4. Advent

Oh, that you would rend the
   heavens and come down,
      that the mountains would
                tremble before you! As
                    when fire sets twigs ablaze
                 and causes water to boil,
           come down to make your
    name known to your
enemies and cause the
nations to quake
   before you! 

   Since ancient times no
     one has heard, no ear has
       perceived, no eye has seen
               any God besides you, who
                  acts on behalf of those
                who wait for him. You
         come to the help of those
 who gladly do right,
who remember your ways. But
   we continued to sin
against them,
     you were angry. How then
        can we be saved?

           No one calls on your name
           or strives to lay hold of you

Yet, O Lord, you are
  our Father.
    We are the clay,
          you are the potter; we
              are all the work
       of your hand.  Oh look
  upon us, we pray
for we are all
your people.
               
Excerpts from Isaiah 64   

3. Advent

silence
a moment alone
the day's thoughts
and feelings roll
like a sea tossed
by strange winds
no head no tail
deep yearning
in my being


being
for you, to you
through you, only
desiring to know
it's your voice in
the wind, telling
me to come,
come away
my love

2. Advent

Yesterday was Advent's second Sunday, and the sermon got me thinkin'.

Incarnation was a word that particularly stood out to me as our pastor spoke (from the Latin, incarnare).  The Messiah came--in the flesh, set in history and time, in culture and within a language.  His tangibleness was as real as your hands, your being, are to you at this very moment.

For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every 

way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high 

priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins 

of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, 

he is able to help those who are being tempted.  (Heb. 2:17,18)

The believers, those who put their faith in him and carry his name, make the body of Christ today.  We take the form of one body, the incarnation of the Divine for this time and this culture, this age.  Do you know that your sufferings relate to others who are hurting?  Are you real in your loving?

In light of this, our cry for the coming of Christ is also the cry for all of his people to come to the realization of who they are in him--tangible love for an aching world.

Musings from the archives

1. Advent

O come, o come, Emmanuel...

I was struck today by the longing represented in one little candle lit to signify the beginning of the advent season.  The word "advent" comes from the Latin adventus, meaning coming.  The season doesn't only commemorate the longing for the Messiah's birth, but also a longing for his return.

Today begins a season of waiting and preparation for what is coming.  In all that I hope for, is the return of the King something I long for, and am preparing for?  Is the hope I have in him like that candle, a steady flame illuminating the darkness, so that what is hidden may be revealed, and that those in the land of darkness may begin to see?

Grateful

I love Thanksgiving!  I have been telling my students about it all week and asking them what they are thankful for.

I have a myriad of things that I am grateful for, but here are a few:
-work that challenges me
-family, my own and the many "adopted" ones
-my visit to Ecuador in August
-having a car
-surprises
-that people i love are only a phone call away
-sometimes they're even closer
-God's timing
-God's unconditional loving-kindness
-Skype
-the hope of change
-that i got to see my sis so much this last year!
-hugs

I could unpack all of those even more.  But I would like to make a reference to 1 Thess 5:18, as a reminder that being thankful isn't only for one day of the year: "give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."  What are you thankful for?

amongst the papers

I lived in the US for four years.  You would think that I would remember something as important as my social security number.
But when my university application asked for it, I drew a blank. It stopped the process and I had to find one of the many suitcases in my aunt's attic and leaf through random documents from lives past in order to find it.
I found it, though.
Which made me think of when I got it in Colorado, something like ten years ago.  I remember thinking, "Now I will be in the system permanently.  I am a number."
They may be remembering me soon, if this application process gets me anywhere...but now I have begun remembering them--that large, diverse and vibrant collective called the American system.

Fan mail: To Life

Hi,

This is Little Peanut, yeah, from the Gallery.

Just wanted to say that I really, really love your show.  I am always on the edge of my seat because I don't know what you'll do next or what crazy props you'll bring on-stage.  I particularly like how you use the kooky ordinary people from the audience as assistants.  Maybe someday you could pick me!

Keep up the good work, and all the best!

Little Peanut

P.S. Oh, sometimes your timing is just weird, though.  You have these long lulls when nothing happens, and then suddenly everything crashes on-stage at once.  Maybe you have a reason for these sequences, but you know, from the Gallery perspective, it's a bit tedious...just sayin'.
Thumbs up, anyway!

blurb

it's november
uncharacteristically, it's 10 degrees
incongruously, a man in the metro ate an ice cream cone
"i can't brain today, i has the dumb" on a bearded man's bag
right next to "i drink coffee for YOUR protection"
and as usual, i am amused by the small details of the day
slogans and cones and errant weather
to make a november day just a bit
easier to bear

At the Book Fair

Salaisuus by Heljä Laukkanen-Karala

My friend Heljä has an art exhibition in conjunction with the Helsinki Book Fair this weekend.  This popular event also combines with a music fair as well as a wining and dining fair to offer the city a veritably delicious, artsy and literary experience.

