Where should we go today?



When you look in the mirror

You see someone small…

You see a body too short

to see out high windows

Hands not strong enough to open doors

Legs that get tired when ‘over there’ is too far from ‘over here’.


But when I look in the mirror,

I see you and Me.

You in Me.

Me in you.

I see We!


What shall we do today, little one?


Come sit on My shoulders, from up here you can see…

Out windows,

Over fields,

Across dim valleys to brighter places that are waiting for our feet.

We can see into Forever.


Those stubborn doors?

No door can resist your hand on Mine,

So pick one!


We will go exploring.

It’s okay if your legs get tired,

we’ll use Mine.


When We look into the mirror, what do We see?


Light-Bearers who shatter darkness

Key-Holders who rescue captives

Love-Healers who fix broken hearts and lives


You in Me

Me in you…



What shall We do today?


Word ~ Di Wilson   |   Image ~ morgueFile


The door has been slammed!

slam doorFor many years I would struggle to “enter in” during worship. Others seemed to “feel the presence”, but I would be feeling unworthy and thinking of all that disqualified me and trying to confess everything and trying to stop thinking about something which I shouldn’t be thinking about in church and…

I arrived a bit late for church after a rushed 45min drive to HCC and worship had begun. I looked at the words and began to sing. Some distracting thoughts came in: How I had sped, trying to make up time, other thoughts crowded for attention. But, I just found myself ‘brushing’ them aside. I am in Christ. I’m here to enjoy some corporate Worship and share the Word with fellow believers.

Then the picture…

The queue of thoughts, were cartoon characters, all rushing towards the doorway of my heart. As they got there, Jesus slammed the door in their face. Typical cartoon, they all got their faces/noses flattened as they hit the door and piled into one another.

When you are in Jesus, you are IN Him. When you are ‘attacked’, you are not out on a battle field all alone, desperately trying to remember what you were taught by the Commander and what your orders werefrom the General and “What must I do to make sure I get into base!”

When whatever comes at you, remember that Jesus is no longer outside, knocking, wanting to come in. You have allowed Him in and you are now IN Christ. Thoughts are a reality. So is temptation and condemnation. But the reality to live by is that Jesus knows all our weaknesses and troubles. He died to clear their blot even before you repented or understood His Love or The Fathers Grace, even before you promised ‘never to do that again’, for the 1000th time.

That’s releasing, freeing, liberating GOOD NEWS.

What fun to slam the door on guilt and condemnation. Even better, to know that Jesus slammed the door completely and finally at the cross.

 Words – Stan Dugmore (20 July 2014 – During Worship)


Cox Pottery

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It’s the uncontrolled randomness of the flame, interacting with the clay body in the atmosphere of the moment, that so attracts me. It’s something between chemistry and wizardry and back again. We can do our best to get there with a free-flowing formation of the piece, and then thoughtful attention to glazing in the same manner, but the controlled firing of the electric kiln will inevitably give us back pretty much what we put in. It somehow always tends toward contrived, scripted, rehearsed, confined; controlled is probably the word.

And life is just not like that. Nor should it be! Not family, nor education, or work, or church. The wind blows where it wills, said Jesus of the Spirit, and when we get it, the result is lives lived organic and free, fruitful and beautiful, true to themselves, enhanced by their gnarls and scars and imperfections. Have you noticed – only man-made colours ever clash; it never happens in the garden.

And that’s why I’d spend a R100k on a wood-firing kiln without thinking twice.

Words ~ Gavin Cox

Brief and Lasting, Hard and Fast

Lasting and fleeting

So much I feel the lake lap still

in crisp new Spring’s liquid sun sharp

with winter’s nip at my shameless,

unshod, bare toes where soft  spring breeze

tickles glistening water sheen.

Momentarily I shiver.


Sun glint on each wavelet brings clear,

real nearness to each fleeting ripple,

but at some way off in the morning haze

those solid castle walls now seem

a dreamy shadow, not quite true,

as much a ghost as spectral knights

and imagined long dead archers

beneath a roof long rotted away.


Every little curve of water is less

than a breath long, but whole lifetimes

watched those stone walls stand. I think

long borne,  unforgiven old hurts.

scarred memories can be like that:

firm, unyielding, but misty shapes,

stuck on landscapes of me.

But in this new son light

Under spirit wind’s soft breath they

become mere ghosts from forgotten times

while bracing eternal waters

wash me in their gracing life flow.


© Johan Rich November 2011


It’s pip spitting time!

