Green and Gold Day (Present)

Muff and Jack, my dear friends, have an expression: It was a Green and Gold day.

A Green and Gold day, is an intangible concept, something almost too beautiful to define, something magical, a special quality you struggle to express ...so you describe it in colours which say, princely, vibrant, gorgeous.

A Green and Gold day means something different for each person - it is in the eye of the beholder I guess!

Yesterday, was such a day. The sun shone, our house had 6 kids in it, all busy like little bees, Werner is on leave, and although I am working ... I caught some of the holiday spirit, coming down through the skype lines as the kids got onto skype to "chat" to me. (The magic of Internet!)


We discovered 6 blooming tulips in the garden. THAT is the green part! Tulips never come up again and bloom once they have had their initial season - not in South Africa anyway. It never gets cold enough in the winter, for the bulbs to "activate". (Ha - that is "programmer" language for plant stuff I don't understand). Would you guess I was the daughter of generations of flower growers?

So, I have been wondering when I planted these? Dad gave me these bulbs, and it was probably before he retired from HADECO, so how far back is that? 5-6 years maybe. I didn't even know these bulbs survived in the ground! Now there is great excitement in our house over these gorgeous flowers and I want to shout - Hey - it is Tulips from Florida!


Here is a photo of a rose, Werner took yesterday. The roses are all about to bloom. The garden looks gorgeous.

But, what made the day golden, was tea in the garden with Muff and Jack. We hadn't visited for ages, but yesterday we carried on as though no time had passed between our visits.

I sat and thought about it all, and realised... the people in my life, are what makes it "Golden".

DIY Yvonne

Initially I felt pretty intimidated with the care of the house and garden. So much had been neglected for so many years – due to the Prof’s depression.

But when I really thought about it: I had been running the house and household myself for years, without really realizing it. I knew how the bore hole worked, knew how the electric fence operated, I knew when to order anthracite for the winter months, and how to water the garden via the computerized water system. The things I could not fix, I could pay someone to fix for me.

But one such a thing, I decided to try for myself. The garage has a side door, which has glass panes in it. For about 2 years, the bottom pane had been broken, causing a problem with our little Fox Terrior. He used to jump through that window, and then run out into the street. I had asked the Prof to fix this, on more than one occasion, and had resorted to sticking the window closed with masking tape and cardboard.

Now, looking at this door I felt tremendous irritation and then, there rose in me a determination about this problem. Surely I could put a new glass panel in there – how hard can it be?

I marched outside, measured up the window, and drove to the hardware store to buy glass and putty.

Once home, I was faced with the problem of the old glass and putty. Somehow I recalled a screwdriver and hammer featured into this part of the job. Out came hammer and screwdriver, and I started chipping away at this business. Being pretty unhandy with a hammer and screwdriver, it took me an hour and a half, and several cuts later before the window was cleaned out.

Then, armed with a teaspoon, putty and the new glass – I started on “this can’t be so hard job”.

The teaspoon you ask? Well, you need to flatten that putty somehow you know, don’t you use a teaspoon for that????????

That part of the job also took another hour and a half.
So – 3 hours later (yes – a ridiculous amount of time, I know), I had a window and a sense of accomplishment that far outstripped the actual accomplishment.

I only found out later that there exists such a thing as a putty knife, and that you DO NOT put putty into a window with a teaspoon.
O well, you live and learn, or in my case - you laugh and learn!

House Hunting

Struggling to sleep at night, my mind would wonder over the ”WHAT IF” question.

Oh what useless words:
What if I had grown my hair, what if I had paid more attention, what if … what if… what if….

The Lord took pity on me and gave me one of the most beautiful verses in the bible:

Isa 43:18 "Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.
Isa 43:19 Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

This verse says – you cannot change the past – look forward, and move one. It gave me the right to stop saying – What IF. The Lord is not a Lord of our past – for in it there is no future. He takes whatever we have done, and puts streams through it, even though our choices (or another’s choices), have put us in the middle of the desert.

There came the day , sometime in March, that the children told me the Prof was looking to buy a house. I immediately went into panic mode. What if he bought the house on our existing bond?

I went to see the bank, to make sure he could not use the existing bond’s funds without my permission (which I was going to give “over my dead body”!).

The lady helping me at the bank, was very quiet, as I told a smattering of what had been happening in my life.

Walking out of her office was one of those pivotal moments I wrote about , which changed my way of thinking forever.
“You are very lucky – you know,” she said.
Hello? Did I just hear you right?

“I was in your position too,” she said. “My husband also had an affair. The difference between us, is that mine decided to stay.”
So, I am thinking – sorry lady, I still don’t get it, but I kept my thoughts to myself as she continued her story:

“My life consists of doubt and mistrust. Every time he walks out, I want to check his wallet, every time he phones to say he is late, I wonder if he has started another affair with another woman. I try not to think this way – but my whole life is made up of doubt and fear…, “ her voice trailed off in misery. Looking at her, I could see what this life had done, what it cost her, and that the lack of trust in a marriage meant you had no marriage at all….


So – I had been given a picture of what my life could have been like, had the Professor decided to stay.

Glimpses of Paradise (Present)

Every 2nd Friday, I have the wonderful privilege of drinking coffee with my darling friend Nan.

She is 86 years old, and we have adopted each other as family. My grannies have long since passed away, and her grandchildren are mostly overseas.

On Friday, I proudly walked in with a sheaf of papers. On it, my blog stories of the last 2 weeks. The last time I visited her, I had printed the beginning. She was highly concerned about my new venture, since she was convinced the Prof would do something bad to me for all this writing business.

So, to quell her unease, I printed it out and took it to her. I actually paid little consideration as to where I left her in the story line - after all, she knows the story, she knows the end.

I was quite surprised to find her very unhappy about the blog on Friday. The story made her sad, it made her cry, she said.

No amount of persuasion as to where I was now, could change her mind. "You must stop the blog" - she was adamant!

