An Old Irish Blessing ... May the road rise up to meet you.May the wind always be at your back.May the sun shine warm upon your face,and rains fall soft upon your fields.And until we meet again,May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

"It is said some lives are linked across time. There are certain people connected by an ancient calling that echoes through the ages....destiny."

Life is a fleeting moment. Why live life in moderation and control when it lasts so short a time. Love until you drown in the happiness, laugh until the air you breath escapes you, cry until your tears are dry and live like the next second death will take your soul. Life is yours to live, and live it you must, not in the fear of what is to come next. That Next Place is waiting for you. It waits, in the hope that you will come fulfilled and ready, not in longing and regret.

Thank You For Being a FRIEND!*°•.¸☆ ★ ☆¸.•°*”˜˜”*°•.¸☆♥Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵Ʒ..•°*"˜ ☆ ¸..•´¨¨)) -:¦:-.(ړײ)/       ¸.•´….•´¨¨)).«▓       ((¸¸.•´ ¸.•´.-:¦:-. ╝╚ ….. ... `♥♪♫-´¯

Wishing you a wonderful new week..Like little birds, we only fly when we get shaken out of our nests; and develop the strongest wings only when we try them against the wind. The dove in a fable, was perturbed because the wind ruffled its feathers, but without that air it could neither soar nor live. In struggle, it is prudent to not wish away every opposition. It is better to meet and master our difficulties that faith can be made stronger through conflict.~Leroy Brownlow~With much love allways

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Henry En Marelize Townsend
GET YOUR TISSUES OUT ... I was walking around in a supermarket when i saw a
cashier hand this little boy his money back, the boy
couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old. The
Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough
money to buy this doll.'' The little boy turned to the
... ... ... old woman next to him, ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?'' She replied, ''You
know that you don't have enough money to buy
this doll, my dear.'' Then she asked him to stay
there for just 5 minutes while she went to look
around. She left quickly. The little boy was still
holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to
give this doll to. 'It's the doll that my sister loved
most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was
sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.' I
replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring
it to her after all, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her
where she is now. I have to give the doll to my
mommy so that she can give it to my sister when
she goes there.' His eyes were so sad while saying
this, 'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy
says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with
her to give it to my sister.'' My heart nearly
stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said, 'I
told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her
to wait until I come back from the mall.' Then he
showed me a very nice photo of himself. He was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take
my picture with her so she won't forget me.' 'I
love my mommy and I wish she didn't have to
leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be
with my little sister.' Then he looked again at the
doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we
check again, just in case you do have enough
money for the doll!'' OK' he said, 'I hope I do have
enough.' I added some of my money to his
without him seeing and we started to count it.
There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said, 'Thank you God
for giving me enough money!' Then he looked at
me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to
sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to
buy this doll, so that mommy could give it to my
sister. He heard me!'' 'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my
mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much.
But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white
rose.'' 'My mommy loves white roses.' A few
minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with
my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state of mind from when I started. I
couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I
remembered a local newspaper article two days
ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck,
who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a
little girl. The little girl died right away and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to
decide whether to pull the plug on the life-
sustaining machine because the young woman
would not be able to recover from the coma. Was
this the family of the little boy? Two days after this
encounter with the little boy I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed
away. I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of
white roses and I went to the funeral home where
the body of the young woman was for people to
see and make last wishes before her burial. She
was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy
and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place,
teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed
forever. The love that the little boy had for his
mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to
imagine, and in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him. Now you
have 2 choices: (1) Copy & Paste this on your wall
(2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heartSee more

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Ode to an Old House

There it stands in the empty paddock,
Now all alone and forlorn
No longer glass in the windows.
No longer gardens or lawn.

The roof is lifting and rusty,
No paint on the walls to be seen.
Once a proud family home in the country.
Now a derelict. Just a has-been.

A sad looking picture. I feel
For that broken down building out there.
Where’s the family who once occupied it?
Who were they, I wonder, and where?

Did they leave all at once in a hurry?
Or all drift off one at a time?
Were they happy or sad? Were they good folk or bad?
When they left was there reason or rhyme?

Yet I feel some warmth for that lonely old house
As it stands on its own way out there.
In its tumbledown state it can only wait
For collapse. Would anyone care?

I do. I wish I had taken a photo
Of the old decayed building out there.
For I feel sad for the house which was once
A glad home of a family there. ©

Posted by Dave

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Hold my hand ...

I wish I was there for you today
Take my hand in yours
Together we can do it
There is just a few stones to cross
Together we can do it
Tomorrow the sun will shine again

Monday, September 12, 2011

Jakobus van Niekerk ... my Dad

Today is the anniversary of My Dad passing, it's 12 ago that We got the phone call. Do you know I don't even remember who call me right now, I think they called and spoke to George. I just felt this huge hurt and sadness, I don't want to go down that road again, so I tried to shut it out, never really accepting he was gone. I was so disappointed he never made it over to Australia as we had planned for the 2000 Olympic Games, just a few months off. The last time I had hugged Dad was a few days before we left for Australia, we spoke on the phone a few time and wrote a few letters.

What can I tell you about My Dad. They came from the poor class folk of Johannesburg, living in a red bricked semi-detached house, the front door just about on the road, only a brick wall separating it. Grandpa van Niekerk worked on the railways as most men in that neighbourhood did those days. Grandma was a seamstress and even turned her hand making beautiful wedding dresses, all to help support 3 boys and their youngest a girl. Those were the days when most cars were all black heavy beasts. I remember when Grandpa died there were so many black cars parked down the street and everyone was dressed in black. I was only 4 years old then, the world looked very scary. The day before I had landed in hospital, my little finger was jammed in the backdoor, Mom closed the door and locked it before realising what happened. I lost the tip of my finger.

Anyway Dad was probably rebellious, cause he ended up going to a boys boarding school in the eastern Cape Provence. Where he must have excelled at sport esp swimming, cause many year later He went there and his swimming record was still standing. Dad worked on the mines for a bit. Mom tells the story of when they helped move my Grandma, with a ute/bakkie, they loaded up the ute with some of her belongings and then her chooks in a crate. Dad being a smoker flicked the burnt cigarette bud and it landed in the back of the ute. By the time he noticed there was smoke, he panicked and ripped everything off the back, only to inform them afterwards he had a few sticks of dynamite on the back.

Dad joined the Police Force Later he joined the Correctional Services and we were stationed at Barberton. Somehow he was involved with riding horses in a parade in full uniform, that is a very faint memory. Mom came from good breeding stock as she used to say, never heard the end off I helped put your Dad through university. Dad was a bit of a Hermit, happy being by himself, spending many nights studying and finally receiving His Honors degree.

Dad dreamed of having a son, the go cart he built while Mom was pregnant never got used, cause on 12th January they had me. I had a happy childhood, Dad taught me to drive when I was just 6 yrs old, really only steer the car on his lap, he did the gears and clutch. I remember Dad having these coffee tins with holes punched in them in the garage, with snakes he caught while on duty, waiting to be posted off to the Hartebeesport dam Snake park. They used to milked them for anti venom. Never got to close to those coffee tins. Later Dad got a job in a Government Department and we moved to the city. Mom squashed so many of his dreams and schemes, 24 years later they divorced.

There's heaps more stories about Dad, he was one of the best. Love you Kosie