Apparently today is World Mental Health day and I am counting my blessings. I am in my happy place at our family cabin in Hope. It's a cold and rainy October day, but we are in the warm cozy cabin stocked up with coffee and pumpkin pie and books and board games and a fireplace and no agenda. We woke up late and have lazed around. Pentti made a fire outside and we made s'mores. We watched some football and picked up lattes from Starbucks. I am so thankful that we can come here to get away and at least partially forget all the craziness of life. What a joy.
The last two years have been awful: cancer and COVID. As if those weren't bad enough, I have also lost some friends. Some were easier to lose than others, but it always comes with a certain bit of sadness to realize that someone is no longer part of your life. But the ones who remain are truer than true and they make all the difference. Because I see people around me who don't have close friends and they are starting to fray at the edges. People who have always been stable and calm have started to crack. No one can make it alone, especially not now. And so I am so thankful to those people who have kept me sane. The friend who has prayed with me and held me while I cried. The friend who has gone for walks with me and allowed me to be myself. The friend who has had me over to vent over a glass of wine. I love my family, but it is my friends that have kept me going. They have made all the difference in my mental health.
It's the colours of fall and crisp air and cardigans and scarves. It's walking at the beach and sitting on a log listening to the water. It's singing my favourite hymn in church. It's unexpected flowers on my path. My best friend laughing. It's holding a newborn baby. It's sitting on my friend's sofa watching Downton Abbey. It's loving teaching and having students who are thrilled to see me. It's grilled cheese and soup. Reading a good book. It's having a good, deep conversation. It's a moment that feels right even when other things don't.
Are you enough? Our self help narcissistic culture certainly seems to think so. You need to find peace and worth from within. You should tell yourself how wonderful and beautiful and worthy you are and then live accordingly. This works in the short term: I am enough, no one can make me feel less than. But what happens when the fuzzy feelings wear off? When you don't meet your own standards of what is good. When deep down, despite the positive self-talk, you actually think that you aren't enough. Should you just try harder? Reinforce your worthiness and think happy thoughts? Thinking you can somehow convince yourself you're enough if you try harder is actually part of the toxic self-help culture. Its all on you. You're failing at making yourself feel good about yourself, you're failing at feeling worthy. You should be stronger, more resilient, less impacted by what others think...blah blah blah...But you aren't enough, and you know it. Despite your very best efforts, you are not the person you wish you were. The good news is there is an answer and it doesn't come from looking within and squeezing more positivity out of yourself.
The answer is God. He makes you enough, because in yourself, you actually are not capable of being enough. And without Jesus you never will be. This sounds like bad news, a spiral of shame and low self esteem waiting to happen. But, it's actually the exact opposite. It's not on you; the answer does not lie within yourself at all. You can stop trying so hard and pulling yourself up again and again by your bootstraps. You can stop beating yourself up for failing again, for being insecure again, for questioning your own worth again. The answer is not within, it is completely outside yourself. God. He loved you and knew you before the foundation of the Earth. Think about that. He is the Creator of the entire universe and He wants a relationship with you. And He wants that relationship despite knowing EVERYTHING about you. These may sound like Christian cliches, but when you really stop to think about them, they are profoundly true and beautiful. In Christ, you are enough and nothing you do will ever change that.
"Sometimes, celebrating, enjoying, and laughing seem almost inappropriate in a world as broken as ours. We look around and see panic on the faces of everyone we see. Tragedies become ordinary. How, in good conscience, can we laugh and celebrate and eat pizza? I believe we must celebrate-because our celebration is one the most effective weapons we have against the darkness of our day. It is taking the time to document the sweet memories, traditions, stories made together." Sally Clarkson
The last couple of months have been full of celebrations. Not elaborate parties or expensive trips or anything "grand", but celebrations nonetheless. I have gone to Hope three times, which is my happy place. The moment we turn off the highway, I breathe a little deeper. Two of those trips were with a friend and were the best therapy I could ever get. We did all the same things we always do, except we did a lot more walking along the beautiful tunnels and we binge watched The Chosen. I loved every second. The third trip was with my sister and her kids, Emmi and my mom. Granted, that trip was a little less relaxing than a girls weekend, but it was so great to chat with my sister and for Emmi to play with her cousins.
I have actually seen my extended family three times this summer. I didn't see most of them at all for over a year, which it turns out was long enough to miss them, lol. We had a get together at my brother's, one here for Emmi's birthday and one for my two nephews. They were casual and there was lots of food. But more importantly, it was just so nice to sit around and laugh and talk and catch up.
