JavaScript is disabled in your web browser or browser is too old to support JavaScript. Today almost all web pages contain JavaScript, a scripting programming language that runs on visitor's web browser. It makes web pages functional for specific purposes and if disabled for some reason, the content or the functionality of the web page can be limited or unavailable.
Vieraskieliset / In-english

Blog: My summer, did you go away already?

Vieraskieliset / In-english
27.1.2022 6.00

Juttua muokattu:

19.1. 11:41

Text: Han­na-Ma­ria Jur­mu

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

Thank you for ha­ving come, sum­mer. You, sum­mer, are sheer light, light, light. You give growth even at ti­mes of drought. You give us all that we need to sur­vi­ve un­til you come back again. Thank you, sum­mer, for ha­ving come.

Dear He­a­ven­ly Fat­her, thank you for the sum­mer. All things are yo­ur gifts.

Sum­mer, you ap­pe­ar dif­fe­rent to dif­fe­rent pe­op­le. To some you seem just right and per­fect. To some ot­hers you bring an­xie­ty and bur­dens. Why, oh, why can the most be­au­ti­ful thing be the ug­liest? How can the best be the worst?

Dear God, you give us all things. Give strength to those who are ti­red.

Sum­mer, ver­dant and eart­hy, cold with nort­her­ly winds. You ope­ned yo­ur bo­som to re­le­a­se a flur­ry of hails that dest­ro­yed the flo­wers on my sis­ter’s ap­p­le trees. They got four ap­p­les. Sum­mer, you al­so ope­ned yo­ur bo­som to re­le­a­se inc­re­dib­le light and hu­mi­di­ty, which hel­ped my mot­her’s ap­p­le tree pro­du­ce more ap­p­les than ever be­fo­re.

You are the Lord of ele­ments and we­at­her.

Sum­mer, you gave me a new hob­by and a new friend. I have ne­ver known that the ri­ver, the ri­ver banks, the dis­tant fields shim­me­ring in sha­des of green, the fo­rests and the clouds in the sky are dif­fe­rent eve­ry day. I have not known one does not get ti­red swim­ming, on­ly a bit cold oc­ca­si­o­nal­ly. I have not known how lo­ve­ly it is to swim with my ey­es clo­sed, or how I can bring my ey­es down to the wa­ter le­vel, so that the wa­ter seems like part of me or like an end­less, spark­ling blue car­pet.

How won­der­ful it is to come up from the wa­ter for a while, to sit on the rocks and eat wild cur­rants and rasp­ber­ries, to le­arn that white cur­rants ri­pen stran­ge­ly slow­ly. How won­der­ful it is to al­re­a­dy wait for a new sum­mer. Though you have not gone away yet, my sum­mer!

I have le­arnt there is a thing cal­led swim­mer’s float. It is a good mate. I can trust it. It flo­ats be­hind me qui­et­ly and on­ly tries to get ahe­ad of me when the wa­ves are big. It lis­tens to our end­less chat­ter but is qui­et and ne­ver sha­res with any­bo­dy the things it has he­ard.

When we are done swim­ming, we sit on the deck, drin­king black cur­rant jui­ce and ea­ting car­rots. Wasn’t it won­der­ful again, we say a mil­li­on ti­mes. See you to­mor­row at five, we say when we le­a­ve.

Sum­mer, were you full of ex­pec­ta­ti­ons again? Do you have to lis­ten to di­sap­poin­ted com­ments about work that did not get done? Why do­esn’t anyt­hing chan­ge? Why don’t I chan­ge?

Dear God, help us be con­tent with what we ac­hie­ve.

Where will you go, sum­mer, when the fall co­mes? Will you go to a place where all the past things in God’s world are li­ned up in a good or­der? Will you go to a place where my thoughts can re­ach you and where I can find you and talk to you? Is that the place where me­mo­ries are made gol­den and be­au­ti­ful, more be­au­ti­ful than re­a­li­ty?

Did you go away al­re­a­dy, my sum­mer?


Hyvä on sen osa, joka luottaa Herraan, ei etsi apua pahan voimilta eikä käänny niiden puoleen, jotka valhetta palvelevat. Ps. 40:5

Viikon kysymys