a new history

Created a new blog in honour of my trip to Burkina Faso. Sorry for the people who know the Dutch version of me, but I've decided to keep writing in English as that's the language most of you will understand. (Max, ik stuur wel eens een mailtje in 't Nederlands, goed?)

pays off to dream

Found this amazing picture on the internet somewhere and couldn't resist to put it here. Only now I forgot my source. I'm sorry! So if you're the photographer, please let me know and I will give credit (and I will also ask you where on earth you found this sky)!

"Congratulations on pursuing your dreams!!!" read the subject of a spam mail I got.
I thought: "Thanks, how did you know?!"
Looks like I'll be able to realise a dream of mine this year. I got permission from my school to travel to Burkina Faso for a 3 month internship. I hope to start another blog to keep people up to date on that trip once I get there. It may be read by some people at my school as well as others who are interested (they asked me at school if I would create a blog for this, because they want to keep track of me a bit). It might be in Dutch this time. I'm not sure. What do you think I should do? If it's going to be in Dutch, I guess I'll summarise here once in while in English.
Deanne called me "His dreamer" on her blog. It's a great compliment and I pray it may be true. If only I can dream His dreams...then they can safely come true.

eclectic waters

Deanne, she was the only girl my age when I lived on Logos 2 at the age of 13. We've had our differences, but she conquered a special place in my heart that she has kept ever since. Through many years and over a long distance we've kept in touch writing rambling letters that perhaps no one could appreciate the way we did. She is a girl with a faith that I admire, not because it hasn't been shaken, but because through loss and pain it has remained. Not that she's never questioned God, but He has remained the greatest love of her life. One can tell. Well, see for yourself...

a testimony

While looking for the words of Bill Drake's song "I'll obey", I stumbled upon this testimony of someone who learnt to forgive. It's impressive. I know very little about forgiveness compared to this person. Yet it is something we all need to learn.

You must do something with your anger, if it's alive in your heart. You must get rid of it to stop it from eating away at you inside. And it's necessary to do this if you are ever to grasp the concept of Grace, which the Bible tries to teach us.

We are so easily angered. Sometimes we even give ourselves the right to be angry at God. Perhaps you have more reason to be that way than I have, but whatever your reason, please don't settle comfortably into bitterness. If you are angry, remember that often it's because you just don't have all the facts!

God asks us to forgive and He asks us to trust Him. I'll obey Him because He is the God who gives me life.

I’ll obey and serve You

I’ll obey because I love You

I’ll obey, my life is in Your hands

For it’s the way to prove my love

When feelings go away

If it costs my everything

I’ll obey

another blog

Sorry, sometimes I don't blog at all and sometimes I suddenly have this urge to blog a lot in one go. The effects of a lack of routine?

But I just wanted to direct you to another blog, which I'm going to link here. That of Maxplanck, an intelligent guy who has plenty to say and who just started blogging. Only it's in Dutch...But babelfish.altavista.com is a most helpful website for all who want to read in languages not their own. :)

another chapter

The academic year started before I had a chance to return to Belgium. So I jumped back into that as soon as I could, which was three days late. Now I'm doing an internship in the delivery room of a hospital in Sint-Truiden. This is a town with no internet café. In fact, I asked some ladies in the street and they were very excited to hear of such a phenomenon!

It's fine though; I have enough fascilities at the hospital. I get to spend the night there and even my food is provided for. I've assisted three births during the week that I've been here. None of them were assisted solely in Dutch. The languages used were Russian, French, Arabic, English and Chinese. I try to speak a little of everything, which is impossible. Still, I like the variety.

I get to learn much from the midwifes and gynaecologists here. One day I hope to be in the teaching position. For now I'm happy with where I'm at.

To all the students: I wish you a great academic year!
To everybody: May you face every day with optimism, believing that you can achieve anything you truly wish for, as long as God wants it too.

ode to the Amazighian

Strange how you can feel at home in a place you've never seen in your life.

It was the week of my brother Luke's wedding. It was also my first time in North Africa, though I think Algeria is the 47th country I've been to. The first night there, I stood on the balcony of my hotel room, alone, overlooking the quiet scene of Tizi Ouzou (the city of Luke's bride). The street looked dusty and there didn't seem to be any rules about crossing it. You could hear the sound of crickets in the night. I felt oddly at home and thought: "I'm back in Africa...yeah...I like this."

Strange how you can come to love a people in less than a weeks time.

