There’s this song by a girl named Rachel Louise called ‘Living in Holland’. She sings about her dreams of living in California, but she’s stuck in Holland biking through the rain. She has spent some time in L.A. and has many amazing memories of sun-filled days. During her rainy bike ride in Holland she just can’t thank of any reasons why she hasn’t yet made the move across the pond. By the end of the song however, she realises she’s quite happy in Holland. She has her reasons for staying.

This song is such a parable of my life. A couple of years ago I had big dreams of moving across the ocean. I’d made the trip over there a bunch of times. I speak the language. Have friends there. Could get a job. I get the culture. It just clicked and it just would have made sense… But somehow it just never really worked out.

Right now… I’m glad it didn’t. Right now I’m so incredibly happy to be where I am. Right here in Holland.

I have a church-family whom I would not ever want to leave behind. My friends, family and pastors in church are constantly pointing me to Jesus. Living examples of how to live life with Christ to the full. I realise there are churches in America too (and quite possibly many, many more than over here), but this particular church is just different. It’s as if God kept me here for a reason. It’s a perfect fit. And I honestly wouldn’t wanna go without it.

But the biggest, #1 reason I’m glad I’m still living in Holland is because love has found me here. I’m getting married in six months and can’t wait to live the married life with the Dutch man I’ve fallen head over heels in love with. Thankfully a little bit of America is making the trip across the ocean to the wedding. Can’t wait to welcome my American friends to my country.

My legs are sore and my feet covered in blisters…but I did it! I ran my first Half Marathon. Along with thousands of other runners I participated in the City Pier City Run in The Hague. The course of this annual race, in Holland’s third largest city, loops from the city center all the way to the beach of Scheveningen and back again. It’s a fairly flat course, with only the occasional bump or sloped street. But you’re wrong to think that this makes it an easy race. Any 21.1 kilometers (or 13.1 miles), whether flat or filled with hills,  is a looong way to run.

When the gun sounded at 2:30 pm I set off on what would be my longest run yet. Due to a knee injury I had not been able to work through my training schedule all the way. So the longest run I had done up to that point was just over 16 kilometers. I knew the half marathon would be a long way, but I tried to keep up a fairly fast pace and just went for it.

After 28 minutes I reached the 5k marker…57 minutes the 10k marker… I was running a good race so far, but then it got tough. At the 12 kilometer marker I began to feel blisters. I have not had any major blisters before while running, so it was a bit of a set back. I asked God to take the pain away, and kept on running. My legs were fine, my lungs were fine, I wanted to keep going at a steady pace and not fall back to the back of the pack. I passed the 15 k marker at 1:29:37, and that’s when I heard someone yell: “It’ll be over before you know it, so enjoy it while you can!” I decided the lady who yelled this was right, so I looked at my watch a little less and at the people around me a little more.

I noticed an old man who was hanging out of his window playing an accordion. Kids were lined up ready to get high-fived by the runners. People were waving from balconies and brass bands were playing on the side of the road. And there was even the occasional puzzled look from the odd person who had been oblivious to the fact that thousands of runners would be stomping through their street today.

After the 16k marker every kilometer was a small victory. Every step I took was taking me further than I had ever ran before. I was beat, but I knew I was gonna make it. Left and right I saw people collapse or quit within a kilometer from the finish line. The last kilometer was a tough one indeed. I pressed on and when I heard Alicia Keys’ “New York” song blast through the speakers near the finish, it gave me the boost I needed, as it made me look forward to the full marathon I’m hoping to run in New York City some day. (Though I was happy that today I was only running the HALF marathon!)

I finally crossed the finish line in 2 hours, 8 minutes and 38 seconds. Content. Victorious. Smiling.

I grabbed my medal, grabbed some energy drinks and walked away smiling. Resting on a bench near the finish line I cheered on some of the people who were still at it. Then my boyfriend found me and he all but carried me to the train, ’cause I was pretty sore! Still…it was worth it and I highly reccommend you run a race yourselves! Even if it’s a 5k. Gotta start somewhere

P.S:
After this day one thing has become clear to me: African runners must have some sort of extra running gene which the rest of us did not get. Mary Keitany from Kenya currently holds the women’s world record for the Half Marathon. She ran it in just 1 hour, 5 minutes and 50 seconds. That…is just not normal.

