Known by the One Who Made Wings

“My patience was really tested by that butterfly,” my husband said.

He had gone for a bike ride while I was resting, and came back with photos — for me.

A common blue. A male.
Its upper wings, bright sky blue — but only visible in flight. The underside: soft grey, delicate black dots, and a curved line of tiny orange crescents. A butterfly no bigger than a coin, and yet so intricately designed.

It lives a short life — sometimes just a week. And still, it carries pollen from flower to flower. It’s not a “top pollinator” like the bee, but it plays its part. 

Carefully made.
By the One
who stretches out the heavens
and shapes the butterfly wing.

I looked at the photo. And I remembered what Jesus said — about lilies, about sparrows, and how we are not to be anxious. 

“Follow Me,” He said,
“and do not worry.

Not a single sparrow falls outside the Father’s care.
So neither does this little butterfly.

I don’t need to oversee where it’s going.
I just need to follow Him.
Today is enough. 🕊️

— A meditation on Matthew 10:29–31

Sometimes We’re Too Afraid

I saw something on the forest path.

“A snake!”
My heart skipped a beat. 

But when I looked more closely, it turned out to be a slow worm.
Not a snake. No danger.
Just a legless lizard, harmless and still.

It made me think.

Sometimes I react out of fear,
before I even know if what I feel is true.
Often, we’re more afraid than we need to be.

And it’s not just creatures in the grass.
Sometimes something hard crosses our path.
Heavy. Unexpected.
And our first thought might be:
this is too much. help, I’m scared... I’ll never get through this.

But we don’t have to carry it alone.
God sees it.
He knows our fear, our breathlessness, our questions.
He doesn’t always take the weight away right away.
But He stays close.

And I remind myself: this is where I need to abide.

That word — abide — is the one I chose (or maybe it chose me) this year.
It calls me back, again and again.
Not to rush, not to flee, not to fix —
but simply to stay with Him.
To remain in His nearness, especially when I feel overwhelmed.

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”
— Psalm 56:4

🧠 What looks like a “snake” in your life right now—something that startles you, but might not be as dangerous as it seems?

A Little Joy in a Dizzy Month

What two potted flowers taught me about love, waiting, and unexpected joy

For the past four weeks, I haven’t dared to walk alone.
Not because of fear, exactly. But because of a quiet, persistent dizziness — the kind that makes the world feel just slightly off balance. Enough to keep me home, even when the sun is out.

And I miss the outside.

So last week, my husband brought me flowers.
Two little chrysanthemums in soft, cheerful pots. One yellow and rust, the other pink and white. He didn’t just grab them on a whim. He’d been watching for days — passing the flower stand, scanning every row — but nothing seemed right.

“I waited,” he told me, “until I saw ones that felt like you.”

He saw me — not just the need for something bright, but me, as I was. That’s love, isn’t it? Not waiting for strength to return, not needing me to stand tall first. Just being there — in the days when the room spun and I didn’t. When everything was slower, quieter. When I wasn’t overflowing with life, but simply present, barely. And still, He brought beauty. Gently. Not because I was okay, but because he loved me — even there. Especially there.

These chrysanthemums now stand on the table where the sunlight falls just right.
They don't stop the dizziness. But they speak — of care, of tenderness, of being known.

And something in me steadies.

I keep taking pictures. Not because I need them — but because beauty invites attention. And because when someone loves you like that, you want to remember it.

Even more than that, I see God’s hand through it. In this quiet month of slow days and off-balance mornings, I keep receiving small glimmers of joy: a verse at just the right time, a kind message, a good article — and now, these two little flowers.

"In the multitude of anxious thoughts within me, Your consolations brought delight to my soul." (Psalm 94:19)

🌱 Have you received a small joy lately — one that helped you keep going?

Abide in March

                   

Yes, this year, my One Word is Abide. It sounded quiet and peaceful when I chose it. But now, I see how much I need it—especially in a world that feels heavy and uncertain.

🌹Big thanks to Lisa for the idea behind these three reflections (below)—so helpful!

1. Abide in a Time of Worry

Every day there’s new political tension, new headlines, new reasons to worry. I catch myself scrolling, wondering…

What will Russia do next? What if something happens to the nuclear plant in Ukraine? (We have iodine tablets in the kitchen—just in case the wind blows this way 😉). And then there’s the Middle East. Israel. Violence. Fear.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed. And I’ve responded wrong sometimes. I once wrote a sarcastic piece about Trump. Another time, a short story about boycotting American products. They were creative—but I didn’t feel peace afterward. Just more noise in my soul.

What did bring peace?
Sitting with Jesus.
Letting the news go.
Praying.

“Abide in Me, and I in you.” — John 15:4. That’s where I want to be. Not spinning in worry. But staying close to Him.