I have also caught up with some of my friends that I haven't seen very much, if at all, in the last year. The joy of laughing and talking and spending time together reminds me I am not alone and there are lots of good people in my life. I may have forgotten that all those times when I was sitting at home on my couch in the last year.
Because as it turns out, I've also had a lot of anxiety the last few months. I am not sure if it's always been there under the surface and COVID brought it to out, or if the events of the last year and a half have brought it on as something new. Either way, I have been anxious about a lot of things. And unfortunately, a pandemic allows for lots of extra time to reflect and sit around thinking. I also tend to be an overthinker and a pessimist; it is not hard for me to get caught in a spiral of negative thinking that is most unhelpful. So, there have been a lot of dark days. But there has also been a lot of soul searching about things I want to change and what really matters, so it's not a total wash.
And that brings me back to the opening quote. I have blogged previously about how I try to search for beauty and joy in every day. But, I am also making a deliberate effort to "laugh and celebrate and eat pizza" because it really does pull me out of the darkness. I have also gotten even more selective about who I spend time with. I have a limited amount of time and although there are lots of lovely people I would normally have coffee with, I just haven't had it in me to get together. Hopefully if things ever return to normal, I will catch up with those friends too. But for now, I am choosing to feed my soul and keep my circle very, very small.
Yesterday fed my soul. Churches were allowed to reopen for worship for the first time since November. We went together as a family and it felt so normal, but also holy and sacred. Honestly, I have loved getting up for church for the last five years every single Sunday. It's a joy. But, I have to admit, that not having been able to attend for almost seven months made it that much more special.
No the church is not a building. Yes, we did online church faithfully every week. Yes, we also attended community group online. But, being together with my people in that beloved building was beautiful. Hearing the preaching live. Taking communion together. Seeing some of my friends. So, although church is not a building, I won't pretend that gathering together physically doesn't matter because it does. Even with all the restrictions, being together beats online every time. I pray that we're able to continue.
"They say we live in a 'disenchanted' world. But that narrative dissolves the moment we stare at the stars, walk with fireflies and shout with the thunder. Re-enchant the world today with joys gained from simple beauties." I love this quote so much. It encapsulates what I have been trying to do with looking for joy and beauty in the everyday.
On Saturday, we found a lot of little joys; the forest, bright green leaves, birds singing, sunshine, coffee, the beach. Time with my friend always fills me up. But the image that stuck with me was of her sitting on a garden bench eating ice cream and swinging her legs in the sunshine. I mean, who doesn't get joy from ice cream, but it was such a beautiful carefree moment of pure, unadulterated happiness. It still makes me smile.
Today is the last day of the writing challenge and today's word is PURPOSE. In theory, this one seems too easy: love God and love people. Everything I aspire to can be summed up in those two statements, which are also how Jesus summed up the ten commandments. Theoretically, it can't be that hard, right? Except. In practice, these two things are incredibly challenging.
Let's start with loving God. I know His attributes, I trust Him, I know He loves me, so He's easy to love. The problem is that I love a lot of other things too and they often take over. I love my family, my friends. I love comfort and financial security and good health. Loving these things is not a problem as long as they don't become the focus of my life, but sadly, they often do. Meanwhile, truly loving God means putting Him first.
Then, there's the "problem" of loving people. In theory, I have a vast love for all mankind. But, I'm just not so sure about my neighbour specifically. She is annoying and hates Christians and is always watching our every move. And my other neighbours, well they have a screaming child, a baby and a dog. And then there's my coworker who is kind of weird. I could go on. And on. But if I don't love my "neighbours", then I can't claim to love God. Well that kinda sucks now, doesn't it?! So that means I struggle with loving both my neighbour and with loving God. And ain't that the truth.
But, I press on because I believe that as I grow in my faith, my love for God and people will grow. And that is my purpose pure and simple.
Today's word for the writing challenge is QUESTION. I think asking questions is good. I believe that one should always, always think for oneself and ask questions. It doesn't matter who is telling me something whether politician or pastor, I WILL question whether what you are telling me is true and right.
Critical thinking is important, right? It should be encouraged, shouldn't it? It's even in the curriculum to teach children as a vital skill. So why then are questions in fact discouraged? Asking the "wrong" questions that go against whatever narrative the media is currently spewing get you immediately labelled if not verbally attacked. There is no room for discussion, let alone seeing more than one point of view. I find this extremely dangerous.