It was raining cats and dogs when I awoke this morning. But since I have a half-marathon coming up in March, I had to get up and get ready for a 10 mile run. Prior to a long run, one has to eat a harty breakfast. (Something I found out the hard way a while back, when I went out on an empty stomach and ran out of energy 7 miles into my run). So while fixing my oatmeal with banana, and of course a coffee, I switched on the TV. Ever the journalist, I wanted to catch up on the latest news about the situation in the Middle East. But alas. After channel surfing for a while without finding any news bulletins, I settled for a classical music channel.

Usually there’s some loud and obnoxious opera on there. You know…the kind with fat ladies singing insanely high notes in the middle of impossible to understand Italian phrases. But not today. (yay!) Instead, a large orchestra filled the TV screen. The conductor waving his wand about frantically. The music was calm, with an amazing build every now and then. So I stopped flipping through channels and focused on my meal, leaving the music playing in the background.

But the increasingly beautiful melodies kept drawing my attention away from my breakfast. Melodies so refined, they could have been implemented in the most beautiful of movie scenes. The final battle in Braveheart. A kiss between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice. Frodo returning to the Shire after his quest to get rid of the Ring. You get the point, right?

After listening and watching for a while, I realised this concert was recorded in De Doelen. A famous concert hall in the city of Rotterdam, where I grew up. And then, as if from somewhere way in the back of my mind, I remembered something: My mom used to take me to classical concerts in De Doelen when I was little!

Every now and again there would be ‘cheap’ saturday morning concerts. The most famous orchestras would use the mornings to sort of sound-check in front of an audience. My mom started taking me there when I was really young. Like two or three years old. She would bring mandarin oranges and bananas, and if I started chatting during the concert, she would just start feeding me. I would then quietly settle back into the big red chair, and allow myself to be captivated once again by the music.

And now, 20+ years later, it happened again. I was eating banana while quietly listening to the music coming from De Doelen. I love saturday mornings.

It’s been a while since my last blog, and since my visit to South-Africa…but there is still a little bit more of the story to tell. You see, after spending three days in slums recording audio for the documentaries, it was time for me to wrap up my work and discover a bit more of the beauty which God has placed in South-Africa. Not that I hadn’t seen any beauty up to that point, because the people I had the pleasure of meeting were all incredible. But after seeing such mind-boggling poverty and hopelessness in the slums for a few days on end, I welcomed a few serene hours at the beautiful Jeffrey’s Bay beach. And the icing on the cake was a trip to a huge wild life reserve called ‘Addo’. (But more on that in a bit.)

The beach was amazing. Jeffrey’s Bay is one of the best surfing spots in the world. And as we walked down the boardwalk, I almost forgot I was in Africa. It looked like Australia or Hawaii. Even the surfer dudes fit into my mental picture of Australia, with their long-ish tousled blonde hair and Billabong flip flops.

Of course I couldn’t go down to the beach by myself. Because we were still in South-Africa, and in South-Africa few places are safe for a lone blonde young woman like myself. But I didn’t mind having two of the Dutch missionaries accompany me. We had fun climbing over rocks, spotting tropical fish, collecting exotic shells, sticking our fingers in anemonies, rescuing some bright orange starfish and even spotting a whale (though I missed the latter!) It was one of the best afternoons I have ever had. It reminded me of those endless summer days when I was a little kid. Oblivious to the cares of the world, just enjoying the simple things. Like the color of the sky, the feeling of sand and water on bare feet and the joy of finding a rare shell.

When I got home that night the American couple I was staying with asked what I’d like to do the next day. We decided to take the four wheel drive ‘bakkie’ to Addo. This wildlife park is famous for its huge amount of elephants, and we saw tons of them! As we drove for miles on end we saw entire families crossing the road right in front of us. At around noon we parked the car near a water hole, and as we ate our sandwiches in the car, we witnessed four elephants drinking and bathing. It felt so incredible to be surrounded by the pureness of African nature. For the most part undisturbed by man.