Today I spent many hours at the fair, digesting not only all-natural yogurt and fresh bread samples, but the general milieu of thousands of people interested in authors, literary works and fine foods.

I began with Heljä's paintings. She enjoys using bright colors and pointillism in her multi-layered paintings to tell stories.  Here on the left is Secret.  I particularly love how she talks about her work, "I don't know where that came from!  It just showed up!" She says about the details of her paintings as if she has no say in the final outcome.

Taking a load off my feet, I listened to my former professor's wife, Virpi Hämeen-Anttila, tell about her most recent book.  I find it interesting to meet people's spouses, it kind of rounds out the picture I have of them.  Virpi was more ordinary than I expected her to be, but by the amount of audience present, I could tell she's a popular author.  "Every writer has a recurring rash that they scratch in their works, " she commented about the themes that run through any author's repertoire.  "Mine is the relationship of parents and children; what happens when a child is not loved, its consequences."

It goes without saying that I didn't leave empty-handed from the fair.  In addition to a work of non-fiction, I found a delightful voice from the music section: Mor Karbasi.  I had never heard of her before I picked up her CD, but with a brief description from the enthusiastic vendor and a bit of intuition, I brought her home and have been listening to her beautiful voice interpreting rhythms of Morocco, Israel and Spain all rolled into one poetic presentation.  I am enchanted:

as it is

     Condemnation
     Propitiation
     Appeasement
     Advocate

The first I don't live with because the second occurred for the deeds that bring on the first.  The third is another way to express the second.  The fourth is now what the second is on my behalf when the first wants to finagle its lying feelings to smother the life I have been given.  Thankfully the fourth, that perfect second, never loses a case and now I am the fifth and sixth, walking in the seventh, rejoicing in the eighth.

     Righteous
     Forgiven
     Truth
     Peace

a pearl

will this day
be a pearl on the string
just swinging prettily around the neck of the universe?
nah, i will stack it
making a stepping stone into the future
learning, leaping, falling, climbing to new heights
that way even today
is no longer self-contained, but connected
forming an essential block in the steps of change, yet
at the same time still
meant to create a pattern of beauty---
a pearl, lustrously declaring the ingenuity of divine design.

Updating you...

Yes, yes. The minute I get off vacation you don't hear a peep from me.  I am back to six a.m. wake-ups and days filled with grammar lessons and verb conjugations.  My teaching lessons are also dotted with interesting tidbits that my students tell me.  They have recently educated me about new technological advances and the biography of the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius!

Yesterday I also took the GRE--General Revised Exam--that is the prerequisite for entry into any American graduate school.  I had balked at taking this exam for so long, considering it to be a huge feat beyond my grasp.  Now it is behind my with a curious lack of fanfare and nerves.  I have no idea how well I did, or if I really will end up in the US for further studies.  I am also considering studying in the UK, buying a flat in Finland, becoming a summer cottage hermit or an eccentric artist, a human rights activist or a bum....hahaha.  Just kidding.  What I mean is, regardless of the steps I take, it is the Lord that directs, and I am curious about what doors He will open and which ones he will close.

There's a beauty to Fall that is melancholy.  Today, the sunshine is caressing each yellow, red and green leaf in the backyard so gently, it seems he is whispering his last summer secrets and sweet farewells.  It is a good day to go out and let the sun whisper to me too. 

blustery

today the trees shared with me their most secret wish
no more roots, mossy trunks, seasonal leaves
a calm stationary life
instead they want to be foaming ocean waves
at least, that's what they sounded like in the wild wind

Peak 2: Ilinizas Norte

There's this thing called collective memory. Heard of it? It means that we remember different things when we function as a set group of people.  For example, when we travel as a family, my dad makes sure that the gas tank is full.  He knows the roads to drive.  The rest of us don't even worry about it, because it doesn't belong in our collective memory bank.  If I were driving alone, of course I would consider these things, but that is just what I mean in speaking of collective memory.

