by Debbie Roome
Joel was the first to speak. “Could we please pray together?” He stood up, one hand in Sarah’s, and they all followed suit. Joel extended his other hand to Thabo. Sarah held out hers to Mrs Dlamini, who in turn reached out to David—who surprised his daughter yet again by taking the black woman’s tiny hand in his own, and closing his eyes.
They formed a tight circle in the middle of the room. Stale air hung between them, a mixture of deodorant, sweat and heat as Joel prayed.
“Lord, we come to You today, with hearts full of pain and suffering and ask that you wash us with Your forgiveness. We know this situation is a microcosm of how this nation feels as a whole. Past acts of discrimination, hatred and violence have woven the fabric of this land into what it is today. Your word says if Your people who are called by Your name, will humble themselves and pray, and seek Your face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will You hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land. We humble ourselves today, Lord, and repent for our sins and the sins of our fathers and their fathers before them. Come and heal this land and build bridges of reconciliation.”
Sarah felt tears splashing down her face, splattering on her dusty feet. She had never seen things so clearly. It was as though God had taken a key and opened the door of her heart, allowing truth and hope to flood in. She gently disengaged herself from Joel and turned to Mrs Dlamini, folding her diminutive frame in a firm embrace. “I’m sorry,” her voice broke. “I never thought of Sipho having a family. I never thought his actions could have hurt people besides myself. I’ve been selfish and I’m really sorry.” They clung together, tears mingling, a tiny pocket of hope and restoration in a stricken land.
Chapter Thirty Five
I looked into the eyes of Mrs Dlamini and saw the hurt of a nation.
From the journal of Sarah Johnson
Friday 19th December
There’s one more thing we need to do.” Joel put his arm around Sarah’s shoulders as she looked up, questioningly. “We need to visit the site of the shooting.”
Fresh tears seeped slowly from her eyes but she knew he was right. “Now?” she asked.
Joel nodded, turning his gaze to Thabo. “Do you know how to get there?”
“Yes, we can go now if you wish.”
Sarah reached out her arms to Mrs Dlamini as they prepared to leave and the embrace was sincere and heartfelt. Although neither woman spoke, Sarah felt it was a spark of hope in a nation, hurting and wounded. She knew the moment would remain in her heart for ever.
Though the sun was sinking, the car was baking hot and vinyl seats burned the back of Sarah’s legs. Thabo passed her an old rag to tuck beneath them. He pulled onto the road and they retraced their journey between rows of shacks, past women sitting on the roadside, braiding each other’s hair into tight corn rows, and past laughing children. The air was still and even from the car, Sarah could see the sheen of perspiration on their smooth dark skin.
“It’s about twenty minutes from here.” Thabo flicked his indicators on and took a left turn that led past a row of tin shacks. A cluster of children shouted and waved, banging sticks together as the car passed. A different world, so different to mine.
She was still absorbed in her thoughts when Thabo pulled the car off the road. “This is it,” he announced.
Sarah realised she wouldn’t have recognised the area. It looked innocuous in the late afternoon light; like any roadside in Johannesburg.
“Come.” Joel opened the back door and offered her his hand. David made as if to climb out, but he saw that Joel was the one she needed now.
Tentatively she stepped out of the car and looked round, taking in the broad shoulder of gravel and sweeping arc of guard rail. Heat rays reflected off the tarmac in shimmering waves as cars raced past.
“Can you remember where it happened, Sarah?”
She was almost afraid to look at the spot; afraid the stain of Luke’s life would still be there.
“Sarah?”
She forced herself to look to the left and saw only pale gravel. No doubt a fresh layer would have been added and months of sun and rain would have bleached the area clean.
“Over there,” she whispered. “In front of the cross on the guard rail.”
Joel tugged gently on her hand. “Come and look at the cross. You told me you’d never seen it.”
They walked across the gravel, shoes crunching and hands intertwined. The cross looked older than it was; a piece of fragile timber weathered by fierce sunlight and icy winds. Sarah read the inscription out loud: “In memory of Luke Raycroft. With love from family and friends.”
Joel turned her face to his, cupping her chin in his hand. “How do you feel? Are you coping alright?”
She nodded.
“Let’s pray then.”
“What about Thabo and Dad?” She was vaguely aware they were still sitting in the car.
“Do you want me to call them?”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “I think they need to be included.”
Seconds later, the men took up position around her and Joel began to pray. “Thank you for mercy, Lord. Thank you for grace. Thank you for the ability to forgive, even when the hurt seems endless and overwhelming.” He placed a hand on her back. “I bring Sarah to you and ask for complete restoration in her heart. Pour in Your healing and help her to remember the good times with Luke, to rejoice in the time she had with him.”
