A Thousand Splendid Suns

After reading both Khaled Hosseini's novels, I visited his website.

It is more than mildly impressive for someone to develop into such an author while in medical practice. With Hosseini being an Afghani, it might be less remarkable that he focuses on the cause of refugees worldwide. On the other hand, he grew up comfortably in America and could easily have forgotten.

He traveled to the camps in Darfur, Sudan, as a UN representative and spoke to refugees there. He found that their stories have remained the same for many years. "To see these things and not do anything is just not an option" is his resolve.

It is for this very reason that I want to keep "seeing these things".

Herman

Herman died. I miss him. Hadn’t seen him for years and now it won’t happen anymore for the rest of my life. He’d been married nearly 60 years to the same wife. Quite a record in modern times. When I was a little girl he was already old in my eyes, but he was never about to die. I suppose I expected him to always stick around.

He was a man I enjoyed talking to when visiting the church of my childhood. He was a down-to-earth type from the province North-Holland. When he opened his mouth, the sound was in contrast to that of the man next to him. He had lived in the most southern province for many years, where the people are mildly shocked at his kind of no-nonsense attitude. To me it sounded like home, because my family comes from the same region.

I know we’ll meet again and until then he’s even better off than I am. There will always be a special place in my heart for him. His wife is still there and she’s a prayer-warrior. The type of warrior that is threatened to die out with her generation.

I wrote this to honour those who are too easily forgotten, because they’re ministry has been a quiet one for many years.

“Dag, Herman, ik zie uit naar ons weerzien...”

why the blog died

I've got a couple of half-posts that I'm not sure what to do with. I could finish something and post it here of course. Sometimes I can't decide whether I want to be read. I've spent this past month settling back into a somewhat normal life. A life that's different from the one I lived before last summer.

There was a post called "why the blog died" and it goes as follows. Don't take it too seriously. Half-posts should not be taken entirely seriously I reckon.

I love someone and so I no longer know what to write here. He doesn’t read this blog and my thoughts are too often about him. So what is it to you, my dear reader?

I will tell you about the best thing though...

The best thing is that he blows away my fears. He says things like “you can get sick if you think too much” and “you can break things if you are so afraid”. He reads thoughts that flash across my face and tries to understand.

“Hello, where have you gone?” he’ll say and then I know I’m on a wrong track and need to get back to where we tend to meet. He is perhaps more of an optimist than I am, as he challenges my right to worry.