April 24, 2024

On the road again – Namibia

by Rod Smith

“Headed for Namibia,” I texted a friend.

Instantly, he replied, with a link to nine varieties of venomous snakes inhabiting Namibia. The communication left me with the distinct impression I’d be tripping over nesting pythons, wrestling extended families of puff-adders, fending off multiple varieties of mambas at every turn. 

Ours was the only flight coming into Hosea Kutako International Airport, Windhoek, for a few hours. The immigration officials appeared rather pleased to stamp the Boeing 737-load of us in. I was more than pleased to be admitted after the 20 minute walk from the parked Airlink aircraft to the airport buildings. The African sun blazes, I tell you. 

Airlink, I understand is a rather new South African carrier, an airline I have found to be friendly and efficient. It’s interesting that even on the quick domestic hauls — at least the flights I’ve enjoyed— Airlink finds it possible and profitable to serve all passengers delightfully boxed meals in recently sealed time-stamped containers each with fresh fruit and an “African dessert.” The part I most enjoy is washing it down with a traditionally served hot cup of tea – while there remains a selection of wines freely available.  

Namibia, formerly South West Africa until 1990, is large, mostly desert, and Windhoek, one of the major cities is a two hour flight almost directly north South Africa’s “Mother City,” Cape Town. My immediate impression: Windhoek is as vibrant and modern as any large metropolitan city anywhere in the west, while rural Namibia is as rural as I have known on this fabulous continent.

The “Foundations of Counseling Ministries” students and facilitating staff whom I am teaching for the week make a full classroom of 20 hailing from 7 nations: Kenya, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Netherlands, Switzerland, South Africa, and Tanzania. Each student is in a different part of his or her journey towards a degree from The University of The Nations. 

Next week I will be back in South Africa and in my home town. I will attend the wedding of my great niece and speak at a few public gatherings, one of which will be a live, three hour discussion with Terry Angelos, the best selling author of “White Trash” subtitled “My Year As a High Class Call Girl.” The memoir is as graphic and tough to read as it is redemptive and full of hope and joy. 

If you follow my “On The Road” series of columns, you may have noticed that this time I have not written about the long flight from Newark to Cape Town or the inconveniences that come with international travel. 

Here’s why: the teacher for the week in a parallel class offered on this Namibian rural campus, which is 840 acres of sprawling bush with a settlement of houses and classrooms sitting somewhere in the middle,  arrived between 2 and 3am on Monday after a 9 hour public bus ride — think Greyhound — from a town in northern Namibia. 

Bishop Leonard was up and teaching within a few hours. 

I am over complaining about the inconveniences of Boeing and Airbus travel, thank you, Bishop Leonard.  

At least for now.

April 21, 2024

Grace upon grace

by Rod Smith

While life as we know it is impossible without Divine Grace, Grace extended to all. I am particularly interested in the interpersonal grace we each can generously offer all other people, from intimates to total strangers.

Yes, we can be agents of grace.

I have seen it powerfully at work for many years.

It includes:

• Giving others a very wide berth, room to make mistakes, to be opinionated, to be socially clumsy, without my interference or my thinking, feeling I should offer my guidance, correction, or opinion.

• Extending “grace-in-reverse” by not allowing any person’s past errors, tough, dark, or even sordid history, to hinder my perceptions, my experience of who and what they are in the present. This acknowledges people really can grow and change.

• Allowing others to own their story and to tell it in their way, without interruption, without uninvited interpretation, and certainly without being “one-upped” by something from my own life, something usually bigger, stronger, better, or more dramatic.

• Forgiving from the outset, without necessarily receiving an apology or explanation, and for that forgiveness to be unconditional and complete.

• Exercising radical hospitality. This is embracing fully (not limited to a hug) others who are not like us!

How do I know about such grace?

It’s been offered to me, time and again. The challenge is to give it to others.

I miss the boys when I travel
April 16, 2024

Uber serendipities….

by Rod Smith

On days when I feel like a local adventure I drive for Uber. I have to believe there is something powerful at play when it comes to coincidences.