As he prayed, memories swept across Sarah’s mind, crisp and clear, and she could see the scene with startling clarity. She saw herself, struggling with the seat belt and stumbling across the gravel as Dlamini raised his gun, felt the terrible fear as the shots rang out … but there was something different now; a new dimension; a day-vision. Wondrously, she saw angels around Luke, holding his head, supporting his arms, tenderly caring for him. She saw them surrounding them both as she threw herself across Luke, pleading for his life, trying to protect him. Then the picture changed. Luke was above her, rising into the air, angels on either side as he ascended into the darkened sky. She was left behind, lying on her back as Dlamini turned the gun on her. The memory was so real, she flinched as the shot blasted through her shoulder … and then she saw Jesus beside her, kneeling, cradling her in His arms.
You were there, Lord? she thought, dumbfounded. Verses Joel had underlined in his Bible came pouring through her mind: Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness. Whoever touches you touches the apple of my eye.
The feelings that had begun in the little home in Soweto intensified and Sarah felt currents of warmth and love surging from deep within her, washing out the last debris of hatred and bitterness, the hardness that had crushed her heart. In their place she felt freedom and forgiveness pouring in, and knew what she had to do.
The gravel cut her knees as she fell down on it, remembering the desperation and horror the last time she knelt there. “I give myself to you, Jesus, and I ask that you heal Sipho Dlamini’s heart. Cut out the anger and hatred that so consumes him.” Tears were running down her cheeks and splashing onto the burning gravel. “I understand, Lord, for the same anger and hatred that consumes him, consumed me. He needs you, Lord, and so do I. Have mercy on us both and bring restoration into our lives.”
She sucked in a deep breath and looked across the dry landscape, the flat-topped mine dumps and sun, sinking like a golden orb, light diffusing into soft rays.
“I forgive you, Sipho. I forgive you for killing Luke. I forgive you for what you did to me.”
Chapter Thirty Six
I’ll say yes to Joel today. Yes to being his wife, yes to honouring and obeying him, yes to loving him through all that life may throw at us.
From the journal of Sarah Johnson
Saturday 28th February
It was a beautiful day in late summer, and Christchurch was at its best. Sarah looked down at her dress of shimmering white lace and sat
in; looked at the roses in her hand. Her dad stood on one side of her and Jade and Trisha on the other.
“You look gorgeous,” she whispered, admiring their long sky-blue gowns and the tiny flowers twisted into their hair.
“You ready?” her father asked.
“Not quite.”
He touched her arm. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”
She smiled, her mind drifting back to Luke. He’d always be part of her memories, a treasured part of her life, but she’d said goodbye now. His pictures were packed away and the loss was tempered by knowing he was with the Lord.
Thank you for changing my life, Jesus, she prayed silently as organ music swelled from the church and overflowed the car park where they were standing. Thank you for persisting with me and loving me regardless of the way I behaved. I can’t imagine life without You.
Her thoughts turned to Mandy, who’d declined the invitation to be a bridesmaid but had offered to help the bridal party with their makeup and hair. She’d moved up to Auckland and was dating a ‘lovely Christian man’ as she described him. All had been forgiven and Mandy had flown down especially for the wedding.
She looked at her dad, handsome in a charcoal suit, a pink rose through his buttonhole. His face was relaxed and happy, content she’d found the right man. And he’d fallen in love with New Zealand. “Give us six months to complete the paperwork,” he told her, “and we’ll be back for good.”
Mom was just as enthusiastic, and hit it off brilliantly with Joel’s parents. Izzy had been beside herself when Sarah and Joel called her on New Year’s Day to say they were engaged. “As soon as you’re back in New Zealand, we must have a party. I’ll do the catering and all your friends must come and spend the night at the farm.” So much love. So much acceptance.
Then she thought of Joel, who had started it all by waiting for her in the mountains that day. Dear Joel who never gave up on her; who helped her find her feet in Christchurch; who influenced her towards accepting God into her life. Joel, who brought her paints for Christmas as confirmation that the colours were back in her life.
She slipped her arm into her dad’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m ready now.”
They started the slow walk into the church —to where Joel was waiting; to where the future brimmed with hope and promise.
The Author
Debbie Roome was born and raised in Zimbabwe, and later spent 15 years in South Africa. In 2006 she moved to New Zealand with her husband and five children. Writing has been her passion since the age of six; she loves to pen stories that touch people's lives and turn them towards God.
Debbie's writing has also opened doors for public speaking and she is often asked to share her life story, and her experiences as a writer.
Her major writing achievements include the trophy for Runner-up to the Writer of the Year, South Africa, 2004; placing second out of over seven thousand in the FaithWriterscom "Best of the Best" contest for 2007; and receiving the trophy from the South African Writers' Circle for the best self-published book of 2007.
In addition, Embracing Change won First Place in the Rose & Crown New Novels Competition of 2009.
