Eulogy for my father (June 2024)

My father wasn't one for fancy words, but if there's one thing my Dad would want you to know about him it's how much his faith meant to him. My Dad loved God deeply and sincerely and church meant a lot to him. He always prayed at our meals, ending his prayer with 'forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.' Dad wanted us children to love God like he did and so they sent us to Christian school even though couldn't always afford it.

Life for my Dad was hard at times. He was strong-willed and stubborn, which sometimes helped and sometimes didn't. He would often say 'my way or the highway.' He wasn't good at taking advice which meant he sometimes had to learn things the hard way. And while I know many of us enjoyed arguing with him, his need to share his opinion sometimes hurt others. But his stubbornness also kept him going when times were tough. He worked hard and taught us children the value of perseverence, as he changed jobs and careers as needed. 

We worried about him after Mom died, but that strength, along with the help of God, family, friends, and church community (many of whom are present here at this funeral), got him through and back to enjoying life.

And did he ever enjoy life! He loved camping, good food, joking around, dropping by for a chat. And nothing gave him joy like those tables stretching into the living room so there'd be space enough for all 25 of us. He loved having his family together, being with his children and grandchildren. And when he married Gerda, he gained a few more to love, enjoy, and help out.

Dad was always strong and independent. It was hard to see him this last while, unable to do the things he loved. But in these last months, we also saw his faith. He deeply appreciated our prayers, and he trusted that his life and death were in God's hands. We'll miss him, but we trust that he's in heaven, where he'll enjoy lots of opportunities to just stop by and have a chat.

Grief

The last few days I've been unmotivated and somewhat short-tempered. It took me until yesterday to realize that the out-of-sorts feeling that I had was actually grief. This time, grief has felt like an extra layer of clothing, something that gets too warm at times but otherwise you don't notice it even though you carry it with you everywhere. 

When we went through the death of my Mom more than 12 years ago, I wrote about how grief shows up in different forms. I don't why, but I expected this time to be different with the loss of my Dad. With my Mom everything felt so sudden, and the grief felt raw. With my Dad, he'd been in the ICU multiple times in the last five months. I'd become a semi-expert in his health conditions and had re-arranged my life on an almost bi-weekly basis so that I could visit him and help out where possible. I'd been prepared to say good-bye to him several times and so had already begun grieving the possibility of his death. I'd also started grieving my Dad's growing inability to live life as robustly as he'd like, including and especially gallavanting around and 'stopping by for a chat.' And yet, some of the grief of my Dad's death has been tempered by a relief that he's not struggling anymore and that we, his children, made it through this season of caring for him as well as we could with our relationships remaining as healthy as they have been. 

But grief is still grief. I'm feeling the loss of someone I care about, a loss of new memories to be made, and an emptiness when I think of how I'd like to turn to him. Not just about that funny sound my car is (still) making, but also to remember things, like the box spring he pretty much took apart to fit into one of our houses when we moved. We managed to get the other boxspring in with enough shoving. But with the most recent move into a new house, shoving wouldn't have worked. So we cut some boards and folded it in half. And Matthijs used the staple gun my Dad made us buy for the last boxspring adventure to get everything back to almost new. And the memory, which reminded me of how much my Dad desired to care for us, going the extra mile, made me feel his absence.

Presumed covid

While pandemic life has always been a bit uncertain, it feels like we've reached a new level in our house this week. Anyone living in Ontario with covid symptoms this last week (and trying to figure out the new PCR testing regulations) can probably relate to our family's conversations: so I think the little has covid? so we should probably isolate, right? should we use one of our last rapid tests on her (and if so, swab throat or nose)?

We can't actually get a PCR test for her. We do have 2 rapid tests left - and used one to get a negative result on Sunday (when we first heard her cough and we wanted to be safe in leaving the house), but is it worth trying again? 

The same document tells us that if you're not eligible for testing, then "if you have any of the symptoms listed below, the individual is presumed to have COVID-19 infection and is advised to self-isolate." And yes, the little has had a few symptoms: a nasty cough, some chills, a runny nose, extra fatigue, and even some shortness of breath a few days ago. Even if it's not covid, whatever she has is unpleasant and shouldn't be passed on to others. (Matthijs and I thankfully haven't gotten what she has). 