Today's writing challenge word is: MIDDLE. For me, being a creature of comfort and the familiar, the middle is a great place to be. Of course it depends somewhat on what we're talking about. If it's pain or illness or suffering of some kind, being in the middle isn't so great. If I'm in the middle of a long transatlantic flight and I still have as many hours left as I've flown, I'm less than thrilled. But, it's also true that if I'm in the middle, even one step forward means I'm closer to the end than the beginning and that is a good thing.
But if I'm in the middle of something I actually enjoy, I love being in the middle. I don't generally like beginnings because they're full of unknowns. I really don't like endings because I am terrible with goodbyes and the deflated feeling of something being over. But the middle? That's my favourite place to be. In a restaurant, it means your food has arrived and you've already dug in. Out for a walk, it means you're about to start your way back to the car. Reading a novel, you're in the best part of story development. During a weekend away, it means I've settled in and there is still ample time left.
If you know me at all, saying I love the middle is somewhat ironic for this black and white thinker. I don't have neutral, in the middle feelings very often. But, as the middle is becoming increasingly rare, I find myself gravitating toward the middle also in my thinking. The world is alarmingly polarized. Every issue is either ultra left or ultra right. You're either 100 % behind the government narrative around COVID or you're an antivaxxer, conspiracy theorist. Moderation doesn't seem to exist anymore. But I am stubbornly insisting that there is in fact still a middle. This does not mean that I promote unending compromise and settling on the lowest common denominator. But it does mean trying to consider both sides of an issue. It does mean thinking about things for myself and discussing them with a trusted friend. I think more people should aspire to be in the middle.
There is a story in the Bible about the Israelites crossing the Jordan River. As they are crossing, God tells them to gather 12 rocks, one for each of the tribes. The rocks are to serve as a reminder. Because God knows our propensity to forget. The Bible is in fact full of celebrations and feasts that are meant to serve as reminders. The biggest one we still observe today is communion. A reminder. Because we forget. It is actually quite terrible how easily we forget God's provision and faithfulness. The situation or crisis passes and the memory of how God was present in the midst of it all fades. So, we need to be more deliberate in reminding ourselves. Of remembering.
I am trying to be grateful every day for God's faithfulness. That doesn't mean that my life has been without any hardship. But in recalling how good God has been in the past helps me to trust Him in the future. Besides, it's in the difficult situations that I have felt the love of God more acutely than during the sunny carefree days. He has been so faithful through job loss, Emmi's traumatic birth, Pentti's cancer, my dad's cancer and death, multiple surgeries, my brother Tim's multiple life and death situations, I could go on and on. And I am sure that there are countless times and ways that God has been present and I haven't even realized it. So today, I am remembering and I am grateful.
Today's blogging challenge word is STORY. I thought I would write the story of Pentti and I.
We met in 1996 when Pentti came to Canada for a visit. He drove me crazy. I don't really remember why, but he seriously annoyed me. But, he was staying at my parent's house and I still lived at home, so I saw him a lot. He would actually stay up to watch (late night) Fashion Television with me, which is hilarious now. I kind of knew he must like me, but the feeling was not mutual. A friend of mine loves to tell a story about how she first saw Pentti as a grape went flying at him (from my hand) as she came up the stairs for a youth group party. Again, I don't remember why, but he must have deserved it, lol. Anyway, he went back to Finland and that was that. At Christmas he came back for a visit, but I hardly saw him since I was dating a guy named Peter at the time. Apparently Pentti had come to see me, but I guess that was a bit of a wasted trip. Poor guy.
I didn't see him again until the summer of 1998. I was housesitting for my aunt and uncle and he came there to say hello. This time things were different. We started dating. We went to see the movie Armageddon. We spent time together and I liked his company. But, he returned to Finland again. This time we kept in touch over email. There was a lot of letter writing, which is actually a pretty good way to get to know someone. He came back to visit in the fall, but since we didn't want my family knowing we were dating, he came under the guise of my editing his master's thesis. I can't remember whether I actually looked at his thesis, but that was the official "story". I remember my maternal grandmother calling my mom to say that maybe Pentti should stay at their house so that he could have peace and quiet to work on his thesis. Clearly she was in the dark. My paternal grandmother, however, was more astute. Even though no one knew what was really happening, she declared that she knew exactly why Pentti kept coming back to visit; "he has his eye on Annika". The family disagreed with her, that that definitely wasn't it. My grandmother would not back down, lol. Anyway, when we decided to meet in London after he'd gone home, our relationship could no longer be kept secret.
