Readers told me my observations about teachers were appreciated and that they spread all over the teaching world. This is music to my ears. The thing about teachers is they end up living in your head, well, at least in mine. 

When I share something and offer the larger portion to whomever it’s not my goodness you are witnessing. Mrs. Davies (her family owned the dairy) at Red Hill Primary taught me that. Mr. Lendrum was my soccer coach at Northlands Primary. He was a quiet spoken very kind man who loved encouraging his teams. It’s over fifty years later and if I am watching an unkind coach I find myself saying, “We need a little more Brian Lendrum around here.” 

Richard Morey at Northlands Boys High took an essay of mine and put huge red lines through most of it but circled a small portion where he wrote: “Do more of this. This is writing,” and I was on cloud 9. He also made us write everyday. I’m still doing it. Frank Graham at Northlands Boys High believed in me, saw something he really affirmed, told me I was going to be alright although he told me in Afrikaans.

I guess he was right. Mostly.

A framed Jock Leyden cartoon hung for years in my dad’s Red Hill tea room. Jock Leyden was an ubiquitous sports and political cartoonist who lived in Durban for most of his life.

“The impossible we do immediately. Miracles take a little longer,” read the caption. 

My literal, pre-adolescent brain didn’t get it. I wrote it off as not funny at all. Jokes were supposed to be funny. I get it now. How? When? I get it every time I meet a teacher. Watch them. Listen to them. They are women and men often conquering the impossible in the immediate. Their reward, the miracle, may take decades to unfold.

I have seen it with the women and men who were my sons’ teachers. I have seen it with friends who are teachers. They take what they have got, or not got, and run with it. They often spend their own money, scrounge for materials, take what appears unusable and transform it into material for learning.

That’s a teacher! They take a child who is wild at heart, resistant to books, and help her to turn herself into a leading scientist. They take a recalcitrant boy, love him, encourage him, discipline him, and now call him doctor as he attends to the needs of his teacher’s grandchild.

“Can I help a friend who is grieving the loss of a child or the loss of a spouse?” writes the succinct reader.

I will try to be equally succinct in my reply. Yes.

There are things you can do to help. You can be present, around, on the outskirts. You can be like a very skilled butler, one who is helping and serving and taking care of practical needs and errands and housekeeping matters. You can say very little and listen very much and observe with your kind and patient eyes. These are things you can do. But, you will only be really good at these things if you have taken care of grieving your own losses. The minute your own losses hit you when you are trying to help your friend you will find yourself going into overdrive, into almost ceaseless activity, in the belief you are being helpful.

No. There is nothing you can do. Grief is a private, personal passage. It’s unique to the individual. It is shaped by a specific loss. It’s a road taken alone to an unknown destination in the hopes that a palatable one will unfold and be slowly recognized as it comes into view.

Be there. Do nothing. You will be amazed at how much you can love someone and support someone by being around and doing absolutely nothing.

When someone you know is faced with difficult or sad circumstances and you don’t know what to say then say that. 

“I don’t know what to say,” is at least the truth.

It’s better than launching some tired cliche you hope will be comforting. The truth, as you see it, is a good place to start. Contrary to common belief, people who are grieving want to talk about the person who has died. It’s often relieving to know it’s ok to speak even about death, and what you miss, and what and whom you lost.

The newly divorced man or woman may want you to name your discomfort with his or her loss of a marriage. The parent who’s son or daughter is in rehab for alcohol or drugs hardly wants you to consider their battling son or daughter invisible.

Then, once you have opened the door by being open to talk, spend the rest of your energy listening. Really listening. Listening, not correcting, not trying to provide false comfort, not trying to ease over or around what is important to the speaker.

If you don’t know what to say be assured the one who is in grief may really want to do all the talking.

If not, well, the silence that may prevail between you is the kind that is truly golden.

I hope you noticed “The After-Sermon” title.

I cannot promise you “Love Boat” or “Who Shot JR?” in print, but I can assure you that almost every Sunday after I have preached at First Presbyterian Church, and after our dogs have dragged me through Trojan Forest and around Baker Park, I am going to write to you in The Courier-Times.