This week I picked up a passenger from an obscure petrol station in a busy truck stop. The gentleman headed for the front passenger door, which I have noticed, only South Africans and Australians tend to do. The rider revealed he’s from KZN, specifically Isipingo. I immediately practiced my limited Zulu with him and we are both taken aback by the serendipitous nature of our meeting. On the same day, hours later, another passenger informs me that he goes regularly to visit the elephants at Thula Thula Game Park in KZN — and spends a few days in Umhlanga on the way! 

KZN’s own best selling author Terry Angelos and I will have a morning together where we talk about her memoir “White Trash.” We will discuss her powerful work and its themes of redemption and reconciliation. You are welcome to attend. Terry will talk about her book and I hope to show how Terry has unintentionally revealed several fundamental principles of Family Therapy, applicable to all families of all cultures. Join us please for this 3 hour morning session on May 11, 2024. Shirley@ShirleyWilliams.co.za has all the details. 

April 15, 2024

What does day-to-day love look like?

by Rod Smith

Take a deep breath. Theses sentences are long.

Love is….

It’s doing what’s good and right to the best of your awareness, as limited as your awareness may be, for the greatest number of people possible in your immediate circle of influence, including those whom you don’t know and even those who may have rejected you or may even hate you. 

It’s gathering your strength and harvesting your latent patience and shopping at your store of inner kindness when others test you your many daily contexts, and then being strong and patient and kind even if it feels like you’re surrounded by people who don’t appear to think very much, and, if they do, their thinking appears limited to considering only what pertains to themselves alone. 

It’s paying for someone’s groceries or petrol (gas) or electricity, but it’s also stopping to consider why it is that you are able to and trying to understand what circumstances have placed the recipients of your generosity in such vulnerable, often humiliating situations, that they need your help and thinking these things through without resorting to low-hanging stereotypes like “I’ve worked hard and ‘they’ have not.”

It’s seeing people’s faces, acknowledging their unique stories, accepting that all people want to be seen, heard and included, even if their day-to-day behavior suggests volumes of evidence to the contrary.

April 10, 2024

What about me?

by Rod Smith

I have the writer’s permission – for which I am most grateful – to print this letter, one which touched me deeply for the deep losses the woman faced. I am grateful the “adoption process” has undergone many necessary modifications making this scenario extreme and unique. Thank you, dear writer, your letter may assist others to also speak up. 

Dear Rod: 

I have just read your article about Mothers who gave up their babies for adoption.  My heart bleeds for such mothers.  

I’m so sorry. 

But what about me?  

I was adopted. I am also so sad and heartsore that I never was given the opportunity to meet my Mother.

Let me tell you my story…..

I was given away as a two-week-old baby to an old Afrikaans couple.  I am 77 years now and have never forgotten the hardships I endured, day after day.  She was a disturbed, neurotic woman. Religion was her obsession and he was an alcoholic. 

I was beaten relentlessly with a stick, plank or by physical force. Slaps in the face was a common occurrence for any minor misdemeanor or suggestion. Never was I ever told that I was loved. Never was I loved, sympathized with if I was injured as all kids suffer minor accidents. I instead was sworn and cursed at and threatened that I would be given back to the orphanage if I didn’t behave.  I was blamed for anything that went wrong even if a light bulb fused. I was not a bad child. I studied hard at school and was well behaved.

Nobody told me that I was adopted whilst I was young and I only got confirmation of that in my late teens, but believe you me, I just knew that I was adopted and always wondered why did my Mother give me away?  

I knew there had to be a valid reason.

My adopted Father in a drunken stupor tried to kill me when I was 5 years old.  I got a big hiding for that, as if it was my fault. 

When I was 16 years old he tried to rape me several times.  But I fought back each time.  Why I never told any of my teachers I never knew.  I thought at that time it was my fault. 

I missed my Mother so much and always thought how wonderful it would be to meet her and always dreamt about her coming to fetch me from this hell hole.  

But sadly, it never happened.  