So, I gave her comments some thought (no I am not stopping the blog - this is way too much fun), but the story really is in the depths of trouble right now. So, I wanted to write something completely different, and show you a glimpse into the paradise I now live in. Even I need a change of scenery!

But, since I love stories so much - a story treat for you too. I am taking creative license and calling it:

The Bee Keeper

The photo you see above, is of our bird feeder. Werner and I have discovered a love of bird watching in the garden. To this end we put up the feeder, we have a lovely water fountain (which the Prof would probably have nicked if he could have managed to move it), and finally we installed a nesting log last summer.

Oh great was our delight when the Hoepoe we had been watching started pecking at the log. He managed to hollow it out, and just when he was done, he got chucked out by a Crested Barbette, who moved in. Shame - laws of nature I guess. The whole summer long we watched the Crested Barbette flying in and out the log, but never closely enough to know if any young hatched from the nest.

This past weekend we have been having such fun. The garden is full of flowers, and Werner has been taking so many photos.

Here are a few samples of the photos he has taken. IF you look carefully at the bottle brush photo you will see the start of our troubles - a BEE!

So, the stage is set. A garden full of flowers attracting heaps of bees, and an empty nesting log.

Wala! Yesterday a bee hive moved in (sorry Crested Barbette - laws of nature. I guess you could say - what goes round, comes round!)

Um, well what now, we asked each other. We are alone this weekend. ALL the kids are off with the other parents. Thinking about the kids we realised, we had better do something about this. What a pain.

Did you know it costs a whole stack to get bees removed? Things are never dull at our house, that is for sure.

This morning the "bee keeper" arrived. The poetic licence is because they are pest control people (but really - I want to call him the bee keeper, because he takes them away - alive, and gives them to a bee keeper out in Muldersdrift. Anyway - a much more romantic title than Pest Control).

The Bee Keeper guy is very friendly. He has an odd, slow way of talking, but his eyes have life.

He walks through the garden and says - you have a paradise here. I look at the garden with an outsider's eyes, and mumble - you are right - a paradise - in more ways than you can know.

Somehow - as always happens when people wonder through our gates, I begin telling him my story. His eyes fill with tears, and I hasten to add - but wait, it has a fantastic end. Won't you have some coffee, let us tell you our story.

So, this morning, time stood still for a little while, as we tell him our story. His smile returns as he heartily shakes our hands. What we do not realise, is that he too has an amazing story to tell. But his is told quickly, and almost without emphasis, as we move towards the car, and towards his departure.

In his slow careful way, he tells of a time where he did a good turn for a man in a wheel chair. For several weeks, he gives this man a lift to Westgate. On about the 7th run, as he greets this man and turns to his car, there is a man waiting for him, with a long coat. The man lifts his coat and pulls out a gun. He was told to open the car, where there were another 2 men waiting for them.

"Please," he pleaded, "here are the keys, take the car, but leave me here. Please don't kill me".

They are oblivious to his pleas, and force him into his car. They drive some way, before telling him to slack off and pull to the side. They pointed their guns at the back of his head and shot him. I think the intention was to leave him by the road side, but now things went wrong for them. They ran away from the car.

The Bee Keeper remembers nothing, except waking up in hospital, and the stories his family have told him. The doctors had no hope for him, and did not want to operate. They gave the family 15 minutes to decide what to do. His nephew went one side, and started to pray to God for his life.

When the doctors returned for the family's decision, his nephew spoke up. "God has promised to guide your hands, operate this man".

Today, evidence of the damage, is a hole in his skull, and I guess, the rather slow speech. He does a job which might be deemed "unworthy", by many today. Yet he does it with a thankful heart.

He has a little boy at home. The Bee Keeper looks at his sleeping son, and is thankful for the food he can provide. The crowning glory for him is the glass of milk he can place by his son's bedside each night.

The Bee Keeper greets us with a smile, and leaves us with the words - God Loves You.

So, he came into our world, into our paradise, and encouraged us with love. He is truly humble, truly amazing, and above all, a walking miracle.

Glimmers of hope

Slowly, the light was creeping back. There were things I could be grateful for : there was no longer someone complaining about washing, or about friends, or about the haircut I’d had, or the kids leaving their toys about, etc etc. (Oh boy - he sure did have a looooong list of complaints).

There is something I had not mentioned until now.
I had been suffering with chronic headaches for the past 4 years. These headaches were daily, extended, and needed medication. Dr’s and neurologists could not explain them. They turned into migraine, and on occasion Cluster headaches. Cluster headaches are to headaches what hurricanes are to the State of Florida (America) ! Ok, so I know that is a slight exaggeration, but you get the picture: total devastation, and no quality of life.

These drs would ask – are you under stress, and my answer would be – no – why? I am a housewife, the stress is just that which I get from driving 3 kids around.

I really believed that too. I could not see the tremendous pressure and stress the house was under due to the Prof’s expectations.

Well now that he was gone, I was allowing myself to relax bit by bit, and I could feel some of that stress draining away. (By the way - a peek into the future - the headaches are completely gone and have been for the past year.)

The kids were also realizing the stress relief. One morning , when he came to pick them up for school – as he was still doing, he complained with them for not picking up their stuff in the hallway. They were highly offended and told me about it in the afternoon. They had quickly got to the stage where they realized – it was no longer his business, and no longer his right to say anything about such things.

We would drive in the car and they would make comments like: O it is so nice to be able to listen to what WE want to listen to on the radio.

Of course there were some funny bits too - like when the Prof asked me for a list of my grievances. I still laugh about that. WHY did he want that? He hadn’t wanted to listen to them when he was still home, so why now? Was it so that he would not repeat the same mistakes with Cream Puff?

Along with the “list” he also promised to help me maintain the house. Sorry to sound old and jaded but let’s say it together – YEAH RIGHT! Is this the same house you have neglected for the last 5 years dearie? Isn’t Cream Puff going to be delighted to see you coming over here to fix up the house?! Pull the other chain mister – it has bells on it.

