Rona

Yesterday I participated in the Opening of Rona (the R is pronounced like a G in Afrikaans) with our 1pm congregation. We whites usually don't know much about Rona in the Methodist Church, but it is a season of sacrificial giving which lasts a couple of months each year. The funds generated are in theory earmarked for mission and outreach but in poorer communities often get used to meet outstanding debts. There is nothing hidden and private about this giving - each member of this small congregation had a chance to come to the front and put a note on the table after sharing what she was thanking God for or praying for. The secretary dutifully wrote down each name and amount.

One old lady with a wonderful sense of humour gave a long speech and put R10 down. I asked someone what she had said. "That was her taxi money - she will walk 10km home now". I saw another lady of very limited means slip a R10 note to a friend who had nothing to give.

It had been a long morning and I hadn't relished the thought of sitting through a Rona service, but I felt enriched and humbled to witness the joyful, sacrificial generosity of these ladies.

Barry

A friend and colleague died tragically this week. Energetic, creative, so gifted, provocative, passionate. I haven't had much contact with him for years, but miss him now.

In the many words of tribute that have been written of him, people have spoken repeatedly of the way he lived with passion. Not a cautious person - someone who often spoke before thinking too clearly about consequences - passionate enough to risk making some mistakes. He challenges me to risk more.

Also, that someone so full of life could really be gone seems completely unreal. And reminds me again to appreciate the gift of each day and the people that fill it.