Coffee with Diana

a portrait of diana fensom in her home
Photo by Evan Hunt

Of late I’ve been missing coffee with the saints, and it's done my heart good to settle down to a cuppa with Diana, gracious miracle of God, and chew the fat for a couple of hours. 

Diana’s comment “I’ve had an interesting life” is the classic understatement. 

Born during the war in Northampton, England, she was a tiny 4lb (1.8kg) baby, floppy and unable to do anything. “She will die anyway,” her distraught parents were told, “so you may as well take her home.” 

However, God had other plans for Diana, and her life has unfolded in ways reminiscent of a fictional screen play, with drama, fantasy, heartbreak, and celebration.

When Diana was three, her parents divorced, and mum remarried a man who became her much-loved dad, but the stigma of having a disability and living in a remade family made the journey tough. 

Yet kingdom seeds were being planted. God had graced Diana with a powerful mind and vivid imagination, her thoughts filled with questions, pictures and imaginings. She recalls with a chuckle that, as a seven-year-old, she pictured God like a big blue balloon stretched over the earth. Diana wondered in her young mind if she could scale a ladder sufficient in height to pop him with a fork! I’ll wager God had a chuckle about that too!

Diana’s health condition, diagnosed as central core disease much later in life, affected her walking and rendered much time on her knees. She was thus dismissed from school, magnifying the stigma. By eight, she was attending a new school that was far from ordinary. Run by the British Red Cross and attended by around 50 girls all with disabilities, the Palace School and Hospital was housed in Bishop Alcock’s 15th century palace, Ely, Cambridgeshire. It was run along strict religious lines, with chapel services attended most days. 

Diana, it seems, was destined to be an unconventional lass growing up in unconventional ways – after all, not many can say they were educated in a palace!

By eleven, still small enough to wear toddler’s clothes, Diana emigrated to New Zealand with her parents and brother Lawrence, attending Whangarei Girls High School with 900 others. Feeling lost was familiar, so Diana, pragmatic as always, just got on with it! Dad, an auto-electrician by trade, was bonded for two years, but by getting a job in primary industry the family was able to move to Ruawai, a small village south of Dargaville. Eventually they moved to Paparoa, but sadly her parents' relationship deteriorated. At 15, as she prepared for her school certificate exams, Diana was asked to choose which parent the the children would stay with, a decision no child should have to make. Fortunately they managed to reconcile and the family reunited.

Diana worked as a receptionist, and later shorthand typist, but life opened up anew on her 15-month OE, accompanied by her mum – not the best choice of travel mate on reflection.

As Diana rattled off the places visited my mind whirred, her journey including places like Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, Germany and Ukraine. Those that caught my attention most however, were Russia and Czechoslovakia. 

Russia, she observes, was a place of extremes, buildings either stark and grey or adorned in ornate gold, obscene in their opulence. She quickly learned to grab all the serviettes available on any occasion as they were much kinder on the rear than the toilet paper provided! Diana’s business mind worked overtime in Russia, buying and selling clothes for a profit. She recollects with a smile, a raincoat purchased for $3 was sold in a dark alley for $20 (in today’s money), a handsome mark up!

In Czechoslovakia, Diana recollects with a shudder her visit to a concentration camp, a stark reminder of the atrocities committed during the Second World War. She recalls looking out at flat stones, placed like grave markers of the lives massacred in that area – stones that hauntingly reached as far as the eye could see. It is a moment that stays with her.

Life changed significantly when Diana transferred to Wellington for work, and there met Esme, the two becoming firm friends. 

Diana sparkles as she tells the story of travelling home for Christmas with Esme, to the small town of Kowhitirangi, inland from Hokitika. In the middle of the night a great throng surrounded the homecoming golden brother, crying, “Eric’s home!” Diana, though, stayed snuggled in her bed. She chuckles as she speaks of this dear fellow who would become her husband in less than a year, saying, “I found my man under the Christmas Tree!”

Her Christmas gift quickly became a whirlwind romance, with numerous trips to see each other spanning Cape Reinga to Haast – no mean feat with ferry bookings, old cars, huge mileage, weather events and no cell phones! On 11 April 1968 one such escapade was planned, Diana booked to travel Cook Strait aboard the Wahine. That vessel sunk on the 10th, with a tragic loss of life, Diana escaping her demise again, the God of miracles watching over her. 

Wed just prior to Christmas, the lovebirds first nested in the rugged climes of Otira. The home was bought fully furnished with no shower, a loo up the hill, and water reaching them via a hose from Goat Creek. Winters in those conditions must have been bleak! 

In ’71 they moved to Kaiata, a tree-clad haven that is still home to this day.

Such was the concern about pregnancy risk with Diana’s medical condition, the couple were advised against it, but miraculously went on to parent three healthy children: Penny, Steven and Judy. 

“He must have had a reason for me to still be here,” she grins, knowing she had beaten the odds, again!

As the years unfolded, the Lord continued to pursue Diana. Although baptised in Wellington Cathedral so they could marry, she wasn’t a church goer early on. But when Steven was a youngster, God made a personal visitation while Diana was hanging nappies on the line. 

Sacredness found in the mundane, suddenly Diana knew deep down that she was forgiven. 

Like Hagar in the desert, Diana encountered El Roi, the God who sees and loves. Not prefaced by any effort on her part, Diana knew the light had been switched on, and she was free!

Later Eric and Diana gave their lives to the Lord at a Bill Subritzky event, and spent time in Pentecostal circles before encountering a more liturgical style of worship amongst Anglicans. Although not a traditionalist at heart, for Diana it was like coming home. 

It's here, at Greymouth’s Holy Trinity, that Diana has experienced the Spirit of God moving in and through her in powerful ways, as her imaginative mind is employed by him. 

The same heart, once enamoured by the God of the Big Blue Sky, now experiences her Lord intimately in images and visions. 

Diana recalls one such time, when ill with pericarditis, she cried out, “Why is everything so hard?” There in her distress, she pictured the Lord as an owl, soft and majestic, as he snuggled her under his wing. Gently, oh so gently, he murmured, “I want you to know how I feel when people reject me,” and quietly his tears mingled with her own. 

Selah.

Diana describes her relationship with Jesus as casual, a delightful picture of warm friendship, without pretence or obligation, but real and constant as she chats with him during her day. Diana is active in the life of Holy Trinity, as an intercessor, teacher, service leader and friend. She’s also served as people’s and vicar’s warden, on vestry, and as a synod rep amongst other things over the years.

Diana’s life, so full and miraculous, reminds me afresh that when God enters our ordinary places the extraordinary is birthed, limits are removed, and truly anything is possible. 

In those times when he enters our mundane and it becomes sacred, let’s, like Moses, take off our sandals and be awed, for we are indeed standing on holy ground.

Check out other articles in the

Coffee With...

series below.

More articles in the

Coffee With...

series are to come.

We have invited these writers to share their experiences, ideas and opinions in the hope that these will provoke thought, challenge you to go deeper and inspire you to put your faith into action. These articles should not be taken as the official view of the Nelson Diocese on any particular matter.

Coffee with Diana

Rachelle Hunt

Author

Rach fellowships at Cobden-Runanga parish, raises chickens, does mosaics, and gardens. She is passionate about finding out what makes people tick, and finding light in dark places.

Coffee with Diana

Rachelle Hunt

Author

Rach fellowships at Cobden-Runanga parish, raises chickens, does mosaics, and gardens. She is passionate about finding out what makes people tick, and finding light in dark places.

Coffee with Diana

a portrait of diana fensom in her home
Photo by Evan Hunt

Of late I’ve been missing coffee with the saints, and it's done my heart good to settle down to a cuppa with Diana, gracious miracle of God, and chew the fat for a couple of hours. 

Diana’s comment “I’ve had an interesting life” is the classic understatement. 

Born during the war in Northampton, England, she was a tiny 4lb (1.8kg) baby, floppy and unable to do anything. “She will die anyway,” her distraught parents were told, “so you may as well take her home.” 

However, God had other plans for Diana, and her life has unfolded in ways reminiscent of a fictional screen play, with drama, fantasy, heartbreak, and celebration.

When Diana was three, her parents divorced, and mum remarried a man who became her much-loved dad, but the stigma of having a disability and living in a remade family made the journey tough. 

Yet kingdom seeds were being planted. God had graced Diana with a powerful mind and vivid imagination, her thoughts filled with questions, pictures and imaginings. She recalls with a chuckle that, as a seven-year-old, she pictured God like a big blue balloon stretched over the earth. Diana wondered in her young mind if she could scale a ladder sufficient in height to pop him with a fork! I’ll wager God had a chuckle about that too!

Diana’s health condition, diagnosed as central core disease much later in life, affected her walking and rendered much time on her knees. She was thus dismissed from school, magnifying the stigma. By eight, she was attending a new school that was far from ordinary. Run by the British Red Cross and attended by around 50 girls all with disabilities, the Palace School and Hospital was housed in Bishop Alcock’s 15th century palace, Ely, Cambridgeshire. It was run along strict religious lines, with chapel services attended most days. 

Diana, it seems, was destined to be an unconventional lass growing up in unconventional ways – after all, not many can say they were educated in a palace!

By eleven, still small enough to wear toddler’s clothes, Diana emigrated to New Zealand with her parents and brother Lawrence, attending Whangarei Girls High School with 900 others. Feeling lost was familiar, so Diana, pragmatic as always, just got on with it! Dad, an auto-electrician by trade, was bonded for two years, but by getting a job in primary industry the family was able to move to Ruawai, a small village south of Dargaville. Eventually they moved to Paparoa, but sadly her parents' relationship deteriorated. At 15, as she prepared for her school certificate exams, Diana was asked to choose which parent the the children would stay with, a decision no child should have to make. Fortunately they managed to reconcile and the family reunited.

Diana worked as a receptionist, and later shorthand typist, but life opened up anew on her 15-month OE, accompanied by her mum – not the best choice of travel mate on reflection.

As Diana rattled off the places visited my mind whirred, her journey including places like Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, Germany and Ukraine. Those that caught my attention most however, were Russia and Czechoslovakia. 

Russia, she observes, was a place of extremes, buildings either stark and grey or adorned in ornate gold, obscene in their opulence. She quickly learned to grab all the serviettes available on any occasion as they were much kinder on the rear than the toilet paper provided! Diana’s business mind worked overtime in Russia, buying and selling clothes for a profit. She recollects with a smile, a raincoat purchased for $3 was sold in a dark alley for $20 (in today’s money), a handsome mark up!

In Czechoslovakia, Diana recollects with a shudder her visit to a concentration camp, a stark reminder of the atrocities committed during the Second World War. She recalls looking out at flat stones, placed like grave markers of the lives massacred in that area – stones that hauntingly reached as far as the eye could see. It is a moment that stays with her.

Life changed significantly when Diana transferred to Wellington for work, and there met Esme, the two becoming firm friends. 

Diana sparkles as she tells the story of travelling home for Christmas with Esme, to the small town of Kowhitirangi, inland from Hokitika. In the middle of the night a great throng surrounded the homecoming golden brother, crying, “Eric’s home!” Diana, though, stayed snuggled in her bed. She chuckles as she speaks of this dear fellow who would become her husband in less than a year, saying, “I found my man under the Christmas Tree!”

Her Christmas gift quickly became a whirlwind romance, with numerous trips to see each other spanning Cape Reinga to Haast – no mean feat with ferry bookings, old cars, huge mileage, weather events and no cell phones! On 11 April 1968 one such escapade was planned, Diana booked to travel Cook Strait aboard the Wahine. That vessel sunk on the 10th, with a tragic loss of life, Diana escaping her demise again, the God of miracles watching over her. 

Wed just prior to Christmas, the lovebirds first nested in the rugged climes of Otira. The home was bought fully furnished with no shower, a loo up the hill, and water reaching them via a hose from Goat Creek. Winters in those conditions must have been bleak! 

In ’71 they moved to Kaiata, a tree-clad haven that is still home to this day.

Such was the concern about pregnancy risk with Diana’s medical condition, the couple were advised against it, but miraculously went on to parent three healthy children: Penny, Steven and Judy. 

“He must have had a reason for me to still be here,” she grins, knowing she had beaten the odds, again!

As the years unfolded, the Lord continued to pursue Diana. Although baptised in Wellington Cathedral so they could marry, she wasn’t a church goer early on. But when Steven was a youngster, God made a personal visitation while Diana was hanging nappies on the line. 

Sacredness found in the mundane, suddenly Diana knew deep down that she was forgiven. 

Like Hagar in the desert, Diana encountered El Roi, the God who sees and loves. Not prefaced by any effort on her part, Diana knew the light had been switched on, and she was free!

Later Eric and Diana gave their lives to the Lord at a Bill Subritzky event, and spent time in Pentecostal circles before encountering a more liturgical style of worship amongst Anglicans. Although not a traditionalist at heart, for Diana it was like coming home. 

It's here, at Greymouth’s Holy Trinity, that Diana has experienced the Spirit of God moving in and through her in powerful ways, as her imaginative mind is employed by him. 

The same heart, once enamoured by the God of the Big Blue Sky, now experiences her Lord intimately in images and visions. 

Diana recalls one such time, when ill with pericarditis, she cried out, “Why is everything so hard?” There in her distress, she pictured the Lord as an owl, soft and majestic, as he snuggled her under his wing. Gently, oh so gently, he murmured, “I want you to know how I feel when people reject me,” and quietly his tears mingled with her own. 

Selah.

Diana describes her relationship with Jesus as casual, a delightful picture of warm friendship, without pretence or obligation, but real and constant as she chats with him during her day. Diana is active in the life of Holy Trinity, as an intercessor, teacher, service leader and friend. She’s also served as people’s and vicar’s warden, on vestry, and as a synod rep amongst other things over the years.

Diana’s life, so full and miraculous, reminds me afresh that when God enters our ordinary places the extraordinary is birthed, limits are removed, and truly anything is possible. 

In those times when he enters our mundane and it becomes sacred, let’s, like Moses, take off our sandals and be awed, for we are indeed standing on holy ground.

Check out other articles in the

Coffee With...

series below.

More articles in the

Coffee With...

series are to come.