May 20, 2025

Go Back to the Garden

Once upon a time, there was a girl who couldn’t knit. Or crochet. Math confused her. Baking? Just about okay — if no one looked too closely. Home wasn’t exactly a cheerful place either. Not much laughter. But she had something else. She saw beauty in flowers. In the way light touched a poppy. In how even a tired dandelion still looked alive.

She wandered through the garden, took photos, and posted them on Instagram with quiet little captions. Nothing dramatic — just what she saw, what she felt. Some people replied kindly. A few even said: “Your posts help me slow down. I needed that.”

And she needed it too.

Until one day, someone said something.
Not loudly. Not rudely. But just enough to shake her a little:

“You should come talk to me sometime instead of wandering around that garden all day.”
“Maybe try doing something a bit more useful.”
“It’s nice, sure… if you’ve got time for that kind of thing.”

It came from someone she knew. Not her closest friend, but close enough to get under her skin.

And it worked.

She felt a bit stupid. Like she’d been wasting her time. Like noticing small beautiful things didn’t really count. So she deleted her account. Put her phone away. She bought a stack of books about flowers and curled up on the couch.

This is how jealousy sometimes works.

It doesn’t come with flashing lights or big words like “I’m jealous!”
It comes dressed up as concern. Or logic. Or a “friendly suggestion.”

“Shouldn’t you use your time for something real?”
“I’m just more practical — I don’t really get into that soft stuff.”
“You have time for that. I’m too busy.”

And if you’re the type who picks up on moods, who doesn’t want to bother anyone, you shrink a little.
You stop sharing what you love.
You feel guilty for enjoying it.
You make yourself smaller.

But someone else’s discomfort is not your fault.
And it’s not a reason to make yourself invisible.
Or to crawl away.

You don’t have to delete your photos.
Or swallow your words.
Or leave the garden.
You don’t have to say: “Sorry I found something beautiful today.”

Go back to the garden.
Because there’s nothing wrong with beauty in flowers.
Or simply: being yourself for a while.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

“Abide in Me, and I in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in Me.” — John 15:4 

He doesn’t ask you to be more useful, louder, or different.
He simply says: stay close.
And from there — you may quietly become what you were made to be.

---

This is a fictional story, written for a challenge about how other people's emotions can affect you.

May 16, 2025

Friday’s Fave Five – A Quiet Pause

It’s Friday afternoon. I should be cooking dinner, but I’m home alone — and I’m putting it off. First, I want to pause and count a few blessings from this past week.

1. Blue skies
The weather has been beautiful. That soft Dutch blue always lifts my heart. Still, we haven’t had rain in weeks, and nature is longing for it. So I’m thankful for the sunshine, and praying for water.

2. Evening walk
One quiet evening, my husband and I went for a walk. Birds singing, herbs in the air. Just the two of us, no rush. A small thing, but it stayed with me.


3. My daughter’s birthday
She turned a year older today. We talked yesterday by video, laughed, even ate chips together — in our own homes. I’m thankful for her, and for moments like this. 

4. Wearing a heart monitor
I had to wear one this week, and it went really well. I even slept fine. I hope it recorded what it needed. I’m grateful for quiet technology that helps without disturbing.

5. A kind postcard
A stranger in Germany read my Postcrossing bio and picked a card that suited me. It made me smile. A little note, chosen with care. I love that.

Bonus: My breakfast πŸ₯£
Every morning I have the same thing: gluten-free oats, full-fat milk, no sugar (but a pinch of salt), and a magnesium pill. 

Most mornings I eat my breakfast outside, in my garden chair, feet up on a little stool. It feels like such a blessing — my own little moment of quiet joy. I call it tuinstoel-geluk (Dutch for garden chair happiness).


How about you — do you eat the same breakfast every morning, or do you like variety?

πŸ‘‰Linked to Susanne's Friday's Fave Five

May 12, 2025

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. πŸ•Š️

A meditation on Matthew 10:29–31

May 09, 2025

Friday’s Fave Five – Better Late Than Never

I really wanted to join Friday’s Fave Five — but I was just too tired that day.

Now my post is finally up, a little late, but full of gratitude.
I’m glad I can still join in.


  1. ☀️ The sun shining through the almost-summer-green oak leaves against a clear blue sky — such simple beauty that lifts my heart.

  2. πŸ“– Reading Mark’s Gospel in the garden. The moment where Jesus sighs as He heals the deaf man struck me deeply. It felt like the sigh of God’s heart — full of sorrow and fierce compassion. I’ve been feeling physically weak lately, but He notices. He is the Rock beneath my trembling feet. One day, no more sighs. No pain. No tears. No fear.

  3. πŸ’ A sweet Mother’s Day bouquet from my youngest — he gave it on Saturday “because I couldn’t hide it under my bed.” That made me laugh.  You can see one flower in the first photo, that lovely pink bellflower 🌸.

  4. 🧦 Compression socks from my other son — a thoughtful and caring gift, hoping to ease some of the symptoms I’ve been struggling with.

  5. πŸ¦‹ And a photo from my husband of a tiny Icarus blue butterfly — such a delicate reminder of God’s creativity, and how He notices even the smallest things.

So much grace, even in fragile days. Some days are simply harder than others — and honestly, don’t we all have days like that?


How precious then to pause and look for the gold that still shines through: the little and the big blessings God keeps giving. 

Written on a quiet Monday morning — but sneakily backdated to Friday, because that’s when I meant to post it. πŸ˜‰

May 06, 2025

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?