A Year Later

June 17, 2017: It wasn’t a day like every other…I was a quarter of a world away from home at a quaint bed and breakfast, having brunch with my sisters and cousins wearing my swimsuit.  We had a laid back morning (not really…my cousin and I zipped around Numansdorp trying to find a grocery store because we bought butter milk instead of milk–neither of us speaks Dutch).  I hadn’t had time to remember it was the day of my mom’s heavenly restoration until a cousin quietly asked, “How are you doing?”–and I was fine…really, I was…until…

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we decided to go on a canal tour instead of swimming.  I hurried to change into something more befitting and grabbed my navy and flowered sundress, as it hastily swept over my head,  my thoughts catapulted to a year prior.

A nurse from The Comfort House called to let me know Mom’s vitals were dropping and she would be passing in a few hours. With a calm urgency, I let my family know, then went to my closest and made a whispered declaration: “Momma, you’re going to the ultimate party, so I’m going to put on a party dress.”  I grabbed my navy and flowered sundress and hastily swept it over my head–I didn’t want to be late.

The split-second memory made me cry like a leaky dike that can’t be stopped (we were in The Netherlands, I HAD to use that simile).  I commandeered  a roll of super-absorbent paper towels and cloistered myself in the back corner of the van. Cloistering is not easy to do in a van full of emphatic women who loved my mom, but it was  better than being curled up in the fetal position on my bed in the United States.

We bounded through the picturesque countryside and arrived at Strijen with a working drawbridge and lock, however it wasn’t the location of our canal tour…

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…but it was the spot of a kiss from heaven.

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My mother loved daisies…

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they were the floral focal point at her Celebration of Life service.

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It was the perfect spot for a new memory of God’s abundant love.

God's Abundance

Photo credit to my cousin Bonnie who slowed us down and insisted getting the perfect shot was more important than catching the ferry. We ditched the idea of a canal tour and headed to Amsterdam, but I know the reason we were detoured to this little village.

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