Blog: A little piece of Christmas

We are in the depths of No­vem­ber and ap­p­ro­ac­hing the dar­kest time of ye­ar. No­vem­ber is of­ten rat­her grey and if the sun does hap­pen to ap­pe­ar, one must drop what they are doing and run out­si­de if at all pos­sib­le, and catch a few fast es­ca­ping rays. Ma­y­be that is the re­a­son why Fin­ns seem to al­most ne­ver sleep in the sum­mer; there is a need to take in as much light as pos­sib­le as the ot­her half of the ye­ar is so much dar­ker. It is not an unu­su­al sight to see so­me­o­ne ro­wing a boat at 3 am, in the stil­l­ness of the sum­mer night. The sky is pain­ted in pas­tels and the birds are sin­ging a noc­tur­nal con­cert. It is one of the things that make the Nor­dic count­ries so spe­ci­al, the very dis­tinct se­a­sons each with their own raw be­au­ty.

Blog: Our little girl

I am sit­ting in the li­ving-room of a hou­se that is not ours, a hou­se where we are on­ly sta­ying tem­po­ra­ri­ly. I will try to ver­ba­li­ze even a small part of what we have ex­pe­rien­ced over the past few weeks. Our baby was born and is still ali­ve. It is a mi­rac­le! This lit­t­le one has ex­pe­rien­ced more hards­hips du­ring the first weeks of her life than most of us ex­pe­rien­ce du­ring our li­fe­ti­me. It has been a time of up­he­a­val for our whole fa­mi­ly.

Blog: Longing for freedom

The one who came in first was hol­ding a small bird in his hands. The bird was brui­sed and stiff with cold, see­ming­ly li­fe­less, but its he­art was be­a­ting un­der its dull-co­lo­red fe­at­hers.

Blog: Let us talk about faith

I am pon­de­ring and tur­ning sen­ten­ces around in my mind. I al­re­a­dy have a pile of pa­pers co­ve­red in wri­ting. But I am still won­de­ring if I should write about this to­pic, alt­hough my friend en­cou­ra­ged me to do so?

Blog: What is it like to grow old?

I have been a child, an ado­les­cent and a mid­d­le-aged lady, and I re­ti­red many ye­ars ago. So what? Each re­a­der of this blog has been a child and is now at some ol­der age. Gro­wing old and real old age are so­met­hing qui­te dif­fe­rent.

Blog: The thief with a saw

This is a story from the time when pe­op­le did not have mo­bi­le pho­nes. Nor were there any street lights or neigh­bors near the hou­se where all this hap­pe­ned.

Blog: It was a mistake

I will re­mem­ber this day for ever. My hus­band said he ex­pects us to touch on the to­pic again over the weeks to come. I told him we most de­fi­ni­te­ly will.

Blog: The man for me

We pe­da­led our bi­kes to­get­her against strong he­ad­wind. I comp­lai­ned a lit­t­le be­cau­se my bike was so he­a­vy to pe­dal and I felt cold. We had gone for a jog or a bike ride eve­ry sing­le eve­ning du­ring the lock­down. My hus­band as­ked me to bike by his side in such a way that he could pro­tect me from the worst wind. How ro­man­tic!

Blog: Balance between work and rest

Sum­mer in Fin­land is short in­deed. Is it even shor­ter now than when I was a child? Or have I just, in the mid­d­le of the hust­le and bust­le of dai­ly life, for­got­ten to pau­se and en­joy the warmth of the sum­mer, the soft bree­ze and the buz­zing in­sects?

Blog: Back to services

Deep in thought I walk through the doub­le doors. There is a tab­le with four hand sa­ni­ti­zer dis­pen­sers. I rub the li­quid in­to my hands and look around. Cheer­ful exp­res­si­ons. But al­so some be­wil­der­ment. How should we go about this?