NEWSLETTER 26 AUGUST 2026
Back Home—A Journey That Stretched Far Beyond the Netherlands
Dear family and friends
There is something special about coming home. You think you are simply returning to a place. A country. A home. A familiar street. Your own bed. Your own kitchen. Your people. But sometimes you do not return quite the same person who left. I am back from the Netherlands. Back in my beautiful South Africa. Back in my familiar town, my home and, most importantly of all, back in the arms of my beloved Cornelius.
And what a joyful reunion it was! I think there is a reason why airports can be some of the most emotional places on earth. People run towards one another. Arms are thrown around necks. There is laughter, tears, embraces, and sometimes people simply stand still for a few seconds, looking at each other with that indescribable relief of: “You’re back.” Somewhere I came across this beautiful thought: “Airports have seen more sincere kisses than wedding halls, and more sincere tears than funerals.”
I believe it. Because there, among the luggage, arrival halls and departure boards, love is sometimes revealed without any pretence. Now I have to confess… I don’t like travelling! Honestly, I am probably the world’s worst traveller. No wonder my eldest daughter warned me beforehand: “Mom, please remember: ‘Do not be a negative Nelly!’”
I actually hate travelling. Not the destination. Not the people I am visiting. The entire process of getting there! Packing. Weighing luggage. Trying to remember what is allowed and what isn’t. Timelines and deadlines. The constant feeling that you have to be somewhere on time and absolutely must not miss your flight.
Queues of people in crowded passageways between two barriers. Step by step, waiting your turn. Smiling at the staff. Fighting your way through the stress and exhaustion. And then, of course, airport security… Oh, dear airport security! In your mind, the thoughts keep spinning: “What if I did something wrong somewhere? What if I forgot something? What if someone put something in my luggage and now, they are going to arrest me and throw me into a foreign prison…”
Because I have had a shoulder replacement and open-heart surgery, and now carry a collection of bits of steel inside my body, the alarms go off at almost every airport I visit! Shoes off. Jewellery off. Belt off. Everything into the tray. Walk through. Bleep! Back again. Something else off and into the tray. Through again. Bleep! By that stage, I start wondering whether they shouldn’t simply issue me with a permanent airport security card. It is incredibly stressful.
Then there is still the actual flying… Economy class. My father used to say:“We ‘ordinary’ people don’t fly First Class. We fly with the ‘suitcases’.” 😂 I think about his words every time I try to fold myself into one of those tiny economy-class seats. This time, based on my eldest daughter’s advice, I made a conscious decision: if I have to travel, I am going to approach it positively. I cannot make the tiny seat bigger. I cannot change airport security single-handedly. I certainly cannot shorten the duration of the flight. But I can decide what attitude I am going to have. And it makes a difference. Every time.
From One World to Another
The Netherlands was wonderful. But let me tell it like it is: Another continent, a foreign country, a strange town, unfamiliar people, a strange house and even an unfamiliar bedroom… Even though the person you are visiting is your own child. Everything feels different at first. It smells different. It looks different. Even the silence sounds different. And then, suddenly, you have to live with your grown-up, working son for two weeks.
He has his own routine. His work. His social life. This is now his world. Those first few days are a period of adjustment, and suddenly I find myself wondering: “What on earth are we going to talk about for two whole weeks?”
Well… I need not have worried at all. Because then we started talking. Spending time together, laughing. Doing things together. There were almost not enough hours in the day. One of the most beautiful discoveries of this visit was once again realising that my son and I have a very special common interest and denominatior: Movies.
We visited different cinemas and went to see practically every film we could fit into our schedule on the cinema circuit between Weert and Eindhoven. We watched The Odyssey—an excellent film. The Turner—also brilliant. The Devil Wears Prada 1 & 2. And many other films—some at the cinema and others simply at home.
The new Superman, with David Corenswet as Clark Kent. And, of course, afterwards we simply had to watch Man of Steel, starring Henry Cavill, again. There is one scene there-in that touched both of us deeply—as it always does. The young Superman runs away and hides in the storeroom. His mother comes to the school, and they communicate through the closed door. What a beautiful image of a mother’s love.