We were on the slopes of Illinizas Norte (Summit at 5100m! Woot!), finding our way down an almost invisible rocky path that our guides could see with their trained eyes.  It made me think of collective memory.  I only needed to concentrate on putting one foot or hand in front of the other.  I didn't worry about which way to go, because in this group, the guides know the safety procedures, the routes, the alternate routes and well, everything.  So in between taking a few steps (with a great amount of adrenaline and concentration in order to avoid a misstep into the 1000m drop sloping below me) and gasping for breath, I could try to enjoy the scenery.  Let me tell you, it was amazing!

The entire day was sunny and clear.  The imposing and snow-capped Cotopaxi sat majestically watching our climb from the wee hours of the morning until the later afternoon.  As we ascended we could see all the Andean snowcaps and major peaks in the area--totally indescribable!  We were climbing the northern peak of our  mountain, and constantly had in view its taller and snowier southern twin.  Funny how even a mountain looks distant and small as you stand at its base, but then you become intimately acquainted with all the plants, rocks, smells, colors and idiosyncracies as you trudge on.  Then you are suddenly at the top, which was once a distant speck.  At that moment it seems even a bigger feat than before, because your perspective has flipped.  You are now the tiny speck that understands the sheer rugged mass beneath you and the expanse around you, whereas before you were life-size and the mountain was just a form on the horizon.

But I also had another thought on the mountain, related to collective memory.  God and I, we live life together.  Now, if I really understood our relationship and trusted him, then I would never even let worry cross my mind.  He's the guide that shows me my way, and I can concentrate on enjoying Him and all he's made.  He's the driver that planned the road.  Seriously, think about the things that you don't have to remember because your spouse or your parents or siblings take care of them when you are together.  Maybe you don't ever think about where you parked the car in the parking lot, because that's your spouse's part of collective memory.

Now, think of all God is and all he has promised to his children.  Rest in that, and enjoy the view he's given--whether you're gasping for air on the difficult journey up the slope or skiing through the sand on the way down!

Peak 1: Ruco Pichincha

What began as an exercise to just get used to high altitudes ended up being an adventure.  Of course. 

This morning Toni, Dad and I rode the Teleférico (cable car) to about 4000 meters, and then began hiking.  We walked with a family of three that had ridden in the cable car with us.  It was nice to have a stream of friendly conversation as we plodded along the path upward.  We frequently stopped to catch our breath and enjoy the panorama of the mountains.  You can see all of Quito from there, spread out in the valley at least 50km from North to South.

Soon the long wavy bushes and muddy path gave way to heartier shrubs and a narrower rock path.  When we hit that rocky part, the family we were with just wanted to point out the way for us, but then decided to turn back.  As we bid them goodbye we met up with Jordy, a Catalan who had arrived in Ecuador a few days ago.  His plan was to hike a bit and turn back.  Little did he know the power of group encouragement!

We continued and passed a group on the way down from the summit.  They gave us an estimate of how much we had left to go, because by now we had decided that we would make it to the top.  A steep sandy patch and then some rocky clambering welcomed us to the top along with fog settling in.  Jordy was tempted to turn back after the sandy incline (as well as before it, we had already said goodbye to him), but faced with the prospect of descending alone or continuing with us, he gave in.  At the top (at 4,696 meters) we ate pizza and tostada before heading back down. 

We had just begun to wonder where the path down through the rocks went when it began to hail...hard.  Suddenly the slopes were white and hailstones were running their merry way down the mountain.  Rocks became slippery and hidden, and after pushing aside some panic, we continued slowly downward as our fingers lost all feeling.  It was difficult to know whether you really were holding onto a rock or not.  A group below us had turned back just short of the top when the hail hit, so we gladly followed their tracks, almost skiing through sandy mounds of hail as the sky thundered around us.  We began to weave our way down the mountain with the group.

The same path we had come up the side of the mountain was now snow-covered and more slippery.  The fog began to lift more and we suddenly saw the Quito valley below us, sunny and untouched by our weather dilemmas.  After we left the rocky zone and entered the short bushes, our adrenaline levels returned to normal and elation set in.  We ran down the inclines and sloshed our way in the mud. The sky cleared as we lowered the bottom, and Ruco stood above us, unperturbed by the elements that made our way so hazardous.  The crater of Guagua Pichincha also peaked out over the mass of Padre Encantado (Enchanted Father), in full snowy regalia. 

At the Teleférico café the sun, a heater, and some nice hot chocolate warmed our bones.  We laughed at our experiences and felt cold toes as we rode the cable car back down to the sunny city.  It turns out we have more sisu in us than we thought!  Note to self: next time take gloves!