As for how much it matters - well, there are now new regulations for isolation: "If the individual is fully vaccinated OR is a child under the age of 12 years old, they should self-isolate for at least 5 days from symptom onset AND until their symptoms have been improving for 24 hours, whichever is longer in duration." Unfortunately, we didn't realize we all should have started isolating sooner - because we're still adjusting to the new rules - but tomorrow will be day 5. On top of that, our one housemate is mostly managing the inconvenience of staying out of contact with us (and the other has yet to return), and the little is slowly getting better. She's well enough now to enjoy being sick and so she fake coughs every time we ask her if she's getting better - so that she can avoid school and stay in her pyjamas all day. 

So I presume everything is okay and we're doing the best we can with the information we have - but I think I'd still like to know. Perhaps because I have a lingering sense of getting covid as being connected to some moral failure (even though I know that's wrong). Or perhaps simply because I'm tired of trying to make the best decisions when I don't feel like I know enough.

Sharing my work with my family

Several weeks ago, I helped host a breakfast in honour of our re-starting Wine Before Breakfast in person again. I got up early, packed up my things, and left Lydia behind with Matthijs.  

The next week we hosted our Wine Before Breakfast service online. I got up early and started to go downstairs. Lydia heard me, demanded to know where I was going, and insisted on coming with me. She was not going to be left out again! The next week was a repeat of the same.  

The following week we met in person. We weren't sure what to expect, and once again Lydia was left behind. She was not impressed. We promised her that if she woke up early enough, she could come with me this week. 

Matthijs and I woke up this morning, got ready, and were seated at breakfast, when I heard footsteps in the hallway upstairs. The footsteps went into our room to see if we were there, and then started running to go downstairs. When Lydia was at the top of the stairs, I told her: you made it! After getting her ready, Lydia and I left only a bit late (thankfully I have a fantastic team who can handle that). 

Lydia got to put out the bulletins and then gladly claimed the children's corner at Church of the Redeemer. She let me know that she'd join the rest of us when the singing started. She spent the service moving between the children's corner, dancing some, and hanging out with Matthijs or me (including when I was leading). And she got to have communion with us - Jesus' bread, as we call it. And then it was off to school.

My daughter loves being included in what we do. But today I think I delighted even more than she did with her and Matthijs being present. While she has had brief glimpses of my work through joining us briefly via Zoom, it has only been in the last month or so that she and Matthijs have gotten to participate in a Wine Before Breakfast service or meet 'my people' at our graduate group. 

As Matthijs has been such a supporter of what I do, it has been strange for him to be so distant. I am thankful that this is changing and for the images I am given of these changes: Lydia's solemn face in taking communion, as well as her joining us in singing Taize music. 

Thankful for small and large joys

I've had a hard time these last few weeks, primarily on account of the challenges of life in a pandemic (still) combined with extra projects at work, along with a very strong desire to read or play computer games so I can finally "get some time for myself."

Normally this time of year - after the joys and challenges and hard work of the semester - I'd be going away for a few days for a vacation. Or at least planning and looking forward to doing that since I've learned that I do better if I step away a bit. Now we're in a pandemic, and the whole summer before us - a time when usually there's a lot of extra freedom for adventures and visiting - is a large unknown. And I'm finding it hard.

When I acknowledge that things have been hard, I give myself space to be a little less frustrated with myself when I don't accomplish as much as I wish I would each day (and so also try to escape from the frustration less). I also have space to acknowledge that in the middle of the challenges of daily life, there are a lot of small and large joys - often connected to the little whose presence is both exhausting and a delight.

So I give thanks for watching her jump in rain puddles (with either Matthijs or I as witness), for getting to plant tomatoes with her, for having her ask me to tell her stories about Jesus, for the fact that Matthijs and her bring me coffee (and cake) each morning as I work, for the joy I have in watching Matthijs and her together. To share that joy, here are a couple of pictures.

