Tag Archives: purity

Post 55. Let’s wait.

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Wilf and Val were at the station to meet us.  They were so happy.  It was good to be home.  Dad and Tony sat in the lounge chatting about New Zealand and jazz.  Val and I sat in my room and she told me how handsome she thought Tony was.  There was a lot to catch up on.

Tony slept on the front veranda in Papa’s old room.  The heavy lace curtains were still up.  Nothing much had changed.

Val brought him tea and avocado on toast in bed the next morning.  He thought all his Christmases had come at once.  He knew he was onto a good thing and I knew what it meant.  She wanted him to stay; forever.

A few days later, we went off to get a ring.  I had NO idea how much money Tony had for it.  He was so sweet.  “Just get whichever one you want.”   It was so exciting.   We had been engaged for 6 months, and now I was going to have a ring.  After trying many rings,  I found one that I liked.  It was small and dainty with three little diamonds in a row.  He kept checking that I was sure.  I was sure.  I loved it.

When he looked at the price, it was exactly the amount he had saved for my ring.  If it had been even slightly more, it would have been too much.  He was relieved.  What were the chances of that?

I didn’t want a big fuss; just a few neighbours from Rolleston Place and some friends from the Full Gospel Church.  We had it on the back veranda.  There were some eats, some speeches and Tony put the ring on my finger.   It was official.

Dave and Bev loved Tony.  He never said no to food, so Dave said he was a man after his own heart.  Pete was doing his two years of compulsory army training but he got out for a weekend while we were there.   Tony passed the brother-test.  He fitted in perfectly well.

One night we were sitting on the swings in the park.  We had already talked about not sleeping together until we got married.   I had boyfriends who put pressure on me to sleep with them.  There were times when I actually ran away from very close shaves.   I didn’t want to say yes.   I wanted to wait for my husband.  Now, in my fiancés arms, I wanted to say yes but had to say no.  We had made the decision to wait.  It was the hardest thing for us to do.   We were so passionate about each other, we were engaged and we were going to get married in 5 months time; what was the point?

The point was, we weren’t married.  Tony wasn’t my husband and I wasn’t his wife.  We had no right to each other.  We needed to wait just a little while longer.  We knew we weren’t going to regret it.

We laughed about how bad it would have been if we had been together on the Doulos.  We would have been so distracted and would definitely not have been able to stick to the “no more than five minute conversations” or the “no physical contact” rule.

Our long distance relationship had been perfect.  God knew exactly what He was doing.

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Post 27. No pork, no bacon

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I had NO idea what to do next.  I spent my “well deserved”  holiday a bit concerned.  I wasn’t qualified to go to college.  I didn’t want to anyway.  There was no way I wanted to work at the bank.   I was starting to wonder if I would end up in a supermarket, just as my maths teacher had said.

At the same time, there were three things I felt strongly about:   I had a feeling I wouldn’t marry a South African.  I had a feeling I would travel.  I had a feeling I would marry a pastor.

While I dated South African guys, I didn’t meet one  I wanted to marry.  Over the years there were a few serious proposals which I happily turned down.  Some were pastor-types.  Now they were interesting. One took me out for dinner. Forget about “should you kiss on your first date?”  He proposed to me all the way home and kept going at the gate.  He talked about a how I could help him in his ministry.  What an asset I would be to him.  He was desperate.  I was desperate too.  I couldn’t wait to get out of the car.  He became pretty famous- for doing the wrong thing.

Another one was a full on, “no pork, no bacon” type.  We had met at joint youth camps over the years.   He was the most eligible pastor’s son and in much demand among the young girls.  I needed a partner for a banquet so I plucked up all the courage I could find to call him.  He courteously told me he was dating someone but something could be arranged.   He called the next day to say he was available.  After lots of interrogation as to how it happened, I had a date.

He had a fancy sports car and Val made sure he got lots of avocado sandwiches.  He kept coming back.  He didn’t like that I wore earrings or make-up. He tried to convince me that eating bacon was the cause of my bad eyesight.  There were lots of rules and regulations except for the ones that really mattered.  We argued about everything and we didn’t last long.

A lot of time was spent getting them to keep their hands to themselves.  They didn’t make it easy for me to stick to my guns.  It wasn’t my  fault I was “so irresistible.”

I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t that.

In our youth group, we were encouraged to write down the qualities that we wanted in a husband.  My list was long. It was a perfect description of Jesus; except he played a guitar.

Post 26. “I have NO idea.”

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I thought I would die of sadness when Lindy and her family left for the States. We were 15.  It was as if my life had come to an end.  We wrote tear-filled letters to each other for about two years.  Brenda was my first best friend and Lindy was my second.  I wasn’t sure how my faith would hold up without her.Mondays were especially difficult for me.  The girls came back to school after a weekend of partying.  They asked me what I had done and who I had slept with.  There were many discussions about virginity and the loss of it.  They just couldn’t understand why I had decided to wait until I got married.

My subjects were Biblical Studies, French, English, History, Biology and Afrikaans.  I kicked myself over and over for not taking Domestic Science and Typing instead of French and History.  I wanted to be in Lindy’s class.  Then she went and left.

So much had changed, but I couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. There was still lots of messing around in class.  I was totally unprepared for my final exams and I did a lot of cramming and crying days before writing.  There was NO WAY I wanted to repeat a year of school.

Gymnastics

To add to my distractions I was a gymnast.   I could tie myself in knots.  Wilf said the circus was NOT an option so I worked hard and qualified for the National Gymnastics Championships instead.  I never could point my toes properly and skipped all my ballet classes so I didn’t win a medal.  I kept doing it anyway.  Just for fun.

I was always first to finish my paper.  I filled in whatever I could and then put my head on the desk and slept.  Some questions were answered with “I have NO idea.”

Everyone was convinced I would fail.  They expected me to be back the following year.

It was a miracle that I scraped through,  by the skin of my teeth. When I walked out of those gates for the last time, they were amazed.  There was a song on my lips.  It was deep and profound.  I sang it loud and I sang it proud:

No more school

No more stick

No more dirty arithmetic

If the teacher interferes,

Turn around and box her ears

If she wakes up in the night

Blow her up with dynamite.

With that, my school years ended.