Sheets of Spun Gold

We need to back track slightly - into December. There was a day that the Prof decided (when he still thought there was an “us”), that we would re-do our bedroom. This apparently entailed buying new sheets for the bed, new curtains etc. He dragged me off to the shops for this expedition.

Still wanting things to work out, I went along, albeit very unenthusiastically. I am not a great shopper at the best of times. (Wouldn’t that make me any man’s dream wife???)

I was doing the um and ahhh thing. For some of the things I even managed an “mm I don’t like that one, oh but this one is good etc.” I remember thinking – hey – look at me – I can even keep this facade up – but really – what is this about? Who wants new sheets when the marriage is in trouble?

O boy – am I sorry now that I didn’t pay better attention!! The Prof moved all of that stuff out with him, and Cream Puff now sleeps under the “marriage saving” duvet cover. Can you imagine the glee with which I could have asked – “hey darling – do you like the sheets I picked out for you? “ But alas – all I remember is that they were brown!

Well, amongst that load of goodies were 2 fitted sheets for the queen sized bed. The Prof (not wanting to leave “holes” in the house), did not take that bed with him. He took his granny’s old double bed – which had been stored in the garage. You are starting to get the picture, right. Those sheets did not fit.

A few weeks or so, after he moved out, the Prof brought back the sheets and wanted to give them to me. I looked at them in horror and said – no thank you, take them back to Woolies – you have the slip.
He refused to take them back, insisting that I keep them. I looked at those fitted sheets and decided – those could be the last sheets on earth – I am not using them.

They sat around stealing space for a while, and then I decided FINE- I will return them to Woolies. They were all wrapped up in their packaging still with the price on them. When I looked at the price I almost fell over. R650 per 1 sheet. Holy moly – do they have spun gold in them????

O well, the Prof always had expensive taste. Off to Woolies I went. But there were a few shocks awaiting me. The store I went to, didn’t stock that expensive range of sheets (i.e. they didn’t want the sheets of spun gold either).

Back to the original store then. They were not keen on spun gold sheets either!
“Sorry madam – we can’t take those back without the slip.”
Ok, so give me a gift voucher then.
“Sorry we can’t do that either – our policy has just changed.”
That’s convenient - what do you suggest I do with them?
“Sleep on them madam.”

I almost lost it – I said – these are from my cheating, soon to be X-husband. I sure don’t want them. You sleep on them.
Poor folks- they got my whole history in one mouth full!

“Well,” they relented, “ You could exchange them for goods from the store”.
Oooooooo – so I can exchange them, for things like clothes you say?
“Yes”.

Coooool. I worked for Edgars, I know how systems work. And I am a programmer with killer logic.

Remember the new clothes I bought after the Prof moved out, and that he gave these sheets back to me AFTER he moved out? The 2 incidents happened a week apart. The new clothes still hung in my cupboard with all the tags on them, AND I had a slip, AND it was all for about the same value.

I walked around the Woolies store, collecting all the identical things I had bought. The same colour, size etc. They were all still available luckily.

Back to returns. I had now turned into sweetness itself.
Will you kindly exchange these sheets of spun gold, with these gorgeous clothes?

“Sure, we can do that – our policy still allows that!”

That day I went home with an extra set of clothes, minus the sheets of spun gold!

Once home, I grabbed the original till slip, and went off to another Woolies branch – duplicate clothes in hand.

Would you kindly take all these clothes back and refund me, I asked – still sickly sweet.
“Of course madam, you have a slip so that is fine –er is there a problem with them?”
O no, no problem at all, just a case of fitted sheets not fitting on a double bed.
Lady - YOU have lost your marbles,I could hear them think.
Actually no, I haven't, Woolies has.

So – the Prof paid for my new clothes. Serves him right I think.

Pivotal moments

As I am writing the blog, I realised that there were "pivotal" moments, ideas and people along this path of healing. The one was the bank lady who told me her husband had stayed (more later).

Another such "pivotal" moment (of a completely different kind), came from a piece of simple sounding advice - from a book my neighbour read to me. It was a book about making a new beginning. The chapters where divided into the different kinds of trauma we can experience in life. One of those chapters was about divorce.

Here is the gist of what it said:

"Go buy yourself some pretty clothes, look the best that you can, every single day, and put a big smile on your face – it is good at hiding a broken heart. There will be new life, there will be laughter again. Take it out of the hand of God, today is the first day of the rest of your life."

I printed that out and stuck it on my dressing table mirror – where it still resides today. God is a God of the future – not of what has happened in our past. I read that piece often, and started to hope!

Now, that piece of advice led to one of the funniest stories I have to tell about the whole sad story. Remember I told you, that so many things have turned into humour! I took that advice and went shopping for new clothes. I did not realise that I would shortly (completely unintentionally), make the Prof pay for my new wardrobe!

I will give that conclusion tomorrow.

There are just 2 more thoughts I want to finish for today.
Counseling made me see things in a different light too. Once, I said to the counselor– it is so sad - there is no one to make coffee for in the mornings anymore. (Yes, the Prof got coffee in bed – every single morning. He was a spoilt brat – oeps – that was not nice!).

The counselor looked at me and said – why don’t you make it for your kids instead.
One morning, I did exactly that. I made them Milo and took it through to them. They were so ecstatic about that! By the evening they were STILL talking about it. I stood still and thought – hey – the Prof never received his coffee with such thankfulness and excitement. Hmmm- this is way more fun.

I was beginning to realise that so much had to do with how I thought about things. Along with the memories of things I missed, I had other memories – bad ones (of things I didn’t miss). In order to keep a balanced view, I had to remember both sides. I realized for e.g. that the laughter had disappeared out of our lives – it had slowly been squashed. I used to sing around the house, but now, I couldn’t even say where that had disappeared to. I wanted those things back.

Then there was the night I dreamt a strange dream. It showed such a clear picture of how my subconscious perceived it all, that I noted it down.
I was driving at night, but I was very very tired. I gradually fell asleep, but not completely – I was still aware of driving. I knew there was danger, but felt quite proud that I was still on the road. Suddenly, I knew I had left the road and it was too late. I opened my eyes (from the driving sleep), but the scariest of all was that it was pitch dark – the car’s lights were off. I couldn’t see a thing – could just feel I was falling, but I couldn’t see what kind of accident I was in – didn’t know where it would end. I was just falling through the pitch dark – going to meet my Maker.