Our day out to a nearby state park (and no, it wasn't really warm enough to be in the water)

Jumping in puddles

My morning coffee and cake every work day.

For such a time as this

When the wonderful person who has become your daughter's 'borrowed oma' gives you jello, which she'd gotten from lovely old lady who had to downsize and didn't want it to go to waste, you take it and say thank-you.

Despite the fact that you can't imagine ever wanting to make jello with your child and you marvel at how old the jello actually is, you cover it in a plastic bag and put it in your cupboard. And let it sit there for another year or so. Because you hate to waste food and you never know. 

After all, you might just end up in the middle of a pandemic when making jello with a 2-year-old sounds like a fantastic idea and you're kind of curious about how well powdered jello lasts after 25 years...

Remember you are dust

Once again I heard the words, "remember you are dust," when I received the ashes on Ash Wednesday. And then I witnessed our small daughter also receive ashes and hear the words that she is dust. She is now old enough to realize that this experience was unusual. As we returned to our pew, she kept looking at her father's forehead and mine, noticing the dark cross on them. She was clearly wondering and trying to figure out what was going on. To explain it to her, I told her that this cross means that we belong to Jesus. 

To be reminded that we are dust is to me a reminder that we belong to Jesus - and that our time together also belongs to God. My time on earth and her father's time on earth and even her time on earth is limited. No matter how hard I strive, how careful we all are, or no matter how much I wish it were otherwise, I cannot prevent us from being hurt or any of us from experiencing loss. That is a sobering thought: a humbling realization of my own human mortality. I'd rather live in denial. Yet, in remembering that we are dust, I am also pushed into recognizing how thankful I am for my life (and loved ones) and remembering how much I need to trust Jesus and take comfort in knowing that we do belong to Jesus.

Laughter in the midst of grief

Life in my family has always been full of laughter. Thus, even as we mourned together my mom's death, we made jokes in the middle of everything. Like, can you imagine what my mom would have said if she'd seen my father peeling apples? his first time, ever. Or how we'd tell each other not to forget to close the door to the garage - using the same tone that my mother would have used. And my father and I joked about how she'd be happy about her plot at the graveyard - her being on her own reflected her independence. Laughing about these and other things (like all the lasagnas that my sister and my father received - I think my sister was winning with 6!) is simply part of my family's way of trying to love life - and fighting against the dullness that grief can bring.

The strangeness of the jokes and the laughter is that it sometimes feels out of place with grief. The joy found in laughter seems to contradict the heaviness found in grief. Yet, the moments of joy and lightheartedness give me the strength to face again the sadness and to be willing to cry over our loss and the strangeness of what's next, remembering hope amidst the sadness.

Grief is a strange thing

Since my mom passed away three weeks ago, my family and I have been grieving. The grief has taken on many different shapes in that time.

Sometimes it is the deep sadness found in knowing that the loss is permanent - and I that can't even begin to imagine how often in the years to come I'll miss not having my mom around.

Sometimes it is a sadness for others - a realization that the loss is not mine but also that of her friends, her church, and the rest of my family. The church has lost a hard worker who loved serving others. My nieces have lost their grandma. My husband will never get to know my mom better or hear more of her stories. My father is alone after 42 years of seeing and talking to each other daily. My sister will never get to share news of becoming pregnant or of any of the struggles or questions involved with that. Nor will I.

Sometimes the loss is simply being busy, especially sorting through everything that needed to be done from housework to paperwork. The many things needing to be done last week at home with my father were a wonderful distraction from the sadness.

Sometimes it is sleeplessness. Other times it is sheer exhaustion and a desire to do nothing but sleep. Sometimes it is anger or irritation. Sometimes it is avoidance. Sometimes it is busyness and cleaning while other times I'd gladly play computer games for hours. Sometimes I want to talk about my mom and other times I simply don't want it brought up. Sometimes it is thankfulness for the distance between Amsterdam and Canada - so that every time I turn around I don't sense her presence and am reminded of my loss. And sometimes the distance simply causes more sadness - for how can I be with the rest of my family mourning?