The Amazighian or Kabyllie berbers (the picture is of their flag) spent the first evening staring at us strangers, not sure what to think. And yet they welcomed us and I was amazed by their kindness. In the hotel 6 waiters were serving us, while we were only three. This made me laugh, so I tried to pretend that my parents were saying funny things all throughout the meal. That didn't help much. My mother threatened to make me wear a veil if I didn't stop. :)

Throughout that week, they all got used to us (European fools who had no clue about their language or etiquette, but who kept smiling at them) and they even began to learn English. Meanwhile I tried desperately to improve my French. Some bowed their heads as they waited while we prayed, even saying "amen" with us. Outside the hotel we kept meeting people who were helpful, respectful and who had a good sense of pride.

These are people who have been ruled by others for ages. Their dignity hasn't been destroyed by that. I admire them and can only learn from their hospitality towards strangers.

the bliss of solitude (such a mellow post!)

Daffodils
By William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

It had to happen one day, that this poem would make an appearance on my blog. My brother, Luke, will understand why. We were forced to memorize the entire thing at school on board Logos 2 when we were something like 13 and 11 years old. I'm glad though.

We have since made our own variations to this poem, combined with poetry from "The Scarlet Pimpernel". Our variation had little to do with daffodils, but Luke had a way of proclaiming it in a very Wordsworth-like manner (I think so anyway, even though we do not have recordings of Wordsworth reading any of his poems).

The only line I've always remembered from this poem is: "For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood". I like the pensive moods when these memories of our poetry sessions flash upon my inward eye.

The boy (my bro) is getting married soon and the time is long gone when we had the chance to hang out and write rediculous poetry. We are the same people though and it's good to know that we'll have opportunity to watch each other go through life. I'm proud of him as I watch him from a distance. I look forward to meeting up and reminiscing. It's good to know, after a great many goodbyes, that some people are yours to keep.

THAT my heart with pleasure fills...

wanted: engineers

Received the following message from a Douloid:

We have an urgent Prayer Request for the Doulos and the Ship Ministry in General. We are in urgent need of Engineers. If we don’t get engineers by the end of Sept, the Doulos won’t be able to leave Thailand. So please pray with us that God will provide qualified people. And if you know of people that might be able to help us, ask them to contact the nearest OM office.

Thought I would put this here, just in case some engineers wonders upon my blog. I recommend Doulos! You can always contact me for more information.

where is God?

The summer holidays have begun and though I'm doing some kind of summerjob at the University Hospital of Leuven, I'm celebrating those holidays. Summer is making me neglect my weblog completely...I apologize to those people who come here looking for something new to read. I don't apologize too sincerely though...I don't really know what any of us are doing surfing the internet when we could be outside enjoying the sun! (c;

I have begun reading "Where is God when it hurts?" by Philip Yancey and it's interesting. Haven't gotten very far yet and I have to admit that the book has a slower start to it then I expected. What did I expect? An answer to the question in the first chapter already? That would be a bit too easy, wouldn't it?

Yancey starts off by explaining the function of pain in our lives. The way pain was meant to protect us and it's fascinating to look into how pain does protect us. He illustrates by describing people with leprosy. Leprosy itself doesn't cause people to loose limbs in the sense of causing their flesh to deteriorate. It simply makes them insensitive to pain and because of this, leprosy patients do the most horrible things to themselves. They don't notice they're destroying themselves, because they don't feel the pain. They step into glass, ignore infected fingers, and do all sorts of things that are simply destructive to your flesh just because they don't feel it. They notice when it's already too late.

So God gave us pain receptor cells, so that we would not suffer the way these people suffer for lack of pain. I've gotten to the point in the book where Yancey decides that the question needs to be rephrased to something like: "Where is God in all the world's suffering?" Pain is something that was created with a good purpose. Where did it go wrong? Where did it get out of hand?

This is only the beginning of the book. Worth reading, that's for sure...I guess I'll be coming back to this topic when I've read more.

I mentioned my summerjob at the hospital. Let me tell you a bit about that. I'm doing logistics on the fourth floor, at geriatrics. The patients there are elderly people, many of them quite confused about why they are there and needing quite a bit of help. My respect for the people working there has grown, but my respect for the elderly is also growing.