It’s rare to spot lions in Addo, but I asked God if He would show them to us. And sure enough we saw three of them! At first they were quite far away, but as they crept closer to the buffalo on the other side of the car, they got really close. Up to about 4 meters from the car. They looked so majestic!

It was great to be surrounded by all this wild nature and untamed animals. I think going to a regular old zoo will be dissapointing from now on

Anyways…just a short impression of my last two incredible days in Sout-Africa! Blogs about my Israël, Jordan and Scotland trips will follow soon! I hope :/

Last month I got to visit South-Africa for work. I got to see the poorest of the poor, as well as the incredible beauty God put in Africa’s landscape, wild life and people. Even though I went there to work (and basically be the eyes and ears of the audience back home) God filled the trip with incredible blessings for me to enjoy. I kept a journal during my week-long stay, and thought I’d share some of it here.

Day 3
Miss Rosa. Meeting this woman is what I remember most about today. Rosa is the head of the Rainbow School for Disabled Children, and she also works there as a teacher. In Afrikaans and English she told me that she has lived in Humansdorp for a long time, but for the first 16 years she did not even realise that people on the other side of town lived in such poverty. (In South-Africa the wealthy often live in secluded walled-in neighborhoods.) Later on in life, God opened her eyes to the poverty that’s pretty much right in her own back yard. From that moment on, Rosa felt a passionate fire in her heart to reach out to others, and so she started volunteering at the Rainbow School. Today this sweet, kind woman is actively involved with teaching these kids on a daily basis.

Just like at Noah’s Ark Playschool, these kids are incredibly happy when they’re at school. They’re cared for. Fed. Taught. And reminded that God has an amazing plan for them. The life and joy becomes visible in their eyes again. Rosa told me that kids sometimes cry during holidays and vacations, because they want to go to school so badly. Same story when it rains. Because their parents (logically) won’t let them walk five miles through the African rain to get to school.

This school sits in between some hills, next to an orange dirt road. It’s the backside of nowhere. And right there, God is putting smiles on kids’ faces. Kids who are looked down upon by society, because not only are they poor…they also have a disability. But God loves the outcasts. It was incredible to meet someone like Rosa, who gets that. She has discovered how much God loves her, and she is willing to share that pure love with those who need it most. Inspiring to say the least!

The Rainbow School is saving up to get a bigger bus, so that they can pick up more kids at their shacks and get them to school safely. If you’d like to know more, feel free to click here: www.victory4all.com

Last month I got to visit South-Africa for work. I got to see the poorest of the poor, as well as the incredible beauty God put in Africa’s landscape, wild life and people. Even though I went there to work (and basically be the eyes and ears of the audience back home) God filled the trip with incredible blessings for me to enjoy. I kept a journal during my week-long stay, and thought I’d share some of it here.

Day 2
This morning I awoke in a room with a view of which most people can only dream. Beneath a clear blue sky an equally blue sea stretched out into the distance. The reflection of the sun bouncing off the waves, radiating warmth. Colorful birds in the sky…a palm tree here and there… Altogether a very peaceful picture. It was like awaking and instantly breathing in pure life.

A lot of things I saw later that day were not so serene. Groups of people sitting on the side of the road, waiting for work that isn’t there. Half clothed kids running through dangerous slums. Families who live in a tiny shack made of scrap metal and wood. Their bathroom a little one square foot structure…well…structure is an overstatement. More like a board with a hole in it, which empties into a small pit. Picture thousands of those shacks closely built together, each with their own little pit latrine, garbage strewn here and there…add a hot burning sun and you can imagine the smell.

This was a real reality check for me. While I was trying to follow the Dutch travel healthcare service’s advice to wash my hands regularly after touching things in the slums, kids played barefoot in between feces and garbage. Not that I’m a clean freak. I can go on a camping trip and be fine with not showering for a couple of days. But if I can avoid nasty rashes or diseases by washing my hands a couple extra times, I will do so. But while I had the ability to stay clean and shower every night, they didn’t have showers or running water to care for their personal hygiene at all. I just realised how blessed I am, even when it comes to these simple things that we (in the ‘first world’) take for granted.