And sometimes it is simply trying to return to normal life, which at times feels strange - like I'm trying to avoid or minimize what's happened. Yet, returning to regular life seems a way of honouring my mother well - I know she was proud of me and would want me to continue to live out my faith and use my talents. Grief will simply continue to be an aspect of this life, coming and going in differing shapes and intensities.

biking to Rome

My father-in-law is now more than half way in his bike trip to Rome. He's gone on a recumbent bicycle (see photo here), which isn't exactly known for its mountain-climbing abilities. But it's gone really well - and he's been enjoying the trip tremendously. He's been keeping a blog of his adventures: 'wil naar italie' - to read it, you have to understand dutch or know how to 'understand' the translations provided by babelfish or google translate.

In anticipation of his travels, I borrowed the book, Fietsen met God (biking with God) from my in-laws. It tells the story of three women who made a pilgrimage to Rome: one a Catholic, another an Anglican priest, and the third Reformed (vrijgemaakt - Canadian Reformed). I had planned to read it slowly, so that I could have a picture in my head of what my father-in-law was experiencing. But I just found it so fascinating that I couldn't help but continue reading! (Unfortunately, it hasn't been translated into English).

It tells not only of the physical challenge of the adventure but also of the exploration of three different expressions of the Christian faith. As much as I know that my father-in-law is being pushed by the physical challenge of his bike trip, this is a challenge that his 2-hour daily bike trips before his trip more than prepared him for. The situation in the book is different: although Monic could handle the physical challenge of it, the other two both had moments when it was too much for them. And while Monic had expected the physical exertion to be the challenge, she soon discovered that this paled in comparison to the challenge of learning how to wait patiently for the others.

The most fascinating part of the book for me was the desire of the women to discover what their faith traditions had in common -  to explore their ecumenicity. It was interesting to see that it wasn't simply doctrines that were different - it was a complete manner of looking at the world that was different. And it was here that Agnes, the one from the Reformed Church, stuck out for me: her stubborn determination to search for the truth and to place that truth only in what the Bible says (and ignoring both the mystery of the faith and years of church tradition). And her scorn for relics and holy water (hocus pocus) caused friction. It was obvious that faith isn't simply what you believe, but also how you believe.

And yet, despite the differences in each of the women, it was obvious from the beginning that they needed each other. And learning how to need each other, while both acknowleding and honouring the differences, is a challenge - not only for a bike trip - but also anytime different Christian traditions come together.

And as for the idea of a biking pilgrimage - I don't think I'm up for Rome (although I'd love to go there, I think I'd rather take the train or fly). But the idea of making a biking pilgrimage to Taize, going through southern Catholic Netherlands and stopping by a friend of Matthijs in a monstery in Chevatogne, is perhaps an idea for 2012 - I just need to convince Matthijs (and finish the dissertation!)...

a glimpse of my family

A number of months ago, my aunt published on her blog several letters to her husband, who had recently passed away. In putting these online, she shared with us the joys and challenges of having been married to my uncle. It was pretty special to get a glimpse of her and my uncle in this way, and I was grateful to have been able to read those letters.

One of my favourite letters is her description of meeting my uncle's family - my dad's family, that is. My aunt came into the family shortly after my mom did (and according to my mom, their experiences were fairly similar). I think what I like best about the story is how my aunt writes it in a way that makes some fun of herself. She recognizes that at 20, she was naive and could easily look down on those who are different - and my dad's family was very different from hers! At the same time in her description she captures well some of the things I love about my family - hard-working, learning to make do with little, boisterous teasing, tenacity, earthy, practical, being willing to be different, and fun loving - all things they've tried to teach me to be, too :)

The following is her description of her first meeting with the family:

"The following weekend we arranged that I would take the early train to London and we would first of all attend the Remembrance Day ceremonies in L-ndon. Then we would travel to the farm and meet your family. That was a weird weekend for me. On the one hand I was thrilled to be arm in arm with you during the ceremonies, when romantically, it began to snow.

