Skip to main content

The little old lady at the statue.

As I listened to the “guide” give the pre-recorded tourist speech about the Blackheads building in my cheap, white headphones hanging from the ceiling, a little old lady caught my attention. She was very unassuming, and for the passing glance could have been just anyone. However, with the myriad of tourists wandering around the square with their cameras and groups and custom “tourist attire” (read: backpack, bum-bag and sunburn), I was surprised at how this lady was different. She was sitting at the base of the statue (which the “guide” informed us was a replica from 2000, the original being in some church building somewhere). At first I wondered what was going on. She just sat there with her head tilted slightly forward. I think she was dozing as a bit later she readjusted herself and kind of leaned into the statute. Even from a distance I could tell her clothes were unkempt and I figured she was probably not a tourist. The deep wrinkles in her face and her worn hands made me think that her life had probably not been easy. And knowing a little about the history of the nation, I wondered what her story was? And I wondered what her life was like now. Was she simply enjoying the sunshine, or was she sitting at the base of the statue because that was what she did every day? Does she have family and friends who know and love her?

The little green guided tour bus (which felt more like a toy bus with open sides) soon started chugging away again, with the pre-recorded voice reeling off numerous facts about the different streets and alleys we drove through… most of it I can’t remember, but seeing this little lady at the base of the statue remains with me. And I wonder, just wonder, if noticing her is part of connecting with God’s heart for this city?

Popular posts from this blog

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...

Tuesday children's prayer | Handing out shoes and feeding toddlers.

No day is the same here. After getting up early (which seems to be what I do here), and eating breakfast which was bread with butter (accompanied by an amazing cup of coffee given me by an American friend), I headed to the prayer room for children's prayer. This is a prayer time where the children come voluntarily to pray before school on Tuesdays and Fridays. Entering the room I was so impressed by how it was full of children eager to pray. There were probably 60 or 70 children there, and it was amazing to see one after the other choose to pray for their families and people who are sick, and other subjects on their little hearts. It was so great and an experience that I will carry with me for a long time. After prayer it was "Shoprite" time, which meant piling into a bus with other visitors and missionaries for the weekly shopping trip. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I had a few items to buy and hoped it would be a stress-free experience. As we drove along ...