Amidst the township sits Victory4All‘s Noah’s Ark Playschool. The building stands out amidst the shacks, as it is a large, colorful, brick building. It’s a daycare center where toddlers from the township receive care, education and healthy meals. The first thing I noticed as we arrived was the sound of children at play. It’s such a joyful noise. Perhaps you’ve walked past an elementary school or playground as kids were playing, then you know what I’m talking about. As a radio journalist that’s something I notice and record. On my notepad (where I keep a recording log) I scribble down: ‘Happy kids’. Because that’s what they are. Partially thanks to the Victory4All project. After school the kids go back to their shack, alcoholic parents and other horrible circumstances. But during the day they go to a place where they get to be a child and play, where they receive education and are encouraged, and where they are fed. The Dutch head of the school, Annelies, gives me a tour. The kids’ smiles in turn bring a smile onto my face. They are well, and this is a good place for them to be. Before we leave we walk into the kitchen. Two South-African cooks tell me that today’s meal is ‘Rijs en Mince’ (rice with meat). These kids will not leave school hungry.

And then it’s back to the Townships. I see, smell and hear everything…but at the same time it’s like watching a film. This poverty, these people…I’ve seen them on TV for years. Now that I’m seeing it all with my own eyes, it doesn’t quite sink in that these people live like this day in day out. I know it with my mind, but I don’t really realise it or feel it in my heart yet. Because after a few hours in the Townships my hosts whisk me away to a restaurant by the sea (the place actually reminds me of Florida or other places out west, where there’s not a trace of poverty) where we drink iced coffee and order steak. It’s dirt cheap, but still way too expensive for the blacks and coloreds.

At the end of my day I record the first half of my interview with Johan and Astrid, who run Victory 4 All. I got 45 minutes on tape, and we’re not anywhere near finished. So tomorrow I’ll record some more of their amazing story. It’s awesome to hear how these Dutchies are being used by God. They really are called to do what they do.

Finally I jump into my comfortable bed. In a room from which tomorrow at first light I’ll see that beautiful view again. Funny how things are divided in the world.

The American couple with whom I’m staying tell me something wise:
Focus on the work God has given you. Because if you try to fix poverty in its entirity…you get overwhelmed.

Last week I got to visit South-Africa for work. I got to see the poorest of the poor, as well as the incredible beauty God put in Africa’s landscape, wild life and people. Even though I went there to work (and basically be the eyes and ears of the audience back home) God filled the trip with incredible blessings for me to enjoy. I kept a journal during my week-long stay, and thought I’d share some of it here.

Day 1
Still sleepy from the long night flight I was on, I got to lay eyes on South-Africa for the first time. From the little plane window I saw the majestic mountains, which slowly turned into a jaw-dropping landscape of green rolling hills, which in turn morphed into orange colored dusty plains. Add some beautiful beaches and European looking cities and you’ll see why I did not experience boredome during the last few hours of the long flight, or on the connecting flight from Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth. South-Africa’s landscape turned out to be as diverse as the people of this country. There are blacks, whites and colored people; eleven official languages; utter richness and heart-breaking poverty.

After landing in Port Elizabeth, a tall Dutch man approaches me and enthousiastically greets me. It turns out to be Johan Vos. He and his wife Astrid run the Victory 4 All projects in Jeffrey’s Bay; which is where I’ll be spending my week-long stay, recording audio for radio documentaries.

Johan and Astrid moved to South-Africa seven years ago, and started out by bringing milk to day care centers. As they got to know the people in the Townships, they realised the need for education and health care was enormous. Little by little they started expanding their work among the poor and needy, which now includes a play school, elementary school, school for the mentally challenged, foster homes, a safe house and a worship center. We will visit all of these places in the next few days, but first Johan takes me to the new soccer stadium in Port Elizabeth.

Building the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium cost approximately 270 million US dollars. It was erected for the World Cup soccer, which starts June 11th of this year. As we park near the enormous structure, Johan tells me that he feels the government should have spent this money differently. I agree with him: If people still go on less than one meal a day and have to live in a shack made of scrap metal and wood, with no plumbing, electricity or running water…building a dozen huge stadiums for a few international soccer matches seems like a senseless thing to do. Of course the government is hoping the World Cup will generate enough tourism and income to earn back their investments… Let’s pray that by God’s grace that will happen, because worldly logic would cause me to have doubts that that will actually happen.

