The variety of noises around me made it hard to
continue sleeping, so I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the kitchen to
make a cup of tea. Accompanied by the familiar sound of water being heated to a
boil, I started to feel a bit more human. After an intense week of many emotions,
I was trying to think of what I could do to make this truly a day of rest, and
settle into peace again. Sipping my Earl Grey I soon realized that staying in my
flat wasn't it and started to ponder my options.
Outside the sky was the clearest of blues, and checking the forecast it seemed that it would not be joined by the ice cold wind which so rapidly can turn the warmth of sun rays into a more freezing experience.
I quickly packed a little rucksack for the journey and bundled up, thinking many layers would prepare me for any eventuality. With my journal and snacks safely zipped away I set off, enjoying the fact that although I was headed to catch a train, I had no train to catch. Sometimes it's nice to just be on a journey and that be the purpose of it all.
As the train slowly pulled away from the platform with squeaking wheels I started to look forward to smelling the crisp sea air again and seeing the sea, which always reminds me of the vastness of God.
My wandering trail of thought was soon interrupted by an announcement that there were some problems, and the train would not take me to my destination. Thankful to not be in a hurry, I made my way to the information lady, and was informed that I would have to go via the airport and get a bus there if I still wanted to get to Zandfoort an Zee. I felt sorry for the lady, she seemed stressed and worn out. I thanked her kindly.
Back on the train, now taking a different route, I was thinking how the airport always makes me feel connected to home. My Norway home where my family is, but also the other places in the world that have also become homes in my heart. Places represented by people I carry in my heart.
I don't know if I would have chosen this destination if I had known about the obstacles to get there. After a long bus ride from the airport to Haarlem (where I just spent the day yesterday and didn't particularly have the urgent need to spend more of my weekend), I finally sat down for a 20 minute wait for the train which would, hopefully, bring me to the beach. What was supposed to take half an hour was now close to two hours and counting. Yet, with time to reflect, I guess it's kind of like life. If we knew about the obstacles and delays, we might end up not stepping into things which at the end of the day turn into huge blessings. And again I was thankful that I wasn't needing to get anywhere, and thankful for the journey (although with my snacks gone, I decided that getting lunch should be my first activity on arrival...maybe I'd find somewhere with a view of the sea).
Finally arriving at the beach it was a gust of fresh air. I found a bench overlooking the beach and the sea and just sat for a bit. Feeling the lightness of not having to pay attention to anyone or organize anything. The rest of just being. I made my improvised brie and pear sandwich from supplies picked up at the super marked on the way, and ate in silence. I was joined by the sound of waves crashing on the shore and the faint murmur of people walking by.
Sitting there I was finally able to grieve. Not with tears. They had already been shed in abundance, but mourn without having to keep a million other things in mind. Mourn without having to explain anything to people who didn't know him. Mourn without needing to be strong for anyone. Mourn as I started asking God the questions of "why?", although I knew the answer is in His goodness.
I felt tears well up in my eyes as I remembered him. The quiet boy with the big blond hair at the corner of McDonalds who I couldn't get eye contact with, and who would stutter as he spoke. And the young man he became who was doing the barbecue with a quiet joy as he shared that it was in fact there, on the farm from us that he had learned how to love.
The waste of a life. And yet I hang on to the promise that those who mourn shall be comforted. And I hope that his death might cause his family to give themselves to the One who is life. That they would find more than just a relief from sorrow and receive comfort from the God who once had His Son killed.
And so I sit here in silence. Allowing His peace to come. The peace that passes understanding. The peace that is given, not created through circumstances. And I find myself connecting again to Him. The anchor of my soul and the One who upholds me.
And I trust in His love even when I don't understand.
Outside the sky was the clearest of blues, and checking the forecast it seemed that it would not be joined by the ice cold wind which so rapidly can turn the warmth of sun rays into a more freezing experience.
I quickly packed a little rucksack for the journey and bundled up, thinking many layers would prepare me for any eventuality. With my journal and snacks safely zipped away I set off, enjoying the fact that although I was headed to catch a train, I had no train to catch. Sometimes it's nice to just be on a journey and that be the purpose of it all.
As the train slowly pulled away from the platform with squeaking wheels I started to look forward to smelling the crisp sea air again and seeing the sea, which always reminds me of the vastness of God.
My wandering trail of thought was soon interrupted by an announcement that there were some problems, and the train would not take me to my destination. Thankful to not be in a hurry, I made my way to the information lady, and was informed that I would have to go via the airport and get a bus there if I still wanted to get to Zandfoort an Zee. I felt sorry for the lady, she seemed stressed and worn out. I thanked her kindly.
Back on the train, now taking a different route, I was thinking how the airport always makes me feel connected to home. My Norway home where my family is, but also the other places in the world that have also become homes in my heart. Places represented by people I carry in my heart.
I don't know if I would have chosen this destination if I had known about the obstacles to get there. After a long bus ride from the airport to Haarlem (where I just spent the day yesterday and didn't particularly have the urgent need to spend more of my weekend), I finally sat down for a 20 minute wait for the train which would, hopefully, bring me to the beach. What was supposed to take half an hour was now close to two hours and counting. Yet, with time to reflect, I guess it's kind of like life. If we knew about the obstacles and delays, we might end up not stepping into things which at the end of the day turn into huge blessings. And again I was thankful that I wasn't needing to get anywhere, and thankful for the journey (although with my snacks gone, I decided that getting lunch should be my first activity on arrival...maybe I'd find somewhere with a view of the sea).
Finally arriving at the beach it was a gust of fresh air. I found a bench overlooking the beach and the sea and just sat for a bit. Feeling the lightness of not having to pay attention to anyone or organize anything. The rest of just being. I made my improvised brie and pear sandwich from supplies picked up at the super marked on the way, and ate in silence. I was joined by the sound of waves crashing on the shore and the faint murmur of people walking by.
Sitting there I was finally able to grieve. Not with tears. They had already been shed in abundance, but mourn without having to keep a million other things in mind. Mourn without having to explain anything to people who didn't know him. Mourn without needing to be strong for anyone. Mourn as I started asking God the questions of "why?", although I knew the answer is in His goodness.
I felt tears well up in my eyes as I remembered him. The quiet boy with the big blond hair at the corner of McDonalds who I couldn't get eye contact with, and who would stutter as he spoke. And the young man he became who was doing the barbecue with a quiet joy as he shared that it was in fact there, on the farm from us that he had learned how to love.
The waste of a life. And yet I hang on to the promise that those who mourn shall be comforted. And I hope that his death might cause his family to give themselves to the One who is life. That they would find more than just a relief from sorrow and receive comfort from the God who once had His Son killed.
And so I sit here in silence. Allowing His peace to come. The peace that passes understanding. The peace that is given, not created through circumstances. And I find myself connecting again to Him. The anchor of my soul and the One who upholds me.
And I trust in His love even when I don't understand.