I NEVER SAID GOODBYE

Lady Eila – Rose, my cousin who lives in Johannesburg South Africa is sharing her testimony with you, she is a God fearing woman with an amazing voice with which she praises God as a worship leader and in her personal life, God fearing is what’s she takes seriously, she and her husband Angelo Gelderbloem minister to their church congregation at ‘Teshuah ministries” with the same fear of God, they are the same on and off of stage,and teach their sheep to always Trust in the Lord- they believe in the 5 fold ministrie, laying on of hands to have God work through them to heal the sick set people free and all of the other ingredients that a christian should and they have the gift of prophesy. Faithful and trust worthy is their second name. I am so proud of them and their two adorable little one, and want to share one of her testimonies with you. She ahs written a book to and you can read it now at : https://eilasblogspot.blogspot.com/2020/05/chapter-1.html

I never said goodbye July 30, 2020 It was Saturday. A typical scorching hot day on December 12th, 1997. I remember it vividly, because it was the day, I never said goodbye.Or at least, that’s how my brain remembers it. It’s a memory burned into my memory cortex. A memory I wish I didn’t have to have.It was the annual races in December, as it always is in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, and I was 14 this year, almost 15, and got to go. Why was that so important? Well if you grew up in Skies, as we called it, you’d know why. It was THE event of the year. Yes there were car races, several in fact. People from all over Zimbabwe and even our neighbouring countries, came to show off their racing skills, but that was not why we were there. We were there to show off our outfits, meet boys (and girls if you were a guy), walk around and around the dusty track and ride in cars with boys. Sounds like that movie, riding in cars with boys. But I digress. Back to the races.If you asked me what I wore, who I met or who I went with, I probably couldn’t tell you. All I remember is how excited I was to be going and the thrill of being at an event that shaped my teen experiences. I know that I had gone with my cousin, Hagen because we came home together that evening. He wast here for the weekend, at my aunt’s place, where my mom and I lived. Mom had 3 kids, 2 from my dad and our younger sister from her 2nd marriage to my step dad. After her divorce from her 2nd marriage, we were struggling. Like really struggling, and mom decided to move us back home to Zimbabwe. You see, we had moved to South Africa as kids, in 1989 with my step dad and lived there for most of our childhood. Now mom, a struggling, single parent made the decision to send her kids home, whilst she tried to settle debts etc, because in her mind she may want to return to South Africa one day. That’s why we didn’t have a home of our own, and that’s why we were living separately as children. Diana was at my gran’s house (I think) and Kim was with her dad. In the year that we had moved back to Zim, life was good, or so we thought. I had made friends, was popular, and had the races to look forward to.I don’t know how long my mother had known she was sick, or for how long she was in denial of the possibly that something was wrong. All I know is that roughly 6 months before her death, she was diagnosed with cervical cancer. It was like my world had shattered and everything stood still. For the most part, she was doing well. Attending radiology treatments at the hospital and resting during her of days. But then she just got worse, and the pain became unbearable. I vividly remember her crying out in the middle of the night saying, “God take me home. I can’t take this pain anymore.”Her begging us to pray to God, to petition Him to take her home because she was so tired of fighting, tired of the pain, but most importantly, tired of losing. We watched her wither away, with a hopelessness, as reality set in: mom might not make it.

As a teenager, you live in a world shielded by adults, who sugar coat the truth, tell you what you want to hear or simply avoid the truth altogether. Maybe that’s why, on that Saturday evening when I got home, going into my mother’s room to say goodnight seemed insignificant, because I believed I’d see her in the morning. It was late and I was on a buzz fromall the events of the day. Perhaps it was the fact that the day before, she sat up straight in bed, laughed, enjoyed food and even asked for things that she was wishing for, and was pain free for the 1st time in months, that set a false sense of hope in me that she was going to make it through. That the worst part was over.I felt a tap on my shoulder and was stirred from my sleep in the early hours of that morning, by my aunt gently saying, “your mom is gone.” Those 4 words shattered me to my core and I was numb! Drunk from sleep, or perhaps disbelief and shock, I sauntered over to the room she was sleeping in and looked at the lifeless body, of the woman we called MOM. And in that moment, realised that everything from this moment on, would never be the same again. Life as we knew it, was about to change. As the men from Doves funeral home carried my mother’s body down the stairs in a body bag, I realised that I had not said goodbye, and would never get the chance to ever again.I knew my mother knew I loved her, but the guilt was too much!

Now, as I sit and type this recollection of an intimate memory, 23 years later, I have only one thought: regret. I regret not spending more time with my mother when she was still alive. I regret not enjoying the precious moments we had together. I regret not taking more of an interest in HER life as she did in mine. I regret not taking more pictures and making more memories. I regret, I regret, I regret….But amidst that regret, I’ve learned to forgive myself and the power of healing I have found in my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I have learned to stop and enjoy the moments I do have with those I love, and I have learned the value of a mother and have been blessed with a second mom who has been there in some of my toughest challenges yet.If you’re reading this and your mother is still alive, pick up the phone, tell her you love her, because you don’t know when it’s your last.If you, like me have lost a mother, count it all joy that you had one and were loved.And lastly if you never knew your mom and grew up with someone else replacing your mom, you are loved, you are precious and you are amazing!!!! Yes YOU!

Find and follow Lady Eila on her Blog here: https://ladyeilarose.blogspot.com/2020/07/it-was-saturday.html

“Your story is the key that can unlock someone else’s prison.”

This song was written from Hosea 6 & Zechariah 10:

“Let us know, Let us pursue the knowledge of the Lord. His going forth is established as the morning; He will come to us like the rain, Like the latter and former rain to the earth.” Hosea‬ ‭6:3‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

“Ask the Lord for rain In the time of the latter rain. The Lord will make flashing clouds; He will give them showers of rain, Grass in the field for everyone.” Zechariah‬ ‭10:1‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

We pray that God will open the windows of heaven as you play this song and that this sound will reach the 4 corners of the earth and bring Revival!

Written by: Eileen Gelderbloem (EilaRose) Producer: Leagan Starchild Breda Engineer: Garrick Van Der Tuin