End of a season

 The Christmas tree basket is weaved by my mother.
December has come to an end.This been has been a special, memorable, painful and joyful month to our little family.I am usually strict that Advent celebration shall not take place until December first. This year I made an exception. My Mom was longing for and looking forwards to Christmas from the end of September. She was ill and had several antibiotics cures this autumn, but as soon as she was out of bed, she started knitting socks for the nurses at the home where she spent her last days.She madded plans for gifts, food and clothing for the big coming feast. At the end of November we decorated her room with a little Christmas tree, candles, red embroidered tablecloths, poinsettias ( Christmas Stars in Norway), youlenisse and angels.She was thrilled. By my birthday the eighth, we returned to decorate the home in Sauda for a great Christmas celebration, the tree, dinner and coffee table were laid and all the old, familiar decorations, the manger, the lights and wreaths, star in the window and advent candles were there, even food supplies was provided. My Mom was all smile and joy as we returned to Haugesund. The next day we got the news, she'd had a new brain stroke and wasn't expected to live much longer. We waked for five days, they were rough for her and us, till she was let in the Pearly Gate, and everything in the room was idle peace. The day of St. Lucia was my Mom's homecoming day. The next day my aunt, my Mom's SIL, was buried and we somehow got the strength to attend the beautiful ceremony. December 17th we always visit and decorate the graves in Haugesund where Gunnar's family are buried. His Dad was born hundred years ago, December 17th 1912. Then back to Sauda in snow and storm, for Mom's quiet funeral December 19th. That was Mom's wish and we had to honor that. 

We returned to Haugesund to celebrate Gunnar's birthday, December 22nd. Serina made it a memorable day. I'm still not sure how we managed to buy Christmas presents, but we made it. Not many cards sent this year, though.
I was determined to present Norwegian Christmas Carols this Advent, one each day, and that somehow kept me going. In Serina's Advent calendar were simple riddles written in French, and one small gift hidden every day.We both had fun doing that. French is kind of a "new" language to Serina.The Little Christmas Eve, the 23rd, we returned to Sauda followed by a new storm. We celebrated Christmas with brother Kel. 

Everything was prepared on before hand, therefore we had a wonderful time surrounded by happy memories and memorabilia from my parents. We even attended three major church concert in Haugesund this Advents, the tickets were reserved in November.
We have experienced that the Lord has led us through dire landscape, opened doors and provided strength we did not posses in ourself.
The minister in the Church of Sauda was of great comfort and blessing, even smile and laughter.
Words from Jesaiah have proven to be true.  45:2 "I will go before you
    and will level the mountains^[a];
I will break down gates of bronze
    and cut through bars of iron.
³ I will give you hidden treasures,
    riches stored in secret places,
so that you may know that I am the Lord,
    the God of Israel, who summons you by name."

Everlasting Ruby Joys

I found this picture last week. My uncle Leif made this slide  from a Sunday School trip summer of 1960. Gunnar made a great job scanning hundreds of slides for my uncle, so that family members and church members might have their own Sunday School DVD.
 This must have been the summer of red jumpers and pony tails. I just love "going into this picture", study and remember one the best days of my life. The game going on is Blind man's Buff, you can spot two blindfolded kids in the middle of the ring. Spread around are grown ups, all so very relaxed, no BBQ or fancy equipment, homemade sandwiches, and coffee, soda for sale in the yellow boxes. My parents are her, two aunts, one uncle, four cousins, my self, my brother probably down by the sea. I know each and everyone of the kids by name till this day, they are like pearls in my memory book. The grand family who owned the place would always open their huts by the fjord for the church members. The old boathouse with kitchen and living room upstairs was pulled down this summer.The memories will never die. This week has been especially devoted to this particular picture, walking down memory lane.

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2 together with Gemma Wiseman

Summing up summer

 
Alone

When the mind is barren

When joy is no more

And memories sit inside

By empty, forgotten nests, -

When sorrow by longing grows

And pleads and kneels

When chance of fear meets

Which sinks all down

Into dark depths of weeping and woe

And breaks the last trembling bridge

Then stay with me, then stay with me,

Then pray for me, then pray for me

For faith, faith, faith!

Norwegian author Olav Aukrust 

Translated by Serina Ljung 

Life has been a rough ride this summer, mostly due to illness among everybody in my little universe, my close five finger family. 

When the nights are long and the pillow feels like a stone, too many sad thoughts are building nest in my head. I asked Serina to translate one of my many favorite poems. The picture is from our garden. I've made feet of stone on thrift wood, one for my mother and one for Serina.

Red also means Danger

Psalm 107:29" They reeled to and fro, and staggered like a drunken man, and all their wisdom was swallowed up--
28 They cried unto the LORD in their trouble, and He brought them out of their distresses.
29 He made the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof were still" (Hebrew version).

My Christian ethic theories are pretty much the same as those of other people, be they Christian, Humanists, Buddhist or Holistic.

When it comes to practice, I both spiritually and literally tend to stumble and fall.

Last week we had a rare sunny, but cold day. (So far we've had the most rain summer in eighty years).

We went out on the island to one of the roughest, remotest, but also most beautiful beaches there.

The wind and the waves are always howling in from the west. Wading there there, (one dare not swim), is like being absorbed in by nature. It kind of opens its door and let you experience its splendor for a precious moment. Cool, living, salt water, sand between my toes and the roaring of the waves, never ending, never at ease.

In summertime there often are intruding snakes in our secluded paradises. Foreign, camping people, who will not pay the small fees of staying in legal and nice camping sites. Instead they squat on nice viewpoints, with neither water nor toilet facilities, most likely not even a dustbin. Result; pollution and taking up space for ordinary visitors.
Result 2; I get irritated and try to chase the squatters away. I am not known to be shy when provoked. I am in fact struggling with my hot temper. 

I climbed up the stones from the beach in order to set the record straight, when I stumbled and sprung my ankle. That very ankle was broken some years ago.
Suddenly my priorities were turned upside down.

I stopped caring about the campers and begged God for mercy. Begged to avoid one more broken ankle.
My foot swell up so that I could not touch the ground with it. I did not go to the ER, I was too tired and in too much pain to sit there. I prayed and held my foot in cold water. I told my family, I just needed to wait and pray. I was heard. 

After a few days I can use my foot a little. Life with and without the use of a foot cannot be compared.
What do I know about how those foreigners would have treated me? Most likely they might even have had weapons on board their vehicles, Gunnar says. 
My shepherd by my right hand did protect me from my own stupidity. 

The little red ball to the right is a marker left by the fisherman so that e can find the crab trap. I think I am equipped with a red ball too, so that the Lord can find me "reeling to and fro, staggering like a drunken man."

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2 together with Gemma Wiseman