{"id":3418,"date":"2015-10-26T14:15:17","date_gmt":"2015-10-26T13:15:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/omily.me\/?p=3418"},"modified":"2015-10-26T14:16:59","modified_gmt":"2015-10-26T13:16:59","slug":"een-herfstdag","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/omily.me\/en\/een-herfstdag\/","title":{"rendered":"An autumn day"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"IMG_20151025_132001\"<\/p>\n

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<\/p>\n

<\/a>Life is beautiful. Not glamorous. Glamorous magazines want us to look at all the perfectness, want more, want that. Want there.<\/p>\n

We can buy some things from the magazine, but we can never buy it all. Neither do the people in the pictures or the ones making the pictures have it all. Magazines, adds, they sometimes make us discontented with out lives. Except my grandmother. In her own words ‘I just love to look at all the pretty things’.<\/p>\n

I will most likely never be as good as she is.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Yesterday I was reminded again how life is beautiful, how we don’t have to have the perfect-picture life.<\/p>\n

We went on a walk with my family in the Flemish Ardennes.<\/p>\n

It was cold and rainy and I forgot my coat. I nearly threw a fit and purposed to sit in the car all day. But my mom had extra sweaters with her, because she’s a mom. Moreover, she is my mom.<\/p>\n

Then I decided that I never ever wanted to go for a walk again, because I had to go to the bathroom. And there was none. Of course I could go into the hotel we were parked at and ask, but SERIOUSLY. Do you think I will go inside, ask people I don’t know, in a language I don’t know, if I can use their bathroom?<\/p>\n

No I shall not.<\/p>\n

I tiptoed behind my sisters who are braver (or more desparate?)?and we could all go on with our lives afterwards.<\/p>\n

\n

The walk was gorgeous. Taking pictuers in fall is really cheating, or it’s for amateurs, because just about every picture is pretty. God made fall so that we wouldn’t mind saying goodbye to summer so much.Behold my very proffesional pictures. They are better then my dads. (just work with me here. Just say it is so)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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To normal life. And how wonderful it is.<\/p>\n

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\"IMG_20151025_132059\"<\/a><\/p>\n

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<\/a>\"IMG_20151025_150657\"<\/p>\n

<\/a>\"IMG_20151025_151853\"<\/p>\n

<\/a>\"IMG_20151025_151906\"<\/p>\n

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<\/a>\"IMG_20151025_154757\"<\/p>\n

<\/a>\"IMG_20151025_155556\"<\/p>\n

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This post is part of a series:<\/a><\/p>\n

\"compassion-bloggers-motherhood\"<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

 <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<\/p>\n

Life is beautiful. Not glamorous. Glamorous magazines want us to look at all the perfectness, want more, want that. Want there.<\/p>\n

We can buy some things from the magazine, but we can never buy it all. Neither do the people in the pictures or the ones making the pictures have it all. Magazines, adds, they sometimes make us discontented with out lives. Except my grandmother. In her own words ‘I just love to look at all the pretty things’.<\/p>\n

I will most likely never be as good as she is.<\/p>\n

Yesterday I was reminded again how life is beautiful, how we don’t have to have the perfect-picture life.<\/p>\n

We went on a walk with my family in the Flemish Ardennes.<\/p>\n

It was cold and rainy and I forgot my coat. I nearly threw a fit and purposed to sit in the car all day. But my mom had extra sweaters with her, because she’s a mom. Moreover, she is my mom.<\/p>\n

Then I decided that I never ever wanted to go for a walk again, because I had to go to the bathroom. And there was none. Of course I could go into the hotel we were parked […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[112,140,115],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\nEen herfstdagAn autumn day - Omily<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Een herfstdagAn autumn day - Omily\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Life is beautiful. Not glamorous. Glamorous magazines want us to look at all the perfectness, want more, want that. Want there. We can buy some things from the magazine, but we can never buy it all. Neither do the people in the pictures or the ones making the pictures have it all. Magazines, adds, they sometimes make us discontented with out lives. Except my grandmother. In her own words ‘I just love to look at all the pretty things’. I will most likely never be as good as she is. Yesterday I was reminded again how life is beautiful, how we don’t have to have the perfect-picture life. We went on a walk with my family in the Flemish Ardennes. It was cold and rainy and I forgot my coat. I nearly threw a fit and purposed to sit in the car all day. But my mom had extra sweaters with her, because she’s a mom. Moreover, she is my mom. Then I decided that I never ever wanted to go for a walk again, because I had to go to the bathroom. And there was none. 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