Red Dust

As I stood in the red dust with my numb mouth, the coffin of my father’s second oldest brother, Izak, was being lowered down into the dirt to join his wife at the good age of 81, my eyes caught the script written at the bottom of the headstone, “God’s wee kan ons nie verstaan, maar wat God doenis welgedaan”. We can’t even begin to understand God but whatever He does, is done well.

I had just come from the dentist, and my tongue and bottom lip was still numb from the anaesthetic, but my heart wasn’t numb as I did not know this part of the family too well but when they asked who I was, someone mentioned who my father was, oh Jerome’s son and that brought memories back to them of my late father who died over 20 years ago. My heart was heavy because majority of the memories of my dad that they brought up was that he was a good man, always had too much to drink and the fun they had together when drunk. Yes what a sad legacy to leave behind.

Here I was the sole representative of my side of the family, all I could do after giving a weak smile was to put my arm around Aunty Rene, my dad’s sister, and looked down at my red dust covered boots.

Rest in peace now Uncle Izak, because now the new generation will pick up the pieces of brokenness, and to walk this dusty road God has for us planned. As my cousin Rob who at the funeral service said to us, the new generation, we must learn to say sorry, by that way we won’t be carrying all these heavy burdens. So true, it is unforgiveness and hurt against us that makes this baggage we carry very heavy.

And here I am, trusting God when I don’t understand while at the same time trying to wipe away the dust from my boots.