2. What Abide Feels Like

These words help me picture what it means to abide:

• Dwell – to live somewhere, to feel safe

• Remain – to stay put, not run away

• Rest – to trust, not try to fix everything

If I had to pick a backup word, I’d choose dwell.
Here’s how I see it:

Dwell is where I take off my shoes. Abide is where I stay when life gets scary.

3. When I Don’t Abide…

These are the opposites of abide that show up in my life:

• Leave – I check out spiritually and let fear lead

• Wander – I scroll and scroll, hoping for answers

• Resist – I try to take control instead of trusting God

But abiding doesn’t mean ignoring what’s happening in the world.
It means staying close to Jesus while everything shakes.

When I abide, I stop the noise.
I breathe.
I whisper, “Lord, You are my refuge.”
And it’s enough.

What About You?

Do you have a short abide moment from this month?
A time when you chose peace instead of panic?

I’d love to hear it. Share in the comments or link your blog below. Let’s encourage each other to keep abiding—especially now. 💛

---

PS I took the three photos on a sunny morning: tulips from the bouquet my husband gave me, the blue matryoshka dolls on my windowsill, and the leaves of my pelargonium—also on the windowsill

🌹Linked to Lisa's One Word 2025 March Linkup

Shh, silent walking!

April 29th

Last night, I shared something with my husband that caught my attention.

There's this trendy thing on TikTok called silent walking: essentially, you take a stroll without any podcasts, music, or distractions. Just you, immersed in the natural sounds around you. For those of us born before the turn of the millennium, it's simply... well, a walk.*

* Flow magazine 4-2024

Now, I'm feeling pretty modern, haha. I've jumped on the silent walking bandwagon. How about you?

No wildlife encounters
This morning, I headed out again. I wouldn't label myself a "silent walker," more of a leisurely wanderer. After a week in Veluwe, it's refreshing to be back in my familiar woods. No need to constantly watch out for wild animals here; you just don't come across them.

Taking it easy
Lately, during my walks, my mind has been all over the place. Rushing from one thought to another. Yesterday, I told Jaap, "I'm just going to take it easy again." And that's exactly what I did. I snapped some photos of things that caught my eye.

Moss on a tree stump.
The trunk of a tree.

From my own voice recorder

(Speaking) The sun is shining. I gaze up at the tree canopy against the beautiful blue sky. Birds chirping. Spiderwebs glistening between the trees. Mosquitoes almost appearing golden in the sunlight, dancing just above the forest floor. What a beautiful morning. Oh, a distant ambulance siren, not so pleasant. But the birds keep singing, undisturbed. Me? Well, it reminds me: there may not be a paradise, but there are certainly beautiful spots in the woods, akin to an almost-paradise.

Red beech trees
To my surprise, the red beech trees are now fully adorned with leaves. I checked a few times before, but they weren't red yet, or the sun wasn't shining. But today, they are. Take a look, it's stunning.

Capturing tree canopies
This morning, I also spotted some beech trees, a bit less red, and one with green leaves. Standing right in the middle of the path, I snapped a photo with my phone aimed at the treetops to showcase the difference in color. It brings me such joy.

Variations in shades of red
I'm not entirely sure if the tree with the green leaves is a beech. It could also be an oak, but you can definitely distinguish between fiery red and less intense red.

💓😍

Fire alarm scare
And then, my peace was disrupted as I received a notification on my phone: fire alarm in the attic. And there I am, in the heart of the forest. My heart starts racing, wishing I could sprout wings and fly home. Then, the alert stops. My son texts, "No stress, everything's fine." My heart rate returns to normal, but that sense of tranquility, that almost-paradise feeling, doesn't quite come back.

I did manage to snap some photos of people walking their dogs. 

They always make for picturesque shots.

Silent Walking & Overstimulation
That excerpt I read aloud to my hubby about "Silent Walking," which I mentioned at the beginning of my blog, originates from an article about overstimulation. It ended with a powerful message, so I'll sum it up in my own words:

You might yearn for those promises made by online shops, trips, retreats (and Silent Walks), but they often fall short. They promise peace, relaxation, a renewed, liberated, happier version of yourself. But only one thing can truly deliver that. Only you can hit pause when your stress levels are off the charts. You have to make conscious decisions.

Feeling rejuvenated
My decision to walk twice a week isn't some magical solution, but it does have an impact. Jaap always say I return feeling rejuvenated. No more racing thoughts.

Piece of heaven in my heart

Naturally, as a Christian, what struck a chord with me was the statement that there's only one person that can bring you peace, a new, liberated, happier version of yourself. The author meant something different from God, but I couldn't help but think of my faith. He has a unique way of leading me to a new, liberated, happier version of myself. He promises inner peace: not some state of zen, but rather, a fresh start for your soul, deep within. My God forgives. Thinking of Him fills me with joy, knowing that He will eventually welcome me to the true Paradise. I already have a piece of paradise in my heart, as a foretaste.

