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Vieraskieliset / In-english

Blog: My first let­ter to my fu­tu­re wife

Vieraskieliset / In-english
19.2.2019 6.08

Juttua muokattu:

31.12. 09:28

I sent my first let­ter to my wife – then the tar­get of my dis­tant ad­mi­ra­ti­on – 50 ye­ars ago. We still have that let­ter, but I have not read it sin­ce I mai­led it. Now I de­ci­de to read it. If I re­mem­ber cor­rect­ly, the let­ter en­ded in an exp­li­cit qu­es­ti­on, to which I ex­pec­ted to get an ans­wer. I do not re­mem­ber how pre­ci­se­ly I for­mu­la­ted that qu­es­ti­on, but in plain lan­gu­a­ge I me­ant to ask: “Would you like to be my girlf­riend?”

It was not ea­sy to write the first let­ter. I had ne­ver tal­ked to that lo­ve­ly per­son, and we on­ly knew each ot­her by sight. I had de­ci­ded to keep the let­ter fair­ly short. I wrote and re-wrote it many ti­mes, but all ver­si­ons got crump­led up and thrown in­to the was­te bin.

Fi­nal­ly, I was sa­tis­fied with the con­tent and wrote the fi­nal copy in my best cur­si­ve. Then I bi­ked to the mail­box. For a long time I kept the let­ter han­ging bet­ween my fin­gers be­fo­re I pluc­ked up my cou­ra­ge and let it fall in­to box. I then be­gan to wait for an ans­wer.

For the next few days I wai­ted ea­ger­ly for the mail lady. As soon as I saw her bi­king to­ward our home, I went out to meet her. A few days la­ter there was a let­ter for me in a flo­ral-pat­ter­ned en­ve­lo­pe. My name had been writ­ten on the en­ve­lo­pe in be­au­ti­ful handw­ri­ting. I sat down on the bank of the ditch and ope­ned it.

She had writ­ten a full page. I do not re­mem­ber what she wrote about. I gu­ess it was just so­met­hing about her eve­ry­day life. If I re­mem­ber cor­rect­ly, there was no di­rect ans­wer to my qu­es­ti­on. I re­mem­ber well the last sen­ten­ce, ho­we­ver. It see­med so­me­how puz­z­ling to me, and I had to read it many ti­mes. It said: “I am on­ly fif­teen ye­ars old.” Two ye­ars yo­un­ger than me.

Now I de­ci­de to find out how I had for­mu­la­ted that cru­ci­al qu­es­ti­on. I open my let­ter and be­gin to read the text I wrote half a cen­tu­ry ago. The let­ter be­gins: “I have to write to you…” I then find that I do not want share the full con­tent of the let­ter af­ter all. To my surp­ri­se, there is no di­rect qu­es­ti­on in the let­ter – on­ly a re­qu­est for cor­res­pon­den­ce. Ma­y­be the outs­po­ken qu­es­ti­on that I had in my mind got so­me­how hid­den bet­ween the li­nes.

It took a while be­fo­re we could mus­ter up the cou­ra­ge to talk. We on­ly cor­res­pon­ded, alt­hough we went to the same school. My lit­t­le sis­ter hel­ped us exc­han­ge let­ters.

When we fi­nal­ly sat to­get­her at ser­vi­ces, the el­der­ly la­dies in our cong­re­ga­ti­on kept sa­ying how very, very yo­ung we were. We got en­ga­ged two and a half ye­ars la­ter and had a long en­ga­ge­ment. The same la­dies then kept won­de­ring when, if ever, we would fi­nal­ly get mar­ried. Three ye­ars af­ter our en­ga­ge­ment we stood at the al­tar to­get­her.

Time pas­sed, and we had se­ve­ral child­ren. When they grew up, they be­gan to ask qu­es­ti­on our cour­ting. They read my first let­ter. They were es­pe­ci­al­ly in­te­res­ted in how I had pro­po­sed to their mot­her. We had to ad­mit that I had ne­ver pro­per­ly pro­po­sed to her. The child­ren were as­to­nis­hed and as­ked how we could ever have en­ded up mar­ried wit­hout a pro­po­sal. They laug­hed and said I should make good for this short­co­ming.

I got up from the sofa, knelt down in front of my wife and said: ”Would you have be­co­me my wife if I had been smart enough to ask?” She laug­hed and said: “I would.”

On our wed­ding day de­ca­des ago we got va­lu­ab­le ad­vi­ce from the of­fi­ci­a­ting mi­nis­ter Ola­vi Voit­to­nen. His words of inst­ruc­ti­on have been like sign­posts on our jour­ney to­get­her:

”Love is not on­ly a fee­ling. It is a cal­ling and a pur­po­se in life. Who­e­ver sows love will al­so reap love. This is truer in mar­ri­a­ge than anyw­he­re el­se.”

”Dear yo­ung pe­op­le, let yo­ur home al­wa­ys be foun­ded on faith, hope, and love. They are like keys, three gol­den keys to yo­ur own home and al­so to our eter­nal home in he­a­ven.”

Text: Erk­ki Ala­saa­re­la

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

You will find the ori­gi­nal Fin­nish blog post here.


Ku­kaan, joka pu­huu Ju­ma­lan Hen­gen val­taa­ma­na, ei voi sa­noa: "Jee­sus on ki­rot­tu." Ku­kaan ei myös­kään voi sa­noa: "Jee­sus on Her­ra", muu­ten kuin Py­hän Hen­gen vai­ku­tuk­ses­ta. 1 Kor. 12:3

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