Abide in February

She stood at the door, a little nervous. Her coat was buttoned up against the drizzle, eyes reflecting the weight of the world. “I just wanted to see your face,” she said. We spoke—briefly—of the world's heaviness: refugees, shifting alliances, tragedies that defy words. I nodded, a shiver running through me—part cold, part weight of it all.

“Strange, isn’t it?” I said, glancing back at my living room. “That when we’re inside at night, curtains drawn, it feels... safe. Almost like none of it is happening.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “even though we know it is.”

“Let’s plan a coffee soon,” I said. She nodded. "Yeah, just a quick bakkie.** I’m passing through today, so I can’t now—but we’ll make it happen."

We laughed a bit, bouncing to lighter topics for a moment—funny things, everyday life—just enough to lift the weight before she had to go. Then, with a quick wave and a smile, she was off again, hurrying down the street.

Safe Inside, Yet the World Spins

Now its evening. I’m here on the sofa, laptop balanced on my knees. The room around me glows softly—the golden hue of the lamps reflects off the ochre curtains that shut out the night. There’s a hint of pine in the air from the diffuser on the mantel, filling the space with the comforting scent of a forest. It’s peaceful here. Safe under this roof, within these walls. And yet my mind drifts beyond them, to the chaos in the world, to the ache of so many hearts.

And then—one word settles in me: Abide.

Abide in Me.

The Invitation to Abide

Such a simple phrase. Such a deep invitation.

To abide means to remain, to stay, to dwell. It’s not rushing past or glancing briefly—it’s settling in, being present. The Greek word menō carries this richness: to continue in a fixed state, to endure, to be at home. Palmer describes it as "practical and warmly personal.... a word for anyone who simply knows how to settle into a genuine relationship and enjoy the fellowship and the view." I love that. Abiding isn’t for the spiritually elite. *

❤️ It’s for anyone willing to pause, to be still, to stay close—not occasionally, but as a constant presence, rooted in Him.

Finding Refuge in Him

Tonight, as I look around this quiet room, I think about that staying. Here, under this roof, I feel safe. How much greater, then, is the safety of abiding in Him? Not a place, but a Person. My refuge isn’t ultimately these walls or this warmth—it’s Christ.

Steven Cole shares that abiding involves three things:

1. Relating to Christ—His person and purpose.
2. Rejecting attitudes and actions that He wouldn’t share.
3. Receiving the life He offers for true fulfillment. *

It’s not always easy. The world pulls, fears creep in, and sometimes it feels like the storm is just outside the window. But then I remember what was said at church last Sunday—about Elisha’s servant, eyes opened to see the hills full of horses and chariots of fire. Those who are with us are more than those who are with them. (2 Kings 6:16) What a powerful reminder: there is more going on than we see, and we are never alone.

With Us in Trouble

Psalm 91 echoes this truth:

"I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust... Because he loves Me," says the Lord, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges My name. He will call on Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble."

With him in trouble. Not necessarily delivering us from every hardship immediately—but abiding with us through it. That changes everything.

Learning to Stay

This month, I’ve realised how much I still have to learn about abiding. And how patient my Teacher is. The best Rabbi in the world, I whispered to myself earlier this week, heart full of gratitude. The more I lean in, the more I see: abiding isn’t about striving—it’s about staying. Staying in Him. Letting His words settle into me until they feel at home in my heart, guiding my thoughts, my prayers, my desires.

When the World Feels Too Heavy

Earlier this week, I woke up to the news notifications piling up on my phone—headlines screaming of more violence, more loss. My chest tightened: How do I hold all this? How do I pray when words fall short?

I wanted to scroll away the heaviness, to busy myself with tasks. But instead, I paused. I whispered His name—just that. Jesus, help. And then, slowly, I remembered: Abide.

Something shifted. Not that the world’s chaos changed. But something inside me settled. He is my refuge... my fortress... my God, in whom I trust. It wasn’t instant peace, but a deep breath amid the noise. A reminder: He is.

That’s the thing about abiding—it’s not always this serene, candle-lit moment. Sometimes it’s choosing to stay with Him in the middle of fear, doubt, or grief. To simply say His name with your whole confused, sorrowful heart. To trust that even when your heart trembles, His hold doesn’t loosen.

Held

Tonight, darkness rests outside.
The world spins on.

But here, in this stillness, I abide.
Not just under this roof.
In Him.

Safe.
Loved.
Held.

And so are you.

───●◎●───

*    Precept Austin

**  Bakkie (Dutch): A casual cup of coffee, often shared with a friend. In the Netherlands, saying. It is a common, friendly invitation to catch up over coffee.