We had the best time in London. We stayed in the tiniest little hotel. We walked everywhere. We ate pastries and italian food and visited museums. We went to see Les Miserables. I feel like it rained the whole time, but I hardly noticed. One night he asked me if I'd marry him. I cried. And said yes. But we didn't officially get engaged then and sadly, I don't even remember the date. October something?
At Christmas, he came to visit Vancouver again. I'm not sure how he had so much time and money to keep flying to Vancouver, but he did. I don't know which of his trips it was that we were crossing the border to go shopping in the States and the customs agent looked at his passport and said, "excuse me sir, do you have a job". Lol. Anyway, on Christmas Eve, he asked me to marry him. We had picked out the ring together; knowing me, he'd never dare to pick one out for me on his own. But, it was still a surprise since we had agreed to wait until the new year when I was going to go to Finland to meet his parents. I'm not too sure whether his parents were happy that we got engaged before they'd even met me, but Pentti made that call, not me.
The rest is history, as they say. We got married in August of 1999; 22 years ago this summer. A lot can fit into that many years: multiple jobs, kids, cars, vacations, degrees, homes, illness. But looking back over our story thus far, I am truly grateful. God has been faithful and has so clearly had His hand in our lives. On our wedding bands, we had engraved the date, but also the Latin phrase: Deus nos iunxit which means God has joined us. I truly believe that. The story continues....
So today's word prompt for the writing challenge I am doing is: REFRESH. I feel like I have already blogged so much about all the things that I do to refresh myself whether it's reading, meeting a friend, going outside, listening to music, going to Hope etc. I had to really rack my brain to think about what else I do that I might not have blogged about ad nauseum. One thing I'm sure has come up in my writing previously, but maybe not so overtly is being refreshed from being understood and having good conversation. I have spent so much time in my life in crowds of various sizes feeling misunderstood and alone. Just this morning, I was on a zoom call with about 180 other people who I know to varying degrees, and I felt alone. Like I couldn't chat (on the side) with a single person in that group about what I was really thinking. So, to go for a walk and lunch afterward and to share my unfiltered self with my friend was refreshing. I felt understood and loved.
We also had some really great conversation. We always do and it never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes we disagree, sometimes one of us takes over the conversation in an animated telling of some idea, sometimes we confirm one another's thinking, sometimes we have no answers. But, there is always, always good, deep conversation. And lots of laughter. How refreshing.
I am doing a writing challenge for fun this week. I just finished a 9 month long Bible study on the book of Genesis, so I thought that it would be a good time to challenge myself in other ways. So, I signed up for this writing challenge. Every day I will be emailed a one word writing prompt. I can then write about that word in any way that I wish. This morning, the word was: VOICE. So, I thought I would write about choir.
I sang in a gospel choir in Vancouver for three years. I really miss it. Because of COVID, the choir went virtual this year and I decided to take a break. But I miss the community. I miss the buzz of concert weekend. I miss waiting anxiously in the green room, or in the concrete stairwell on the way onto the stage. I miss my friends. I miss running across the street to Starbucks. I miss choir retreat in Whistler. I miss the look the director would give us when a song was going particularly well.
But I also miss using my voice. There has been way too little singing in the last year. I still sing at home and in the car, but it's not the same as singing together. In the choir, our voices came together to make a beautiful sound. Anyone who knows me, knows I do not like group work, I prefer to do things alone. But singing is different. You can't achieve the same sound or the same feeling singing alone as you can surrounded by a bunch of other voices. There is nothing quite like that feeling of a song coming together after months of practice, the timing being perfect, the audience clearly loving it.
I think the loss of music during COVID has made things extra hard. Corporate worship at church has been cancelled. Currently we aren't meeting at all, but even when we do, singing will not be returning in the same way, not for some time. Frankie's Jazz Club, which I used to visit fairly often is closed. At school, I can't sing with my kindergarteners. What a sad year of kindergarten when you can't even sing together. I think the therapy that music provides has been largely missing during this time and it has made things that much worse.
But next weekend, I will use my voice! My choir is putting out an online concert and I will be watching. And singing. I can't wait!