But when we arrived at your parents farm, I was shocked. I never seen a farm like that before (I had rarely been to a farm before), and it certainly did not fit my vision of a farm. You did not warn me about anything. It was not a really prosperous farm, and it showed. Your family, on the other hand, were real farm people, and that showed too. They laughed and teased their way through a huge sloppy meal, and there were so many little kids. Rough little kids. I had no idea they were having so much fun at my expense. This visit also changed my view of you a little. I was disappointed, because you seemed to be like them when we were there. Not at all like you were when away from them. You didn’t defend me or tell the kids to knock it off. You even spoke a type of pidgin English to your Dad, of which I only understood the work "tractor".But much, much later I realized that you behaved like that on purpose. You wanted to see if I would fit in or if I was truly snobbish (unknowingly) like my family.

That is also the first time I ever drank coffee. I had never been encouraged to drink coffee at home, it was always tea. When someone asked me if I would like a coffee, I timidly said, I’d rather have tea thanks, they laughed uproariously, and slapped a huge mug of coffee down in front of me. I learned to first tolerate coffee, then enjoy it, and now drink very little tea at all, only coffee! So I guess you can say I did learn to fit in!

I stayed overnight that Saturday night, and slept in a huge bed with two other girls. I laugh now when I remember that night. I woke up in a tangle of arms and legs, with your father shouting up the stairs for the boys to roll out and get to the barn. At breakfast they horrified me with farm and animal stories. When I got ready for church and put on my stylish little pillbox hat, they split their guts laughing. In embarrassment I put it away. I never wore it again. What an education in country ways that was.

Now I don’t mean to be unkind about your family. I learned over the years to understand and love them. Your parents worked hard and did the best they could, and I actually have a very good relationship with all your siblings and spouses. I’m glad now that they were the way they were. It shook me out of my narrow little world and made me see life on the other side of the fence. And that’s exactly what you hoped would happen. But you did not ease my way."

taken from: http://theasramblings.blogspot.com/2009_11_22_archive.html#5581625693333864708

a different kind of blue apron

after a crazy busy month in canada and america, i'm returning to life in the community and donning my blue apron again. i'm thankful to be back again (especially now that i have the time and energy to participate more fully - the first few days back were filled with quite of busy-ness - the result of catching up on things here while still having work from america with me). but i'm also thankful for the time with friends and family that i had.

during my visits, i got to do a lot of random things that i don't do here in the netherlands. probably the most unusual over the holidays, was getting to don a different kind of blue apron, and help make sausage. (my parents used to own a butcher shop, so this brought back a lot of memories.)

the following are pictures of my dad and me (my mom was taking the pictures):

thanksgiving with family

this year will be the first in awhile since i've celebrated Canadian thanksgiving. and even then, i'm not sure how much i'll be celebrating. at the least i'll be celebrating (and am very thankful for) the visit of my sister, Janice, and her husband. it's the first time they've been to Europe - and it's been neat to have them here - and to share in their excitement of seeing this world here - both the old dutch stuff they recognize from home and the new odd stuff (like my neighbourhood). and it's been fun just to catch up and show my life here. and to benefit from my brother-in-law's expertise. i'm not the most 'handy' person, and he recognized that pretty quick - so he's wonderfully changed the light bulb that you could only reach by climbing on the beams, and he made it so that my table no longer wobbles (yay - it was starting to get rather unstable). and if i can get him a crowbar, we'll make it so that there's no longer these odd gaps in my floor from the linoleum.

so what are the plans for thanksgiving? well, going to chapel and hanging around at the community for coffee. then maybe a trip with the brother-in-law to the hardware store :) and a trip with my sister to the grocery store to stock up further on dutch specialties and to see if we can find some kind of turkey meat. then a market, and a canal trip, and then they go on the heineken tour, and then thanksgiving dinner. we'll see what random concoction we come up with this time - we've thus far had smoked horsemeat and liverworst and gouda cheese and i've made nasi and stamppot for them already (it's my first time ever making stamppot by myself, which i find kind of ironic). but whatever supper ends up being, it'll be good just to be with them - and to be thankful for each other and that they get to be here and that they get to develop a picture my life here and enjoy the good things here.