Stumbling into Sunrise

I set my alarm for 7:15, full of good intentions. I’ll be in the field in time to see the sunrise, I thought.

Fast forward to this morning: me, stumbling out the door, a woolly hat with a pom-pom pulled hastily over my messy hair, my face still carrying the imprint of my pillow. -5°C. Why did I think this was a good idea?

But then—deep, warm red spilling over the horizon, like embers reigniting the sky. The kind of red that makes you forget the cold for a second.

Back home, hands wrapped around a steaming latte, I posted some photos on Insta. Found a Spurgeon quote to match—he has a way with words about nature.

Maybe someone will enjoy it. Maybe just me. Either way, the sun rose. ☀️✨

📖 "But to you who fear My name, the Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in His wings; and you shall go out and leap like calves from the stall."
— Malachi 4:2 

🌞 You cannot be too low, you cannot be too unworthy; the infinite mercy of God, like the infinite light of the sun, can reach you.

🌑 "Alas, I am dark." But what night was ever too dark for the sun to turn into day?
❄️ "Alas, I am cold." But what iceberg was ever too cold for the sun to melt? What winter was ever too severe for the sun to transform into summer?

🔥 Yield yourself, you icicle, yield to the sun, and it will melt you. 🌿 Yield yourself, you dead and withered branch, to that dear sunbeam waiting to kiss you now, and it will awaken life within you and warm you until you are laden with rich fruit, to the praise and glory of the Sun of Righteousness, who has risen upon you.

🙏 May the Lord grant that it be so with us all, for Jesus' sake. Amen.

Source: The Rising Sun, Charles Haddon Spurgeon

---

Do you ever wake up early to watch the sunrise? ☀️ Here, the sun rose at 7:45 this morning!

Spring is Coming, Even If I Can't See It Yet

You can’t just bike away the grief of living loss. That’s impossible. But I decided, after my conversation with the psychologist, to do something enjoyable to take my mind off all the heavy things. “Why not go to the botanical garden?” my husband suggested. I thought that was a great idea, so I hopped on my bike for a 20-kilometer ride to Wageningen.

Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. - Victor Hugo

Oh, how peaceful it was in the garden. And that sun! Slowly, I walked along the sandy (and occasionally muddy) paths. I snapped pictures of the magnolia and cherry trees, full of buds. No leaves on the branches, just bare trees, but then, to my surprise, I spotted a small camellia bush in full bloom. What a delightful surprise! 

I walked closer, took some photos, and soaked in everything around me. There’s so much beauty to discover in winter. Even a cute robin taking a mud bath right on my path. I could barely contain my smile.

After about half an hour, I decided to take a break on a bench and enjoy a cup of coffee from the thermos I brought. I sat here last year too—I remember it well because I wrote in my journal then (and I did again now).

I now wrote: “I am sure it’s going to be beautiful. The garden will bloom again. I saw hundreds of buds on the trees, and the camellia is already blooming! Spring is coming. I expect, I hope. It’s going to be great.”

Waiting for Spring... and for God

I pondered the idea of waiting for spring, hoping for a fresh start, for something to finally leave winter behind. And as I stood there, watching the buds glisten in the sun, I thought of God, who promised to make everything new. That new spring, not just in nature, but in our hearts as well. An end to the dark culture where lies are made truth, flowers are trampled, and truth is so hard to find. Spring is coming, even though it isn’t here yet. I expect, I hope. It’s going to be great.

Just as we wait for the spring to arrive, I trust that God, who promises to make all things new, is working behind the scenes for those who wait for Him. As it says in Isaiah 64:4:
"For since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides You, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him."

I know change is coming. Spring is coming, not just in the garden, but in the culture too. And I wait for my Heavenly Father, who will make all things right, maybe not on my timeline, but someday. And what I know is that it’s worth the wait. Even if it feels like waiting for spring that never seems to arrive.

Just before I left the garden, I saw a tree full of beautiful flowers. I stopped in my tracks, forgetting everything around me, just gazing at it in awe. I picked a low-hanging branch, smelled it. Wow, what an explosion of beauty. Time was running out, though—the sun was almost gone.

I quickly snapped a few photos to show at home.

And then, it was time to leave. As the sun hung like an orange ball above the horizon, I continued on my bike. Come on, just 20 more kilometers.

Goodbye botanical garden, see you next time! Spring is coming, even though it’s not quite here yet. I expect, I hope. It’s going to be great.

Biking to the Woods to Escape the Flu

My husband has the flu. I suspect it’s that strange new variant: human metapneumovirus (HMPV). He’s coughing, sneezing, and, most notably, dealing with a runny nose. It’s no fun. He’s afraid of contaminating me, and I get it—who wants to share that kind of joy? 