We leave ‘P.E.’ and drive up a winding road through the hills and along the coast. Surfers from all over the world occasionally flock to these beaches on the Eastern Cape, with it’s tremendous waves and azule blue water. BMW’s pass us on the road, and walled-in neighborhoods filled with big mansions are not a rarity in this area. But neither are slums or ‘townships’ as they are called here. Johan takes a little detour to show me the other side of South-Africa. “Look right here”, he says as we pass shacks made from scrap wood, metal and anything else that can be nailed together into a small structure.

The unemployment rate among the blacks (which is not a bad word here) is very high. Some women work as maids for the wealthy people, but are so underpaid that they can’t afford more than a little shack. Groups of men sit on the side of the road all day, hoping someone will drive by and pick them up for a part time job. (Usually building structures or other physical labor). It’s incredibly hard for the poor to get out of their predicament. This partially has to do with the culture and complex history, but also with the lack of education. Which is exactly where Victory 4 All is trying to make a difference. Through proper care and schooling, they are hoping to give the youngest generation a good start in life. Laying a strong foundation when it comes to education as well as faith in Jesus Christ.

We arrive at Johan and Astrid’s place and after meeting their family and friends, we start a fire on the grill and have a ‘braai‘ in the backyard. It is almost winter in South-Africa, but the temperatures still reach well above 30 C/85 F. When we’ve had our share of meat and marshmallows I record a few interviews, and then we head to church for youth night. This church is located in the wealthy part of town, so it’s mostly white well-dressed kids who show up to worship God as the band plays songs by Hillsong and Chris Tomlin. When I later ask someone about the visitors, they tell me that it’s simply too far a walk for the people in the townships. For the sunday morning service the church drives to the townships with buses to pick people up though.

As I go to sleep that night in a house owned by a lovely American couple, the contrast of it all hits me. I flew halfway across the world on a luxurious plane, have a full stomach and a warm bed to sleep in. While a few miles away people are crammed into a tiny shack, hungry, filthy and cold. Drunk men sexually abuse toddlers there and infect them with HIV. Thirteen-year-old girls have babies that they cannot take care of and therefore throw away to die. It makes me so grateful for God’s blessings in my life…but it also makes me very aware of the opportunity I have because I am so blessed: I can bless others.  Be it financially, or by bringing love and hope into a place where hopelessness reigns. By speaking God’s divine health into sick bodies, or by sharing the stories I encounter with the people back home and asking God to put it upon people’s hearts to give out of their overflowing wealth to our poor brothers and sisters. I don’t have to feel guilty because I am better off. And I don’t. But I am now aware that I am blessed to be a blessing.

(If you want to share some of what you have been blessed with, but aren’t sure what to do; I invite you to ask God what He would like you to do. Whether it’s sharing your smile or a friendly ‘hello’ with a neighbor, or giving financially to someone on the other side of the world…I hope you’ll get to experience the joy of giving. Don’t give out of guilt. Give with a glad heart, and as God leads. Simply put: God’s work does not depend on your money. But if you’ve experienced His overflowing blessings, and you do decide to bless someone else: Consider giving to Victory 4 All. Your money will be spent well. A generation in the townships of Jeffrey’s Bay is being transformed by God and raised up to His glory! Check out Victory 4 All here: www.victory4all.com Click on the English flag for the English website.)

