A young seal curiously sticks its snout above the waves, about ten meters away from us. We could have a “Who is the most curious here?” contest. No idea who would win. It looks mischievously at what strange creatures we are. It slides a little closer and then heads back to deeper water. Thank goodness—they are not that innocent. A collision with a seal can have serious consequences.
We rented a little holiday house in East Friesland on the North German coast. The houses are small, the farmland is flat and feels familiar. Though we crossed a border, it was a lovely three-hour drive on quiet highways.
The holiday home is a journey back in time to the eighties. One of the children immediately creates a chill corner with a table, candle and cushions. The Taizé books cannot be missed. There is a record player in the living room and the dozens of records are studied thoroughly by the boys. Bob Dylan is a frequently heard guest these days.
The first day, we do the shopping and orientate who wants what and when. The list-making part of me loves holidays.
- 1 list for the menu: who cooks what and when.
- 1 shopping list.
- 1 list for what we want to do and when.
- 1 nice, much too long reading list.
Sleeping, walking, baking, wandering, lazing around on the beach, reading and swimming. Most of the time, living the blissful offline life makes the ordinary so relaxing. We pick five kilos of blackberries after discovering a 40-meter strip of blackberry bushes. The days after, we drink blackberry juice and eat blackberry jam, blackberries with rice and blackberries on ice. Fortunately, there was no blackberry complaining. My family members now forgive me if I am a bit superlative with whatever comes to my hands.
“Moing!” People on the street exchange this greeting with a melodious bend in the word so that it sounds like “morning”. Even after we have been home for a few days, the friendly greeting “moing” is still in the air.
The rain suddenly comes down in buckets while I walk to the store to get jars for the jam. The church is an ancient refuge, and I can shelter there for free – grace as grace is meant to be.
The church tower is here also disconnected from the church building. We have those places in the Netherlands too. It shows the huge impact of the Sea. The church is all taken away by the sea and rebuilded by one of another storm in the past. The tower is from an earlier time and with thick walls of more than a meter could stand during the heavy storm that sometimes totally changed the landscape.
On day six, I hang out of the window with one of our daughters. Our elbows touch and a breeze slides over our tanned arms. We look at the flashes of light in the sky after the stuffy day and feel the end of the holiday coming around the bend.
“Mom, what are your plans for this fall?” she asks. The other day, I had read my diary of the past six months. It explained my intense need for sleep: the moves of the three daughters in and out of the house; the move from the workplace to the chapel in the heart of Wageningen; the deeper layer of unrest and the pleasure of rewriting my workbook – all in all a full six months.
“Nothing special,” I answer. I will just be a mother and we will find a new rhythm in September with our youngest going to secondary school for the first time. I hope to continue gardening and taking care of the canning. I will work at the workplace. I look forward to the retreat in Egmond aan Zee in September. Oh yes – and the workbook that will be published by one of the Dutch Christian publishers will be in the bookstore in October. This is an unknown adventure for me.
That’s it. Nothing more. And so I casually spooned up the tasks that are on my plate. So much for a good question.
In between all these activities, I will actively keep myself calm this autumn. That is hard work for a busy bee like me. And you?
Deo Volente, So the Lord wills and we live. I am looking forward to it!