Ah, books, my oldest most constant companions...how I've missed you...The great thing about books is that they are so constant. For as long as I can remember being able to read, books have been my friends. Obviously this exposes just how introverted (anti-social?) I am. But books don't make me feel bad or less than or unloved. Books are always available and never ignore me. Books make me feel warm and fuzzy and comforted: their words, their creamy pages, the way they feel in my hands, the familiar characters who are like old friends.
I had kind of forgotten what it feels like to curl up with a good book. Since my dad died, I have not read a single work of fiction. I've tried, but even engaging books have sat waiting to be finished. This has never happened to me before since I have always been an avid reader. I can't explain it, but it seems it may have been part of my grieving. But yesterday, I picked up a novel by one of my favourite authors. I had started it months ago and then it had sat collecting dust. I actually had to start again at the beginning since I couldn't remember what I'd read. But I'm more than halfway and I am loving it. Escaping into the world of my favourite detective was exactly what I needed this week. Now if I can just make myself go to bed on time instead of staying up all night to finish....
Are there things you do to escape that feed your soul? Things big or small that fill you up? I don't mean things like watch tv or scroll social media which I think numb your soul, and increase your anxiety. But things that bring a smile to your face and make you feel warm and fuzzy. Things that allow you to forget your troubles and temporarily feel hopeful that the world is a lovely place. I have been very intentional in trying to find these moments every day. Yes, I still feel depressed or anxious or even angry sometimes, but I also have moments every day where I feel happy and filled up.
Yesterday I spent time with my friend. As we sat on the restaurant patio sharing pasta with the sun streaming onto our table, I couldn't help but pause to savour the moment. I actually find myself doing that a lot with this particular friend, both the eating and the savouring. We were sharing a steaming plate of four kinds of pasta. It was a random Monday afternoon and we had just finished a lengthy walk. We had nowhere to be for hours. Our time together is never rushed and that makes it precious, and rare. We linger as long as we'd like, whether it's over lunch, or coffee or out for a walk. There is something restful about slowing down and taking our time and I think it is partly this sense of taking pleasure in the moment that makes our times together so beautiful. It reminds me of the Latin saying festina lente, or make haste slowly. You can interpret that in many ways, but I take it to mean that even though you do have limited amounts of time, to enjoy those moments slowly.
After lunch, we bought coffee and walked down to the beach. The water was sparkling with sunlight. There were lazy boats in the water and some guy practicing hand gliding on the grass. It was quiet except the occasional chatter of people, and a few birds. It was wonderful. Watching/listening to the water always feeds my soul and is the best. But sitting on a bench with my closest friend and staring out at the water is better.
Just to be clear, we were still in the midst of a pandemic, restaurants were still closed to indoor dining, we still had to wear masks to order our coffee...there were lots of negatives. But that's not what I chose to focus on. Instead my soul was filled up with sunshine, walking, food, conversation, laughter, the beauty of spring, coffee, the beach and my friend. My cup runneth over.
Why do we gravitate toward the beautiful? What is it that touches our soul when we see a stunning sunset or a newborn baby or a cherry tree in all its pink splendour? I have been thinking about this a lot and I don't think it's just the superficiality of something that pleases the eye. Yes, that's part of it, but I think the answer lies much deeper than that.
Have you ever met someone who you thought was beautiful but as you got to know them, their beauty somehow faded in your eyes? Conversely have you ever met someone seemingly ordinary, but as you got to know them, they become more and more beautiful? You suddenly notice the twinkle in their eyes, or how pretty they look when they smile, or how their laugh warms your heart? I think this is because beauty is tied to truth and goodness. Finding someone to be true and good makes them start to glow with beauty. Finding someone to be deceitful and wicked changes your perception of how they look and they become ugly right before your very eyes.
The ultimate source of everything good, true and beautiful is God. Although we can't exactly look at Him, we can look at His creation. There is something about the beauty of creation that inexplicably draws us into awe and wonder, which lead us to go beyond ourselves and beyond that particular moment in time. We catch glimpses of what life would be like if the world was not so full of sin and evil and pollution and corruption and we yearn for things to be better. This yearning is more than just wishful thinking for an earthly utopia; I think it's actually a deep desire for communion with God and the paradise that He originally created for us.