“The world is too big, Mom…”
“Then make it smaller. Just follow my voice and walk towards it.”
I think every mother understands that moment. And perhaps every human being understands it on some level. Sometimes the world simply feels too big. Too much. Too complicated. Too uncertain. And then we need someone whose voice we trust. “Make it smaller. Just follow My voice and walk towards it.”
The Little Things That Become Great Memories
Of course, our time together was about so much more than movies. I helped him shorten his curtains. We went shopping for the necessary household items for his home. I cooked some good old-fashioned home-cooked, Mom food for him. We drank coffee together. We had breakfast together in Eindhoven at Meneer de Boer. We enjoyed cake at little coffee shops. Some evenings we went out for drinks. We talked. We laughed a lot. We cried too. We prayed together. And somewhere among all these ordinary, everyday things, I realised just how extraordinary this time with my child actually is. Precious. Unrepeatable. A window in time that will one day become a memory. I am so very glad I went.
Writing News and the Unexpected “Writer’s Holiday”
Something happened that I was not prepared for. I could not work. Not because I did not want to. Because I couldn’t! For days we struggled to find a power plug/adapter for my computer that would fit the Dutch wall sockets. Eventually, my son had to order one online. My laptop battery was flat. There was simply nowhere to find the correct adapter. So, there I was Forced leave. Or, as I preferred to call it: A friendly mandatory holiday. It was wonderful! In a society that sometimes dictates that we must stay busy, busy, busy—always fixing something or planning something—it was almost like being given permission to simply… do nothing for a few days. When the adapter finally arrived, I could switch on my computer and return to my world of words. Rested and once again passionately enthusiastic about my writing.
A Journey Within
One of the beautiful things about visiting someone else’s life is that you also get time to look at your own life from the outside. I took some of my own me-time. I visited the Catholic churches in Weert and attended a service. I sat quietly. I looked. I listened. I prayed. Once again, I discovered how deeply grateful I am for the place in which I find myself. For my Heavenly Father and His Grace. His guidance and His protection. His wall of fire around me. (Zechariah 2:5) For the fact that I could go—and return safely.
Perhaps my greatest journey in the Netherlands was not one that appeared on an airline ticket. It was the journey within myself. Of course, I also did the touristy thing. I sat at little restaurants, drank coffee and did people-watching. Made up stories in my head. Because that is what writers do.
We see a stranger sitting at a table and wonder: Who is she? Where is she going? Who is waiting for her? What is she thinking about? Is she happy? Is she in love? Is she sad? What happened to her yesterday? And while I watched people, I also began thinking about myself. About the rest of the year. About my life. About what lies ahead. About what I still want to do. About what I still want to write. Also, about where the Lord will lead me next.
Writing News—From One Book to the Next
I am still busy with the English translation of Elephant on a trapeze. My goal is to complete it by the end of August. After that, an entirely new phase awaits. During September and October, I will be working on “Val en Sweef”, the sequel. Going through Annerle Barnard’s reading report—her suggested changes, comments, deletions and additions.
This brings me to something I would like to share with every writer—and aspiring writer. Whether you are working on your debut novel or already writing your tenth book: Get a professional manuscript assessment. And not from your close friends. Nor from your acquaintances or from your life partner. It is easy to send a manuscript to someone who loves you. They want to support you. They want to encourage you. They do not want to hurt you. And therefore, you will often receive positive feedback from them. Send your manuscript instead to a recognised, experienced and objective reader or writer who does not know you personally. Someone who reads your manuscript with an entirely different eye. Someone who can tell you: This works. That does not work. You lose the reader on this page. There is too much information here. Something is missing there. Add this or that. With this report comes the wonderful—but sometimes painful—piece of advice that every writer eventually has to learn: “Kill your darlings.”
