So… in case you missed it, this really strange thing happened on Wednesday morning.
And… well… I thought about rather not posting this, because I know it’s controversial, but I’m going to anyway. Why? Because it’s the truth and I realized how damaging it can be to a blog when the author lies, even when it’s by omission. This post will contain religious overtones and more than just a little testimony. So if you’re not interested, you might find reading one of my Wattpad stories more interesting.
Okay. Taking a deep breath here. While crying like a baby.
What I didn’t tell you on Wednesday:
You know how Job felt when everything got taken away from him? Well. I can safely say I think my family and I got a great taste of it. Except for the bit where his entire family died. And where he lost everything basically in a day or two.
I’m not going to go into the costs for everyone in my family, but to give you an idea of my score card for 2014:
1) Publishing deal went SPECTACULARLY wrong by January.
2) My and my mother’s business, which had taken a hit at the end of the year, didn’t bounce back thanks in a large part to some laws our government wanted to pass.
3) The farm we’d moved to, which had been such a huge source of hope, despite the business taking a hit, soaked up our savings and offered pretty much nothing back. I am not going to talk about what had to be sacrificed as a result of this, because it’s not pretty.
4) All of my hopes and dreams have basically been shelved until such a time that we could bounce back from all the spending on the farm. A farm, incidentally, that we were led to by God.
5) Sacrifices and dream shelving aside, the person with whom we’d signed the buyer’s contract basically sold it out from under us in September. Yes, we could have fought this, but after already spending so much and still getting nothing back, we just couldn’t see a point to fighting for the farm. Besides which, we kinda realized that if God could open doors no one could close, and close doors that no one could open, it’s pretty dang obvious from the way these doors were closing that God did not in fact want us to stay on this farm.
6) We’d spend to the tune of $200 000 on the farm, which we ain’t getting back. To give you an idea of the magnitude of this amount. Until my salary went into said farm, my monthly salary, which put me in the upper-middle income class, was about $1500 per month.
7) Then… the shoe biz, the source of hope we all so desperately needed, went pear shaped due to actions taken by others. Actions completely beyond our control.
You know about breaking points?
On Tuesday, 4 November, I’d officially reached mine.
The result was that I… well… I lost it completely. I had some seriously strong words with God. Testimony one: That He didn’t strike me down for at least a quarter of what I’d said, is more than proof enough that yes, He does love us as much as He says.
Anyway. So I get into the car and me, my mother and four of our employees go to Cape Town to unpack and count 5000 pairs of shoes.
God has sort of fallen silent as I left the room. (Yep, ours is very much a two-way conversation. No, that’s not at all an insane thing to say.) Then suddenly out of the blue, He says:
Me: “What happens on Friday?”
Silence. With me sort of growing carefully optimistic that maybe something’ll get sorted for us before the weekend came. But even so, I had some niggling suspicions. Why now? After a whole freaking sucking year. Why now?
After dinner, we spoke and I sorta carefully ventured what I’d heard, then found that both my brother and uncle had gotten the same message. And my grandmother, that something would turnaround soon, but without a specific deadline.
Despite this, by Tuesday evening, I was doubting again. Not proud to say it. But there you go.
I didn’t doubt that something would happen on Friday. I just didn’t really think that any of it would really have a bearing on actually helping us get out of all this… well… crap.
Night terrors. Waking often. Sorta, half lucid, half delirious praying… Yeah. I sometimes do that, if I drift off while praying.
Problem with this is that with sleep comes lowered inhibitions.
As such, I suspect (no way that I’ll ever really know) that I said something like: “It’s like You’re not here anymore.”
Because honestly, it’s something that’s been in my thoughts for some time, but that I haven’t actually been brave enough to actually put into words.
Nope. That isn’t when God turned His back on me forever.
That had to be the moment when He quite audibly said: “I’m here.”
And just in case I didn’t buy it this time: