At the end of the sand, the beginning of the water, and the water comes and goes. Feet in the wet sand and the wave comes back, covering my feet.
Waiting on the next wave, staring at the blue sky and the clouds far away. Seagulls fly there and come back and I want to ask them what they found there, far away in the golden sky.
I can almost feel my wings as I imagine flying there but they are missing and so I stand and wait.
I don’t know what I wait for, really. It’s always something different, something small and insignificant yet important to me at the moment. Underneath, surrounding that, there is a mysterious longing for something I don’t know and something I haven’t seen yet.
It’s on a child and a house and security. A husband who comes home, the oven timer that goes of. The washing machine that’s done so I can empty it out. That vacation and that meeting, a visit from a friend.
It’s on a home in Heaven, in which I believe and look forward too, for which I received a longing, built into me and wrapped with mystery in the deepest, hidden parts of me.
And yet not forgetting that there’s also now. I still have a while, before I have to go and pick up the boys from school. Now, I am sitting here, with a toddler that talks with the sweetest baby words.
Now the water covers my feet and now the sun dries them up. I look at the gold painting in the far away sky and I don’t have to be there to think it is beautiful and to enjoy this moment while I am waiting still.
Now I received a life, a family, passions and friends. To live this life while I wait. Wait on God who is here with me and I hold His word and He is with my in this life.
Waiting, sometimes a dance of now and then and contentment. Not forgetting the then in the now and not running ahead of the now for the then.
Enjoying the summer, waiting for autumn. In autumn, with it’s beautiful colours and all of that rain, waiting or winter and maybe a little snow. Being here and looking at then with peace and rest in my heart.
I cheer on a little block of energy, a tumble and a failed handstand. He wants to do it al at once. Practice, and wait until you are bigger. But especially practice, don’t just wait.
And Abel does it again. one time exhilarated over his accomplishment and the next time frustrated about what doesn’t work quite yet.
Gabriel is the smalles of his class. He would so love to be big and so loves acting big, until he doesn’t feel well and snuggles in my lap with his elephant. There are great big advantages to being small and he wants to use them and enjoy them.
He tells everyone who will listen that he has growing pains in his back because he is growing. Because growing and waiting for later on sometimes hurts.
Quietly, Gabriel and mama sit, together.
I am holding a fairy tale, soft and he smells better then candy. He prattles in baby sounds and screams if I dare to put him down. Enjoying this so unbelievably much but also looking forward to the growing up.
And Caleb laughs and dances.
Abel is going to fight lions and Gabriel is going to save the world like Superman.
A little later they are scared of the dark and they don’t get the discrepancy in that.
I used to plan to go and save orphans, do big things and make everything better.
Now I clean the floor and I don’t know what to cook tonight. I am impatient with my boys who disturb me in my fretting about food. In my subconscious, I assume I will become patient in an orphanage full of children. I will most likely undergo a character transformation on the plane ride there. I must have figured that was how it would go when I was younger. Because […]
Summer VacationLong summer days, running through the grass barefoot. Playing in the sandbox. Sea, sun, reading books.These first days of our belgian summer vacation aren’t all that summery and idylic, like the slow-motion images of my childhood that play in my mind, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be as much fun.We can read inside, on the couch, just as well. We are big fans of this book:
We have a sponsor child as well, and I think Abel finally gets what it means. This book is about a boy named Abel, and our Abel loves that. Abel lives in Kenia, where our sponsor child Leperan happens to live as well. The drawings are unbelievably pretty, and I’m […]
People are always saying that marriage is about compromise. It was one of the things I figured I would be good at because I knew the theory by heart. Like the way I thought mothering would come naturally. As it usually goes in life, I knew less than I thought I did. I’d like to make a list and a plan and read a book and then know it all and do it all perfectly. Regrettably, it’s not that easy. It’s not a big and noble action.
It’s in the little things, and those make up the big things.
And so the thing is that at home, my daddy always did our finances.
Mike’s Mommy always did their finances.
He ran up to me excitedly, holding out his gift. A little clover.
I put it with the pile of other gifts. A dandelion without a stem, a buttercup, a leaf and handfull of grass. I did a double-take. “Is that a 4-leaved clover?”
It wasn’t. It only had 3 leaves so in the pile it went.
And after a minute, out it came. I pressed it carefully between the pages of our marriage Bible and then I framed it.
It’s standing on the dresser, small and oridinary and pretty, the face of all my 3-leaved clover moments. Because they are quite wonderful, really.
Someday I’ll find a 4-leaved clover to go beside it, for all the special […]
There’s a piece of brown, broad moving tape on our laundry basket upstairs.
I put it on a year and five months ago to keep the lid and the basket together when we moved here. I don’t notice it very often. When I do, I figure I might as well leave it on until we move again.
Were not staying here anyway. It might be time to take it of now. It can become a habit to move on.
We’re not staying here anyway.
I don’t want to invest myself here anymore. It’s too risky and it will make it hurt more to leave. I might even leave a part of me behind.
I detach, dream of and plan […]
27 years ago I was born. I don’t know when I stopped lying awake for hours, butterflies in my stomach because tomorrow was my birthday.
Although I still like parties and gifts and celebrations, it is not the momenteous occasion it once was. Worthy of hours of unlost sleep. Not a lot of things are worth that. The Memoir of Life series, to be sure. Calls with friends overseas, sometimes. Talks with sisters and friends. Babies, although I don’t always think so the moment they wake me up, they are always worth it anyway. But it stops there. I mean, not even chocolate makes the cut anymore.
However that may be, a few days ago I turned 27.
It was […]