This is a true story.

I am pregnant with my son Nathaniel. One night I hear a clear inner voice. The voice strings sentences together like pearls that are drawn on a thread, one after the other. I feel that it is important to write these sentences down. So I do it ... and also because the voice won't let me fall asleep anyway. Every night I sit down obediently and write the sentences in my computer without knowing what exactly I am writing here. Weeks later, I realize that these pearl words actually make a story.

Nathaniel is born a few months later. One day I hear the same inner voice again, clearly asking me to "shoot angels" (in English, shoot a picture means to take pictures). I am aware that the request does not require any radical action, but simply means taking photos of angels. AHA. Great. And where? I pack everything I need into an old camper from the seventies and start my mission into the unknown with 48 diapers, a handful of pacifiers and a truckload of cuddly toys.

In the car, big baby eyes watch me skeptically behind the pacifier label "I love mommy" ... I can't blame him: What the hell (hmm no doesn't fit). What the heck am I doing here? Every NORMAL mother stays at home with her baby. Et moi? I follow inner voices ... oh yes: and angels. (Although I'm not religious at all, not even close, just that this is mentioned here).

So I close my eyes behind the steering wheel and hear a clear, fine voice: start the engine ... left ... right ... straight ahead.

I drive stubbornly using my internal navigation system and at some point at night we reach a lake on the Italian side, near the Swiss border.

The night is starless and dark and suddenly we are standing in front of a closed entrance to the campsite. On the other hand, I see white caravans parked close together. I hear the waves hitting the stones on the shore at the nearby lake. With Nathaniel in my arms we stand in front of the closed barrier - a picture worthy of a Madonna. I ask for an open entrance. We quickly learn that this is not camping at all, just the annual meeting of the Camper Club of Northern Italy. But Italy would not be Italy if they did not allow a Madonna and Child to enter.

The next morning, five spontaneous visitors bring us milk, coffee and croissants for our breakfast - I think that's better than myrrh, gold and frankincense. I love Italy! (We should change the pacifier font). Strengthened, I decide to resume my secret mission.

The trip goes on. My internal navigation system provides me with the necessary "left", "right" and "straight ahead" information just before the bends. But with the next "left" we stop in front of a wall as high as a house. This is definitely a dead end! The trip is on my nerves and I'm tired. After a while, I can curb my peasant rant (actually only because I'm too tired and my breath is no longer enough). I turn to the side and read "I love mommy". Beautiful baby eyes just above look calmly at me. I calm down and look up the wall. Suddenly I see the tips of beautiful angel wings on the other side. AHA ... this is about TRUST.