After 15 years of owning a toy store, Debbie is now working full time at her writing and has never been more fulfilled. She is currently creating her next novel, a dramatic romance with a bit of intrigue-working title: Broken Shells. Watch her web site for more details:
www.debbieroome.com
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BLUE FREEDOM
by
SANDRA PEUT
Bella Whitman is a freelance health and fitness writer with a tragic history. When she is offered a dream opportunity to undertake a writing assignment which will take her on a journey across the South Pacific islands, she grabs it, despite her misgivings about the arrogant but handsome editor in charge of the magazine, Ethan Gray—and Jay Hinkley, the contract photographer Ethan has hired to travel with her. Despite a rocky start, Bella finds herself being drawn to Jay as they work and travel through the islands. But can this relationship develop into more than a friendship, when he already has a woman in his life? And with a dangerous hitman trailing their every move, can Bella and Jay finish their assignment—despite the shadowy motives of their employer Ethan—and survive a deadly rendezvous? Through this fast-paced adventure, Bella is able to find healing from past pain and discover emotional and spiritual freedom.
A thrilling mystery of exciting anticipation, witty antics, laughs and heart-felt truths, all in a ‘what happens next’ plot. Simply and elegantly written.
– Elizabeth Findlay, Scriptwriter/Magazine Producer
This addictive page-turner will have you putting nail marks in your seat right to the end – an engaging debut novel from an exciting new author.
– Adele Jones: MLett, poet, inspirational author
A riveting, fast-paced novel that you will not want to put down. Action, intrigue and romance, Blue Freedom has it all!
– Meredith Resce, author of ‘The Heart of Green Valley’ series, and ‘For All Time’.
Blue Freedom
by SANDRA PEUT
Prologue
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
He never should have swum off alone.
What had at first appeared to be a shallow indentation in the coral encrusted rock had turned out to be a cave. The diver had spent almost twenty minutes exploring the tunnel and its colourful marine life—but when he emerged, the rest of the group was gone.
Checking his diving watch again, he fought against the rising panic. Everything he had learnt in his years of scuba diving flashed through his mind. Stay calm and breathe normally. Stay in the same place and wait to be rescued. Never swim away from your diving partners.
He’d been completely stupid. But the inside of the cave was so fascinating, and he’d wanted to take a closer look so he could describe it to his fiancée. With her writer’s creative appreciation of all things unique and beautiful, she would love it.
Now he wondered if he would ever see her again.
He’d still had some oxygen left in his tanks, but had discarded them after he surfaced. There was no sense in trying to tread water or swim with all that weight on his back. And even without it, he had little hope of reaching land, over ten kilometres away.
He would just have to swim. And pray.
The alarm had surely been sounded by now. His rescuers had probably already begun the search.
Chapter One
Brisbane, Australia
4) The Blame Game
The final, and perhaps most damaging, form of self-sabotage is that of blaming ourselves. “We all recognise we’re our own worst critic,” says psychologist Dr Sarah Green. “The problem is that external messages—such as those from media advertising, and even from family and friends—can serve to reinforce our own negative thought patterns.”
The key, according to Dr Green, is deciding to be kinder to yourself. “By making small, positive changes to the way you think and speak, it can be possible to stop negative self-blaming patterns.”
Learning to change old habits and eliminate these four areas of self-sabotage can help you move on into the successful and confident future you deserve.
There! Finally finished!” Bella Whitman typed the last few words with a flourish, before moving her neck around in slow circles in a vain attempt to work out some of the knots. “Typing gives me cramps,” she complained, lifting her arms up to the ceiling in a languorous stretch.
“Well, writing is your chosen profession,” Krista—her housemate—reminded her as she padded past the kitchen table to the refrigerator. “You just have to put up with the occupational hazards that go along with it,” she mumbled around a bite of apple.
“You can talk!” Bella retorted, leaning back in the chair, her eyes closed. She lifted up the tangled mass of her chestnut curls, allowing the air to cool her neck. “Sticking people with needles every day sounds pretty hazardous to me.”<
br />
Krista reached over and playfully tugged her friend’s hair. “It’s called phlebotomy, for your information. And at least it’s a job with a steady income.” The end of her reply faded as she walked through to the living room. Bella smiled. Krista was no doubt watching her favourite afternoon soap on TV. Like clockwork.
Bella sighed wearily as she began gathering up her paperwork, now strewn across the table’s surface. She enjoyed being a freelance writer—loved the freedom, the challenges, the chance to express her creativity. But the constant pressure of deadlines and lack of secure income took their toll.
“What I need is a holiday,” she murmured, rubbing her blurry eyes. Her last holiday had been a couple of years ago, right before—
Bella tightly squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to block out the memories of Andrew. His smile, those chocolate brown eyes, the way he would look at her just before they kissed ...
But then he was gone, disappearing so suddenly, leaving Bella alone and crying on a Pacific island beach. Wondering why the men in her life were always taken from her prematurely—asking the heavens what she’d done to make God so angry.
As Bella started making dinner in an effort to distract her thoughts, she realised she was still asking those same questions now, a couple of years on. Memories swirled about her as she sliced an onion. She couldn’t be sure if her tears were from the fumes or her depressing thoughts.
With a sigh, she put down the knife decisively. “I need a change,” she announced to the kitchen walls. “They say a change is as good as a holiday, don’t they?”