Time off

I’ve never been entirely how barometers work although I know they have something to do with pressure (even that confuses me a bit – where does the pressure come from? Are there pulses in the universe pushing all the air into a smaller space for a while? Or trying to stretch it more thinly? Does the pressure of trying to jam into a smaller space make the air molecules speed up and get hotter? Please don’t feel you have to let me know. For the time being, I’m content in my ignorance.)

Still, the reason I mention it is that the pressure on the DSCWC team has been intense this week – and the weather here in Durban outrageously hot and humid. (Another blog, another tortured metaphor.) This morning, there was a tremendous rainstorm and the sky is now grey. As a Brit, I feel wrong saying this, but thank goodness for rain. Does this mean the pressure has eased? I suspect that the grand weather barometer does have an effect on our personal pressure-meters – but unfortunately, I don’t think the rain means that the pressure on us has lessened.

The countdown now says 15 days til kickoff. But there are only 11 days until the teams begin arriving. Only 6 before the volunteers start getting here. And the pressure of squeezing more to-dos into these tight days – well, it means they start speeding up and getting hotter. If that’s true for me, I can’t imagine how it must be for the teams preparing children to come over. Particularly those still – still! – battling through endless bureaucracy to make sure all the right forms are filled in on time.

There have been some stormy discussions. There have been some decisions made on the hoof which time may prove unwise. There have been a lot of hot late nights of work. There have continued to be round-ups (though they stopped for a few nights), and the staff at Umthombo have to deal with them medically, pastorally and practically.

To relieve the pressure, I offloaded onto a group of friends and family a long email about round-ups. I emailed a couple of local church-goers. The response has felt to me like a cool down-pour.

Friends and family are giving up their Sunday evening to pray, campaign and strategise about how effective attention can be brought to this issue. These local church-goers are taking the issue to their church eldership. It feels like something significant – voices speaking out with street children.

Readers in tune with this may not be surprised to learn that my offloading email – but more to the point, the response – came after a Sabbath day. A day for celebration. A day for praying. A day for seeking wisdom beyond the human. A day for remembering the bigger picture. A day when we may, because we stop striving for it, see a Kingdom – out of the corner of our eyes – with utter clarity.

Once the teams are here, this is how I’m imagining the football games will feel. A time to stop striving and just play (easy for me to say, on the sidelines…). A time for celebration. A time when wisdom – when transformation – will come in sideways.

 jenny

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