Piojito, piojito

Meli checking her sister Susanna for lice.

Jungla jungla

This is just a quick greeting from my little Shell. The mountains are beautifully blue in the distance and the afternoon sun is friendly.

We got back from the jungle the other day, and we had quite the adventure.  It's amazing that now we can drive almost all the way to the jungle village where my parents work!  I say almost, because the final two kilometers of "road" are actually mud, and this time we didn't make it through to Kumay, our destination.  We stopped in a village called Chapintza to change the tyres on the car, from the regular ones to double tyres with chains!  On such a road, this is a necessary precaution.  But the front inner tires got flat, and on the third mud hole where we got stuck the winch broke.  We were good and stuck, and unloading the 670 kg of cargo didn't help.  Then, to top that, we got word that one of the village pastor's sons had suddenly died, so the pastor and the other villagers who had been helping us left to see what had happened.  It was getting dark, and then it started to rain.  We closed up the car and hefted what we could onto our backs and hiked through the downpour and mud to Kumay, where we at least knew that we could get dry and and have some tea. And hey, we were together! :) 

That was just the introduction to our adventures, but we had a great time.  We held a special event for about 130 kids from five different villages on Saturday and then walked back out on Sunday.  We also got the car unstuck the next day and just let it wait for us in Chapintza.  And, the pastor's son hadn't died, he had taken a jungle drug that had made him black out.  So, thankfully, all is well, and we have adventured our hearts out in this wild patch of earth that is very humid and very hot!  

A Surprise

Do we look like a sitcom?

We made a stop on our journey to Ecuador to surprise a childhood friend!  We all grew up together in Shell: Toni, Steven, Stephanie, and Yours truly.  We had a few very special days together and look forward to where in the world we may meet up next!

The Andes

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
   where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
   the Maker of heaven and earth.
Ps. 121:1-2

I sit here on a familiar sofa staring out a picture window at a long-lost view: the rugged Andes mountains hemmed at their base by a crowded city nestled in a long valley.  I love watching the changing clouds and weather.  A day that begins with bright sunshine and blue skies can suddenly offer a hailstorm and end with a flourish of pink sunset behind gray clouds, as was the case two days ago.

I wish I could explain even to myself why coming to a place so dear and familiar also feels painful.  Is it that suddenly the landscape of my heart is in sync with what I see around me, but I know it won't last?  Or perhaps there are memories to be rekindled and dealt with.  Maybe it's just weird because I am back in a place that cradled and raised me before sending me off into the world; it has remained the same (to a degree), but I have changed.  We must take each other's measurements anew, me and this country of mine.

One thing that doesn't change--the mountains.  They speak to me of majesty and the untouchable wildness present in this creation.  They draw my thoughts to the Creator and make explosions of color and joy go off in the wordless realms of my mind.

Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens,
   your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
   your justice like the great deep.
   You, LORD, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
   People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
Ps. 36:5-7

Show's over, new stuff on the way.

The wedding season has contained four varied episodes, and is now concluded.  After Egypt, I returned to two more weddings here in Finland.  The most recent one I attended ended with waltzing and an amazing beat box performance!  In our little group of friends we discussed what our favorite part about weddings is.  One likes the photo slideshow, the other the dancing.  The guys like the food best, of course.  I enjoy the speeches.

But this post is not so much about the merits of festivities that initiate matrimonial bliss, rather just a woot and a holler that I AM GOING TO ECUADOR!!!  Yep, my bags are packed, I'm ready to go.  And so is Sonja.  Christmas of 2007 was the last time we were there, and now we are headed home for a month.  I wonder what this trip will contain.  Certainly we have some plans, but mostly I am open to see what God has in store, what he wants to teach me, and how he wants me to join Him.  I'm looking forward to spending time with my parents and drinking in a vista filled with Andes mountains as well as rambling jungle foliage. 

WOOT!  HOLLER!  Here's to living fully!

Egyptian Festivities...Weddings cont.

There were two days of celebrations. 
On Wednesday, as many ladies of the extended family came to help cook and prepare, the henna lady also arrived.  She spent hours here, preparing lots of ladies and especially the bride.   Wednesday was the bride's family's party, and the lot outside the house was a colorfully lit area with a little stage where the bride sat dressed in Indian attire.  Atif made an appearance late in the evening.  Dancing horses kept the beat of very loud Arabic music and the bride and her friends and family danced until they could dance no more.  OK, not really, because on Thursday night they continued....