Sometimes I help feed the patients and some of them aren't able to speak their minds anymore. That makes it hard to guess how much of reality is still getting through to them. With one man it took me two days to find out that he actually spoke French instead of Flemish. I had been talking to him, but he hadn't said anything himself. When he began to speak I was having a hard time making out what he was trying to say. It helped a lot when I started to listen in French! But one of the things he asked me was: "Please give me back my freedom." I was kind of sad when I tried to explain that he was in a hospital and not in a prison.

It must be real tough when you're finding yourself in such a helpless position, where you're not even able to eat by yourself, let alone get up out of bed! I try to find the most respectable way to help people with this, but it's not always easy. At the end of the day I go home free, but I've been confronted with the fact that some people I love will be facing similar problems in the nearer future.

I guess the best thing to do is to make the most of what we have, love intensely and look forward to heaven.

why the tree?

A question has turned up on several blogs that I visit and it sounds like this: "Why did God put that tree there?"

Why was there a tree that gave man a chance to choose to disobey God? Why did God not choose to avoid the fall of man?

I have a suspicion that part of the reason is that He wanted us to know the side of Him that is called Grace. Would we ever have known without that tree?

I'm planning to read Philip Yancey's book "What's so amazing about grace?" after "Where is God when it hurts?". I've had both books for a long, long time and I hope I won't get an overdose if I read them one after the other. An overdose of good stuff to ponder, that is. I'll let you know...

In the mean time, if anyone has an idea of why that tree had to be in the garden, do let me know!

soccer and soap

Sunday evening on my way home with a detour, I met some Brazilians who invited me to watch Brazil-Croatia in the World Cup, the match that was on last night. I ended up going there and taking GJ along and we had the time of our lives. Those Brazilians know how to celebrate soccer! They came with drums and dancing girls dressed in their flag. I’ll support them solely because their fans are that cool! So today we’re going to get ourselves some Brazilian shirts, so that next time we won’t feel like the odd ones out.

We went to my place afterwards and got into a slightly philosophic mood. My housemate had left her soap bubble gear in my room and so GJ was blowing through the plastic circle creating beautiful things and being captivated.

As we watched the soap bubbles he started pointing out how perfect they are: Perfectly round, because they take up the most convenient shape (ever seen a soap bubble turn out triangular or star-shaped?), thin and fragile, but floating, because they are that light.

We watched two of them interfere with each other and bounce off harmoniously, without breaking. “People should be like soap bubbles,” GJ concluded. “When they meet they don’t need to hurt each other.”

I reckon you could build sermons on this. Does anyone here want to have a go? I'm still thinking about the way they reflect the light that shines on them.

For further study on the phenomena of soap bubbles, I would direct you to the website “Floating Soap Bubbles”.

Moishe, Mouskovitz and heaven

Well, I wasn’t sure what to call him...I thought either one of those names would do. Turns out I can use both, since there’s been two of them instead of one. Perhaps this was an effort to “name my fear”. It’s bad. I think MK’s should be relatively fearless when it comes to little critters, but I am much afraid of mice. Quite terrified even.

I tell you this so that you take it seriously and don’t ever tease me about it, because if you do my faith in humanity will be severely damaged. Forgiveness yes, but my forgiveness as a person only reaches to a certain extend and I think putting a mouse near me is really crossing the boundary there.

Some guys have been very good to me by making it their expedition to catch Moishe and Mouskovitz. They’re gone now…heaven…I’m sure my friends are also grateful, because I haven’t talked about much else recently. (c;

Anyway, I’ve been making a fool of myself in a number of ways lately. Wolter mentioned the “hitchhike to heaven”. I went with a guy called Job to ask people at the train station whether they could show us the way. This led to some interesting conversations. One man even thought he didn’t need heaven because in his life-time scientists are bound to invent something to stop the ageing process and allow us to live forever!

It’s cool to go out and talk to people randomly about what they believe. It’s amazing how they take time to think about something that really isn’t very much on their minds (or maybe it is somehow, but it doesn’t show). Although I do find it frustrating that heaven isn’t real for them as it is for me. It helps to know where you’re going, if you want to get there.

Check out www.Breeze.be/hemel
(in Dutch)

questions i ask myself

Psalm 139

لأَنَّكَ أَنْتَ قَدْ كَوَّنْتَ كُلْيَتَيَّ. نَسَجْتَنِي دَاخِلَ بَطْنِ أُمِّي. 13

14 أَحْمَدُكَ لأَنَّكَ صَنَعْتَنِي بِإِعْجَازِكَ الْمُدْهِشِ. مَا أَعْجَبَ أَعْمَالَكَ وَنَفْسِي تَعْلَمُ ذَلِكَ يَقِيناً.

