I am lying in my
bright orange hammock (from IKEA) on my veranda this evening, with the gentle
rocking bringing a peace, and the cup of Earl safely placed on a little stool
by my side. I am pondering this day. An exceptional spring day here in Norway,
although the past week has been like this climate wise- and we are not
complaining.
Today was exceptional
both because we’ve had 26 degrees (Celsius) heat, but also being Sunday, it
provided a welcome opportunity to head out to the beach- my favourite place. My
dad and brothers were busy with our cottage... the goal of the day was to move
one large window, and put in two more on one of the walls- no small feat. And I
had a lovely time hanging out with my mum, nieces and nephews, and
sisters-in-law.
Sitting on the beach
and enjoying the sunshine brought me back associations of Brazil. In the midst
of the craziness of streetkids, and all the chaos they lived in, the beach was
always such a place of refuge and refreshing. I remember often spending my day
off on the beach, and thinking, “life as a missionary in Brazil isn’t too
bad... on a day like this”. And most often it wasn’t bad as such, it just
tended to get intense and at times overwhelming. Yet, also so full of the
privilege of getting to become as family to those whose family bonds were so
frayed.
My 6-year old niece
kept insisting I come with her to the “island” (as in a sandbank where the
water was more shallow), so I took her hand and ventured into the frigid sea
(26 degrees on land doesn’t mean it’s the same in the North Sea). It didn’t
take me more than probably a minute (or less) before I decided that my feet
would definitely not survive remaining immersed in water at that temperature. I
am not sure if I told my niece it was too cold, or simply convinced her it would
be “so much more fun to dig a deep hole on the beach, and make our own paddling
pool”. Either way, I was quickly back on land. And as I sat and watched her and
many others, not only wade into the sea, but also swim and stay there for
extended amounts of time, the memory of a cold experience in the North Sea came
to mind.
I seem to remember it
being early May some years ago, when a dear friend in Amsterdam was getting
baptised. And since I’d played an important part in her journey, she decided I
would be one of the baptisers. Of course I said “yes”, and I felt so honoured
and privileged to be part of this important day for her. And yet, as I pondered
the practicalities, I must admit I wasn’t too chuffed at the prospect of having
to wade into the North Sea in the Netherlands in May, to a depth where one
could baptise an adult. It was a beautiful day. I survived (and so did everyone
else), and it was freezing (but nothing a quick change into dry, warm clothes couldn’t
fix). And I would have done it again. Seeing my friend’s joy and celebration,
and knowing what it meant to her, made it more than worth it.
The end of today, driving
home barefoot and relaxing in the gentle rocking of the hammock, reminded me of
the part of me that has become a bit Brazilian (wearing flip flops most of the
time, meant a lot of barefoot driving, as it’s kind of risky if the flip flop
gets stuck while one is driving, and hammocks were a must, and often a welcome
alternative to a mattress for sleeping). It also made me think of friends
scattered around the globe. Not just in Brazil or Amsterdam, but the USA,
Europe, and beyond (it’s hard to keep track sometimes). Friends I wish were
closer, because sometimes you just want to have a catch-up over a cuppa, and
not be limited to words typed in an email or message, or different time zones.
And so here I sit. I’ve
moved from hammock to table (I have yet to acquire the skill of typing
efficiently on my laptop while sitting in a hammock). Familiar music is playing
on my Spotify, and the air bubbles in my small aquarium create a lovely light
feature. My third cup of tea this evening is empty, and I feel so rich. Rich to
have had this day of enjoying what feels like Summer. Rich to be a part of a
lovely family. Rich to have so many good memories to reflect on. Rich that I
have friends I can miss. And rich that I have so very much to be thankful for. And
that is what I want to remember to remind myself of on the days that aren’t as
this one has been.