But we aren't in paradise anymore and until we reach heaven, beauty is only fleeting. I went cherry blossom hunting with my friend the other day. We found some trees that were still budding, some that were in full bloom and some that had already faded and lost a lot of their flowers. The beauty of the flower reminds us that we are here today and gone tomorrow. We need to live in the moment, since that's all we have. But the impermanence of beauty also carries an element of sadness. We wish for lasting beauty, for eternal beauty. One day when we reach heaven, everything will in fact be beautiful and perfect and eternal. But until then, we wait and try to appreciate those fleeting moments of beauty that we do see.
In an increasingly dark and depressing world, however, looking for beauty and stopping to appreciate it is a kind of rebellion. It is defiantly choosing to reflect on what is good and lovely and true, not in a naive, Pollyanna-like way, but as an act of gratitude and appreciation. The Bible actually tells us, "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things." (Phil 4:8). It can be a tall order, but I am reminded of the quote that "it is easy to be heavy; hard to be light." Focusing on what is still good and lovely is hard, but worth the effort. So, you will find me defiantly loving life and stopping to appreciate the beauty all around me.
Is joy still present as an inbreaking light, sparkle, music, dazzlement in your life? Are you able to steal moments of joy in the midst of a pandemic? This is of course easier said than done, but oh how it fills the heart when you find those glimpses of the beautiful and the divine.
I was at the beach today with a friend eating takeout. The air was pretty frigid, even under our blankets as we tried to eat our poke bowls without our fingers going completely numb from the cold. The ground was cold and somewhat uncomfortable. But, my heart was so full. The view looming in front of us which filled 180 degrees of what we could see, was sparkling. The mountains still glistening with snow and the water gently crashing on the shore. The fresh air we could breathe and the comfort of sitting next to my closest friend. The gratitude for still being able to meet outside despite the tightening of restrictions. For all these things and more, I was so grateful.
There are moments of joy in every day, if you care to find them. Rather than dwelling on the increasingly dark and depressing world around me, I am choosing to look for the light that brings a glimmer of hope into every day.
What do you do when the people you've known your whole life, who've helped shape you into the person you are, start to die? I know that it is the cycle of life and that once you get to a certain age, death of the generation before becomes more commonplace. But that doesn't make it any less sad or heartbreaking.
I've blogged before about how blessed I was to have grown up in the Finnish church that I did. It was a vibrant, solid, loving environment that I am so grateful for to this day. In its heyday, the church had about 200 members and I knew every single one. And they knew me. There were generations of families attending the church and I was lucky in that my grandparents from both sides went to the church, as did my cousins, aunts and uncles. But it wasn't just my relatives that were my family. The older people were grandparents to everyone and the parents of my friends were also in many ways parenting me. The sense of community was strengthened by our commonality as immigrants from Finland. The church was familiar and safe and loving. There were some old people who scolded us for running in the sanctuary, and for drawing and whispering during church. There were other old people who secretly gave us candy and made us feel loved. There were the church ladies who cooked at our overnight camps and the countless Sunday school teachers and camp counsellors who taught us and nurtured us and guided us. I have so many memories from church, kid's camp, church picnics, conferences, playdates between morning and evening service. I really was brought up by a village.
Two of my closest friends growing up at church had fathers who deeply influenced me. One was my friend Ingrid's dad. I spent a lot of time at their house and we had a lot of conversations around their dinner table. For a while there was a running joke that I was obviously coming over since they were serving chicken. I don't know how many times Ingrid and I lugged the spare mattress down to her room in the middle of the night and inevitably banged the gate at the top of the stairs on our way down. Her dad, Jack, was such an understanding man. I always felt welcome and cared for and like he was interested in what I had to say. Jack was very active and well known in the Richmond School board where I was going to school. His opinions influenced me a lot. By the time I was in high school, he was the superintendent of schools. He came to my graduation and actually left his seat on the stage to give me a hug when I got my diploma. I will never forget that. Unfortunately, Jack died years ago, gone too soon.
My friend Susanna's dad was the pastor of my church growing up. It is largely because of him that the church was so vibrant and Biblical. Erkki was one of those stalwart, solid Christians who was unwavering in his principles. He was not a man of compromise and I really admired that about him. He was steadfast and solid and spoke his mind. But he was also really friendly and had a great sense of humour. In fact, he seemed to always be smiling or laughing when I saw him.