To me that dream meant that my subconscious had been aware that the marriage was in trouble. I was still carrying on, quite proud of the fact that I could "keep the marriage on the road" - as with the car in the dream. By the time I woke up to the fact that I was not managing to keep the marriage going, I was falling off the road without seeing where this would land up.

So , my subconscious knew all this - way before I realised it on a conscious level.

Through the Looking Glass into The Script

The publishers of The Script have kindly given me permission to give some quotes from the book. So, I just want to take a slight detour and show you around inside, and as a result into the world in which the Prof moved.

According to The Script's Intro :

"We have found that men talk and act as if there were a manual. And they all have a copy. And they took the same course where this was the text book. And one and the same teacher taught this course wherever it was given. And these cheating men attended every session. And they remembered everything they learned. And they remembered the order in which to do it.
And the Script was written nowhere until now" .

This books was very funny and helped me to put things in perspective. To give you some examples here are some of the scenes from The Script which the Professor followed:

Act 1
"Scene 5: "She Doesn't Understand Me"
"Scene 6: I Found My Soul Mate"
"Scene 10: Getting His Ducks in a Row"

Act 2
"Scene 1: Dropping the Bomb"
"Scene 2: I Like Living Alone"
"Scene 5: I'm Going to Take Care of You" - (ha ha - he even said he would paint and fix up the house after he had moved out)

"Scene 11: It's Your responsibility to Keep Things Civil and Nice"

I could go on. The professor followed the script - chapter for chapter.
I have only highlighted a few of the most important ones.

If you are going through this heartache, or know someone who is, get this book. It is just about impossible to stop The Script, although the book does give excellent suggestions. But, if nothing else, it puts things in the correct perspective. It makes you realise that you are not losing your mind. You realise that what these men are saying, is a well orchestrated plan to validate their affair.

Measured and found wanting

There followed a time of lots of ups and downs. At times I was cheerful and could carry on, and at others I collapsed in heaps of tears, thinking I would never be able to continue. Just when it felt like God wasn’t there, and didn’t care, there would be a phone call from Joan (my sister) and she would say : I made you a meal, I just felt God told me to.

Then I knew God was watching over us with enough concern to provide meals on the hardest days. I never asked for the meals, I never told her when the going was tough – and yet on the hardest of days – she would bring me a meal. Have I ever thanked you for such love dearest sister? Have I ever really told you how much it meant to me? Through that, you put God’s presence straight back into my life. THANK YOU.

The children were my reason for getting up in the mornings. I would put praise and worship music on in the car, very bravely whisper to God – I will praise Your name – no matter what, and then proceed to cry all the way to work while trying to sing praise and worship songs.

Work had it’s own strange difficulty. We are in an open plan office, and a radio plays in the background – very softly – but it is there. If ever you speak to someone who has gone through heartache – they will tell you how very difficult it is to listen to music. The lyrics of most songs are love songs, or sad songs, or songs that remind you of something. Later – I was so thankful for that radio. I became blunt to the songs – otherwise who knows how long it would have taken before I could listen to music again?

Walking in the shops was another nightmare of a different sort. I felt different. I felt like I no longer belonged to a unit. I had never consciously thought of myself as being part of a unit, but now, in its absence – I became acutely aware of that thought. I now belonged to a different class, a single woman, an abandoned woman, a person thrown away on the rubbish heap of life – having been labeled – not good enough. It felt like that was written on my face.

And everywhere I looked, I saw happy couples walking, holding hands. I would think – how did they manage it, and I could not. I did not notice the single people, or the people who were walking together but who were actually alone. I did not notice (as I do now), that not everyone who is together – makes a “happy couple”. I just noticed the togetherness of people, and missed it.

The first time I went grocery shopping – I was caught completely off guard by the deodorant isle. I stood looking at the men’s deodorants and thought: I used to buy that for him, and now I will never buy it for him again.

I learnt that the first time of each thing I had to do alone, was the hardest. Repeated listening to the radio, subsequent shopping trips – all got easier, as I found ways of thinking differently. About the deodorant I thought – well, Prof, you have to buy your own now – I am saving myself some money! About the couples in the shop, I began to ponder – how many are truly happy, how many are honest with each other – and doing such wondering, lead me to – one never really knows what goes on beneath the surface for all these folks.

The Move

The Prof moved out on the 24th February 2007 – exactly 2 months to the day after having told me there was someone else.

The day has become a faded picture now.

The kids helped The Prof pack and move, but without a lot of enthusiasm.

I tried to get on with life. I went about my normal business. I first went to the gym -strange thing to do when your husband of almost 17 years is busy moving out. But it felt better to be away from it all, and not to "see" it happening. After gym I went to have coffee with mom and dad, before going home to make lunch for everyone. I even managed to be nice to the Prof. I told him he could take whatever he wanted to take– but he said he did not want to leave any “holes” in the house. I mention this because some months later he came to fetch a big water fountain in my garden - which left a considerable hole!!!!!

The evening before the move, Arno had asked me - but why is daddy leaving. I told him, “I don’t know my sweetheart, he is not very happy with me.” His eyes got so big, he threw his arms around me and said – But I’m so happy with you! (A very good, innocent little mirror).

The Prof left at 2. (I think he had only packed a few clothes, and his grandmother’s bed). He forgot something, came back and then walked down the driveway again. Strangest thing: he stood for the longest time at the bottom of the driveway, looking back at Marielle and I sitting on the step. It was his farewell, I think. I still wonder what his thoughts were, was he wondering about regrets? (He told me later that he just felt tremendous relief).

Friends poured their love into my family. They brought a meal and flowers, another came to sit with me all afternoon. Wow – what blessings.