🤒 So, he keeps saying, “Don’t come too close,” which, honestly, gives me a little extra motivation to head out into nature. 

Abiding in Nature

Today, I biked through the mist to the woods, parked my bike, and oh, how wonderful it was to be back in the forest! It was a dewdrop celebration, a spider's paradise, a webbed wonderland. Without the wind, everything was still. The air was quiet, almost sacred, and I felt, in those moments, that I was abiding in God’s creation, surrounded by His peace.

Slow Down and Abide

I heard a woodpecker high in a tree and, when I stopped to look up, I saw him—too far away for a good photo, but still a beautiful moment. I walked slowly—very slowly—because, sometimes, you see more when you take your time. And no, I wasn’t having any spiritual revelations, I was simply present, breathing deeply the forest air, abiding in the stillness of the moment.

Noticing the Small Things

The scent of the forest was earthy, with a hint of coppery beech leaves and oak. Some freshly cut logs were scattered along the path, their peculiar smell mingling with the rest. It’s not exactly pleasant, but somehow it fit perfectly in the mix of aromas. As I paused for a coffee break, I realized how often we miss the beauty of small details when we rush through life. 

But today, I chose to abide in the moment, noticing even the tiniest of joys, like the droplets on a birch sapling and the spider sitting proudly in its web.

💧🕸️🕷️

A Rest for the Soul

Was this walk enough to keep the flu at bay? I hope so! I’ve just started to regain my energy after having COVID in February 2024, and the quiet rhythm of walking, breathing, and abiding was the perfect antidote for my soul.

Quote Corrie ten Boom

Back home, I wrapped myself in an electric blanket and reviewed my photos. The mist added a unique, almost magical vibe to everything. As I scrolled through my photos, I stumbled upon a quote about mist from Corrie ten Boom:

“Faith is like radar that sees through the fog. By God’s grace, we see by faith the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see.”

Abiding in Faith Through the Fog

This quote struck me deeply, reminding me that abiding in faith, even through the fog of life, opens our eyes to God’s reality beyond what we can see. It inspired me to share a little post on Instagram, and I’ll share it here too:

👀 I shared the Instagram post under the photo

🌫️ Walking through the misty woods, I’m reminded of Corrie ten Boom’s words: ‘Faith is like radar that sees through the fog.’ When I feel lost in life’s haze, I lift my eyes to Jesus. His love surrounds me, and by grace, I know I’ll never fall out of His hand.

👀 “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” – 2 Corinthians 5:7

👀 “Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.” – Hebrews 12:1-2

😞 Have you had the flu yet this season?
😍I’d love to hear your tips or a testimony about abiding in the Lord, especially as I reflect on my One Word for the year: 'Abide.'

Is There Light in the Dark? Yes!

 I haven’t seen the sun all week. The sky is covered in endless shades of gray. The early darkness settles in, and I slowly sink into my chair, feeling the weight of the day. I light a candle, and the soft, warm glow of the flame flickers gently on the table before me. 

A Moment of Stillness

For a moment, I just sit there, watching it dance in the quiet, the flame swaying ever so slightly with each breath of air. It’s a peaceful stillness. I could watch it for hours. You?

It brings to mind Jesus’ words from John 8:12: “I am the Light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” But more than that, I remember what He says in John 15:4: "Abide in Me, and I in you."

The Power of His Word

I open my Bible to read more, and I come across the story of Hanukkah, the festival of light, and how Jesus was challenged by the Pharisees in the temple: "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly." (John 10:24). He responds, "I did tell you, but you do not believe. The works I do in My Father’s name testify about Me." (John 10:25).

In the stillness of the afternoon, I reflect on John’s beautiful words in his letter, words I’ve wanted to memorize for so long:

What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the Word of Life— and the life was manifested, and we have seen and testify and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was manifested to us—what we have seen and heard we proclaim to you also, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. These things we write, so that our joy may be made complete. (1 John 1:1-4)

Wrestling with Doubt

These words are alive! They bubble with energy, offering me comfort, assurance, and light, especially when I struggle with intellectual doubts. I used to breeze past them, but not anymore. Now, I need the whole Bible to truly rejoice in God, my Savior. 

And that’s exactly what I do 🤗

Abiding in His Presence

Abiding in Him has become the source of my peace. When doubts arise, I focus on the One who has already spoken the truth and shown the way. God’s Word drowns out all other voices. “Whatever Jesus may be to others, to me He is, above all, God, praised forever!” 