13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

Source: BibleGateway.com

The other day I witnessed the birth of a tiny Arab boy. It was just a few minutes after he was born, when his father took him in his arms and started whispering Quranic blessings in his ear. I was impressed.

I'm sure most baby's born into Christian families are blessed in prayer shortly after their birth, but I have not seen Christian's being so openly thankful to God in the delivery room. We dedicate our children, but in our own Christian environment and not with the gynaecologist still there to witness this.

I don't know...I suddenly wished that we would have more traditions like the Muslims do, that would make it so obvious to the world around us to see who we are. Perhaps it would motivate us to live our lives more in accordance with what we believe. Maybe it would make us more alien to people around us, which is not what I'd like to see happening. And I do wonder how much of what the Muslim father does, is culture and no longer true conviction?

How convicted are we of it being truly worth it to serve God? How do we let it show? Where is the balance between being adapted to the world we live in and being completely different as followers of Jesus? There are plenty of people who are "good people" for no reason. So how can we be a light in this world? How does our thankfulness to God shine out?

memories

Honestly, I'm quite disappointed with my photos of the wedding in Sweden. Not with this one though. It shows how some people don't change more than they're supposed to. (c;
Mirjam was a beautiful bride, but her shoes were...ehm, not there mostly (and when they were they were the simplest of flip flops). Her feet are the same as when I met her. They once inspired me to write a song about the feet that bring good news.

spring then

Yeah, the sun is finally shining again (it always comes after the rain, hey?), which makes me all the more ecstatic about life. No, I'm not always on a high, but there are times when I do think I'll burst if I get any happier than I am.

I was in Sweden the weekend before last and it was a perfect trip. Went there to see two friends get married while fearing it would all be too short. Mirjam is a good friend from Doulos, and she shares with Gustav this crazy love for the Arab world. I can understand that. They are a cool couple and it was so much fun to see them together. And since I will be seeing them again, I think the timing was perfect.

I stayed in a backstreet area of Stockholm with some Doulos girls. The morning after the wedding we had breakfast outside in the sun in our pyjama's. Scandinavia and warmth...and I was reminded of random things we used to do in Africa. This was an area where most Sweeds would not go for breakfast, but somehow I felt at home.

Met up with a bunch of people I haven't seen for about three years. So cool to see them happy and still on fire for God. So cool to see that we still have things in common and that we haven't forgotten the good times we've shared.

Then I returned to Belgium to a group of friends I won't be saying goodbye to for a while yet. That feels good.

new life

Hard to post something on real-life births and not sound all foggy and stuff. I should spare you the details of the mess it is!

Anyway, I’m doing my first internship at the delivery-room and I have to say: “I love the job that will be mine!” Well, that is an encouraging thing to find when you have been studying something for a while.

It’s obvious that I’m not yet a qualified midwife. There’s so many things I’m doing for the first time and with a bunch of experienced people watching it can be nerve-wrecking. Plus I’m supposed to guide people through an experience that is new for them, but sometimes even newer for me.

Well, I don’t always know what the gynaecologist is asking me to do even, so that adds to the mess in my head. All this will get better I guess…but I taste the rush of adrenaline and think I could get addicted.

It’s awesome to go with people through such a huge life-event. It’s a challenge to have them enjoy it as much as possible, while you learn to stay alert and make sure it’s a kind of smooth delivery.

After a lot of effort we welcome new life into a world that many aren’t very content with in the first place. At that moment things are somehow simplified and we are contented people. A child is born alive…and life is worth living.

Good Friday

Freaky picture. Reminds me of a ku klux clan ceremony. It’s not though. It’s a photograph that was taken at a Good Friday procession in Mosta, Malta in 2004. I still lived in Malta in that year and witnessed other processions. The Maltese love to dress up! If they were the inhabitants of Holland, I’d imagine them dressing up as Nazi’s to replay how their country was invaded during the Second World War every year. (c:

In a way, I suppose it is cool how many Maltese are involved yearly in remembering the death of Christ. Yet there is something about the way they do it that makes me so sad.
One of my first impressions of Malta was another one of these processions, shown on Dutch television, before I lived there. There were more of these white-robed guys in that procession. They walked bare-foot, with iron chains around their legs, dragging on iron balls like the ghosts that are stereotypical to old castles. This was their way of doing penance for their sins.

