us we found both of them on the road. They normally go and swim in the pond next door but this time they wandered far off and Mooze got hit by a car. After taking him to the vet we discovered that his hip was out of place and they did an operation on him. For a moment we all felt that we gonna lose him and with that another piece of Gideon. Praise God old Mooze is doing fine and he is doing much better, still in hospital.
Anton and I are reading a book called Lords of the Earth by Don Richardson. This missionary got inspired by the poetry of RUDYARD KIPLING. Most properly not for everyone but it all makes sense.
If—
BY RUDYARD KIPLING
(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Love
Rossouw-clan
No comments:
Post a Comment