Yesterday morning at work I had an early shift. Which means gathering, writing and reading the news on-air. The day quickly became a hectic one, as reports started to come in from Libya: A plane which departed from Johannesburg, South-Africa, had crashed in the Libyan capital Tripoli. 103 people died. 70 of them were Dutch. One person survived the crash: a 9 year-old Dutch boy. ( Read more here. )

I’m catching 3 flights this saturday. I usually try to avoid watching/reading/hearing about plane crashes right before I’m about to catch a flight myself. No Discovery Channel’s ‘Air Crash Investigations’ or movies like ‘United 93′ for me! But I couldn’t not read about it this time, ’cause I had the news shift at work and had to relay a well informed report to our listeners. So all morning and most of the afternoon my brain soaked up more and more details about this crash. I tried to not let it enter my heart and get me worried, but it did. (It’s amazing how the media can instill fear in us by the way…but that’s a whole nother blog story…)

I’ve been on 30 flights so far, and I’m not afraid to fly. But during a bumpy landing my mind tends to wander all too quickly to all the crash stuff that got stuck in the back of my mind over the years. Which in turn makes me nervous, worried and at times even fearful. Fear is such an arrow from satan. It paralyzes us and throws us off. But God ensures us over 300 times in the Bible that we do not have to be afraid. And if God (the One who holds us in the palm of His hand) says so…then would there really be any reason left to be afraid? Heck no!

Yet the enemy of our souls uses situations like this to mess with our heads and distract us from the truth. And that is why I’m so very thankful that we had a Bible Study that night! I needed to re-focus. As I walked into church even just being around my brothers and sisters restored God’s peace in me. During worship the fog of that day’s events lifted and I could once again see clearly that God is my Protector, my Father. The One who will take care of me and make sure I’m ok. The sermon sealed that truth into my heart even more.

People so often mis-quote Romans 8:32 to say ‘God didn’t spare his Son, so He won’t spare us either’. When in reality it says: ‘He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all—how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?‘

Come on people! Do we dare actually believe God and take Him at His Word? I’m tired of the watered down gospel!

1 John 4:18a says: ‘There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.’ Jesus bore all the punishment you and I deserved. He payed the price for our past, current and future mistakes. So why be afraid? His perfect love drives out fear. He speaks to us in His love and convinces our hearts that we’ll be fine. And He doesn’t lie! When we’re surrounded by His love, there simply is no room for fear, because we know Him. He will not punish us, or allow anyone else to inflict punishment on us. That promise is not just for later, when we get to heaven. No! It’s for now. God’s Kingdom has come! We can tap into it and bring big chunks of heaven to earth already.

Sure we live in an imperfect world, and the evidence of sin and its repercussions are visible all around us. But it will not affect me. Because my sin is dealt with. Erased even. It’s like when Paul is bitten by a snake in Acts 28: He just shakes it off, and he’s fine. People even hang around and wait for him to drop dead, because they’re sure that’s the consequence of being bitten…but he doesn’t! They can’t believe their eyes, but it’s true!

So often we’re like those onlookers. We assume that when that sneaky snake (the enemy) bites us, we’re done and gone. But if we would really believe God’s Word, we would know that we wouldn’t! Mark 16:17-18 says: ‘And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.”‘

That is the truth!

Ok this is getting long…so even though there’s much more to elaborate and expand on…I’ll say ‘in closing’:

God arranged this trip for me to South Africa. I’m gonna get there safely, because He wouldn’t make me walk into a death trap. I’m gonna bring some oil, lay hands on the sick there, and they will heal. Not because of anything I did…but because of God’s work. I’m not gonna let the enemy rob those people of their health, and I’m not gonna let the enemy rob me of a great trip. He may have scared me for a bit…but I shook him off, and I’m fine. Feel free to watch me. All you’ll see is God proving that His promises are true.

This week I went to get vaccinated for my trip to South Africa. Yea, that’s right…South Africa! I get to go there for work, but God is the one who TOTALLY arranged the trip for me. He has blown me away, and has been showing me that He loves giving us the desires of our hearts (psalm 37:4).

Long story short:
A couple months ago I was talking with some co-workers about our ‘dream jobs’. I told them that if money wasn’t a factor, I’d love to travel and interview people around the world for radio documentaries. I just love going places and talking to interesting people. It’s cool to go somewhere and be the eyes and ears of the listeners back home. In a good documentary, you can take your audience by the hand and make them feel like they’re actually there. Learning what you’re learning, seeing what you’re beholding. It’s something I’d love to do, but it would require me to work freelance. Which in turn would mean I’d have to give up a steady income. I’m not yet ready to do that…at all… But it’s nice to dream.