You know, Malta isn’t even so bad compared to some countries. People have had themselves crucified as a way of doing penance for their sins. In many religions, people torture themselves in an effort to somehow earn salvation.

Jesus died so that there would be no need for this. He died because there is nothing we can do to pay for our own sins. Our debt is too great before God. So He paid it all on the cross. If we refuse to except that gift and try to earn it, we make His sacrifice useless. How hurtful!

I remember being small and afraid of many things. Sometimes I think I was wiser then, than I am today. I remember crying because I kept thinking of what Jesus did for me. I remember trying to find shelter near Him when I got scared in the dark. He’s always been there. Good Friday reminds me of what He did for me. It is odd that I seem to need this reminder. My love for Him is small, my thankfulness insignificant. Yet He forgives me.


Isaiah 53:5
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

"bistermeisje"

Introducing to you: the art of Irene, my Belgian "cabin-mate".

freedom

Talking to Wolter about his post on "Hitchhike to heaven", I was reminded of what I've learnt about freedom.

Bob Dylan wrote: "It may be the devil or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody."
"Gotta serve somebody" is not my personal favourite by Dylan, but he made a good point. You are never free to do whatever you want. But you can choose what you serve.

"Freedom is having the strength to do what you know you ought to do."

Josh McDowell in 'More than a carpenter'

You're in bondage if you know what you should do, but can't. You're in bondage if you think you're doing what you want to do, when you're only serving your own urges.

I was 19 when I learnt one of my major lessons on freedom and when I came face to face with grace in a way that I hadn't known before. I met Jesus at a much younger age, but I'll never forget the day when I realised anew what amazing gift He'd given me. It seemed like I was "born again, again".

It was at a conference and I was struggling to keep myself awake during the message, because every night was shorter and more social. The message was about Peter (Matthew 14: 25-33) and afterwards I was amazed at what had gotten through to my sleeping mind. It was like God decided to speak to me anyway, even if I wasn't listening very much.

It was like I suddenly saw just how free I was and it was awesome! See, what I learnt from Peter is this:
With faith like a child we are willing to be corrected and humbled in order to grow and we're free to be ourselves, because it's ok to fall, as long as we get up again.

Freedom isn't doing whatever I feel like at the moment. I know I hurt myself when I make the mistake to think that it is. True freedom is being free from me, from guilt, from fear of failing. It makes me free to serve God and others, and not my own sinful desires. There is satisfaction and joy in that.

HithHike to Heaven

Wolterkabolter posted something in English this time, because he has people wonder upon his blog searching for things he isn't meaning to lead them to. He is cool...he likes to talk about heavenly things.

He's planning to actually go "hitchhiking to heaven" sometime soon. That is, stand by the side of the road holding a sign that says "heaven" and waiting for cars to stop and offer him a ride. I wonder what kinds of conversations that will lead to!

the boy swimming elsewhere

You can’t assume to know what goes on in people’s minds or what they feel. The more people I get to know, the more I know that you don’t know much about people you know. There’s ocean’s of emotions and ponderings and views and feelings and memories. With some people you can talk for hours or even days and not even dip into that sea.

And so human beings tend to swim in self-pity instead, assuming no one has gone through what they’re going through right now. When someone says, “I know how you feel”, we are sure that they don’t. Who knows, maybe they do. It just might be that they’ve been through something similar while you don’t realise it.

About three years ago, I met Abdul in West Africa. He was from Sierra Leone and he had no hands, no family, no home. All lost because of the war there I guess. He never told me what happened exactly. He just smiled…a lot! What did he have to smile about? Somehow he managed to have joy and swim in it!

big little brother

Oh, I really had to laugh seeing this...his ramblings about a breeze especially. It reminds me of him and good times we've spent with him telling me funny things.

My brother Luke or Lucas or Luqa, he's great! Yup, I am proud to introduce you (if you don't already know him of course). ;-) Anyway, go to his blog if you want to know more and I hope he will post more too. Have to warn you though...he looks a bit like me, even his blog does! :P

He used to ask me if I didn't feel like a breeze...like being one. I left him on an island and moved to Belgium, only to find myself joining a Flemish youth-organisation that goes by the name of Breeze. (By the way, that link goes to a Belgian site, most of it in the Dutch language, but there should be some part in English sometime soon.)

Iye Sowodie’s “Gladdie, Gladdie” Day!

