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Vieraskieliset / In-english

Blog: Oh, the good old ti­mes!

Vieraskieliset / In-english
18.2.2021 13.31

Juttua muokattu:

18.2. 14:28

I sud­den­ly re­mem­be­red a small, see­ming­ly unim­por­tant in­ci­dent from my yo­uth. I was about twen­ty and al­re­a­dy awa­re of my in­na­te im­pa­tient rest­les­s­ness, which I con­ti­nue to feel oc­ca­si­o­nal­ly. “Where should we go?” I of­ten as­ked then and still do to­day.

My good friend An¬na-Kai¬sa was ea­si­ly per­su­a­ded to come along on my jaunts. She was al­wa­ys re­a­dy to turn eve­ry­day life in­to an ad­ven­tu­re. The ea­siest way to do that was to tra­vel. That time we de­ci­ded to go to Kuo­pio. I do not re­mem­ber anyt­hing spe­ci­al about that trip, but I am sure we had a good time with the ea­sy­going pe­op­le of eas­tern Fin­land.

I re­mem­ber, ho­we­ver, that on our way back we ba­re­ly mis­sed hit­ting a moo­se on the road. We stop­ped on a la­ke­si­de lay-by to catch our bre­ath af­ter the fright. We tal­ked about what could have hap­pe­ned and re­min­ded each ot­her how im­por­tant it is not to have sin on our cons­cien­ce.

We then wal­ked down to the shore to mar­vel at the be­au­ti­ful sun­set that tur­ned the lake sur­fa­ce in­to gold. A mid­d­le-aged lady al­so came to the shore and be­gan to talk to us. She had no­ti­ced the hap­pi­ness in our ey­es and wist­ful­ly said she would love to be yo­ung again. “Oh, the good old ti­mes!” she said with a nos­tal­gic sigh.

As we con­ti­nu­ed our jour­ney, we won­de­red about her wist­ful­ness. We were hap­py, for sure, but ot­her­wi­se our li­ves were just nor­mal. What was it in adult­hood that made pe­op­le ye­arn back to their yo­uth?

But it so hap­pe­ned that a coup­le of weeks ago I found my­self thin­king, “Oh, the good old ti­mes!” Some time pre­vi­ous­ly our ol­dest child, who li­ves in Ro­va­nie­mi in nort­hern Fin­land, had as­ked me to come and vi­sit her. I said I would come la­ter in the fall. Sec­ret­ly, ho­we­ver, I be­gan to plan my vi­sit right away. I con­tac­ted her room­ma­tes and bo­yf­riend to find out a sui­tab­le sche­du­le. It was ex­ci­ting to plan a surp­ri­se. Pac­king my stuff, I al­most felt like going ab­ro­ad.

When I got to Ro­va­nie­mi, I had a very warm wel­co­me. I felt I had tra­ve­led even furt­her than ab­ro­ad. It was as if I had tra­ve­led 20 ye­ars back in time to my own yo­uth, when I sha­red digs with some friends. It was as if I had been sit­ting at the tab­le in cand­le­light with my own friends, tal­king and laug­hing. Such won­der­ful, ge­nui­ne yo­ung be­lie­vers!

I won­der if our me­mo­ries grow swee­ter over time? Thin­king back, I feel that when I was yo­ung, I had no wor­ries and hard­ly any res­pon­si­bi­li­ties. I gu­ess I most­ly wor­ried about my nose being too big or, if I blus­hed, whet­her the co­lor on my cheeks would di­sap­pe­ar soon or stay for the whole eve­ning. I might have felt a bit wor­ried about a Swe­dish test at school, but quick­ly for­got all about it if there was so­met­hing more fun to do. And there usu­al­ly was.

If I re­mem­ber cor­rect­ly, we of­ten spent long eve­nings sit­ting around a bon­fi­re, tal­king, sin­ging and laug­hing. Sheer id­le­ness it was. It might have been due to that id­le­ness that we had end­less ener­gy to plan all kinds of prac­ti­cal jo­kes. We did not have much, nor did we need much. It was enough to get so­met­hing to eat eve­ry day, and we li­ved on very lit­t­le. Sure enough, we nee­ded some mo­ney to go so­mep­la­ce el­se whe­ne­ver we had a bout of rest­les­s­ness.

Af­ter my trip to Ro­va­nie­mi I felt good to re­su­me my eve­ry­day life and res­pon­si­bi­li­ties. I mar­ve­led at how rich my life is now, though it is ne­ver id­le. There are, ho­we­ver, mo­ments when I feel free from wor­rying – when I re­mem­ber that the He­a­ven­ly Fat­her has pro­mi­sed to take care of all our wor­ries and bur­dens.

It is re­al­ly nice and in­te­res­ting to get to know pe­op­le who are im­por­tant to our own child­ren in yo­ung adult­hood. It is al­so ex­ci­ting to get to know some pa­rents of those friends. I en­joy the op­por­tu­ni­ty to see glimp­ses of yo­ung pe­op­le’s life through our child­ren and their friends. I can then sit back in my roc­king-chair and sigh, ”Oh, the good old ti­mes!”

Text: Vir­pi Mä­ki­nen

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen


Sinä päi­vä­nä Her­ra on ole­va koko maan­pii­rin ku­nin­gas. Hän on ole­va yk­si ja ai­noa Ju­ma­la ja hä­nen ni­men­sä ai­noa, jota avuk­si huu­de­taan. Sak. 14:9

Viikon kysymys


Toi­sen­lai­ses­sa va­los­sa

Mi­ka­e­lan per­hees­sä ei pal­jon pu­hu­ta asi­ois­ta. Teh­dään töi­tä, käy­dään kou­lua. Mut­ta jos­sain pin­nan al­la on sa­lai­suus, joka saa äi­din hy­räi­le­mään su­ru­mie­li­ses­ti ja Mi­ka­e­lan sil­mäi­le­mään tar­kem­min muu­ta­mia nuo­ria kou­lun käy­tä­vil­lä ja ruo­ka­las­sa.

Se­läs­sä au­rin­gon kat­se

An­ni­ka Koi­vu­kan­kaan ru­nois­sa heit­täy­dy­tään nuo­ren elä­män aal­lok­koon, sen iloi­hin ja ki­pui­hin, ko­et­te­le­muk­siin ja ar­jen su­loi­seen tur­vaan – kun on us­ko, jo­hon no­ja­ta ja rin­nal­la saat­ta­jia. Sy­viä tun­to­ja ke­ven­tää rai­kas huu­mo­ri: ”Kun­pa voi­sin aset­tua het­kek­si koi­ran turk­kiin. / Tun­tea sen läm­mön / kar­ku­mat­ko­jen tuok­sun / ja myl­lä­tyn kuk­ka­pen­kin ilon. Pai­jaa­via sor­mia riit­täi­si.”

Ome­na­pos­ki ja Nal­le Kar­hu­nen

Kah­dek­san­vuo­ti­as Nal­le Kar­hu­nen on kuu­si­vuo­ti­aan Nu­pun eli Ome­na­pos­ken vii­sas, kilt­ti ja hel­lä iso­ve­li. Jos­kus Nal­le käyt­täy­tyy kuin tal­viu­nil­taan he­rä­tet­ty hur­ja ja äk­ki­pi­kai­nen kar­hu. Sil­loin Nu­pun on pa­ras­ta läh­teä ulos tai lait­taa oman huo­neen ovi vi­sus­ti kiin­ni.

Ta­kai­sin Isän ko­tiin

Kir­joit­ta­jat eri puo­lil­ta maa­il­maa ker­to­vat sii­tä, kuin­ka Ju­ma­la on joh­dat­ta­nut hei­dät val­ta­kun­taan­sa. Ker­to­muk­sia yh­dis­tää ko­ke­mus ko­tiin­pa­luus­ta, Raa­ma­tun mu­kai­sen us­kon löy­ty­mi­ses­tä ja us­ko­vais­ten vä­li­ses­tä rak­kau­des­ta.

Ke­tun­po­jat ja Ja­gu­ar-mies