This morning I popped in to see Terry at the New Castle post office to get a post office box number for two reasons: since a young child I have ALWAYS wanted one, and so you can drop me letters in the mail as it was done in the old days.

I can’t wait to see who lands a letter in the mailbox first.

It’s PO Box 808!

Why? Well, I see you as being part of our larger congregation, even if we don’t know each other. I want to care about you and hear about what you love about New Castle and about life in general. I want to know what’s bothering you, hindering you. I want to connect with you week-by-almost-week.

When I say “being part of our larger congregation” I don’t mean First Pres. I mean all the pastors in the region. I know you probably have a church and I am sure you are well pastored. But, I am sure that if you asked every pastor in the region, he or she will tell you he or she thinks similar thoughts to those I have just expressed. I did not seek their permission and nor do I want to speak for them, but I think I can safely say we want to care about you if you are part of our respective church communities or not.

It’s in our bones.

It’s pastor-DNA.

My plan with “After-Sermon” is to write about what it’s like to be new around here – which you are for at least the first 40 years – and what it means to try to be a good neighbor. I also want to write about pastoring a community of people who are far more loving, cooperative, accepting than I find it possible to be without a lot of prayer, determination and focus.

For today, I want to teach you a new word: siyabonana.

It’s a Zulu word.

It means “we see each other” but it’s the kind of seeing that is deeper than looking, deeper than surface. It’s more than a casual glance and it is mutual, two-way, at least.

Let’s practice saying it.

It’s easy. The “siya” part is just like any Hoosier would say “see ya.” The “bonana” portion requires you to say “banana” like the Queen of England. If you can’t quite get that, pretend you are Prince Charles or Prince William or Sir Winston Churchill asking for a banana and you have it: See-Ya-Bonana.

I want this column to be about “Siyabonana.”

I want you to see me.

I want to see you.

I invite you to write to me and I have specifically chosen the old way of paper and an envelope and a stamp because it’s the way many people would still very much like to communicate.

No, I do not want you to leave your church and come to ours. No pastor worth his or her salt wants people to move from one church to another.

No, I am never going to ask you for money.

No, I am not going to ultimately ask you to sign up for an expensive trip to Israel or a bus ride to Noah’s Ark Park which I think is somewhere in Illinois, maybe Ohio or Missouri.

There’s no plane trip or bus trip or monetary tip up my sleeve.

There’s no book, no video series, no catch, no small print. I may recommend a book on occasion but it won’t be mine.

How do I know?

I don’t have one.

“The After-Sermon” will try to be encouraging, insightful, and sometimes about serious matters like parking meters and donut moguls and then sometimes it’ll be about matters of faith.

Since I am on the topic, if you don’t attend church anywhere, then, yes, I want you to attend church somewhere.

Anywhere.

Why? Well, because being in a group of people who care about you and about whom you can care is good for all of us, by golly, it’s good for America. It’s good for the whole world.

Caring does wonders for people. You already know that. Mutual caring makes us all better people. Mutual caring makes us all better Hoosiers, Baptists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, it makes us Better Everythings.

You don’t need me to tell you that. Being with other people often and caring for each other, as churches usually try to do, is soup for the soul.

Have a fabulous week.

I’ll see you in the paper next week if we don’t first run into each other at the Farmers’ Market or Cafe Royal or maybe at the Kroger’s self checkout!

Siyabonana.

Rev. Rod Smith is pastor at First Presbyterian Church in New Castle.

• Define yourself before someone else does. There is always someone willing to have that pleasure for you.
• We are all to be treasured, honored, and valued. Our worth has nothing to do with economic status or educational status.
• Bitterness and cynicism always poison the bearer and are never helpful. Few things distort a future as powerfully as holding onto past disappointments.
• Truth and vulnerability expressed in mutual and respectful relationships are always helpful. Not everyone you meet deserves your vulnerability. Some people really are out to get you.
• Know what you want even if there is no chance or little chance of getting what you want. Knowing what you want will somewhat steer you from really unwise choices although nothing is foolproof.
• Watch your words, make them sweet, in the event you have to eat them.
• Humble yourself before life does it for you. Life has a way of addressing arrogance and pride even if it sometimes takes its time.
• Stay out of control and keep most of the rules of polite society. Don’t fall into guilt traps usually set by people who have no vision for their own lives.