Literally two days after I had that conversation with my co-workers, we heard that one of us reporters would get to go on a press trip to Auschwitz, Poland, to make some documentaries about the Holocaust. A chance to make some documentaries in another country, without having to give up the steady income! In the end it was a toss-up between me and this other girl. I was really looking forward to going, and as we were flipping a coin I was convinced I was gonna get to go. I just knew in my heart that God was willing to give me the desires of my heart. I just felt like He had a documentary trip ready for me. So after I had called heads and the coin landed on tails, I was really surprised. But as my boss said: ‘It’s your turn next time Renée!’ God confirmed in my heart that He had something even better than Auschwitz in store for me. I knew there was gonna be something better, despite the fact that the Auschwitz trip was the first trip offer to our radio station in years! The odds were against me, but there was a quiet hope within.

And lo and behold…a couple weeks later we hear about a trip to South Africa. A Dutch missionary couple in Jeffrey’s Bay runs a ministry called ‘Victory 4 All’. They invited one of us to come over to make documentaries about their work. And God proved once again that His promises are true… He wants to give us the desires of our heart… I get to go!

I get to go!! Even though my arm hurts like crap right now from the vaccination, I am totally excited to go. I get to spend a week in a place halfway aroud the world, interviewing people who are doing amazing work in the Kingdom, I get to see the poorest of the poor and bless them with God’s love, joy and health. (O yes, totally taking a bottle of anointing oil with me!) And I get to be the eyes and ears of the people who listen to our station. I feel privileged, blessed, joyful, like a daughter of the Most High.

He truly wants to give you the desires of your heart. Just believe, even against all odds.

Hispanics in the United States experience it. So do Moroccans in Europe. And to a certain extent…so do world-travelers. Being ‘in between cultures’. Living in a place that’s familiar (you speak the language, know the customs), yet you’re also connected to another country. Another culture. Yet if the aforementioned American Hispanics would return to Mexico, or the European Moroccans were to return to Morocco…they wouldn’t quite fit in there either. Like a world traveler on his way home; they’ve been influenced by the other place too much. They are stuck in between two cultures.

In a way it’s getting the best of both worlds, and experiencing a well rounded upbringing into a multicultural world. Yet there’s also a hint of feeling lost and lonely to a certain extent. But thankfully there are also those rare moments where you meet somebody who is stuck in between the same two cultures as you, and you connect with them. You get it, they get it. You’re in between cultures together. (No wonder ’foreign’ people often cluster together in their own little communities and ghetto’s. There’s likemindedness.)

When I’m in Holland I realise how much of the American culture, mindset and habits I have unknowingly adopted. Most of the time I’m unable to really share these things with my Dutch friends and family, ’cause they don’t always understand it. It’s like telling a joke and then having to go back and explain the whole thing in detail for them to sorta get it. And they’re not to blame. Not at all. They simply couldn’t get it unless they’ve been where you’ve been. Unless they too are in between these same two cultures.

When I’m in America I realize how Dutch I am. I suddenly realize how good Gouda cheese is compared to the fake ‘Dutch cheese’ (made in Wisconsin) that Walmart sells. I suddenly feel inspired to play soccer with my friends’ kids, who happily play along, but don’t really get why soccer is more popular than football and baseball. And I suddenly crave having a bike, not to mention bike paths, so that I can get around without a car. And then when I’m in Holland again I wanna throw my bike in the canal and own a Chevrolet Camaro. Which my Dutch friends have never heard of, so my excitement about that car is wasted on them.

When I’m in the States I become patriotic and tell my American friends about the Dutch influences on America. New York used to be called New Amsterdam, because ‘we’ were there first. When I’m in Holland I try to explain the joy that is to be found in Reese’s Cups, yet often people think I’m nuts (pun intended) when I explain that peanutbutter and chocolate go really well together in a candy bar.

This may sound melancholical, but it’s not solely that. It’s bittersweet. I savor the good influences both cultures have had on me, and continue to have on me. But at the same time I miss the States when Im home, and I miss Holland when I’m in the USA. And there’s something bittersweet about those moments where people don’t get you. You realise the richness of the experience, and at the same time the uselessness ’cause you can’t share it.