Skip to main content

Goodbye Amsterdam; Going Home.

Finding home. To some it’s the clearest thing in the world: “home is of course where you live”. But is it really? Is it a physical place or a state of the heart? Does it have to do with location only or people as well? The term “home” easily becomes something not so straightforward when locations, places, people, and heart-connections have changed numerous times. It leaves you feeling like a little bit of your heart remains in every place where you lived; every place where you made your “home” for a season. And I think you can have many “homes”, yet there has to be one place where you’re settled, whether it’s just for a season or forever.

Uprooting and moving is so much more than the physical relocating of oneself and ones belongings. It's like when you pull something from one place to another, it leaves a mark, and moving leaves a mark on those who go through the process. And sometimes it can take a while to actually “move”.

Being back in Amsterdam this week was so good. A place which was “home” a year ago, which now is not. And somehow it felt like although I and my things moved at the end of April last year, my heart caught up with it this week. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t in a “I-am-so-glad-I-am-done-with-Amsterdam” way. It was such a good week where I felt so loved and embraced by dear friends, but it really felt like a visit. Visiting some friends still in the “windows” was so precious, yet I didn’t feel the sadness of not working with the women there anymore. It was good, but it felt like what it was: a visit. And I felt like a guest. A very welcomed guest, but a guest nonetheless.

Amsterdam will always be in my heart, and I hope I will always have people to go back to visit there, but now I am home. Home in Norway with my heart able to fully embrace that this is where I am settling. Released from the things that gave me life before, so that I can find new things here to fill my time and heart.

So maybe this marks the end of transition... or maybe not. Life is a journey whatever season we find ourselves in. But what I do know is that even if I don’t know what it will look like or even if there will be any visible changes, there has been a shift in my heart and it feels good. Good to be Home.

Popular posts from this blog

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

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 ...

Tuesday children's prayer | Handing out shoes and feeding toddlers.

No day is the same here. After getting up early (which seems to be what I do here), and eating breakfast which was bread with butter (accompanied by an amazing cup of coffee given me by an American friend), I headed to the prayer room for children's prayer. This is a prayer time where the children come voluntarily to pray before school on Tuesdays and Fridays. Entering the room I was so impressed by how it was full of children eager to pray. There were probably 60 or 70 children there, and it was amazing to see one after the other choose to pray for their families and people who are sick, and other subjects on their little hearts. It was so great and an experience that I will carry with me for a long time. After prayer it was "Shoprite" time, which meant piling into a bus with other visitors and missionaries for the weekly shopping trip. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I had a few items to buy and hoped it would be a stress-free experience. As we drove along ...