There’s lots I love about humanity and find fascinating about us. One, of many, is that as a species we are just a little self-obsessed. I am not even into them but I can name about 16 psychological and personality tests which try to assess, understand, evaluate every nook and cranny of a person’s life. 

We love to try to know how we function or don’t and what we can do to fix ourselves as if it is possible or as if we were a low mileage Ford or Toyota. 

More than a few times I’ve been “assessed” by people who know very little about the tests, less about themselves, and yet regard themselves as experts. 

My favorite by far is The Enneagram but I’ve decided to come up with a new test. 

It’s easy to self-administer, score, and analyze.

Are you ready? 

Make lists of the things, people, circumstances you love and hate or hate and love – you choose which comes easier – but do it really quickly and no details are required.

Do this for about 15 minutes, or, take as long as you want.

Which came easier to you? Which flowed out of you with greater ease? 

Which tended to dominate, the positives or the negatives? 

Now, go ahead, analyze all you want.   

How I regard you, treat you, view you, value you is of paramount importance. It says nothing about you but exposes volumes about me.

This is a hard one for some people, even very intelligent people, to grasp. I think this is because even if you are very bright and have an arm’s length of degrees, walls of trophies, an endless lists of glowing accomplishments and you may be richer than Solomon at his peak of wealth, if you are angry, bitter, vengeful or crude, it comes out of you (and me) no matter how much you try to dress it up into something decent or acceptable or explainable.

How we treat all others (no exceptions) is about who and what we are no matter who “they” are or what kind of people “they” are no matter who or what “they” happen to be or not be.

Let’s be clear: I don’t care if you are the big cheese in some church or business or get a motorcade through the middle of the city because of your so-called importance, when I see you treat another person poorly I know what you are made of and it is not pretty.

Even then, though, I try to treat you with respect, because my response to you is not about you, it’s about me and who I am.     

Things I like to do when I come to Durban

I like to drive down to the entrance to the harbor and look for the spot where I spread my dad’s ashes. His descriptions of Pearl Gibson singing to the men passing by on ships going out to war were vivid, so vivid that when I’ve walked the pier it’s as if I can hear her singing “We’ll meet again.”

I like to drive through the city at night. Then, park on the sight of the snake park and walk down the beachfront to where the dodgem cars used to be. If my younger son is with me he usually rollerblades way ahead of me and we meet for ice cream. We get the one with the Cadbury Flake stuck in the middle. It’s a memory I treasure because I share it with him and because it’s reminiscent of days earlier when we walked that part 60 years ago.

I enjoy taking my extended Durban family out for good curry meals. They always know where the curries are hot! I enjoy the diversity of foods available in the Durban area. Then, I have never visited Durban without going to Mitchell Park to greet Gordon Michael who has served so many people so faithfully for so many years.

Addictions and addicts are swamped in denial.

The use of any substance or participation in any behavior is a problem (is an addiction) for you if even one of the following is true.

As a result of the use of a substance or engagement in a behavior: 

• You’ve lost, or come close to losing, a significant relationship or your  job.
• You’ve had a run in with the law.
• Your children are unsettled by your activities.
• You have physical cravings when you have been without it for a few minutes or a few days.
• You violate your values, or appear to have no values, to sustain your activity.
• You build your life around something people who love you wish you wouldn’t consume or do.
• Your life – finances, faith, and relationships – has become progressively unmanageable.
• You hide or you lie about your whereabouts and/or behavior.
• People who love you are put “on duty” and you expect them to lie for you.
• People, especially those you love, are embarrassed by your behavior.
• You hate a list like this list and hope certain people won’t see it.
• When confronted with this list you argue about definitions, display anger or rage, or write the writer off as an idiot.

Please, get help, AA, AL-ANON, and similar organizations are able to assist you. You do not have to live like this!