Writers have paragraphs, passages and pages that we think are brilliant. A scene we have fallen in love with. A description we simply must keep. Because, of course, we wrote it. We are proud of it. We love it. And then someone from the outside reads it and asks the simplest, yet most important question: “Why is this here?” Is it necessary? Why does the reader need this information? Does it move the story forward? Does it add something? Or can we simply… leave it out? It can be painful. But most of the time, it is precisely that outside perspective that makes your book better. A good manuscript assessment does not simply tell you what you want to hear. It helps you see what you, as the writer, can no longer see because you are too close to your own story. Do it.
News from the Home Front
While I was in the Netherlands, life at home continued. Our Benevolent Stay—The Stellenbosch Way is doing well, and we trust our Heavenly Father for a full calendar. If you, as a newsletter reader, or any of your friends or family, would like to come and stay in Stellenbosch, we would greatly appreciate you recommending our accommodation.
Book Benevolent Stay—The Stellenbosch Way: Benevolent Stay Booking Link: Please feel free to share the link. https://book.nightsbridge.com/40024 A small recommendation from one person to another means a great deal to a small business.
My beloved Cornelius’s wood business is also doing well. Our Cape winter this year has not been as cold and rainy as we are accustomed to. The wood is selling well, but along with the good sales comes another need: Rain. Capetonians are praying for a little more water from heaven. The winter rainfall has been scarce. We pray and trust that the Lord will open the clouds again and that the rain will continue—even well into December, if necessary! And, of course, we hope that people will then need dry wood again and come and buy it from us.
Turkish Airlines—A Well-Deserved Shout-Out I also have to give Turkish Airlines a special shout-out this month for an excellent travel experience. Turkish Airlines The stopover in Istanbul was short and completely hassle-free. None of my flights was delayed. None of my luggage disappeared. The service, both on and off the aircraft, was friendly. The food was delicious. Yes, the flights were full. Yes, economy class is not exactly luxurious. And yes… the spaces are small. But one knows that before you book. As I said earlier: You cannot always change the circumstances, but you can choose your attitude. I chose to enjoy the journey for what it was. I am grateful that everything went safely and smoothly. Grateful for good health. Grateful for an accident-free journey. Grateful that I could go. And even more grateful for a safe return home.
In my July newsletter, I wrote: “Travel changes you.” It is true. I did not return with only photographs, memories and a suitcase full of clothes and little gifts. I returned more grateful. Deepened. I have grown. I have grown closer to my child. Closer to my Heavenly Father. Even closer to Cornelius if it were possible. And, in another way, also closer to my other three children. Distance has once again made me realise how precious closeness is. How precious family is. gift of good health and a safe home are. How precious it is to have someone to return to.
And Then… Came the Reunion The arrivals hall. The familiar face. The familiar arms. The familiar scent of someone you love. Cornelius. There is a special kind of joy that you only understand when you see someone you love deeply again after a period of absence. It is not ordinary happiness. It is joy and relief. Gratitude. Love. An entire emotional storm compressed into a single moment. Suddenly, you realise: I missed you. I am safe. I am home. You are here. And perhaps that is why airports are such honest places. There is no time for pretence. There are simply people waiting. People returning. People leaving. People who love someone. And people who finally get to hold one another again.
The Greatest Journey Is Sometimes the One Home
The Netherlands taught me many things. It showed me how big the world is. How different people’s lives can be. How brave one has to be, to leave your familiar world behind and start a new life somewhere else. I am super-proud of my son! It showed me how precious my son’s presence in my life is. To remember that sometimes you have to travel far away to see again what was actually right in front of you all along. The greatest gift of a journey may not be the destination. It is the perspective you bring home with you. I left the Netherlands with a heart full of memories. I left my son there—something a mother’s heart never finds entirely easy. But I returned knowing that the distance between us does not change the love between us. And when I finally felt South African soil beneath my feet again, I realised: I enjoyed the Netherlands. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my son. But there is something indescribable about coming home. My country. My town. My home. My people. My beloved. And the arms I could finally walk into again. With a heart fuller than when I left, I say: Thank You, Lord. For the journey, for my child, for my beloved. Thank You for my other children, for my health, for protection, for memories, for my work and for the privilege of being able to go. Above all— Thank You that I could come home. Because every journey has a destination. But the most beautiful destination of all… is sometimes simply: HOME.
With love and blessings,