423 small

There are seasons when the ground is hard and nothing you sow grows

This is not that season

Times when dreams remain dreams, hope – an invisible cord  to cling to

Now is not that time

Lean, barren, colourless and hard

Not even close…

This is the time of seeing every pip you spit take root, grow and flourish

Every dream and desire, come alive in your heart and His hands

The lid is off

The door is open

The soil, ready and waiting.






Live Reflecting

Live Reflecting

Our lives are best spent reflecting the nature of our Creator

The Rubbish Heap



At one time I so dreaded

Growing old, fearing regrets

Dumped in a dark rubbish mound

At my memory’s back door.


Would I regret choices made,

Opportunities lost,

Journeys not yet taken,

And friendships forsaken?


But now, after the pain

Of fifty years,

Some joys, some tears,

It seems there is some gain.


What’s outside I won’t deny,

But the dark heap seems to have

Become a small green hillock

Of soft grass where children play,

My wife delights in the sun,

And friends long known or new made

Bury things of no more use.


I guess it is a little

Untidy, but it doesn’t

Seem to smell much any more

And it does give me something

To look at from my back door.

© Johan Rich 2009

Image – Di Wilson

The Broken Bowl

Tracey Govender Bowl

Tracy Govender’s beautiful hand built stoneware fruit bowl cracked in the kiln when fired to 1200 degrees centigrade. Yet it’s exquisite beauty lies in its redemption as its cracks were repaired in gold.

As such it provides a perfect metaphor for our salvation. Just as Jesus is beautified by His scars, so are we who are in Him. Our sinfulness and frailty have been more than compensated for by the gift of His righteousness given us in Christ. The glorious gold of God beautifies from guttermost to uttermost; from sinner to saint.

How glorious is God’s workmanship in Christ! How perfect He the potter, for we the clay!

Pottery – Tracey Govender | Words – Gavin Cox

Flash Fiction Photo Challenge


This is a first for HCC Living Letters – a photo inspired flash fiction challenge. It came out of one of our small groups – Write and Be Read, and was intended as a mere exercise for writers to flex their story-telling muscles. The challenge was simple – using the above image as a launch point, write a piece no more than 200 words. The two pieces that came in this evening are completely different, each stunning in their own right. I love that they are written by husband and wife. I’ll stop gassing on. Enjoy!

Story 1 by Andrea Rautenbach

I sat in the silence at the crossroad.  What was I going to do?  The blow had come like a sudden hard rain. The anger was simmering below the surface but the fear was winning as it rippled across my mind. Run, RUN, RUN!

We had met two months before at a friend’s house. He was classic tall, dark and handsome and seemed to be perfect.  Tonight perfect seems overrated.

The dinners were evenings spent enjoying stories of misspent youth and previous dates gone wrong.  Afternoons were spent learning to appreciate the outdoors and how much he loved riding his bike.

Tonight was a celebration of sorts, two months of fun, learning and sharing.  Maybe tonight we would become serious.  But not now!  Now I sat wondering how I had missed this, how had I not seen?  What was I going to do?

I had to move had to keep going but where?  Looking in the rear view mirror I noticed the blood trailing down my chin; saw for the first time the damage done.  It was over.  What had started as a dream was done.  Never would he touch me again, never would he see me again.


Life 2 by James Rautenbach

O dear, what is that coming from the rear?

There is light, there is shadow, there is bone, there is marrow!  How can I go far when I spend nights looking at the retreating mists of my life while strapped into my safe haven of a car?

O delight, I can see a light – what have I missed, deep in the night.  “It’s all over” they say, “the chance is gone, you are done”.  The light I see broadcasts mockingly at me, or does it?

What if it’s all true; hope can renew me and you?

What if all my regrets, guilt and shame, what if those blotches held against my name, what if whispers, fears and pains, what if anger, darkness and the perceived hatred and negative thoughts words and actions of others, which cover me like a stifling bank of dirt, trying to squeeze my life to despair and helplessness – what if all of this CAN BE SWEPT AWAY IN AN OVERWHELMING, ALL-ENCOMPASSING, EVERLIVING, EVERGIVING, EVERFILLING, EFFERVESCENT, PULSATING, NEVER-ENDING, ALWAYS-HOPING, ALWAYS-LOVING, SAVIOUR-SATURATED, HOPE-RESTORING, PEACE-RETURING inundation of LIFE.

So I unharness, open the door and slowly step into the fresh air of a new-life, everlasting and full of glory…

It’s a New Dawn, It’s a New Day!

001image ~ Di Wilson