So Thursday night a similar scenario occurred near Atif's house.  Beautiful lights, a stage, loud music, chairs filling the alley and street, and plenty of well-wishers completed the party.  On this night the bride wore white and and was picked up from the hairdresser's by the groom.  I was part of the wedding party that met them at the photo shop to take them to the party.  I have to say that the bridal couple looked tired from such busyness and I don't think six hours at a hairdresser is a small feat.  But anyway, there was plenty of dancing, a cake cutting and people sitting around as a lone cameraman captures the event on film, followed by his cable guy that makes sure he has enough charge to continue!

I tried to get glimpses of Asma and figure out how she was holding up.  She was tired, and hot, but she smiled a lot at Atif and danced more than I thought possible in a heavy dress.  At one point she and Atif had swords in their hands as they danced and she got a kick out of pretending to duel with him.

This description leaves out the heat, which is an ever-present factor here.  And the more people you have dancing near you, the hotter you get!  And the smells of perfume and dust on a party night in the streets of Giza is impossible to relate through words on a screen.  As the bridal couple was sent to their new home with a huge entourage of guests, the party dispersed and I found myself walking home with Bilal holding one hand and Tita the other.  The bride's parents walked before me, tired and sad, as their daughter will no longer be at home. 

I am now on my way to visit the bride with all the women of the family.  We will take her food.  I look forward to seeing how she's doing today and how she likes her flat!

Weddings....Chapter 1

So July is full of weddings for  me.  The season kicked off last Saturday with my friend's daughter's wedding in a beautiful villa in Helsinki.  It was a perfect summer day, and the bride and groom were enchanting.  I translated between Finnish and English, since the groom was from Canada.

The next day, bright and early, I flew to Egypt, where I now find myself in the familiar living room of the Rozza house in Giza (internet now available!).  The steadily clicking fan above makes the hot day bearable.  Grandma is sleeping on the floor and the ladies of the house along with some neighbors are out on the patio.  We are waiting as the last cookies (to be taken to friends and wedding guests in honor of the impending celebrations) are baking in the large gas oven on the patio.  We have made hundreds of cookies--yes, I tried my hand at it!  Soon we will be headed to the new flat where the bride and groom will begin their lives together.  We have to do a last cleaning and make sure everything is perfectly in order.

Asmaa' is getting married!!  That is why I am here.  She is Mohammed's only daughter and the celebrations and preparations have been going on for some time already.  When I arrived we went to find the right hairdresser who will do her wedding make-up and hair.  This involved a trip to a wedding mall, crowded with little shops stuffed with wedding dresses of various colors and all kinds of bling, as well as coiffeurs as they call the hairdressers.  The hair salons enjoyed air-conditioning and were also stuffed...with brides!  All shapes, sizes and colors, but with one thing in common: a lot of make-up!  You would think they were headed to perform on Broadway!  In a sense though, they are preparing for their biggest show, as they will sit on a raised platform and be applauded, videoed and pictured to no end on their wedding evening by all the guests and friends. They're the stars of the show!

I have not only made cookies, but cooked some, and sat drinking tea with the neighbors who are all under the impression that I understand everything they say.  Hehe. The house is constantly full of people bringing things and helping with preparations.  It feels like a privilege to be part of it all (also tiring, as paying attention to the conversation takes a lot of brain power).  I wanted to update right now, as there is time, I don't know about the coming days though.  We'll see.  Just want to share the excitement with you all. :)

Summer

It's everywhere, and well it should be!  I can feel it in the warmth of the air as I walk down the shady arbor.  It's in the way the leaves glow in the sunlight and the light rustling sound they share with me.  It's in the smell of sunscreen and mowed lawns as well as the seemingly endless length of the day.

Summer is also present in the streetscape.  Summer fashion is radiant with variations depending on age, personality, finances, nationality and workplace.  All you have to do is sit on one of wooden benches in the central Esplanad Park downtown, and you will have a front-row seat to the summer catwalk.  Tourists, bankers, bums, teens, street artists, immigrants, babies, visitors--you name it!  Some ladies have taken to the maxi dress.  Some teens have opted for the mini shorts.  Beer bellies can't seem to go out of fashion and neither does too-tan skin.  Freckles, hippie hair and flip-flops abound.  Babies with adorable hats get shown off in prams and joggers are everywhere.

But one must remain aware of summer's pests as well, and I don't just mean the mosquitoes! Tourist cameras have powerful zooms (beware of paparazzi).  Sea gulls terrorize those accessorized with ice cream and can-collectors might take your coke or beer can even before you have sipped your last! And if you wait for it to get dark before you lay your head on your pillow, you may only get a few winks per night!

