Blog: Like a spring day

The sun is shi­ning bright­ly and the glit­te­ring la­yer of fresh, white snow daz­z­les my ey­es. Yet, on­ly a mo­ment la­ter it seems like so­me­o­ne has switc­hed off the light. Eve­ryt­hing looks grey, and the air is full of snowf­la­kes whir­led about by wind.

Blog: How perfect he is

There is on­ly the fain­test sound of bre­at­hing in the si­lent room. I still feel a bit da­zed: is this tiny cre­a­tu­re re­al­ly ours?

Blog: The four decades of our home nest

At the be­gin­ning of the first de­ca­de the fledg­ling buil­ders with their yo­uth­ful dre­ams be­gan to work on their first nest. They had their first child­ren; there were more things to wor­ry about but al­so more joy.

Blog: Hot chocolate with goat’s milk

I love ani­mals! I have had ani­mals al­most al­wa­ys, even when I li­ved by my­self in these “back­woods”.

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”.