Sunday at the church was difficult. It pretty much had me in tears most of the time. So many people came to hug me. Each one offering some comfort in their own way. Mike said he wished he had some profound words, Andrea said – if ever you need someone to go to the movies with – I’m your girl. Some folks just gave me hugs, others prayed with me. Generally everyone seemed aware of our situation, and everyone was equally flabbergasted.

Those are my memories of that time. The days following are all jumbled together in a strange mixture of sadness and relief. The relief was surprising. I think it had to do with the pressure which was gone. We were moving in a direction, and although not one I chose - at least it was better than no-man's land. The constant feeling of having to shape up to someone's expectations - was gone. THAT made a huge difference in my life.

God’s Greenhouse

The day before the Prof moved out , I found out I was going to have to tell the children myself. THAT made me so angry. I felt it was his problem and it should have been his consequence to bear.

But the children’s counselor said that for the children to hear the news, and then have dad move out - all on the same day, would be too much trauma. We should have been preparing the children for a while already. (But how on earth do you "prepare" children for that - and then dump them in the same "no man's" land I had been living in?). We decided not to tell them about Cream Puff. That would just be too much info.

I was initially very shocked that I had to do it, but eventually realized it was a blessing. It empowered me – made me be in control of the situation for the first time – instead of being the victim receiving a death sentence. We had listened to Odyssey in the afternoon. (This is a children’s radio program to which we listened every day. ) It ended with – “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and give you a hope - Jer 29:11. If you don’t know what is happening with your family, don’t worry – God has a good plan”, the announcer said.
WOW. I was later able to use this to comfort them.


I only had Marielle (10 at the time), and Arno (8 at the time), with me at the counselor. She said she would help me. So she did the talking, and I did the observing. I don’t think I will ever get those innocent little faces out of my mind. They each just nodded politely at the counselor, looked just as if she had told them a story. I realized that they had no clue about what was happening. They understood the words, but not the consequences.

I had to tell Marinda on my own. Her whole face crumpled up and she shook her head – "no no no no no – You told me a family is God’s greenhouse, He won’t let this happen – we aren’t grown up yet. "

Then she reconsidered – "well, we’ll let him go and then just pray very hard, God will bring him back."

I then explained how God doesn’t interfere with free will. God will respect dad’s choices.
"Well, what about if one of us gets very sick", she asked. I told her, that if that would work - I volunteer, – but God doesn’t work like that either.

We talked for quite some time. She quickly got to a point where she was helping me with Marielle and Arno – who had taken their emotional queues from her and also started crying.

That journey home must be the worst thing I’ve done in my life. We cried all the way. I said – "all hold hands, Jesus is holding my other hand. We are now strong – like a chain and nothing is going to break us. " We prayed when we got home and then the Professor was going to take the children out for the evening – this was the counselor’s suggestion.

He was very angry with me over the emotional state of the children. What have you done to them? – he asked me. (Funny – I thought – I was wondering that same thing about you. ) He did not have the courage to tell them he was leaving, much less about Cream Puff. I had to sit with it, and now it was my fault because they did not take it well. HELLO?

Before they left I told the children – "I love you so very much – tuck that away in your hearts, take it out and look at it when things get very bad." (Yes – said Arno – and throw away the key! Sweet boy – he meant so that the thought could never be lost) .

The Prof took the kids to the top of the university and looked at the city’s lights.

No Man's Land

The Prof had decided he was moving out. He decided this on my birthday, but was staying until the end of the month. Yug. It is like trying to live, with a dead person in your house.

So we battled through February. It was an awful no man’s land. You can’t move forwards, and you can’t go backwards.

On the 20th of February I wrote a very beautiful and empowering piece in my journal. All this time I had been listening to the Prof’s nonsense, and had mostly kept quiet. But inside, I was not quiet. I was sorting stuff through in my mind, and I was making objection to years of ill treatment. I addressed this to the Prof in my journal (No - he never got to read it - he was gone before I could give it to him. But it was for myself anyway) :

20 February 2007
Today I want to do something different. I want to start refuting the lies I’ve been told about myself. I want to be well and whole again. I want to be valued as a person. Part of that process is recognizing the lies, and replacing it with truth.

Professor, you told me in December – you never came home because you had nothing to come home to. You lie sir!

I looked at the house this evening as darkness fell, I stood in my imagination, at the gate a looked in. This is what I saw:

A house all lit up, light pouring from every window. Those windows are open – it’s a hot night. The smells of food waft through the air. There is children’s laughter all around, children’s tears as we struggle through homework and learning, the sweet murmur of our evening prayer around a dinner table: a treasure chest in each face around the table.

Later, I hear the bath sounds and laughter as Marielle and Arno decided to have a bubble bath together. Boy was that place a mess when they were done. But BOY – were their hearts full of warmth and happiness as they hugged each other good night.
The ironing board stood out, evidence of the clean clothes, ironed with love and hung in each person’s cupboard. No one was discriminated against – each one’s washing was folded and packed away.

But, you weren’t here to see it all. You came in too late to see the treasures of the day. Your meal needed to be heated up, in a kitchen strewn with dishes not yet packed up. You see the wet bathroom floor, but not the happy faces, you see a tired wife – not the good work which flowed from my hands. You don’t know my stories of today – you are closed into this strange new world you have chosen for yourself. If you will ever emerge, is a question I can’t answer. I just know that tonight, as with many other nights – you missed the point, you missed the preciousness of your darling family, you choose not to see, you choose to say – there is nothing to come home to.

I will have the last word in this – You are deceived, and in being deceived, you seek also, to make me so. But, within me lives the wisdom of the Almighty, the Creator of the Universe. He has filled my heart with song, and my mind with truth. He has said – You are my precious daughter – well done.

Today I caught the tears of my angel daughter, as she struggles to express her fears. She doesn’t yet know how to say in words, that she fears you will go – but her heart already knows the truth. Today, I caught the first tears of that breaking heart.

Tomorrow I will continue with this exercise. I will write about the 16 years I have been stuffing it up, about being a good mother, but not a good wife, about your words which say – I don’t love you any more, I love another. In each, I will have the last word, though you may never see it. No matter. For me then – so that I understand.