All in all though, I'll take summer's glorious gamut of pests, spectacles, fashion and landscapes any day!  And my vacation begins after tomorrow, so perhaps you will spot me in your cityscape one of these days! :)

goals: a metaphor

That coffee cup. I left it there when I got distracted by the other task. I forgot the warm brew waiting there, solidly on the counter where I left it in a nice round ceramic mug. But by my return it was cold, tasteless. No longer worth a sip. 

A coffee cup is inconsequential when it comes to distractions. A new brew or a new day can refill it easily. But may my goals not suffer the same fate--forgotten for other trivial if delightful distractions and tasks that shove their way into my focus.  A goal turned cold is not appealing. It doesn't do refills like a cup of joe does.

So as I pour this cup, I might need some help holding on to it.

(Superglue, anyone?)

hangin' 'round

Don't let appearances fool you.  Things may continue as they always have, they may look like they did yesterday, but under the surface small changes are taking place.  That one gear starts acting up, and all the rest of your inner machinery begins moving in sync with this new development, and then things start to tilt.  But even then, your brain may not have understood the implications of that one loose bit of machinery.  Rarely do we understand what a small shift can make in our direction over the long run.

Or perhaps you aren't the kind to take things at face value.  You actually know that I'm swinging on the weather vane and holding on for dear life even though you just saw me yesterday and my feet were treading the streets of this city as merrily as ever.  They were actually dancing, and they were climbing.  Now I'm swingin' and waiting for the wind. If it doesn't pick up, I may need the fire brigade to come rescue me.  Or a hot air balloon.

notes about an evening bike ride

the warm wind welcomes me.  the sound of my worn bike tires on gravel. a few birds flirt and twitter by the roadside.  brilliant green sprouts glow in carefully ploughed rows in evening sunlight. stop. listen. just the wind as first i see it in the treetops and then hear the leaves whisper in a joyous cacophony of summer rustles.  then i feel it. tender. refreshing. it leaves no little arm hair undisturbed and brushes my face in greeting as it continues down the field. i drink in the blue sky and then melt into the river in the playful company of moths and other skittish insects.  murky waters. the smell of fish accompanied by peace. the water is oblivious to the flow of humans, to agendas and schedules, workday to-dos.  sweet-scented lilacs cluster at the final bend before the pot-holed driveway to my current abode. bike stowed against the sauna wall and a final look at the landscape.  the sun kisses the red terrace flowers goodnight in passionate color.

english camp: a moment

This lovely evening finds me in southwestern Finland on the small and charming campus of a folk high school staring out of the office window at children playing catch while my hair dries from my evening's sauna and swim.  I am here for two weeks teaching English to Russian kids.  My class comprises 12 beginners from the age of 9 to 11.  I find the change from teaching adults to teaching children quite a drastic one as I must work in the confines of an attention span of 15 minutes! 

I teach five hours a day, after which my day is free.   I realized today as I walked through balmy breezes, under blossoming apple trees and verdant grass, and sat on a wooden swing reading sonnets in a British accent, that I am living the dream I longed for sometime in March when the landscape was overrun by snowbanks and gray skies.  There is also the comforting sense of satisfaction after a full day of life lived.

embracing you

A hug delights and warms and charms,
that must be why God gave us arms.
~unknown~

Consider yourself hugged. 

Yep, I'm talkin' to you!

abierto

open:
porch doors
windows
buds
skies
jackets
thoughts
future
heart
eyes
hands

spring's cool breezes and teasing warmth do so much to draw me out of the cocoon of winter hibernation.  a good airing out is always beneficial.  my shoulders have saved space for more freckles and my toes yearn for tickling grass underfoot.  like the earth waiting to soak in sun and rain, i am

open.

plaik on palm sunday

It is after seven in Plaik, Austria.  The sun shines over the frosty field, melting the frost glimmering on the grass.  On my way back to the pension for breakfast after an early morning walk I stop to greet the goats and sheep that were getting sheared yesterday.  The old farmer that is checking on his flocks, with washed out blue eyes, stooped shoulders and a thick Tirolean accent, comments that walking is good for the figure.  As I stand to watch the lambs flicking their tails merrily as they feed, the white-haired farmer once again speaks to me.  He says something unintelligible and pats my cheek in a grandfatherly way.  We part ways, as I already anticipate a good strong cup of coffee.