Below you will find the story of Iye Sowodie from Sierra Leone. It's also on the website of Mercy Ships.

I'm doing a study on how to prevent the birth complication she suffered from. Not a pleasant topic, but I think you can bear this story, because it's all "gladdie, gladdie" in the end.

40-year-old Iye Sowodie is typical of ACFC (Aberdeen Clinic and Fistula Center) patients. Iye has given birth to five children during her life, two have since died. During Sierra Leone’s decade long civil war, Iye was captured by rebel soldiers. She was made to cook for the rebels and beaten when they didn’t like what she prepared.

Since the birth of her youngest child, 17 years ago, Iye has suffered from extreme incontinence. Not just a tiny trickle, but a steady stream day and night. Iye’s husband abandoned her because of the terrible smell and because she couldn’t bear him more children. She was left destitute and survived for a time by scrounging for whatever she could find in the jungle.

Iye recently learned about the Mercy Ships Fistula Clinic in Freetown, the capital city of Sierra Leone. She was told doctors there could make her dry and treatment was free. Iye’s surgery was successful and she spent two weeks on the ACFC ward recovering. One morning Iye was singing and a Mercy Ships staff member asked why. Mixing English and the local Creole Iye answered, “I’m gladdie, gladdie to God! I’m going home tomorrow dry!”

countries i've seen

You might as well get to know a bit about me, while you're on my blog, right? It seems that the visited country map is very popular among people that have lived on ships, like me.

Yes, I've been to all the red countries, which means I've been around the world a bit, but not quite. 44 countries is only 19% of the world. And I have to admit, I haven't been to Alaska.

As for Russia, well...only the part on the West and not that huge block of red that you see on the map. Yeah, the map shows me slightly cooler than I am, but there's plenty of white left hey! ;)

Anyway, that is 44 countries I've been to, which is 19% of the world. Conclusion: the world is huge!

create your own visited country map

blessed beyond reason

Hi, there's a suspicion I have and sometimes I feel certain that I'm truly the most fortunate girl in the world.

It's not the first time I say this. Why? I think it's mostly because I know it. It's all a matter of knowing how to count your blessings...perhaps I'm gifted with that. It's a gift I profit from in the first place.

A lot of this is also because I simply know myself loved. There's a great multitude of people in this world, who do not know themselves loved like I do. I doubt I deserve that, at least not more than others.

My shortcomings are ever present, I've lived with myself long enough to be aware of it. I'm loved despite all of them. By God, Who would love me no matter what...it's called grace. But also by a great number of amazing people...all the ones that I'd want to be loved by I think. Knowing that helps me even love myself, which is a tough job for most girls. (c;

cry

Studying midwifery in a country where abortion is legal during the first 14 weeks of pregnancy, you are expected to visit an abortion clinic. I did today. It was awful. They don't tell you that it's awful. They say that 1 in 5 women here will at some point before they reach the age of 50 choose for such a procedure. I hope that's not true. I fear it will be true.

It is just too easy, even though you are sent home after some counselling for a 6 day consideration period. They say people are against it, until they need it. The law states that a woman must find herself in an emergency situation, for her to be allowed an abortion. However, this is not specified and so she has the right to decide whether her situation is an emergency.

The rights of women are protected somehow. The rights of a new life, not yet able to stand up for itself, are not. The people I met working at the abortion clinic, are glad to work there. Their job is one with variety and regular hours and women are thankful for their support. They value their work and some say it is "addictive" (the way helping people can be addictive). They don't seem to think about the children that die under their hands...they are not yet children, they are called "unplanned pregnancies". They will never have the chance to become children. We kill them before we can recognize their shapes. Or else we do it with our eyes closed.

I cried my eyes out thinking about where I've been today. I bet God cried more...He created. The price of a child - that is, for a woman to get rid of it - is twice €1.45 (as she must have two appointments). Life has become cheap, don't you think?

Beginnings

I'm starting a blog and asking to be silenced. That's because you never know what foolish things I may say and I hope someone will stop me when it gets bad!

I considered blogging, because sometimes I read or experience things that I want to share and why not post that where people read it who choose to read it. But I do dread the consequences of everyone being able to marvel at my ponderings.

I'll be selective then. Someone said I could start a blog and not mention anything religious so as not to offend anyone, but what is left to say that could possibly be of importance if I cannot speak about the One I love the most!

God is the one who gives me life and I admit I do forget to mention Him so often in everyday life. Well, not on this blog. (c: