Today I've been really really tired all day. I guess it's part of life and also part of getting ready to leave. Today I dragged myself out of bed, and had a cup of tea to get going. And when the mum we were taking to see her son in prison wasn't in, the morning went doing bits and pieces. This afternoon we were at the bussterminal to see the streetkids. It was a good time I guess, but the group of kids there at the moment are really just so lost. Totally drugged, dirty, and don't really care about anything. It's like they've lost all innocence. When I got back I looked through a few past reports getting them ready to do the monthly overview of the kids we've met this month. I felt really sad. One kid said her dream was that her mum would stop drinking, another girl told of a stepfather who molested her and her sisters, and another boy told of how his dad would hit his sister. And I am left with the question of: where is the hope and future for these kids? Some of them I have known for many years, and now I am leaving, and they are still on the streets. I mean, I am a firm believer in that we probably rarely will see all the results of what we've done, but I still wonder... what will become of them? And then I remember the boys on the farm. And that gives me hope and makes me smile.
Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...