Friday... at last or soon enough?

It's friday morning  - the one morning during my workweek where I don't start classes till 9:50. I love this morning. I sleep a little longer, and Johanna gets to play for a while before I drop her off at kindergarten. This is my morning. All other mornings, my husband drops her off, but fridays are mine.

The last week has dissappeared incredibly fast. I spent monday being very tired, recuperating from last weekends conference for leaders for the Nordic Vineyards. We had visitors fram Finland stay with us, and every evening, after the last service, we'd speed home and have coffee and snacks before going to bed. All very fattening indeed, but the conversations we gad were interesting, deep and of very valuable character to Hasse and I, I believe - as we spoke about our God and his power, our thoughts for the immediate future and plans we'd like to make. It was a blessed weekend, although it left us quite sleep derived!

Wednesday I was almost back on track, and very blessed to visit a cluster of small groups in the Copenhagen Vineyard, sharing my thoughts on being called to serve. My dear friend Grace came with me, supporting me the whole evening, which was very needed and much appreciated.

Yesterday went by with work and parent-teacher meetings, and here I sit now, friday mornig over breakfast, recounting the details of my week with you. Well, not all my details - perhaps just an outline.

The fact is, I don't know where time went. This week has dissappeared a little too fast, and while I enjoy the thought of weekend, I wonder why time flies so.

Nevertheless, I wish you all a good weekend. Mine will be filled with a birthday party, friends over for lunch and a lovely sunday service.

Springtime

Spring is always a wonderful thing to me. Every year, I get to a point where I just looong for the sun to break out and actually contain some warmth. I'll search my garden for the first signs of spring, and every year, I am rewarded, first with snowdrops and eranthis, closely followed by daffodils. But I get really excited when I see green buds sprouting, when the sun spreads rays of golden warmth and my garden begins once again to grow.

On the other hand, spring is a tiresome time as well, not so much because of all the garden work, but because I am allergic to birch pollen. The amount of birch pollen in Denmark has exploded several hundred percent within the last 25 years, I am told, and yes, I certainly feel it. It affects all of me - my nose gets runny to the point where the skin around it breaks, my eyes itch and I start wheezing ever so slightly. I have to run early in the morning instead of taking my beloved afternoon runs, and I have to shower every night before bedtime. I have to stay indoor for much of the day, especially around noon, where the warmth sends the pollen spiralling into the air.

So, while everyone else is out soaking in the sun, I am very careful about spending time outside. Which means I cannot tend to my garden quite like a want to.... so now, I've taken pictures of some of my favorite things out there, right from my bird houses, tomato plants to our running shoes by the front door.
This year I am trying to grow tomatoes upside down, I am waiting to see how my blueberries are doing (planted them last autumn), and I am eagerly awaiting the grapes on my vine. I am planning on planting  blackberries this coming autumn, finding them to be amongst my favorite berries of all.

For my love

...you are the love of my life.

Hunger

I am hungry for you

Your touch always fills me

Yet - I am not fulfilled

But hungry for more

I sit… for just a minute,

Inhaling the nearness of you

The heat from your body rises to meet mine

And I am fully satisfied

...more old poetry

from the other secret drawer.

Like two birds.

My heart has stopped beating

–      not just for the moment, but for the time

it takes a life to flash before ones eyes.

For a lifetime.

It hurts, this dead end of emotion, and

I am left with one single question – why?

Who can answer this for me?

No one… not even myself.

Trapped, like a bird in a cage,

the two of us sit, looking at each other.

You have the courage to fly out as soon

as the door to your cage is opened,

but I sit still,

afraid of the unknown,

the vast expanse that I have never tested my wings in.

At first my heart pounded so fast

that it hurt my ribs.

Now it doesn’t beat at all,

and I feel strangled

–      the pressure of missing air torturing my mind.

I sometimes feel confined,

locked up,

forced into a

mold that doesn’t quite fit me.

Dislodged

Lost somewhere in time

Expanded in space that is not mine

I float in time

Dislodged, displaced

Confused, homeless

This is not my skin

My life, my time

Old poetry...

straight from my secret drawer...

I am defective.

Someone vandalized my life

Or was it myself?

Afraid

                     Dull and numb – extremely boring.

Falling asleep, drifting, floating,

disappearing into a fog, a mist, an endless cloud of unconsciousness. Noises drowning softly, a voice humming in the distance,

reaching out but never hitting target.

Wishing to touch, but forbidden to do so.

Wishing to see, but blinded and blurred and not capable of seeing. Wishing to hear, but unable to discern meaning form sound,

unable to detect form from matter.

Breathing slowly, deeply, letting the blood run through the tired blue veins.

Pale faced, rosy cheeked, cold, smooth, almost a dead feeling.

Alone, wanting company, but afraid to reach out,

afraid to call out,

afraid to seek out companions,

afraid to open up, to show, to tell, to ask.

Afraid of rejection, of being turned down, out, left behind.

Afraid of not being wanted, not being seen, not being heard, not being asked.

Afraid of knowing and seeing, of confrontation,

of conformity, of solitude and hermitage. 

So it's sunday evening, and I am so tired after a wonderful weekend. Yesterday was spent in the quiet confines of my own home, after a long morning run with the hubby and the oldest. The two youngest kept each other company, and after a late breakfast, we all kinda did our own thing. It was wonderful.

I love quite days that allow me to slow down, enjoy a sunbeam and stroke my children's hair. Days that allow me to shop at snailpace with whatever kid desired to tag along. Days that let me tend to small tasks in the garden - especially those that combine dirt and herbs...
At 3 in the afternoon, the sky was blue and the sun was warm, so I opened the door to our terrace, and sat down with a snack and soaked in the sun for half an hour. Johanna sat on my lap and played quietely.

Saturdat evening brought friends we hadn't seen in a while, and that sent me to the kitchen, both baking and cooking. And it reminded me of how much I really enjoy spending time in my kitchen, how I love cooking and in general, preparing food. This is my creativity - though I always use recipes, but usually end up confirming them to my own ways anyway.

I cannot paint, draw, sew or knit, and I certainly could never write a song or a play for the theater. But putting together a good, home cooked meal, is right up my alley. I would have posted pictures, but I am afraid we ate it all!

I hope you all had a great weekend too...

Collecting people

It just recently dawned on me that I perhaps have one of the weirdest hobbies ever... except from the woman I heard of, whose hobby was collecting hobbies.
My hobby is simply collecting people!

Sometimes, when I am in good company and feeling strangely safe and comfortable, I find myself itching to tell my company about people who in some way or another move me, touch me, awe me etc. Often, I find it next to impossible to convey my fascination with these people. How on earth do you explain to someone how fantastic you perceive someone they don't know? Adjectives such as good, awesome, funny, sweet and amazing just don't really come alive the way I want them to.

So why do I collect people? I think it's because I continue to marvel at the creativity of our Lord. He has succeeded in creating an amazing mass of different individuals, none identical to any. People are put together with a multitude of colors, talents, tastes, shapes and languages. I enjoy being surrounded by unique individuals, and I feel blessed by having these people in my life.

There is no way that I could make a list to share with you - I would not be able to mention all those in my collection, and frankly, I don't know how to categorize or even set up criteria for being a part of my collection. I have no idea how many people have found their way into my collection. All I know is that they all add color to this tapestry of life that I hope to weave.

But I will share one person with you:

Mikael is a creative musician, cook and husband/father. He has a great sense of humor and usually, a good sense of style. This particular picture is from his wife's 30th birthday party, for which he helped cook and serve and survived being the only male in the company. What a great (or something) apron....