a sheepish correction...

So everything I wrote in this last post is true, except for one small detail....after some in-depth google mapping, I discovered that the water I saw with my family, False Bay, is actually part of the Atlantic Ocean, not the Indian Ocean. Oops. This makes the title of my last post slightly untrue. But to make up for it, here’s a few pictures of the Cape of Good Hope, and the dividing line between the Atlantic Ocean and False Bay. Looking at the pictures, you have to give me a little credit. I mean, Cape Point, in all it’s incredible beauty, ought to be the dividing line between two oceans, really.

This is Cape Point, to the left is False Bay, and to the right is the rest of the Atlantic.

A photo of the Cape of Good Hope from Cape Point.

The old lighthouse on Cape Point.

The view from Cape Point back toward the rest of Cape Town. (Incredible, eh?)

Sitting on the Cape of Good Hope...

Thanks for sticking with me, geographical errors and all!

Peace,
Meredith

between two oceans.

I saw two oceans in the space of two days.  

Last Sunday afternoon, my host mom, brother and I drove over to our Aunt and Uncle's house, where we all piled into my uncle's bucky (truck) and drove out to their niece's home.  (If that confused you, don't worry, I'm still trying to work out all the family relationships!)  We were driving along, talking and laughing, when all of a sudden a huge body of water was in front of us.  I stared out the window, eyes wide, and asked which ocean I was looking at.  My uncle said it was the Indian Ocean.  As I tried to hold back a giant grin, I told them it was my first time ever seeing the Indian Ocean.  They all looked at me, slightly astonished, and then my uncle proceeded to drive up and down the road that ran next to the ocean, telling me about the different towns and beaches that we passed.  I stared out the window, amazed at the incredible beauty of this place I get to live.

I then spent my 4th of July with two other American interns traveling around the city bowl via giant red bus taking pictures– probably the most American thing we could have done for the holiday. But we had a beautiful day, getting a chance to see the side of Cape Town most visitors see first. We drove partway up Table Mountain, and the view there left me completely convinced that Cape Town has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. Later in the day, we stood on the beach of the Atlantic Ocean taking pictures and accidentally getting our feet wet, laughing and enjoying a day of relaxation.

One of my favorite musicians (Josh Garrels, look him up), has a new CD out called Love and War and the Sea In Between. I’ve loved listening to his songs since I’ve been here, one, because they’re just really great, and two, because they’ve been speaking so much into what I’ve experienced so far. In Cape Town, it feels like there is no sea between love and war. Both exist so clearly, and they live right next to each other in every day and every space. Here, it’s both Love and War in between the Seas. Clearly, it’s been a few weeks since I wrote the first part of this post, and since then I’ve gotten the chance to see a few more pieces of Cape Town in all its complexity. As cool as it was to see two oceans in the space of two days, it’s been even more powerful to see two worlds in the space of one city. And just like I'm between two oceans, I'm between these two worlds. My prayer is that God would draw them back together again.

beauty and pain.

It's funny that I'm only just now watching the final episodes of Oprah with my family here, even though her show was finished in the States over a month ago.  I'm not really a big fan of daytime television, but I figure, since I'm already watching soap operas, it's only right to watch Oprah as well.  I have never watched Oprah before in my life, but as I sat Sunday night watching the world celebrate her and the legacy she has created, I could not help but feel the emotional impact of countless of stories of despair transformed into stories of joy.

You might be reading my posts and thinking that the most impactful parts of my time here come from watching tv.  Thankfully, this is false.  I'm not going to lie, I do have a new-found love for South African soap operas and the Oprah Winfrey show.  But Sunday, Oprah provided for me a connection point.  This past week was filled with so many experiences, and so much emotion.  I witnessed incredible beauty, followed immediately by deep, deep pain.  The juxtaposition of the two has left me dazed, and I have struggled for several nights now to even begin to find the right words to fill a seemingly insurmountable blank page.  But then, Oprah.  Stories of pain, and stories of beauty.  Stories of despair, and stories of joy.  Most of all, stories of hope.  So I'm going to tell you a few stories from this past week.

Tuesday morning after prayer, I sat at my temporary desk, planning to finish a HNGR paper for the work day.  After five minutes, my boss came in, asking if I wanted instead to go spend the day in Khayelitsha, one of the largest impoverished communities in Cape Town.  I said absolutely yes, walked outside, hopped in a van with a few co-workers, and off we went.  We drove over to Sweet Home Farm, an informal settlement built on a garbage dump that the Warehouse works closely alongside, and picked up nine young boys to come with us and help build a house.  At this point, I realized just how unprepared I was for this spontaneous adventure.  We arrived in Khayelitsha, and I was introduced to Mama Chop Chop, the woman whose home we were working on.  I helped Mama Chop Chop make tea for the boys, and then the real work began.  As they started mixing cement, I was faced with a decision: did I stand back, watch, and maybe help make food later, or participate, guaranteeing wet feet, destroyed boots and cemented clothing?  The choice was clear.  I mixed and threw cement until my boots, pants, hands, and hair were covered with the stuff.  And then I helped make lunch.  It was a day of beauty, of laughing with boys even though I spoke English and they spoke Xhosa, of feeding hungry boys until we ran out of food, of helping provide shelter for a woman in need.  Yet in the midst of the beauty, it was impossible to ignore the painful facts: the boys were hungry, and yet we could provide only one meal; Mama Chop Chop's extension is built out of sand bags, two by fours, and cement; Khayelitsha is Cape Town's largest township, and extends for miles.  The tension between beauty and pain was vivid that day.

Though I felt joy mixed with sorrow while in Khayelitsha, I felt as though I were drowning in pain by Wednesday morning.  On the drive back to the Warehouse, we found out that a young boy had been attacked and killed in Sweet Home Farm by a pack of stray dogs.  The shock of the news left me numb; such a thing couldn't be possible.  But it was possible; the layers of poverty and the family situation led to a horrifying tragedy.  As we sat and prayed in the Warehouse on Wednesday morning, I wept tears of sorrow and anger.  How could God allow such poverty to even exist?  I felt swallowed up in despair, held under a heavy weight of hopelessness.  The pain of the story felt insurmountable.

Yet somehow, God brought hope back into a community steeped in hopelessness.  Over the weekend, thirty youth from a wealthier neighborhood's church slept in the Warehouse and partnered with some youth from Sweet Home Farm to run a kid's club in the community.  Even in the short time I spent there, I couldn't help but see love filling the playground, flying across the tiny lumpy soccer field with the kids playing, and pouring out of every child's laugh, smile, and embrace.  After such a pain-filled week, the weekend was an incredibly beautiful picture of reconciliation, joy, and hope.  Though the pain was not forgotten, the fuller picture of God's redemption was once again visible.

As I sat and watched God work this weekend, I felt my hope restored as well.  Beauty is real, just as pain is real.  I saw them both so clearly this past week.  It's easy to choose to place hope in the beauty, but beauty often is overcome by pain, and hope crumbles.  For hope to stand, it must be rooted in God, His power, and His goodness, mercy, and love.  I choose to cling to those truths, to place all my hope there.  I know joy and sorrow, beauty and pain will be the reality of these six months.  My prayer is that I would see and experience everything in the light of the hope of the Gospel, and that I would see that hope well up throughout the city of Cape Town.  That, friends, is good hope.