Blog: Am I holy?

I am an or­dai­ned mi­nis­ter, and or­dai­ned mi­nis­ters are ex­pec­ted to show dig­ni­fied man­ners, exemp­la­ry life and com­mit­ment to God’s word. In some way, or­dai­ned mi­nis­ters are even re­qui­red to be holy. I al­so con­fess my­self to be a be­lie­ving per­son, a child of God. Be­lie­ving pe­op­le are ex­pec­ted to be sin­less and per­fect, at le­ast when they have fal­len in­to sin.

Blog: See­ing

Af­ter many clou­dy and fog­gy mor­nings the sky is clear. The tops of snow-co­ve­red trees have tur­ned a de­li­ca­te shade of pink and the icy patc­hes on the road ref­lect the co­lor. I en­joy the sce­ne­ry while dri­ving to meet some friends. The days are gro­wing lon­ger day by day. And I can see this be­au­ty with my own ey­es. What a great gift ey­e­sight is!

Blog: I met a man who had found a tre­a­su­re

I re­cei­ved an in­te­res­ting email last sum­mer. It was from a man who was about my age and had re­cent­ly re­cei­ved the grace of re­pen­tan­ce through on­li­ne ser­vi­ces. He wan­ted to go to the Sum­mer Ser­vi­ces, but did not know if he could go there just like that, and how he should pre­pa­re for going there. He had not yet had the cou­ra­ge to go to lo­cal ser­vi­ces. He came from out­si­de the Con­ser­va­ti­ve La­es­ta­di­an com­mu­ni­ty and was not fa­mi­li­ar with the pe­op­le, their cus­toms and cul­tu­re, the com­mu­ni­ty, or anyt­hing el­se. For him, eve­ryt­hing was new and spe­ci­al.

Blog: The world’s shor­test com­mu­te to work

I grew up at Jäm­sä opis­to, then mo­ved hou­se a few ti­mes, and fi­nal­ly set­t­led at Lo­hi­ran­ta, Po­sio, which is where my hus­band co­mes from. I have al­re­a­dy li­ved here for more than half of my life.

Blog: Cot­ta­ge tur­ned in­to a home

Our hou­se has been my home for most of my life. Be­fo­re that it was the home of a Ka­re­li­an fa­mi­ly eva­cu­a­ted from their own home du­ring the war. They had some dai­ry cows and li­ved in a small cot­ta­ge.

Blog: My place in the world

“Mum­my, you are here for me. You are here for all of us who are dear to you”. The words spo­ken by our three-ye­ar-old make me pau­se with a warm fee­ling in my he­art. “Yes, I am here for you”, I say. “For eve­ry one of you who are dear to me”.

Blog: Sky and space, what are you?

Do you re­mem­ber how, as a child, you so­me­ti­mes lay down on the snow-co­ve­red ground and ga­zed at the star­ry sky? Ma­y­be you even re­cog­ni­zed some of the cons­tel­la­ti­ons. Do you re­mem­ber that stran­ge fee­ling? That space see­med so lar­ge and alien, won­der­ful and fas­ci­na­ting. Ma­y­be even a bit frigh­te­ning.

Blog: Po­ems open up new views

Pe­op­le who en­joy re­a­ding fic­ti­ve prose may be less fa­mi­li­ar with po­ems. Some even find them hard to un­ders­tand. Yet po­ems of­ten de­pict or­di­na­ry life events in a con­ci­se way.

Blog: Mot­her

Mot­her ma­kes sure there is a kam­pa­ni­su for each of her friends. For her, the comb-sha­ped kam¬pa¬ni¬su past­ry is the best treat she can ever give to any­bo­dy.

Blog: So­ci­al dis­tan­cing – phy­si­cal­ly far but emo­ti­o­nal­ly close by

We have a lar­ge to­wer of toi­let pa­per in our li­ving room. The to­wer is as tall as the child­ren and qui­te uns­tab­le. Using gym­nas­tic rings, the child­ren one by one swing over to the to­wer and kick it over. The room is full of laugh­ter, joy and gig­g­les.