Christmas with my family in Canada

i always find it hard to go through advent in one place and then celebrate Christmas in another. it's as if i can't carry over from one place to another the longing for Christ's coming. that movement of places makes it hard for me. but i have to smile a bit at myself: if i find this movement difficult, think of how hard it would have been for Mary and Joseph. 9 months pregnant, travelling to the home of their distant family, with a lot of the unknowns in their future - and they still celebrated a miracle.

and i have celebrated being with my family, even as i recognzed a twinge of sadness in not getting to be closer to be able to see everyone more often. and Christmas meant getting to read read some books to my niece, put together a cool kitchen set for the other niece, see a lot of my cousins and aunts and uncles, spend time talking to my siblings, see my sister pregnant, meet the dog of my other sister (although i learned the hard way that he responds really well to "poop" as a command eve if he isn't outside to do it), and spend a lot of time just hanging out with my mom. since my mom and i both look good in blue and the sweater was a great price (and we don't live in the same area), we got the same sweater when we went out shopping on friday. there's something lovely about sharing clothes :)

perhaps the best way to describe my feeling of Christmas is a celebration amidst a bit of sadness. in that way, Christmas is taking awhile to settle in for me this year. a bit of the advent longing still lingers, the wishing that it were different. but i take the memories of this time here with my family, the love i have for them - and they for me - and i will pull them out again in the days and months to come. i will ponder them in my heart, even as i already hold dear to my heart my other family who i missed out in sharing Christmas with in Amsterdam.

evangelism and the Christian Reformed Church

The Christian Reformed Church is not known for being good at evangelism. When the church grows, it is rarely adults from outside the church but is almost always due to new babies being added to the numbers (which means that we should probably be a bit suspicious of teenagers who want to "evangelize" and help the church grow :))

But the Christian Reformed Church does have a couple of solid programs which provide the structure and opportunity to reach out to people outside of churches. One of those programs is called Coffee Break, which is a Bible Study geared towards women. It used to be mainly for women who were not working and would be offered once a week in the morning (and childcare was usually provided). But as more women work and lifestyles and so on have changed, churches (and the Coffee Break program itself) have changed concerning how and when to offer this Bible Study.

My mom has been in charge of one of these Bible Studies for awhile now - and it's been delightful to hear how things have been going. and it's obvious that it's a good Bible Study - it's a place where people are encouraged to talk and show how it matters to them but they also want to look closely at the biblical text itself and wonder what it really does say (i know this because my mom sent me a question awhile ago about how the following two verses can fit together: Exodus 33:20 says "[God] said, 'you cannot see my face for no one may see me and live.'" and Job 42:5 says "My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.")

and on top of it being a good Bible Study, it is exciting to hear that people outside of the church are coming. and today, the entire Coffee Break group at my parents' church is celebrating (along with the whole church) that one of the woman in Coffee Break is doing Profession of Faith this morning (and thus officially joining the church). And this is a cause for thanksgiving and prayer that God would continue to work in the lives of these women, and in the Coffee Break program itself.

with joy and thanksgiving

today marks a celebration. this morning in Amsterdam, friends of mine (and fellow companions at Oudezijds 100) are having their baby girl baptized. this evening, my niece is getting dedicated at the church of my sister and brother-in-law. the words of welcome and promise that are part of the Christian Reformed Church's form for the Service of Baptism are in my thoughts, as i recognize that i get to be part of the closer circle of people who want to bring each of these little girls closer to God:

With joy and thanksgiving,
we now welcome you into Christ's church;
for we are all one in Christ.
We promise to love, encourage, and support you
and to help you know and follow Christ.

Foto's from my life

Although I have a good camera, I have a tendency not to take pictures. I'm not sure if that tendency will ever completely change :) Nonetheless, I have managed to take a number of pictures from life in North America these past couple of months (including and especially pictures of my family). And I thought i'd share them with you. Below is a glimpse of a couple of pictures:



To see more pictures, then go to facebook.

