Color or colour?

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Is it color or colour? Having grown up amongst people from many different kinds of English-speaking countries, often the way they spelt things was an indication of where they came from. Why is it that the Americans organize whereas the British organise? I was educated within the British system, so I had words such as colour, realise, organisation and aluminium drummed into me. Since I entered the corporate world in a few large multinationals, suddenly I've had to let go of my Britishness, at least in the written word. As a copywriter, this is a pretty important facet of my job! It feels so unnatural, however, to write things the way I was always taught not to. It's then that you realise how much of an impact your teachers and your education system have on your whole life. After spending all day at work writing American English, which feels rebellious and wrong somehow, I find it somewhat of a relief to be able to write 'correctly' again once I am home. I even see the influence of language now in my sons - they speak English to me and Dutch to my husband. If I accidentally say something to them in Dutch, they will frown and tell me what I should have said, which is the same phrase in English. That is what I love about language - the many nuances and colours of language and the way it influences our lives.

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Five Minute Friday: Grateful

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There are so many things in my life I'm grateful for that I don't really know where to start. I'm grateful for all the people in my life - my lovely mum, my two gorgeous boys, my strong husband, my friends, my extended family, my church family. I'm more grateful than I can express that I had such a wonderful dad and that he was there for the first 39 years of my life and for the first years of my kids' lives. I'm grateful for the life we had as a family of 3 - living all over the world and experiencing so much. I'm grateful that I'm happy and healthy and that I've always been happy and healthy. I'm grateful that I was able to become a mum at all. I'm grateful that I have a job and a house and a car. I'm grateful that my eldest son can get a good education for free. I'm grateful we have good doctors and healthy food that we can easily get.

I am grateful that God has helped me and protected me and guided me to the place where I am now. I am grateful that He will continue to do that. I am grateful that I'm me and that this is my life.

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Five Minute Friday: Remember

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Memories are something I am so thankful for right now. My dad isn't here with us physically any more but his memory lives on in so many things. Just a couple of days ago, my mum and I were cycling with the boys and we cycled under a main road, through a tunnel. The boys started calling out and yodelling. This is something my dad started a few years ago, first with Jake and then with both the boys - the sound echoes under there and they would always create a cacophony of noise when they were out cycling. This is one of the many memories the boys have of him and although it is ear-splitting, I'm glad they are carrying on with his tradition.

Now that my dad is gone, I remember things about him all the time and they always make me smile. He was such a fun dad, life with him was always an adventure. I remember when I was about 8 or 9 and we were living in Malaysia. Our neighbourhood flooded during the monsoon season and my dad and I went for a walk through the flood waters, me gripping his hand tightly. At one point something slithered past my leg and my dad said casually "Oh, that was probably a snake." Just knowing that he was there made me feel safe and his strong hand enveloping mine let me know there was nothing that could happen to me.

More recently, in the summer of 2010, my dad and I went to watch the Dutch World Cup matches in the city centre on giant video screens. We were surrounded by young people but despite his 73 years, my dad was leaping around and cheering with the best of them. After a particularly exciting match, we walked back to the car drenched in beer and my dad threw his arms around a few passers-by and danced around with them in the street. They could have been annoyed or alarmed but there was something about my dad that made it possible for him to do things like that and always elicit a friendly response.

Even if I had 5 hours, it wouldn't be enough for all the memories of 39 years with my dad. I will share my memories with the boys and he will live on in them, in me, in my mum and in everyone whose lives he touched. Dad, thank you for the memories.

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