We are putting one foot in front of the other. And slowly, very slowly we move on.

On Monday we moved into our “own” temporarily home.
And that is about how far we came.

No, wait, we have a bike!
But to get a little further than the grocery store and the shops in the town center it would be helpful to have a car. When I told one of my sisters about it she concluded: “So you need a lease contract to buy a car?” Er, well, yes, that’s about right.

To buy a car, you need to be able to get an insurance, to have an insurance you need a valid drivers license (which I happen to have, but Peter not), to get that you need to be registered in the Netherlands, which to make that happen you need a signed lease contract. Hooray! Today we got that one in the mail. Another step closer to truly living here.

But than there is the thing with being registered in the Netherlands… If you are registered and over the age of 5 (and under 17 or so) you are required to attend a school (the consequence of not doing that is a ridiculous high fine or up to a month in jail for the parents). So we decided to only register Peter, so that the kids are not forced to go to school right now. For several reasons: one being the jetlag, last time I checked it was 9.30pm and the oldest two were still awake… The light is not the problem, it’s dark here around 5. Another reason, we don’t know yet were we’ll live on the long run and we don’t want them to have to switch schools twice in a year.
(and yes, I put on the world wide web now that me and my children are sort of living illegal here… oops)

So by now, over a week after we left the States it is a chaos of priorities. To get a car. To find a place and house we want to live after this temporarily place. To get over the jetlag. To eat as much Dutch goodies as possible. To see family. To find a school. To get used to the weather. The language. The way of living. To deal with the meltdowns, the sadness shown in anger and madness. To get the items we need for living (warm clothes, diapers and the oh so normal stuff). To get through the days. To put one foot in front of the other.

And all the while, the kids write letters and draw pictures for their friends. The Ellie’s and Abby’s (also the Anna’s and Emma’s etc, but those are Dutch names too :)), the English ones. The friends they know. Which live across the ocean. No clue yet of all the friends awaiting them here.

For Peter and me everything is so known and familiar, while at the same time so foreign and unknown, unrevealed almost. Everything. Driving on the highway. The stores and their inventory. The family visits. The way the toilet and the shower works. The layout of the house (“3 layers” as one of the kids said).
I cannot even imagine how it feels and looks for the children. One of them said, half laughing, today about a house around the corner: “Mom, look at that! That house seems to have a bunch of hay on the roof!” Just one example of things which are so well known to us, but so foreign to them.

Sunday in church I got all teary when I realized it was only a week ago that we were in a place we called home for years. Now we were sitting in a church with all people who spoke the same languages as us (that is something to get use to too!) but I didn’t feel home. Enough people to greet, to see, to look forward to seeing again. But also, so many people to miss. People who know us and our story. Who know our children. Loved ones to call family, even though we are born miles and miles away from each other.

The house brings rest.
The kids have their own room.
Toys to play with. Siblings to love on and to fight with.
Space to live and breath and take a breather.

Slowly it becomes home. With the furniture of the renter. Flowers from the grocery store (cheaper than a gallon of milk from the HEB). A candle on the table. The playpen from my sister for Yanoah. The chips in the flavor we ate in our colleges years. And five of my most favorite persons on this earth.

A mix of hidden goodbyes and cautious, gentle welcomes.
A mix of slowing down and trying to get going.
A mix of English and Dutch.
A mix of hoorays -when we think we turned a corner- and sighs -when we realize we are not even close yet-.
A mix of sunshine and rain, of snow and thaw.

It’s late. Peter is trying to work a little. I’ll go to bed.
Tomorrow is a new day.
With new mercies. And hopefully a little bit of renewed energy.
And maybe some snow.

Whatever it brings. We will hug each other. Thankful for the goodness and mercy which awaits us, every day, everywhere. And we will put one foot in front of the other.

Here some pictures for you!

What you see:
1) Waiting on Atlanta airport for our flight to Amsterdam
2) Sliding on the slippery, icy streets in Ede
3) Apple pie to celebrate our first evening in our ‘own’ home. There was a lot of grumbling, the apple pie wasn’t good enough since it was store bought and not mama’s apple pie… Trying to explain to kids that baking an apple pie is not something I can’t pull right now seemed to daunting. Instead I choose to receive their grumbling as a huge compliment 🙂 I realized today that baking an apple pie might be a long time away from now: without a dryer and dishwasher keeping everything going is more than ever a full time job. And I feel more like a true housewife than I ever felt before. Not my favorite feeling…