In my early thirties I could then afford to hire an agency to look for her. The Department of Adoption (or Welfare, I think it was called) gave me her name but was advised that she had passed away in her early forties. 

I was devastated and heartsore that I had never looked for her earlier in my life.  

I investigated her family and met her brother who told me that she was 16 years old when she was pregnant. Her Mother from a staunch Afrikaans background, forced her to give me up for adoption as it was a skande (SCANDAL) on the family name.  

He told me that once a year on my birthday, she would lock herself in her room and just sob and sob.  

How sad is that?  

I was also given the details of the man who was supposed to be my father. I met him and he clearly remembered my Mother very well and was shocked to hear that she had a baby. We had a blood test done and it was told to us that out of a very low percentage of men in Kwa Zulu Natal who could be my father, he fell within that category.  

That was a small bonus for me.

Adoption is a very sad part of life. 

Sometimes you are given to wonderful parents and sometimes to terrible parents.  

I do believe that for at least 5 years Social workers should stay connected with the adoptee. 

To the Mothers who gave up their babies, I feel for you with my whole heart and soul. 

I cry for you. 

I too would like to attend the lunch and would gladly be a guest speaker to all the Mom’s who gave up their babies. 

This is a wonderful service you are offering to the Mothers who gave their babies away. I applaud you.

God Bless you all.

NAME WITHHELD BY REQUEST 

April 5, 2024

Mothers Ignored and an invitation

by Rod Smith

A few years back my sons and I attended a Birth Mother’s Day Dinner with about 19 brave birth moms, women who’d chosen to place their babies for adoption.

They lit candles.

Some held treasured ear-marked photographs.

There was talk about their love and support of all moms everywhere who have made the powerful choice of adoption.

All were deeply contemplative – for a few, memories from hard choices made 50-plus years ago were revisited.

A few women remained silent, holding tightly to affirmed, supported anonymity.

Mothers who have chosen adoption for their babies are often ignored on Mothers Day.

And, how their hearts must surely ache.

May 12, 2024, several nations, including South Africa, will celebrate Mothers Day and an unseen army of brave women will quietly witness other families rightfully celebrating Mothers Day and find no place at the tables with the children whom they generously offered to families eager to love their babies.

I admit, my awareness of birth mothers is acute.

These women, often shamed, labeled as irresponsible, hard, or uncaring, have radically shifted my life. Each of my boys’ mothers fought untold difficulties – unknown to me – while carrying her child to full term, in full knowledge other options existed.

Despite abandonment, derision from family members, financial difficulties, and who knows what other pressures, each delivered a beautiful baby and made the hard choice to forever enrich my life by allowing me, a single man, to adopt her infant son.

I know you are not forgotten – not on Mothers Day weekend or any other day.

You are so deeply etched into their individual psyches and into our family experience that you are regularly part of our awareness and conversation.

So deep is their desire for you, so deep is the urge for a mother that my boys sometimes called me “mom”.

I have never stopped them. I let it go because I think I know what it’s about.

It’s a primal urge.

It expresses a heartfelt longing.

To stop them, when each was learning to talk, seemed unwise, as if I were stopping something deep, powerful within each.

“Mama” or “mom” and even “mother” seemed to come as easily as rolling over, as cooing, as first steps, and as all those things that come with early development – and so I let it go.

It was as if “mother” and all forms of Her names were buried within each boy to emerge and be attached to the nearest, warmest person no matter what his or her gender.

Yes, the woman waiting your table at your Mothers Day lunch, the teacher whom your child adores, the woman co-worker who goes silent for no identifiable reason or who appears to be sometimes lost in another world when the conversation turns to babies or showers or Mother’s Day, just may be a member of that unseen army of birth-mothers. She may be one of the gracious, brave women who have made Mother’s Day complete for countless women around the world and given a man like me the unique pleasure of sometimes being called “mom.”

I ache for the millions of women whose Mothers Day is tainted with shame, loneliness, disconnection, for having made the tough choice for adoption.

If that’s you or almost you, and are in KZN, and your adoption was recent or decades ago, I have an invitation for you.