Continuing my stroll
I read this article seriously enough to order the recommended book: "Van Stress Naar Veerkracht." [1] But hey, while I wait for it to arrive, I'll just keep strolling, exploring a bit... shh, silent walking!

It's May now, and I've got the book. It's a good read. I'm taking it slow, savoring it bit by bit. Highly recommended! Unfortunately, the book hasn't been translated into English yet.

---

💓 Do you have any recommendations for an English book on stress management and personal well-being?

💓Where do you choose to: just gaze ahead, or scroll, walk with headphones on, or walk without using the phone (but still bring it for safety)?

You know what? I Let Go

TIRED OF MEDICATION
Early May

Got it, found my phone. Huh, it's already this late! I drag myself up in bed. Everything turns gray for a moment, and my ears start buzzing. Then the pink flowers on my bedroom wallpaper come back into focus. Now get out of bed! I don't feel like it. My new medication makes me so tired.

🙏 'Please, God, help me!' I pray, 'help me get through this day!'

CHILLING IN NATURE: Thank you Lord

Voice memo, May 16

Here I am, surrounded by the beauty of the forest. My backpack leans against a tree trunk, the thermos with coffee sits in the moss. It's absolutely delightful to be back here. I still feel pretty tired, but this morning I told myself, "Come on, let's do this." Now I feel the wind on my skin and see the sunlight shifting across the moss. I lean forward and touch it: wow, it feels rougher than I thought. Deep sigh. Another sigh, and then silence. Okay, I won't walk to my favorite wooden bench under the beech tree (5 kilometers away). I accept that I can't do that and simply enjoy what I can do. Sitting here and breathing in the scent of the forest. What a beautiful bonus. Thank You, Lord.

🎙️ End of voice memo

"The forest is quiet; even when it whispers, it's still quiet. Because the trees, even when they're closely packed, adhere to something that humans, despite the promises they make to each other, so rarely adhere to: it stays between us." Søren Kierkegaard

LIVING WITH SIDE EFFECTS: Seeking balance 

May 25

Over 7 days have passed! It took a long time for the side effects to subside (or rather, for me to cope with them). During the first few weeks, I didn't dare to drive a car and skipped the Sunday gatherings. The worst part for me was the slowness in my thinking and the feeling of dullness. I still find it quite inconvenient.

HOPE IN DIFFICULT TIMES: Praying at Bethesda 

"Praying at Bethesda" helps. What a beautiful book! In Chapter 1, Joni E. writes about the dark time she went through after an accident and while being hospitalized.

I quote:

"I desperately wanted to cry. Instead, I suppressed my tears and comforted myself with one of those classic hymns: 'Pass me not, O gentle Savior, Hear my humble cry, While on others Thou art calling, do not pass me by.' As I sang those words or softly hummed the melody in the silent night of my hospital room, I always thought of the pool of Bethesda in the Book of John 5. When friends visited me in the hospital, I often asked them to read that passage. John tells the story of a man who had been lying by the pool of Bethesda for 38 years. And then it says that Jesus saw him lying there and knew 'how long he had been in that condition.' In my imagination, I was lying there too, seeing Him standing by the pool while the disciples wondered why He lingered and didn't just walk to the temple. And then I would call out to Him and beg Him not to pass me by, not to ignore me: 'Lord Jesus, here I am! Please, don't pass me by! Heal me, please! Help me, please. Don't leave me lying here!'

In reality, Jesus had seen me all along, even though I didn't understand that at the time. He knew me. He knew my fear, my sorrow, my despair, my desires, and my immeasurable needs. And He didn't pass me by. Throughout all those years, He never passed me by. And He will never pass me by, for all eternity. The fact that I was lying by the pool of Bethesda was, of course, only in my imagination. But Jesus' unceasing 'watchcare' and His compassion are not imagination." Source: Praying at Bethesda, Joni Eareckson Tada

📝 End of quote 

🎧 "Pass me not": see video below

😍 Beautiful (this comforted me):

"In reality, Jesus had seen me all along, even though I didn't understand that at the time. He knew me. He knew my fear, my sorrow, my despair, my desires, and my immeasurable needs. And He didn't pass me by. Throughout all those years, He never passed me by. And He will never pass me by, for all eternity."

LET GO AND LIVE: Vulnerability and God's love 

This little book helped me put everything back in its place inside me. It also helped me embrace my vulnerability. Joni feels like a wise big sister, with a wealth of experience, bringing me closer to God. 

Beside Bethesda, Joni Eareckson Tada (video)

May 26

I'm going to wrap up my blog now. Today, I planted my two lilies in the garden. They outgrew their pots. It was such a lovely moment with the sun on my face, my hands in the soil, and mama robin very close by.

"Distract your thoughts, look down at the lily, and stop staring at your worries. Look up at the bird and stop staring at your worries." Søren Kierkegaard 

🌞🌿 What was your favorite little moment of happiness this week?