Photos from my parents' visit

More stories are coming about my parents' visit - but for now I'll just share some of the photos my mom has taken about their trip here. The photos can be found on facebook.

my parents in Amsterdam

i picked up my parents Wednesday morning at the airport. they were excited to be here, but fairly tired. the tired-ness only got worse, despite the fact that travelling to my place is fairly easy [a 15-minute train ride and a 10-minute walk (albeit through the usual crooked streets pulling a suitcase)]. by the time they'd seen my room, shared coffee/tea after chapel with some of the people that lived here, and helped carry their stuff to the fifth floor, they were more than ready for a nap.

Wednesday afternoon, we were off to a canal cruise because one of the guys in the community (Harm) is a captain of a tour boat. ideally, we'd have meandered a bit more on this day or taken bikes to get there, but this was the only day that Harm could take us and biking in Amsterdam is not exactly something you'd want to try on little sleep. so, my parents discovered the busy-ness of Amsterdam a little more abruptly than ideal. As my mom wrote to my sister, "Had lunch here and then we walked and walked the streets of Amsterdam. The streets are narrow and the bikers are worse than the cars and you better be on the bawl or you will get run over." they managed not to get hit by any bikers or cars, so they did pretty good.

for the canal cruise, we had the captain (Harm) all to ourselves, since the rest of the group was Italian and had their own tour guide. so my parents could ask tons of questions, which they enjoyed. then back to my place, meandering through the flower market and the shopping street, and finally time for supper. then sitting around, tea, and chapel. chapel was run by the oldest member of our community and didn't quite follow the liturgy, so it was a bit confusing for all of us. and since my parents don't exactly know church-y dutch and were still pretty tired, the fact that they made it through without falling asleep or being completely overwhelmed, was impressive. and then bed for them and a community meeting for me (a fascinating discussion of truth and perspective in journalism, which i followed most of the time despite it being in dutch and about dutch journalism and not having yet read the articles related to it!)

the next day, i had to clean the kitchen (we're a bit short-staffed with cleaning so switching seemed more complicated than it was worth), so they headed off to the huge flea market - and meandered through the streets of Amsterdam by themselves. they managed to get themselves back again by themselves and i think had a lot of random conversations along the way (they're walking proof that Canadians are really friendly!). in the afternoon, we tried to make plans about what to do next and where to go. having spent all their lives in the country-side with lots of space and cars being the obvious way of getting around, they were starting to feel claustrophobia from Amsterdam and felt that they lacked freedom in not having a car. and as our/their plans are somewhat dependent on when people are available, planning on when and where to go and what to do has been a bit difficult. but by mid-Thursday, plans were in place - and since i was going with them the next day for an indefinite period of time, i left them alone ago in order to go on a date (sorry, no parents invited). my parents went to the Heineken museum, meandering through the city again and went out for a nice supper.

Friday morning, they made me look good by being on time to breakfast (since it's 7:15, that's a bit of a feat for everyone around here). and then with a bit of packing and organizing, we skipped town to pick up a rental car and go off to Friesland.

so, my parents got an introduction to my world. they've had their fill of the Red Light District and second-hand pot smoke. and with the view out of their window of a corner where drugs get sold and a prostitute or two in windows across the way, they've been exposed to the sadder part of my life here. unfortunately, i think the busy-ness and ugliness of my neighbourhood and the confusion of things being so different (including and especially language) has overshadowed the joy and delight of living in this community that i want to share with them. hopefully, that will still happen more and more as time goes by. and for now, i'm trying to help them out as much as i can in their holiday and am delighting in being able to be with them as we discover more and more about our roots.

i'm an aunt again !!!

a week before mother's day my little sister had a baby girl (Kirsten Catherine)!!

so much to my delight, i am now twice an aunt :) and am hoping to enjoy the pleasure of my nieces' company for a good part of this summer.

pictures will hopefully be posted whenever my sister remembers to send the rest of us pictures (or when she or my mother read this and think it about time to send something :))