Please join me for lunch or an early dinner on May 11, 2024 – yes, the day before Mothers Day is referred to as Birth Mothers Day.

Come alone or bring a friend. I shall speak briefly, simply to thank you and honor your bravery.

Expenses for your lunch will be fully covered – I have already received several financial gifts to cover costs.

The venue will be beautiful and private and safe —- details are unfolding.

Please email Shirley@ShirleyWilliams.co.za so we can get you — and a friend — onto the list and get details to you as they unfold.

Generous readers, restaurateurs, sponsors, gift bag creators, please email Shirley you’d like to pay for a meal or sponsor a table or assist in any manner.

Closing note.

I know this is a tough invitation, Birth Mom.

But, you have already demonstrated your strength.

Join me, please.

[if you’re in the USA and want to give, all gifts are tax deductible— contact me and I’ll guide you through the easy process of giving to OpenHand International, a 501C3 corporation]

One of my favorite photos of Nate!

April 3, 2024

Questions

by Rod Smith

When push comes to shove you and I have to decide:

– What kind of people do we want to be? 

Our everyday responses to the most casual and humdrum interactions embody our answer to this question. How we treat those we serve and those who serve us is our character the litmus test. No exceptions.

– How will we manage our responses to challenging and tough situations? 

Our responses and reactions when things do not go our way reveal much more about us than how we respond and behave when matters move in our favor. How we lose is more revealing of our character than how we win.

How will we allow immediate events and relationships to impact the future? 

Who we bond with, and who we sever from, over issues large or small, important or petty, become moments of trajectory shift. Taken lightly, we may end up far removed from our initial goals.

– Will we take responsibility for ourselves or settle for blame and finger-pointing?

It’s easy to blame the government, the economy, changes in society for the way we are. A brief look around will reveal that there are very successful people who have found success in the very same contexts we share. These men and women prove that blame and finger-pointing will get us nowhere worth going. 

April 1, 2024

Searching

by Rod Smith

Everyone, it appears to me, is looking for someone or for something,  some experience to re-live, something to either re-do, or undo, some event in the past, a journey to shed some shame or re-light the limelight. 

I see it in my travels, during brief interactions I’ll enjoy with strangers when they may allow themselves unplanned moments to be distracted and untethered from cell phones.

“Retracing my steps,” said a young man at a table in a coffee shop – neither of us in our home countries – when he had no option but to chat. His phone had “died” and he needed the power outlet behind my seat. “Visiting the places I went with my dad before he died.”    

My empathy immediately rose: one so young already searching.

“We are going back to the UK to show my son where his grandfather was born,” said a woman a few seats from me on a largely empty plane.

I held back on suggesting the journey was really hers given the child was at least 4-years-old and it was surely not his suggestion that brought them to this brief encounter.  

I see and feel it in myself.  

Have you noticed this within you, too?

Chicago 4/1/24
April 1, 2024

Easter 2024

by Rod Smith

My sermon as preached in Gary, Indiana. 3/31/2024

https://on.soundcloud.com/8h5cqnBXRj2h1pcFA

March 27, 2024

Essential human drives

by Rod Smith

The desire for AUTONOMY is a powerful instinct within you. It is the craving to be self-directed and separate. It is the “you” who wants to be free of all ties, all responsibilities. It is the “you” that fears absorption; the “you” who wants to let your hair blow in the wind, feel the sun on your back and live a carefree life. This is the lone-ranger and pioneer spirit within you. This desire is a necessary part of your survival and growth – don’t reject it. 

The desire for INTIMACY is a powerful instinct within you. It is the craving to be close and connected. It is the “you” that wants to belong, be known and be part of a family, a team. It is the “you” that fears abandonment and desertion; the you who longs for a unified journey with others, the you that wakes up at night and wonders with horror, what it would be like to be totally alone. This is the nest-making part of you, the part who longs for a shared life. This desire is a necessary part of your survival and growth – don’t reject it. 

Healthy adults acknowledge these desires in themselves, and then in others – and never feed the one at the ruin of the other. This is wisdom!