—

😇 The final line is borrowed from C.H. Spurgeon.

Spring where you least expect it

When you're there, you smell it right away. I was standing on a muddy path in the middle of the forest, sniffing the air like a bunny in the grass. Can you smell it too? Just step outside, now!

The scent of spring!
I could smell spring, and its fragrance subtly floated among the trees. Oh, how I love spring; the time when the world seems to come back to life, and the sun's rays awaken nature from its winter sleep.

🌷 It's almost, almost spring.

Birds in the forest
I spotted three great tits hopping from branch to branch. When I grabbed my camera, they chirped as if to say: "Sorry, ma'am, we're too busy building our nest, no time to pose!" And off they flew deeper into the woods. Meanwhile, on the other side of the path, a robin sang its vibrant song, marking its territory. It stayed put but gave me a disgruntled look.

Despite the gray day, the thought of spring approaching filled me with joy. You know: blossoms on trees, bees in flowers.

I wandered up the sandy path, and my footsteps echoed loudly on the loose stones in the rain track: with each step: crunch, crunch. Then I saw the tree... time for a break.

From my diary: February 15

I'm sitting on the Elsterkop, halfway up the slope, and I'm not alone. A bit further, someone is getting a mountain bike lesson. I also see a man sitting on a bench; is he old or young? I can't tell... too far away. Wow, a big bumblebee almost lands on my notebook... now it really feels like spring.

The athletes lively discuss mountain bike braking techniques. The man on the bench gets up and slowly walks down the path, hat in hand. I take a photo of him to capture the mood. I also take a photo of the tree trunk I'm leaning against. Far above my head, I see the words: God Loves You

I reflect on my many, many walks. I feel so blessed, just to be able to walk. Walking takes time, but moving gives me energy and creativity, should do it more often. It makes you a nicer person. A few more sips of coffee and I'll continue.

Sitting as low as I am now - on a tree stump - I see droplets on the twigs of the heather bush. I know when I stand up, they'll be gone. It all depends on how you look at things. From above or from below. I take out my phone and snap a photo of a droplet. Whether it turned out well, I'll see at home.

 

The droplet photo 👆 

Season of loss
From above or from below. It depends on how you view things. I describe the season I'm in as a season of loss... or a personal winter where everything continues while I seem to stand still.

Loss comes in many forms. Some losses catch us off guard and knock the wind out of us. Others follow long periods of suffering and waiting. Sometimes we face the death of a loved one, and other times we may lose our health, independence, home, or church. Loss can cause physical pain and plunge us into spiritual depression. - Gretchen Saffles

God surprised me
Yes, the pain is there, the confusion, the sadness, but also beautiful moments of prayer and surrender. I would never consciously choose this season, but it's precisely now that He helps me to deepen my roots in His Word and presence. In this season of loss, God surprises me with His gifts.

Spring where you least expect it
Standing with both feet in the mud of life and yet, I cherish the thought that spring can appear anywhere, especially where you least expect it, in the dark corners of your life.

😍 That makes me happy.

Kneeling for a photo
On my way back from my walk, I see a cluster of crocuses by the path. Even better: just then, the sun breaks through with spring warmth. I kneel down to take photos, not one, not two, but a whole bunch of pictures I want to have. So happy with this moment.

Dear Lord, grant our souls a spring,

Thou know’st our winter has been long;

Shine forth, and warm our hearts to sing,

And thy rich grace shall be our song.

🌷 Wat flowers did you see in your neighborhood?

💜 My crocus blog

Will the sun shine again?

And there I go again. I saw on the weather app that the sun was shining, so off to the woods! 

But I feel so awful, I initially protested, imagining what if I fall ill in the forest, lying there somewhere. Come on, you know it's not like that. #selftalk

As I walk into the woods, it starts to rain gently. Well, let it rain, let it be winter, because it is! I think of the book I bought last month: 'Wintering'. How many times I whispered, "Oh really, you too?"

I am a swirling wreck of uncertainty, my thoughts shoot off like branching paths in all directions, and I'm afraid my head is about to overflow. That lump of ideas remains stuck in my throat, refusing to come out so I can put them on paper. The only thing I can do is walk. I have nothing else. Katharine May

No perfect picture.
The only thing I can do is walk. I capture a random picture because I don't feel like getting down on my knees for the perfect shot.

... And then I spot a patch of blue sky calling out to me: "this way, this way!" 

• Mud? No problem, I trudge through it.
• Downpour? Also fine, let it pour.

Stay on your feet

In the woods, life doesn't ask much of me, just: "Watch where you're walking, lean on your stick, stay on your feet." And thus, I escape my overthinking.