Noon finds me up at Wettersteinhuette, only just opened this weekend to the public.  Ron and I enjoy soup out on the terrace as we gaze at the most beautiful panorama of snow-covered mountain ranges under blue skies.  Bella, our faithful four-legged companion, waits eagerly under the table for any possible scraps we decide to share with her.  She is a friendly mutt that belongs to the pension we are staying at, and her undiscriminatory taste in anything edible is attested to by the fact that she has rounded out since I last saw her.

The afternoon finds achey legs directed back down the mountain we have just climbed.  I trekked through the snow to Napoleon's monument near the rock rim of the Gehrenspitze to enjoy the breathtaking view of the valley while Ron and Bella napped.  The arrival back into little Plaik brings a new acquaintance.  A lanky old farmer is tying new fence posts and stops us  to inquire where we are from and how long we are here.  His dream is to take a vacation to the sea in three years--the coast of Alaska, Oregon, perhaps even South America and Australia.  He used to be a triathlete, you see, and swimming is a favorite hobby of his.  The sea calls him like the mountains call us.

Now the evening finds me here, thinking back on these fleeting days of being with loved ones in beloved mountains.  Hours on a mountainside have provided incredible vistas, refreshment for the soul and mind, and good conversations about life and faith and well, everything in between. 

Signing out with a thankful heart and a sunburned face!
Yours truly

toward open palms

A new week unfolds its fingers one by one, slowly revealing yet another piece of life replete with colorful twists and turns.  This week promises to be as busy as the last one, but with a change of location, as I will get to travel!  Yes, the Alps and dear friends are calling my name, and I have gladly answered their kindly invitation to spend a few days in their invigorating company.  It has been a few years since I have enjoyed the breathtaking views of Tirol.

Teaching is going well.  I find that I am happy to have the challenge of designing classes and trying to figure out how my students will be able to learn something.  I'm still tired after a teaching day, but as the months have sped by, I have come to realize that I leave my last class of the day with a smile on my face.  I didn't know I would like teaching so much.  Mind you, it's on-site training!  And when my students share about different topics, I gain a lot new information as well.  I know more about Alpine skiing, Pelé, egg painting, simplifying the complex, Gran Canaria and dog breeds than I did a few months ago!

But, now my lesson planning awaits.

This is the day the Lord has made, let's rejoice and be glad in it!

skipping

painfully shy
casts a glance for passers-by
peeking to see if the
coast is clear

no one in sight
bursts into dance in spring light
gives a shout and a yell
end of fear

still much unknown
waits breathless for hope-seeds sown
hums with the wind's ballads
in her ear

March's dialogue

"We need to talk," she said, exasperated that he wouldn't ever sit still long enough to listen to her.

"I'm not ready," he stated, and whirled away.

"You can't escape for much longer," she called after him.

"I'll live it up to the last possible moment!" he retorted and dumped more snow.

She shook her head and sat back to wait.  Her turn would come, and he would leave, like he did every year. She looked forward to the moment when he would pack up his bags, and she could move in without restrictions.  She would cover even the most hardened earth with her warm breath, sing the madrigal with the birds and wake up the sleeping blooms with her welcoming tune. 

She would be patient, even if his reluctance to leave caused him to act out.  Sometimes Winter could be so childish, but she had the good sense to know that in the end he'd melt, play with the puddles for a while, and finally disappear.

overheard

On sports and our friendly relations with our western neighbor, spoken by a young couple sitting behind me on the bus:

Man: Of course when I don't watch, Finland wins a medal!
Woman: It's ok, you'll probably see the highlights on the news later tonight.
Man: True, but I missed it! (Finland got a medal in the FIS World Ski Championships)
Woman: Yes, but everything is still ok:  at least Sweden didn't get any medals.

On aiming high, sitting in the metro an old bearded man speaks with a little girl who sits with her dad:

Girl (loudly): They told me in school that I am going to be a director when I grow up.
Old man: That's wonderful.  You could be the director of this country. You should aim high. Yep, you could be the leader of anything
(Girl goes silently shy, and soon she and her father leave.)
Old man (to me): My four-year-old nephew asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Just like that.  I told him, an engine driver. I then asked him what he wanted to be, and he said, a nurse.
(As we parted, he asked me what I wanted to be: Wise.)

And randomly, as a customer exited the store today:

Young lady (to her friend): My hands smell just like my grandmother!