Erkki actually renewed his pastor's license just so that he could marry Pentti and I almost 22 years ago. Before he would marry us, we had to go through marriage counselling with him. I can't remember how many sessions there were, but he was interested in guiding and counselling us in our lives together, which I thought was beautiful. But even better than any counselling session was having observed his marriage with his wife throughout my whole life. They had a beautiful marriage and everyone who knew them saw it. On one of their anniversaries he rewrote the lyrics to a familiar tune and sang it to his wife at a party. I often saw them out for walks in the neighbourhood clearly enjoying each other's company.
Erkki died two weeks ago and I feel like he was the last pillar of that generation of people from my church. Who will fill the shoes of these spiritual giants? It feels like the end of an era. And yet, even though I am sad, I am also so, so grateful. I have been surrounded by positive, loving father figures my entire life starting of course with my own dad and grandfather, but also beyond them. I have had many spiritual father figures in my life. For me, it is so easy to see God as a loving, caring father and I know that I am truly blessed. It's amazing when I think back to all the male role models in my life and how honest and full of integrity they have been. I also marvel at the strong marriages I grew up seeing firsthand. There was no doubt that these men loved and respected their wives. What a beautiful thing to have grown up in a Christian environment filled with strong, Biblical, sincere believers. No, it wasn't perfect, but it was pretty close. And for that, I am forever grateful.
I have been thinking a lot about rest and peace and Sabbath and what it means to live out of these. To really approach each day from a place of rest as opposed to striving, trying harder, stressing out, worrying... you get the idea. I think in order to live out of a place of rest, you need to press the reset button every once in awhile. To actually stop, and refocus. One of the best ways for me to do this is to get away for a weekend with a friend. I am so fortunate in that we have a cabin to which I can escape and that I have a husband who makes it possible for me to go.
Taking a break from the routine of the ordinary and mundane to just be, to have no responsibilities, no demands, no schedule, and to spend time with a girlfriend is such a welcome break. We sat in the back yard and listened to the birds and the creek, we watched a movie, we ate, we chatted, we went in the sauna, we went for walks, we did whatever we wanted and it was perfect. And so restful.
I was thinking this morning about women who have inspired me. I've blogged before about the Finnish women that I knew growing up who definitely inspired me. Then there are the women I admire from afar. I don't really know them, but I admire their ideas or their character or their strength. There are also the women I admire for one particular quality or another, but I don't admire them overall.
As I reflected on who I admire most, I came to the conclusion that it is my friend Serene. It's one thing to admire someone from afar, when you don't really know them. It's something entirely different to admire someone who you know from close up, someone who is in fact your best friend. I can't get into all the reasons I admire her because it would require divulging information about her life. But, it's enough to say that she is a woman of God. She is strong and beautiful and smart. She is true and honest and faithful. She aspires to be closer to God and then does things to actually get her there. She doesn't just talk the talk as they say, she walks the walk.
So, on this international women's day, I am so grateful for this friend of mine who inspires me, but also chooses to call me friend.
There is so much beauty in the world if you care to look for it and now, more than ever, we need to find and pause to appreciate the lovely. What better time than the spring, especially a spring on the heels of a year of COVID? Spring is such a hopeful time. There is so much new life and so many signs big and small of renewal. There are tiny green leaves on trees and crocuses and snowdrops and birds. As I walked from my car to the school today, I noticed the purple heather and the bright yellow daffodils that had popped up near the front door of the school. It was a bright sunny day and the students were outside laughing, with no jackets. It set the mood for the whole day.
One place that always makes my day is the forest. It's where I have found the most peaceful beauty in the last year. Moss covered trees and ferns and trails and woodpeckers and quietly babbling brooks. Sunlight breaking in through the trees and mushrooms and smiling (maskless) faces. Laughter and good conversation and quiet moments of just being together with my friend. Recently I learned a new term called forest bathing, or shinrin yoku in Japanese. Apparently there are health benefits associated with walking in nature and being near trees. I'm not surprised. If there is one thing that has consistently brought me moments of joy, it has been walks in the forest with my friend. I am so blessed that I have been able to meet with her for walks; I'm pretty sure the walks and the friendship are what have kept me sane during this pandemic.
I was telling my best friend something about my dad the other day and I started crying. Again. She has seen me cry a lot in the last year. It has been over 14 months since my dad died and even though I am no longer completely bereft, the underlying grief is always there. Not once has my friend rolled her eyes or said anything that wasn't supportive. She hasn't told me to cheer up or asked why am I STILL crying. But I find her patience and willingness to let me grieve unusual.