The Magic of Mirrors

One of my expectations of marriage had been to be “cherished”.

I even announced this to the Prof on occasion, to which his answer was always: you don’t want to be cherished. If you did – you would try to please me. You would grow your hair, wear makeup, wear sexy clothes (I go about in rag cloth and ashes normally)… and many more things I can’t even remember – thank goodness.

So – being cherished was not unconditional? To my way of thinking you cherish people just because they are precious. They don’t need to jump through hoops to achieve that status. Being cherished has nothing to do with what is going on, on the outside of a person – it is their heart you value.

The Prof could see no value in this. To him, it was a tool with which to manipulate me in order to get me to do what he wanted. If I had chased those goal posts – would they have moved with time? Would he have found another set of standards I could not meet? Can I hear you say – OF COURSE? O what a nice reading audience you are!

One of the precious things I have learnt from God, is that He places many mirrors in our lives. He does this through people, who reflect to us, some of what He thinks of us.

In my life, I turned around and saw one mirror reflecting resoundingly negative images of myself – back to me. When I looked further, I saw so many others – reflecting a different picture completely. I saw there, the cherished-ness I sought from a man , who could not give it. In Nan’s eyes I saw the joy, when I came for a visit, in a friend, the tears or heartache as she held me close, in my parent’s eyes I saw a pride at how I was keeping it together, and in my children’s eyes – the love that said – I don’t care the length of your hair.

So… could it be, that the Prof’s mirror in which I had looked so deeply, and for so long – could it be that his was a cracked mirror?
David Riddell (well known counselor , speaker, author – more about this amazing man in blogs to come) says: when we look in a cracked mirror (a broken person), and do not realize they are cracked, then we take that crack into ourselves.

That one thought is so profound – it requires a bit of thought.

So – I had internalized a lot of “stuff”, because I did not realize at first, all the ways in which this mirror had cracked.

Have you thought about what the mirrors in your life are saying to you? Are you looking in the right mirror? Find out where your “mirrors” are looking to get their ideas. Are they trustworthy, good people? You have a choice about which mirrors to believe. I chose to believe the many people who loved me, above the one single cracked one.

I want to end where I ended the previous post: Remember the Prof had said I had not been a good wife? He once put it that I had been "stuffing it up for 16 years"! This had me running to a mirror I trust, a “mirror” who cherishes me: My darling (present day) husband. His words to me : You have been a wonderful wife, and I am having the best time of my life now….

I choose to believe this mirror. I know where he gets his ideas, I know his value system.
Thank you darling, I am having the best time of my life too....

The Cape Town Trip

The week after my birthday , the Prof went to Cape Town on a business trip. He was now an unwelcome loose end in a home needing closure.

I remember writing down a prayer that went something along the lines of:
Dear Lord, please let him see the error of his ways, please let him miss us while he is gone. Let him see how much we love him…

Only many months later, I learnt that Cream Puff lied to her own family too – and also went on a “business trip” to Cape Town. To this day, I don’t know if the Prof did or did not go on business. It has become an irrelevant detail in the mangled mess.

At this stage, the children were starting to pick up some of the vibe of what was going on. The Prof worked such strange hours, had been away on countless trips before, and they never seemed to pay much attention one way or the other. Once, when he had also gone away on a business trip - the children only realized it when he came back.

This sounds so strange – but his typical day looked as follows:
Get up after the family has left – go to work.
Come home after 8 at night – then he didn’t have to cope with the kids. He had the timing of that one down to a T as well. They really only saw him on weekends.

But now, especially Marielle seemed to sense that there was a problem. She kept asking for him, asking me when he would phone (he never phoned us during that trip). Eventually, just before he was due to arrive back, they all decided together to bake him a batch of biscuits – to show him how glad they were that he was home. (Don’t worry – no instigation from me. ) They had a desperation about them which was heart wrenching to behold. Perhaps, they had seen some of that in my face too?

The Prof showed no emotion to this demonstration of love and to the silent unknown plea from these little people.

When they were in bed I went to talk to him about it. The conversation which followed was one of the strangest I ever had with him.

He wanted to know what my counselor had said was the way forward? I asked him – what do you mean? The way forward with telling the children? The way forward with us? The way forward with Cream Puff?

He sat and looked at me strangely, - something I still don’t understand. He didn’t answer the question – tiny detail I forgot to mention. The Prof was a master evader of questions. You never got a straight answer. His best ploy was to answer a question with another question.

Eventually he concluded that it would no longer help to keep trying. IF he was making a mistake, it would be easier to come back afterwards and beg me to take him back. I had been a good mother through the years, but not been a good wife, he said. He also told me that if he needed to come back - he knew how to charm me, I would take him back. In my mind I said - "No, you don't..... You have no idea, but if you walk out, you aint never walking back in again, darlin".

So, I can see you cringing in your seats when you read these things. I had forgotten these details, and picking this up again in my journal had me not so much in a "spin" about the ugly stuff said, as you might think. As with most things, it has turned to humour. I, of course run to Werner, hands on hips and ask quite forcefully - SO- Have I been a bad wife for the last year. (Shame - he had no idea where THAT was coming from!) Somewhat taken aback at this attack he says - No - you have been a wonderful wife. Then all the hot air blows out of me and I giggle. I think "MIRRORS". In my next post I will tell you about the magic of mirrors.

Getting Smarter by the day

The Prof no longer came to counseling sessions with me (of course).

I guess it wasn’t pleasant to hear what she had to say. She had told him that relationships like the one he had with Cream Puff, are not healthy. These types of relationships form co-dependencies, are not based on reality, and eventually, reality will set in and it will not be what he thought it was. All this – fell on deaf ears. His only comment was – I think she has developed a serious dislike to me. Mmmm….

As a result of the lovely "birthday gift", I kept the children’s counseling appointments too. This was probably THE greatest blessing of the delay - the fact that I could get them to counselors BEFORE he moved out.

I told the kids that they were seeing the counselor to help them cope with dad’s moods.