Seasonal Sighting

The February chill has ushered in the use of the Fur Hat.  Today, a parade of rare and beautiful specimens in varying stages of bushy-ness came riding into our shop, mostly on the heads of elderly white-haired gentlemen.  They perched regally over spectacles and moved deliberately through the aisles.  The rarest sighting was actually not a hat, but a cap, completing the attire of a cute old man that just made me smile with his deep wrinkles and hunched posture.  I had to stop mid-sentence to observe him walk past, looking this way and that, wherever that cap wanted to go.

So just make sure that this February chill doesn't keep you indoors, missing the prime season for catching glimpses of the Fur Hat.  Go turn a few corners before this rare breed hides from March's rising temperatures and hibernates until the next arctic winter sets in.  Caution: if proximity to a Fur Hat makes you fearful, beware of coming into close contact with one in very cold weather, and especially beware of trying to put one on in sub-zero temperatures.  Chances are, you won't get him off! 

V-day

Today is a celebration of friendship.
I wish simply to say thanks
to you, my friend,
for all you are,
all the color
you bring
to my
life.

Recess

It tends to reoccur, that when my internal world is full, my blog is empty.  But then when I am extremely busy, I make time to blog.  I am currently, at this very moment in time, with a foot in both of those doorways: my head is full, and it is a teaching day.  It is lunch break right now though, and I want to have some sort of update on this forum.

I am teaching English, as I mentioned.  I have to find ways to motivate my students, especially since there have been quite a few who have skirted the last assignment I gave them: persuasive speeches.  They are not off the hook, no sir!  Their speeches have been postponed until after the ski holiday.  I have enjoyed teaching so far, and have taken on the challenge of feeding new information and concepts, tongue rolls and word pictures into my students' minds.  How long they stick in there though, is another matter.

This teaching job has thus far not been as full-time as I had expected.  This may change next week, but in the meantime, I am concocting other projects to occupy my time.  I also spent some time last week forming a list of goals for this year.  If I am going to accomplish even half the things on it, I will have to be diligent with my time.  But of course, there is plenty of room and plenty of hope for the unexpected events that comprise so much of life!  That's the way I like it!

like beads on a necklace

Timing is everything.  It strings the events of our lives so that we can see a pattern, or make some kind of sense of them next to each other.  Otherwise, I'm sure we could get a jumbled mess of events that we hold in our palms like a mass of marbles, not knowing which relates to the other or how. 

Such are my thoughts this day, as I contemplate how happy I am that my sister is here right now.  Not later, or earlier, but just now.  I'm sure she thinks the same way, perhaps she would not have held out for another week of studies and exams.  Now is a good time. She went skiing this morning and returned as red as a berry and just as jolly.

The present is also where/when God is with us.  He will be with us in the future, and he certainly walked with us in the past, but we live in the present.  He is always present, as he is not limited by time, so I think speaking of the future or eons past is a moot point in his scope of being.  But for us finite ones who are learning to live fully in the present moment, it is a comfort that the One in whom we trust knows the pattern he is creating with our lives.

slushy thoughts

I confess it took me a while to adjust to being back in Helsinki.  I spent three days inside the house before venturing out into the slushy snow.  Now that I have been out, it's not so bad.  I've also reconnected with workmates, friends, my car, my church and some projects I had going when I left here.  I have found a sense of peace in the return, knowing that I have context and purpose here.  Yet...

unbounded desire in a limited body
is the paradox and wonder i contemplate
not only of you and me and
the Divine, but of worlds flowing
in and about my mind, my will and
this journey i make through our earth.
the poets say many things of pain
but i shall not go into those, only that
pain is tied to joy and loss and gain
and every day of breath seems
to weave these elements in a
pattern made exquisitely beautiful and
three-dimensional by uniting them
to the reoccurring image of sacrifice.
limited in what i may give, unbounded
in what i may hold, how can one
comprehend such mysterious existence?

2011

Dear New Year,

You came so quickly I hardly had time to prepare for your coming.  But I guess that’s all right, I know you don’t mind.  Your arrival probably got more fanfare elsewhere than it did among us in Jerusalem this year, but I just wanted to say welcome.  Welcome, with all your surprises, challenges, vistas, growth, and travels.  I forgot to ask you to do away with the Finnish snow, but I figured it’s fine as long as somewhere up your sleeve you have a beautiful summer.  I will appreciate your wintery shawl as well as your summer sundress, your spring raincoat, and your autumnal partying.  I am happy you have come, and I leave our acquaintance and short 365.25-day journey together in the hands of the Creator who has allowed me to live long enough to meet you. 

Your friend,

Laila