UPFSA

A parable for the Huguenots of South-Africa
Written by Henning Schikora, Vezenobres, France.

For those who have ears to hear……

A little girl grew up in a country far away from where she was born. It was a pleasant place. She was taken well care of by her aunt and some other relatives. Growing up with her relatives, she had all she needed to be a happy girl. And she was a happy girl! It was only one thing missing; she did not know who her parents were. All she remembered from her birthplace was a lot of noise and screaming. This was when she woke up from a bad dream. Apart from that she didn't remember much,…. except some smiling faces that tried to hide their anxieties in between the bad memories.

Her aunt had explained so many times that she had to hurry out of the country with her when she was only some months old. She realised that the smiling friendly faces must have been her parents. She asked a lot questions about her parents. How were they? What did they do? What did they look like?

Her aunt patiently answered the questions, but despite all the good assuring answers of her parents love and affection for her….. there was this … void… something missing …. this restlessness. Sometimes she had tried to fill this void by playing with her dolls, daydreaming or eating … too much. It didn’t help… and somehow she knew it could only be done by going back to her father’s place.

Her aunt had explained that she would go back one day, when the circumstances were good and she was mature enough. « I will give you the papers your father gave me before sending you away. It’s a description of how to find your father’s property and the heritage that is for you. But it will only be legal when you are adult » repeated the aunt again and again.

The girl counted the days, the weeks, the months and the years. Especially the teenage years were difficult, but finally the Day arrived which she called « My Homecoming ». The excitement grew and she did not sleep much the days before departure.

While on the boat or sitting on the train towards her father’s country, she just wanted the boat and the train to go faster. Some fears came up once in a while and she wanted to go back, but mostly the excitement was so great that she prayed for the journey to go faster. She almost forgot her suitcase going off the train. The description to the property she had read hundreds of times, and it was like she knew the place. Her steps only slowed down as she entered the gate and saw the house.

A « hello » she heard from her left side. She was taken by surprise. She looked to the left only to see a man in front of a rose garden. « You must be Catherine » he continued with a friendly voice. « I’m the gardener taking care of your house as well. My father knew your father » As reading my mind he continued « Yes, I’m sorry to say that your father was killed shortly after you were taken out of this land. But come on in, he left you a letter. We have been waiting for you. » The house was big, simple, but very simple. The gardener sat down Catherine in an armchair before finding the document behind a mirror, a Huguenot mirror. He opened it and read:

My dearest Catherine,

Welcome home. I know you will come back and feel at home here. The questions     you’ve had for so long will be answered and you’re void inside will be filled.

You were like a tender plant that was uprooted to quickly. You were meant to be planted elsewhere and spread out, but not in such a harmful way. Because of the violent uprooting a part of the root was left in the ground. This root is the missing part in your life causing the void and the restlessness. In fact this root part has grown a lot since you were transplanted in a foreign land. It is a big and solid now, and it is producing a lot of fruit.

See ! See !

You have now come back and the missing root part will now be grafted on to you again. This will bring restoration and healing. You will have a new feeling of belonging. I have asked the gardener to bring some of the fruits from this plant, but also to cut a part of this plant in the fields and graft it onto you again. So take this plant from the missing root part and graft it into the void. It looks dead, but it’s not. It has incorruptible life in it.

And as you have done this for yourself, take some more of this root back to were you have grown up and graft it into your relatives for their healing as well and tell them there is a land of good fruit waiting for them.

I’m confident that with our God all things work for good for those who love him and that the times of restoration has begun. Knowing that you will read this..., tears are run down my beard with the thought of it, my dearest Catherine.
I love you so much.

Your Dad