I was also continuing with the counseling. It was making me strong and smart. She taught me not to think like a victim. I could turn around and feel abandoned, she said, or I could take a good look at the Yvonne I had become. Who would I have been without the Professor’s influence over my life. Which needs and expectations did I have, which had not been met.

This was mind boggling stuff. I found that I didn’t know the answer. I discovered that the Prof’s expectations had been “internalized” by me (not a good thing). I felt the same irritations which he felt if for e.g. the children tapped their feet… whereas my normal personality is one of patience.

When he drove his car down the drive way, I flew about trying to pick up everything that would bug him, and if I was on a phone call with a friend, and he happened to walk in – I felt I had to hang up – in case of displeasing him.

So – my whole life centred around pleasing him (except for the hair thing!) I had been trying so hard to meet all his expectations, that I had lost “me” in the process. Quite ironic, in light of the fact that The Prof said I had not met his expectations.

The strange glasses through which he viewed the world, I discovered, is called projection. So… could it be possible that the Prof was disappointed in himself – was not meeting his own expectations, and accusing me of being the cause?

A funny story comes to mind about this projection. The Prof would periodically accuse me of having an affair. I used to look at him with amusement and say: why don’t you hire a Private Investigator to check me out. By the end of week 1, the man will be charging you triple the fee, his tongue will be hanging on his shoes and his report will contain 1 line : Man – I can’t keep up with this woman – WHERE do you think she will have time to have an affair.

The Birthday Present (D day + 2)

After the weekend break and detour of the "present" post, let me remind you where we were.

It is February. The Prof would have moved out at the beginning of the weekend, but at number 99, he changed his mind. I take up the story after the weekend ... Monday Morning.

Monday morning was my birthday. I had never felt less like celebrating this day.

Mother-in-law phoned to wish me a happy birthday, not realising that this was to be the last time I ever spoke to her. We were on "so so terms". I was never at the top of her hit parade! I guess SHE didn’t think the sun shone out my b.tt as the Professor claimed everyone else did!

Mother-in-law did strange stuff: once, when the two youngest children had a school concert, she arrived. She was there 2 hours early. (Afraid to miss out on seating?) She and her husband sat in the front of the hall, and kept 1 seat. Now, WHO do you think the 1 seat was for? (Um – not me!) We needed 5 seats! My folks were also there. Needless to say – I sat elsewhere. I can’t remember where the Prof decided to sit in the end – distant memories – thank goodness!

The Prof's mum was only partially aware of the situation. She knew about the night The Prof left and went to “Bronkhorstspruit” – because he spent some time there before driving through to Bronkhorstspruit.

Later that morning, I was in the kitchen, making phone calls. I was cancelling counselor sessions which I had set up for the children. I had made these appointments in light of what I thought was going to have happened (i.e. the Prof's leaving the previous week). Now, with the new decision of the Prof to stay, I was cancelling these sessions.

Walking into the kitchen he overheard my phone calls . “Why are you cancelling those, are you sure I will still be here on Wednesday?”, he asked.

Quite dumbstruck I finally managed: I thought we had decided to give it another try?
“Well, errrr…. No not exactly” – he told me, “that is not quite what I meant”. I am still wondering what he did mean then.

Well, so be it.

Wow Hon, nice birthday present. He certainly swotted up on The Script.
His gift for timing is getting better and better.

Some Glad, Some Sad (Present)

Well, I think it is time to introduce you to the faces.

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary - 1 year! This is what we looked like last year this time.

A lot of friends have commented: A year already?

We look around in amazement and say the same. And yet - there is another part of us saying - Gosh - it feels like we have been married for years. The children say this is the only way of life they can remember. What a good indication of where they are, and that they are happy.

If I stack it all up - it has been the happiest year of my life. As Werner says - what an interesting year - we could write a book about the year alone! (Well, I am trying!!!)

I spent this weekend taking "pictures" in my mind. I lay these snapshots down, and compared them in my memory to where we were last year.

One such a picture is of Eric (youngest bonus child - 4 and a half - now). He was lying around checking out the ants in the grass, while we were saying wedding vows.

("You go dad - get on with it - I got me some better things to do down here!" - I imagine him thinking.)

Well, we bought him a bike on Saturday. Here is what he looks like now.

This bike has a whole human persona to him. He told Werner, "when my bike grows up, it will be blue like the picture on the box".

A while later we saw him standing still. The trainer wheels had got stuck on the uneven surface of the driveway, leaving the back wheel spinning uselessly in the air. He deftly got off, spanked the bike, got back on (unknown to him, somewhere between getting off, hitting, getting on - he moved the bike off the uneven surface), and proceeded to peddle further. Luckily for the bike, that worked, else we would have had Eric up on charges of "bike abuse"?

By evening, he parked the bike by the front door and had a very serious chat with bike. "You stay here, ok. I am coming back to ride you tomorrow morning"!

He now no longer walks anywhere. Even the shortest distance needs to be ridden.

Well, the others are just as lovely. I will post photos of them all shortly.

To sum it all up, it was a lovely weekend, filled with happy kids and happy memories.

The sad part has been that Werner's ex-wife spent the weekend in ICU with pneumonia. She was very seriously ill. Very stressful to face life and death up close and personal. It rattles your world, and makes you ask questions you don't normally ask.

I am happy to say that she is recovering, and has since been moved to a normal ward. We have kept the children with us, and will probably do so until she is back on her feet.

D Day + 1

I didn’t know if I had done a good thing in persuading the Prof to stay. Throughout that day, I wondered if I was forcing open a door which God was closing. The children were playing Don Fransico music. The lyrics of one song spoke to my heart: Jesus asked the disciples to throw their nets on the other side, to fish, after they had had a whole night of unsuccessful fishing behind them. Why Lord, they asked, but continued with “but because it’s You who’s asking, we’ll do it”. I had my answer, the Lord does not turn His back on any marriage.

That evening, the Professor once again announced that he no longer loved me.

