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	<title>Girl van die Suburbs &#187; krag</title>
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		<title>God se hand in alles</title>
		<link>http://www.girlvandiesuburbs.co.za/2009/05/god-se-hand-in-alles/</link>
		<comments>http://www.girlvandiesuburbs.co.za/2009/05/god-se-hand-in-alles/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 01 May 2009 16:09:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Girl van die Suburbs</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Gesprekke met God]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fillipense]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[krag]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lewenslesse]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.girlvandiesuburbs.co.za/?p=224</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Ek kan nie stry nie, ek is &#8216;n sucker vir &#8216;n mooi storie.  &#8216;n Storie waaruit ons lewenslesse kan leer lê my na aan die hart. Wanneer die storie nog &#8216;n fairytale ending het, kry ek so &#8216;n warm gevoel in my hart.
Ek wonder partykeer hoe mense nie in &#8216;n God kan glo nie. Hoe [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: justify;">Ek kan nie stry nie, ek is &#8216;n sucker vir &#8216;n mooi storie.  &#8216;n Storie waaruit ons lewenslesse kan leer lê my na aan die hart. Wanneer die storie nog &#8216;n fairytale ending het, kry ek so &#8216;n warm gevoel in my hart.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: &quot;Century Gothic&quot;;">Ek wonder partykeer hoe mense nie in &#8216;n God kan glo nie. Hoe verwerk hulle die episodes wat in hulle lewens afspeel? Wonder hulle dan nie soms, hoekom dinge gebeur soos wat dit gebeur nie? Is alles vir hulle net toeval? </span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: &quot;Century Gothic&quot;;">Wel, ek glo dat alles ten goede uitwerk want God is in beheer van ons lewens. Daar is wel tye dat Hy jou simpel besluite gebruik om iets moois te vorm uit die ervaring&#8230; Want die wat glo, sal weet dit is nie God se wil om jou te beproef nie, Hy laat dit wel toe. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: &quot;Century Gothic&quot;;">Toe ek hierdie storie raak lees, het ek &#8216;n warm gevoel in my hart gekry. </span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: &quot;Century Gothic&quot;;"><span style="color: #ff00ff;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: &quot;Century Gothic&quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;" lang="EN"><span style="color: #000000;"><strong>God doesn&#8217;t make mistakes. He puts us where we are to be.</strong><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> D</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 8.5pt; font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;" lang="EN"><span style="color: #000000;">eur Christina Subke</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">They say there are no mistakes, for everything there is a purpose. Makes you think. Enjoy! We&#8217;ll never know where our paths will take us! This is really beautiful&#8230;God is not sleeping.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">Consumed by my loss, I didn&#8217;t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend- my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father&#8217;s death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">When mother&#8217;s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor. &#8216;What now, Lord?&#8217; I asked sitting in church.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife&#8217;s hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband&#8217;s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed the map on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. &#8216;I&#8217;m late,&#8217; he explained, though no explanation was necessary.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, &#8216;Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of&#8217; Margaret?&#8221;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">&#8220;Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary, no ever one called her &#8216;Mary,&#8221; I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn&#8217;t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">&#8216;No, that isn&#8217;t correct,&#8217; he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, &#8216;Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">That isn&#8217;t who this is.&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">&#8216;Isn&#8217;t this the Lutheran church?&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">&#8216;No, the Lutheran church is across the street.&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">&#8216;Oh.&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">&#8216;I believe you&#8217;re at the wrong funeral, Sir.&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">The solemness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man&#8217;s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">At the final &#8216;Amen,&#8217; we darted out a door and into the parking lot. &#8216;I do believe we&#8217;ll be the talk of the town,&#8217; he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt&#8217;s funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.</span></p>
<p style="padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #000000;">In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, &#8216;Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it&#8217;s truly a match made in heaven.&#8217;</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Lees vanaand bietjie Fillipense 4 vers 13:  &#8220;Ek is tot alles in staat deur Hom wat my krag gee&#8221;</p>
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