Philip Drops The Bombshell…

1-26pm
It was 1am on the Thursday before Sarah was due to leave. I was abruptly woken by a knock at the door of my room. On opening it, the night matron stood there – wearily, as if she too had been disturbed, she announced there was someone to see me. I asked, “Is it Philip?” “Yes,” she replied. I couldn’t believe it! His self-control was worse than I believed. He could not wait for Sunday!! He had come round to see me, lining me up as company for when Sarah left…. or that’s what I thought. Hurriedly I dressed, combed my hair, brushed my teeth and went downstairs. There stood Philip. I will never forget his countenance. His head slightly bowed, as if deep in thought. He raised his eyes and quietly greeted me. “We need to talk,” he said. I got a knot in my stomach. My pulse quickened. He looked serious. I felt a little unwell. Silently we left the building and got into his car. He drove the short distance to Green Point Beach car park. I said nothing. He parked and turned off the engine. In the darkness, I heard him sigh. Then he turned to me and said, “I’ve asked Sarah to marry me and she’s said ‘yes,’ so we’re getting married on Saturday and I’d like you to be there.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Before I could respond, he burst into tears. Sobbing, his head hung over the steering wheel. I moved closer to him and patted his back. “It’s okay,” I found myself saying.  He composed himself and said he was sorry. My mind was reeling. I think he went onto say he had just come from (Holy Trinity Church’s Minister) Murray Hofmeyr and he had said Philip must come and tell me. Job done, he started the car, drove back to Somerset Hospital, watched me walk inside and without another word, left.

I went back to my room, dumbfounded, speechless, gutted. I threw myself on my bed and in the darkness of the early hours of the morning I tried to make sense of what I had just heard. I tossed and turned for the rest of the night. In the morning, I barged into my friend Beryl’s room and sarcastically barked, ‘do you want to go to a wedding on Saturday?’ Sleepily, she replied, “Whose?” “Philip’s” I spat. “He’s marrying Sarah!” She was shocked. I couldn’t contain myself. I had no family in Cape Town.  I went the phone booth and phoned my Dad in Harare, Zimbabwe. Through burning tears I spilled out the story. I heard his distress on my behalf. What could he do? What could he say? Here I was thousands of kilometres away, heartbroken – he could only sympathise. In the preceding months, he had told me to be very careful of Philip. My Dad’s words rang in my ears, ‘Any man who plays two girls at one time cannot be trusted.’  At the time when I had told Philip that, he was mortified and wanted to prove my Dad wrong.  My Dad was generous in his comfort, but the words fell on an empty heart. In sadness, I hung up and had to face the hours ahead, desperately hoping that the wedding thrown together in 48 hours would fall through. By the end of Thursday, I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to watch Philip marry Sarah. In the evening, I plucked up the courage and called his flat. Praying Sarah wouldn’t answer, I held my breath as the phone rang. After a few rings, Philip picked up. I didn’t engage him. I had the sentence planned and memorised. “I’m just phoning to say, I won’t be there on Saturday.”

People rallied round Philip and Sarah to pull off a wedding celebration. I heard of the dress being hired and people being invited. A lot of the folk from my church were going. Close friends all pitched up on Saturday. For me, the day was like that of a funeral…I just wished it would end. My heart was shattered. I hoped against all hope that something would prevent the wedding from going ahead, but nothing did. Philip and Sarah got married on that Saturday and the next day, the long awaited Sunday, Sarah boarded her planned flight and flew back to England. Philip stayed behind to work his resignation time and wrap up his Cape Town affairs.

God hadn’t just closed the door to my relationship with Philip – He had slammed it shut, bolted it, locked it and thrown away the key.

I was not yet 20. If someone had said to me at that time, ‘Helga, one day you will be grateful for that closed door’, I would never have believed them!  As far as I was concerned, I had just lost the only guy who ever showed an interest in marrying me! I doubted there would be anyone else!

The months ahead were to be miserable – I’ll tell you a bit about them tomorrow! (Eventually, this whole saga will be copied and pasted onto a page of its own – look for the tab at the top called ‘Mike and Helga – Modern Day Romance’)

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Back to today! Plenty of overnight rain had me scuttling for a new soup recipe. Pamela sent me a whole bookful! Here’s one of them…

My first attempt turned out pretty well…

…and tasted really good…although I halved the recipe…

I am going to go and serve it up. More rain this afternoon. Enjoy the rain. It is one of God’s wonders:

Job 5:9-10 “He (God) performs wonders that cannot be fathomed,     miracles that cannot be counted. He provides rain for the earth;     He sends water on the countryside.”

Thank-you Lord for the wonder of rain.

God bless you loads.

In His Grip,

Helga xx 🙂