The next morning, was a Sunday. I was hanging washing, and having a bit of a moaning session with the Lord. “Do You see Lord, he says he doesn’t love me anymore. I can hardly continue, I don’t know anymore – I am so tired. I tell You what, I am going to be listening to the sermon in church today, so carefully. If that minister so much as once says – “let go”, or “release” – and I don’t care about the context – he could be saying – release your sins … then I will come home and personally help The Prof pack his bags. BUT…. If You tell me to keep going, I promise I will”.

God has such a delightful sense of humour (I could only appreciate the humour in retrospect though!). The first words out of the minister’s mouth that Sunday was “The theme of today’s sermon is : Try again, it’s not too late”. The bible reading – was that of the disciples fishing, and Jesus telling them to try again by throwing their nets on the other side.

Well, I knew God’s heart. In retrospect – this may seem like a strange part of the story to tell you, because by now you already know that I have gone through a divorce… but for me, this was very precious. I saw how God was on my side, helping me fight for my marriage.

I arrived home from church and told the Prof this exact story, my thoughts, the song, the bible reading. I told him that God was extending a hand of grace, who was I not to do the same. Would he try again, really?

D Day

The beginning of February arrived, and with it, the due date the Prof was going to pack up and leave. The day before this all was due to happen, the children had still not been told (this was completely the wrong approach – I found out later).

I felt very strongly in my heart that it was the Professor’s problem to tell the children, since he was moving out. I did not want to have anything to do with the process.

The evening before the moving day, I cried my heart out. I asked him again to reconsider his decision.

Here are some pieces taken from my journal at the time:

10 Feb 2007
Today, the Prof was going to leave. He had a garden flat booked, and was going to tell the children at 10. Last night, I cried, and told the Prof what I thought. I told him that he is repeating his father’s mistakes, he is sacrificing the children as well as me, that I had prayed for him my whole life, he is the one God chose for me, how much the children love him and are excited when he comes home, and how I look all around me and it’s not worth anything without him.

He was very upset that I felt the way I did. His attitude softened. This morning we talked some more and he decided not to leave today. He still has the option for the flat, but has delayed his decision. I don’t know if I did a good thing to “persuade” him. I felt – give it one more try, perhaps there is still hope. While there is still a flicker of hope – for the kid’s sake, try.

I told the Professor that I need 100% from him. The reason he felt better after making the decision to go, was because it was a 100% decision. He is unable to make that same decision for us.

Tonight we talked more and I realise more than ever that we are at the same impasse as before. He cannot see the way forward with me. I asked him what that “wall” was, and initially he said he didn’t know. At some point he became angry about things from the past i.e. my hair, that I didn’t appreciate his cooking, how I dressed etc. I suddenly got such an insight about it all. For me they were just cosmetic issues, for him they became hurts for which he needs to forgive me. I asked his forgiveness – but I can see that he can’t forgive me about it yet.

Later still, he spoke about the Cream Puff. She came at a time where we were at a bad place. He didn’t go looking for it, but in a very short space of time he fell in love with her. He realises that the chances for her and him to work might be unrealistic, but it does hold out a possibility. THAT is why he cannot see the way forward with us – she is the “wall”. He is so confused about everything. He doesn’t know if we will work, if they could work and in this situation, the only way he knows to choose, is to choose against what makes him unhappy – to choose what is the truth for him.

I also realized something else, he cannot commit to me, because in a way, he would be being “untrue” to the Cream Puff, “untrue” to the new “self” he is discovering.

Tonight, as this all was going on, Nan phoned and said – DON’T GIVE UP, then Karen phoned and said – DON’T GIVE UP.

So, God’s message for Today: DON’T GIVE UP.

Here ends the journal piece. Pretty insightful stuff about where I was. I read it now and stand over myself in my mind's eye, with my hands on my hips, shaking my head and going tsk tsk tsk - don't do it girl- don't apologise for who you are. Ha - the gift of hindsight!

So … For NOW - he is staying.

Lucky Me

A quick note about yesterday's post: The lady friend who told the Prof that I did not deserve him (she was right - but I don't think she meant it in the way I am taking it up!) - was NOT Cream Puff. Who knows - another floosie?

During these days of counseling and talking, there was a time when the Prof said to me, that I was lucky - whatever his decision - I was the eventual winner!

You think??? - I am not exactly feeling like I struck any jack pot here???

He reasoned : If he chose me - then I was winning, and if he left, I would make a new life and be happy too. He was the one who would loose the most - no matter which way he chose. Ironically, he turned out to be right, but it would not happen in a way he could have predicted.

During the counseling sessions, the counselor began to push The Prof into making a decision about his relationship with Cream Puff. Counseling would not be successful if he refused to give up his "friendship" with her.

This required a few days thought from the Prof, who then decided and announced to me that he was moving out at the beginning of February 2007. This was so that he "could get his ducks in a row" - another chapter from the book The Script.


A note about the children at this stage. They were completely unaware of what was happening. They were aware of the increased tension. I knew this from the increased fighting and bickering amongst them. There was even a day when Marinda said - Mom , I am so scared that you and dad divorce. I told her that I would not choose divorce, but that I could not make choices on dad's behalf. Not much comfort for her in that.

But… they had no idea of what was really going on.

In the background was also the new job in January. It was a whole strange new world. The people were fine, the job was a huge learning curve. I so often sat and cried in front of my computer screen, about the stuff going on at home. But programmers are generally an introverted lot (don't know where I fell off THAT bus) .... the people from work didn’t notice.

There was one particular day, when Jelly Tot Man (we will come to his name later in the story), came to ask me what was wrong. He was busy training me, and he very innocently meant – am I struggling with the work? I thought he had seen me crying. I looked at him, burst into tears and blurted – "my husband is leaving me".

The look of horror on his face was classic to behold. I think it had more to do with – what do I do with this crying woman – than the actual content of what I had just told him. Very awkwardly he half punched, half slapped me on the shoulder, which I took to mean – here is a hug for you – I am sorry.

We’ve done a lot of laughing over this odd scene since then.