Because the truth is that most people are uncomfortable with prolonged sadness or grief or illness or anything else negative. People want to hear how you overcame, how you healed, how you feel better now. Your grief, sadness, mourning, illness make them feel uncomfortable. At my father's memorial service, someone actually told my mom to cheer up and not cry. I want to think that the person was trying to be helpful, but she sure wasn't. Now that it's been over a year, people just assume my mom is over it. I mean, it must be easier, right? All the milestones have passed: first birthday, first Christmas, first Valentine's etc without my dad. And yes, in some ways it is easier. But in some ways it isn't and people do not want to hear that. They want to be assured that things get better, that time heals all wounds, that grieving is tidy and follows a one year schedule... blah blah blah. People are uncomfortable with lingering sadness that outlasts whatever time they deem appropriate.
People are also uncomfortable with prolonged (especially unexplained) illness. Pentti has been unwell for about 18 months. I blogged previously that he had cancer and I am so grateful that the cancer is gone. But, he has other issues related to his surgery and other health challenges. He had some tests done and they were inconclusive. So, he has to wait and have more tests. So when people ask me how he is, I don't know what to answer. Again, they want to hear that he's better and everything is great. But the truth is more complicated than that.
And that's where lament comes in. Lament allows for mourning what is, when we wish things were different. We don't always have to get over things. Life's troubles don't always have clear start and end dates. Things are messy and unclear and take longer than expected. We can get through things with prayer and lament, but we don't always get over them. Sometimes a time of prolonged sadness is exactly what we need. I think there is something profoundly beautiful in lamenting that we are frail and limited and broken. And it is from that place that we turn to God, to the resurrection of Easter, to the eternal hope of all things one day being made right.
Awhile back, I came across an analogy of a key ring, with different friends holding different keys and different amounts of keys to who you are. The writer said, "I have friends that hold the keys to different doors of my personality". I've been thinking about this analogy in light of the friendships in my life and which keys I have given to which people. Keeping in mind that all analogies fall apart at some point, here is what I have come up with.
Some people only get one key. Circumstance brings us together and they get that key, whether it's choir or Bible study or work. If the friendship grows, they get more keys as I share with them more than that one thing. But, most people just get the one. That means that when whatever brought us together ends, so does the friendship. It doesn't take away from the good times we had together, but the friend no longer has any keys. This is actually a helpful way for me to think about those friendships that have ended. I was initially really hurt by one such friendship that has completely faded into the distance. But reflecting on what we shared, it makes sense that there is just nothing there anymore. We spent a lot of time together. We had fun. But it was all centred around this one key. I couldn't give her the key to my sense of humour because she doesn't understand it. I couldn't give her the key to spiritual discussions because she wasn't interested. She could only open one door to my personality/life and now that key doesn't exist anymore.
Some people get keys by default. My family knows my history and we have a lot of shared memories. They will be in my life forever, no matter what, so they automatically get a key. But even within family, there are certain family members who I would also consider very close friends. They have a lot more keys than those for which family/history is the only key. Pentti obviously gets a lot of keys because I spend the most time with him. We have built a whole life together, so he has had a major influence on which keys even exist in the first place: our kids, my career, our home etc. But, to quote the same article, "it's ok if our spouses don't have every key. How could they? It isn't a failure if they don't open every single door of who you are". Anyway, he's a guy and there are just some keys he is better off not having and he'd be the first to tell you so.
My closest friends need to have certain keys. If you don't understand my sarcasm, my dark humour, my introvertedness and my desire for God, then it is not possible for you to be a close friend. These things are non-negotiable. Without these things, I can't actually be myself. If I can't be myself, then why would I let you into my inner circle? On a side note, I am tired right now. Tired of COVID, tired of no church, tired of zoom, tired of people. I am unwilling to make time for people who don't have multiple keys. If I have to explain myself to you, if I have to work too hard to have a conversation with you, it's just not going to happen right now. Sorry; I am exhausted. But, I digress...
My best friend has all the keys. I think sometimes she wishes she didn't, haha. She doesn't necessarily understand some of the things I share with her. I think sometimes she looks at a key I have handed her and tries to give it back....lol. We are after all, two very different people. She hates shopping and doesn't get that part of me at all. Our cultures are quite different and not something that we really talk about much. But, I have chosen to give her all the keys because she is my best friend. I want to share everything with her because she is my person. I don't expect her to know what to do with all the keys, but I give them to her anyway.