Green and ugly brown
Along the way, I find a twig with a mix of lively green and ugly brown, and that's exactly how I feel. I hold my breath: please, don't let the brown dominate! I take 4 photos to capture this image - to think about later - and place the twig back on the fallen tree.

I strongly feel that I've let stress build up so much that it's been nibbling at me, and I should have asked for help sooner. But stress is also something shameful, an admission that I can't handle pressure. Secretly, I'm glad I'm struggling with physical pain. Rather than the vaguer feeling of being crushed. Katherine May

While raising children and writing books, time has flown by so quickly that I no longer have a clear picture of it. Not that the passing years are entirely blank, but they are muddled, strangely devoid of meaning, except for the clawing awareness of survival. Katherine May

Does that define who I am?
My piece of blue sky disappears, and it's now raining heavily. I catch drops in my hand and wash my cheeks with them... indirectly also my brain: is it really that bad if some of my plans fail, if I'm not achieving victories right now, if the book I so eagerly want to write only exists in my dreams?

Does that define who I am?

Neuh (nah)

Look at me now, I've worked so long and hard that I've made myself sick. And worst of all, I've almost forgotten how to rest. I constantly feel rushed. I'm convinced everything is important and that I'm falling short all the time. And my home - my beloved home - has become one big mess, where everything is slowly collapsing and breaking and worn out. I stand powerless against it. Katherine May

The sun!

Slogging down through the heath, and when I'm almost there, the rain stops. The brown heath glows like gold. Still, the sun! I see a nice spot to have coffee by the tree

👇 (see collage)

... and as I drink my coffee, I think about how nice it is to just "be" and softly pray, even if I don't find the most beautiful words today. It's just enough. And: the sun will definitely shine again

More than a name
Katherine May writes in her book 'Wintering': God has always been a name we whisper. I add to it for myself with a quote (once saved on my iPhone) 

In uncertain times, there is a reliable anchor: trust in the Name of the LORD. Why is His Name so reassuring? It is the "I AM," confirming His own existence. A strong foundation to lean on. People fail, but He, the "I AM," is always alive. Even when everything seems dark, He says: "I am here." His name promises immutability. He remains "the same yesterday, today, and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). Trust in this unchanging God, whose love, faithfulness, and strength are steadfast. It's a reassuring anchor, even when it's winter in your life. Source: Spurgeon and a bit of me

I pass on that Name through blogging: Immanuel!

 “We must learn to invite winter in. We may never choose to winter, but we can choose how.”

---- 

I walked in the area of  the Elsterberg or Elsterkop. It's a hill in the municipality of Rhenen in the Dutch province of Utrecht. The hill is located north of Elst and east of Amerongen, and is part of the Utrechtse Heuvelrug ridge. The hill is 62.5 meters high. On the south slope of the Elsterberg, there are several burial mounds. 🚶‍♂️🌳

Linked to: Paula's Sweet Tea & Friends Link Up

Unfiltered: When My One Word Let Me Down 🌟

So, this year, I thought "healthy" would be my thing, a simple fix. But let's be real – it's been more like a roller coaster with allergies and stress hormones thrown in.

January brought the loss of my father-in-law to cancer, and then February served up a surprise church plot twist (church division) 🙏 Perhaps 'healthy' wasn't the ideal word for a season where life had its own script!

Truth is: I tried to make better choices, but I'm no health guru. Some days, I mess up, choose not-so-healthy stuff, and just feel like I've goofed.

My grace is sufficient for you
Here's the deal – I'm learning that God is there for me. His grace covers me, especially on those not-so-great days. It's like a safety net for my imperfect self. Even when I'm a mess, He is there, whispering, "My grace is enough for you."

I asked God for health, but...
As the year wraps up, I'm letting go of the pressure to be a health superstar. Whether or not I pick another word, I'm just rolling with it and accepting that I'm me – flaws and all. Because, let's be real, God and His grace in Jesus are the real deal in this imperfect journey of mine. 

💔 I need Him every hour.

I asked God for strength,

but, He made me weak

so that to His will . . .

I would daily seek.

I asked God for health,

but, He made me queasy

so that I would see . . .

the faithful race wasn’t easy.

I asked God for riches,

but, He made me poor

so that I would hear . . .

Jesus’ knock on the door.

I asked God for happiness.

but, He made me sorrowful

so that for my sins . . .

I’d repent and be mournful.

I asked God why,

I didn’t get my heart’s desire

He told me it was because . . .

I AM so much wiser!

Deborah Ann Belka

😊 Have you ever chosen a One Word? If so, how was that experience for you? 

Linked to Sweet Tea & Friends