Today I feel like a schoolboy with a new pair of
school shoes. And then I also have brand-new autumn leaves on my homegrown
Franschhoek oak trees to be happy about. There is brand-new growth in our
garden on all my plants: I have taken a particularly large number of
photographs of it and, in time, I will share them with you, my readers, so that
you too can rejoice.
My wife and I are experiencing a new season, while we
are in our 76th year on earth.
Do you still remember what new school shoes smell
like?
How tightly they press around your feet and hold them:
so snug and secure.
Shiny black.
Not a speck of dust to spoil them.
They must not get dirty, because they cost a lot of
money and money is scarce.
You don't get new school shoes for every little thing.
No, they are only for a very special occasion.
Then you go with your parents and two sisters to the
shoe shop, the shop where you buy school supplies. You are tiny and very young:
first school age. All the grown-ups tower around you. Your two sisters are
completely silent, standing and looking around with wide eyes. We don't know
shops. We hardly ever go into them, especially not as a family—it is an
exceptional occasion. Otherwise, my mother goes alone because Dad is working.
He has to earn money.
First, they measure your feet. When I think about it
now: surely that experienced salesman would, by then, have known the sizes of
children's feet by heart. But he measures and presses here and presses there.
It feels so good. Mum sits right beside you. Dad sits on your left side. Your
sisters? Oh dear, I don't really remember where they were at that moment—it was
my feet and my shoes, after all.
Then he brings the shoes in a brand-new cardboard box.
He says he “went to fetch them from the back.” I was too small to know where
“the back” was. Did it really matter where “the back” was? No—it was enough
that I was getting new school shoes.
Then, it fits.
I walk out of the shop with the new shoes on my feet.
Well, well, Dad must surely have paid for them—I don't
really know what happened there.
This story has everything to do with 1 September 2026,
as I sit here writing. It has everything to do with my Franschhoek oak trees. And
me and my wife’s new season.
In April 2023, I collected about 32 acorns from a
guest farm in Franschhoek, beside the river and next to the swimming pool. I
brought the acorns back to Rivonia and planted them. Then they came up, and
they are now just over three years old. There were also some twin trees that
died.
Why did I refer in my heading to a new season for my
wife and me? It is not only spring in nature; it is spring in our lives.
We were recently subjected to particularly cruel oral
attacks. We responded to it.
Then, this morning [4 September 2026], I discovered
and experienced the new season in our lives with striking clarity: winter is
beginning to pass, the earth has shifted on its axis, the season has
turned—also for my wife and me.
New growth; new life in Christ Jesus.
We are experiencing the protection and favour of our
Heavenly Father, through His Son, Jesus Christ, and God the Holy Spirit.
Regardless of the cruel verbal attacks, we have survived them and are
experiencing the favour of our Father.
Therefore, in the face of the attacks, I can cry out,
firmly and clearly:
SOLI
DEO GLORIA.
If you have a story of a
new season in your life, please write me at:
