Aside

JULIA HEUVEL died on 25th April 2014 (a week after Good Friday), 23 days after her 80th birthday. We saw life steadily leave her as the cancer continued its march into her pancreas. When I think of JULIE, I see DAVID. It’s 1956 and the two of them are standing in front of Rev. William Mason in the Buitenkant Street Methodist . I hear them listening to the words: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endure all things … Love never ends”.

I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the passage of the Shannon Street home in Salt River; listen to the front door open and feel the warmth of hospitality. Her children, 9 grand children and 2 great grand children rise up, call her blessed and join in the chorus of WELCOME.

I feel the pain of EVICTION in District 6. The HEUVELS were one of the last residents to be forcibly removed from their semi-detached home which stood opposite the Sterling Flats. I see their resident minister, Rev. Charles Villa Vicencio, confronting the authorities and wondered how that moment shaped his future. I can smell the famous TRIPE AND TROTTERS (the poor man’s/person’s meal) and give thanks to God for the way Julie’s gentle and loving spirit has made its silent witness on all of our lives.

Even at her funeral, the family shared a huge basket of JULIE’S (favourite) SWEETS – a symbol of the GOODBYE SWEET given to us by JULIE everytime it was time to leave.

It was good to be back in SALT RIVER. JULIE had always been supportive of my ministry. She regularly attended the lunchtime worship services we developed to meet the needs of a changing environment. I called for SABBATH LIVING – urging the faithful to take time out for God each and every day – rather than SABBATH KEEPING. JULIE and her close friend DAPHNE (pictured above) would prepare (clean) the Church on Fridays for the service on Sunday. Her life won’t make news headlines but as the story unfolds it brings to life images of another world.

JULIA HEUVEL draws us into a world which money cannot buy. The impact of this mother’s love is immense. Her life of faith was remarkable. JULIE had a wonderful way of working with children. She opens a window into the lost art of giving of oneself for others. JULIE knew how to use time graciously. She was very engaging, bringing a HUMILTY in all her hard working ways.

During the War, JULIE sewed badges on uniforms at the ENSIGN factory. Her hands were always busy, knitting (she even taught her son Brian to knit!) for someone in need. Her feet pounded the pavements. She knew exactly what was going on in SALT RIVER. The worker in JULIE offers those of us who mourn her death a NEW BEGINNING. The Celebration of her LIFE took place on the day after WORKER’S DAY. Those present experienced a moment of HUMANITY and marvelled at the way in which she saw the good in people. JULIA was able to look beyond our flaws. She was a PEACEMAKER.

Something of the EASTER EXPERIENCE began to rub off on all of us. We had all made our own “little HEUVEL” (hill/cairn) remembering how JULIE would collect a stone from a place where she had been. She would thrust the treasured item into our hands (always with a sweet) and make the connection (show the love). JULIE saw the beauty in everything. She found the goodness and presence of God especially in the Sunrise.

There was a ritual on the HEUVEL camping trips. DAVID would switch on his small transistor radio as dawn was breaking. JULIE would wake up the children and insist that they experience the splendour of the new day watching the Sunrise.

JULIE would look at the rays, the reflections, the degrees of light and reveal her faith in a God whose love never ends. Knowingly, she would nod her head saying: GOD IS GOOD and smile. We walked away from her closed grave (covered in flowers) alongside the Voortrekker Road in Maitland, strengthened by the inspiration of her life. Her life definitely gets my vote!

It takes you about 45 minutes to get to the Airport from Detroit City. Departure is always filled with a mixture of feelings and emotions. On the Highway, the four of us, John, Laura, Arlene and Mark tried to piece together all that had happened during the 90 Days in Detroit and acknowledged that “all good things must come to an end”. We exchanged gifts; offered promises; took one last picture; made our last hugs and headed towards the check in counters. With good lead time, we got great service. Arlene had to place some of her things in my suitcase to balance out the weight. We both had a selection of hand held baggage and were grateful that these items did not land up on the scale! What’s more, if they weighed me, I know that they could add 3 – 4 kgs from our DAY 1 in Detroit! Any traveller to the USA will tell you the same story.

Detroit Airport is huge. We took the sky train to locate our exit point and then wandered around the shops, looking for magnets and “stuff” to share with the folks back home. Once buckled into our Delta Airline seats, the fun began. When the pilot announced: “We have a problem with the landing gear”, Arlene and I looked at each other and realised that there was not going to be enough time for us to get our connecting flight. The margins were tight and we agreed that we would still “give it a go!”. It turned into the Amazing Race as soon as we landed a Schippol Airport in Amsterdam. Adventurous Arlene and Mobile Mark ran at full speed, puffing and groaning; dragging and carrying their precious belongings to the other side of the Airport, constantly trying to find their way. We stripped; got through security; only to be told that “there was no accompanying baggage” and therefore we had been re-routed via Paris and would Fly Air France. (In my heart I knew we had missed the cut line and had lost our tickets to “stand by” passengers. Arlene did not concur with this thought). With tokens in hand, we wandered back into the maze of travellers; sought out a suitable coffee shop and took stock. Our “small portioned” breakie – a hot chocolate; an omelette; toasted cheese and ham; tea and coffee cost us a cool 28 Euros. R364.00 (RSA). Europe ain’t cheap!

Arlene purposefully walked through the mall of “buy me” shops, while I parked off as a suitcase security guard and looked at life outside through a huge glass window overlooking the runway. 6 Hours later, we strolled casually over to our departure point, only to be told that Arlene could not go to Paris because she did not have a Shen gen Visa. This put immigration on Red Alert. We were re-routed to London and booked back home through Virgin Airlines. Once again we changed gear; raced to our to our new check point (we were late), only to find everyone coming off the aircraft. The plane was broken and needed to be replaced! Further delays and frantic time checks.

After altercations, tears and curses, we eventually got through to Heathrow, thankful for the extra hour granted through time change. Heathrow is hectic. It meant getting to Terminal 3 and running at full speed through passages, tunnels, moving flatbed walkways and even catching an 8 minute bus ride. Smelling the finish line, I asked for assistance from an Indian Man reclining in his electric car. He said: “It’s only just around the corner!”. Well! A football field later, we burst through closed doors into a banqueting hall filled with tired passengers waiting to be processed. We jumped the queues, shouting “Emergency”! Most were very gracious (probably said “Shame … look at this “Old Toppie”), except for the last person in front of Arlene who, unmoved, proclaimed: “We are all going somewhere you know.”. She let him go, but fired a parting shot: “I hope you have a very good Life!”.