SAVING GRACE

These have been days of trials and errors, illness and defeat. My Mom, now living with us is slowly healing, but there are so many obstacles to overcome. Bureaucracy and "you've no right to people" lined up wherever we try to find a loop whole. We've even met doctors who say that elderly who are in need of nursing should not be kept alive. Walking in grief such words hits like a boxing fist. Then it turns out that my all time favorite uncle, (guess he's everybody's favorite actually) has been diagnosed with Altzheimer's. That is just not fair. This night I felt chewed and worn out like a gray gum. Than came Jim's post about the healing grace. It felt refreshing like a bottle of oxygen after long mountain walk. Renewed I searched for Dylan's Saving Grace on my iPod. Thought I'd like to share. SAVING GRACE If You find it in Your heart, can I be forgiven? Guess I owe You some kind of apology. I've escaped death so many times, I know I'm only living By the saving grace that's over me. By this time I'd-a thought I would be sleeping In a pine box for all eternity. My faith keeps me alive, but I still be weeping For the saving grace that's over me. Well, the death of life, then come the resurrection, Wherever I am welcome is where I'll be. I put all my confidence in Him, my sole protection Is the saving grace that's over me. Well, the devil's shining light, it can be most blinding, But to search for love, that ain't no more than vanity. As I look around this world all that I'm finding Is the saving grace that's over me. The wicked know no peace and you just can't fake it, There's only one road and it leads to Calvary. It gets discouraging at times, but I know I'll make it By the saving grace that's over me.

Copyright © 1980 Special Rider Music

HELPLESS IN HALLWAY

Days and nights since January 7th have been sadder and busier than I can describe.
My Mom was admitted to the local hospital that very day, and our lives turned upside down since then.
She's a brave warrior, my Mom. Too tough for her own good. For four years she was in main charge for the care of my brain damaged Dad.
It was a 24/7 task, with the help of nurses five times a day, some friends and of course the family, but we all lived too far away.
When she decided to arrange family Christmas celebration, she already had a urine infection, but did not tell. Just drank less water so she wouldn't be to much bothered.
When the kidney was damaged the pains got unbearable and she finally agreed to have a word with the doctor. He called for an ambulance to send her to hospital. My Mom waited for us to come home first.
She then was treated with antibiotics at the surgery ward.
And sent home after four days. Home to us in Haugesund that is.
Sunday 13th she was brought away in ambulance once more.
This time with a stroke. She could hardly speak nor hold a bell, nevertheless she had to be placed in the hallway.
The neuro ward was 50% overbooked and there simply was no other option for the overworked staff.
Till brother Knut Erik called from afar and a door was opened to the "Town Major suite."

Now my mother even got physiotherapy and speak training every day as well as proper medicine.
We were all relaxed and content, even I who in desperation had contacted the local newspaper about my Mom's situation.
Not a very successful story, it later turned out. The nurses were thrilled though, they are not allowed to talk publicly about their horrifying job situation, down staffed and overcrowded.

Mom slowly made some progress and was sent to live with Gunnar and me. That was a family decision, she could not stay alone in her home, and none wanted her to live in a nursing home.

For three weeks I barely saw the open sky. Then Tuesday she was so well, that I went off with my friends, Turid and Liv for a short hike in the forest.

It's spring in the air the bubbling brook is singing hymns of new life and freedom.

The ducks have mating season. The brownish she duck must feel very attractive, flirted with by numerous gorgeous looking males.
In the lake the follow her in steady streams.

Turid's Snowbells are popping up from the gray soil.
With promises of warmer days and newborn life.

At home my Mom is trained by a physiotherapist.
She's eager, my stubborn mother. I am of farmer blood, she proudly told the doctor, when he praised her stair abilities.
The other night she even beat me flat in Chinese Checkers.
I then began to hope that this might turn out well, even though we have a long, long way to go. Together I hope and pray.
.

A MASS FOR JESUS

Gunnar is born December 22nd. The sun has turned. We are all celebrating the heading towards brighter days. In the evening we celebrated with the 10 chained inner circle of Gunnar's family.
The Lady with the lamp,Gunnar's Sister Sigrid.
The couple in the middle, cosine Kristina and her Osmund are to be married this year. We wish them luck, also with finishing five years of music education.
My mother was not at all sure she wanted to celebrate Christmas this year.The emptiness after my father simply seemed to tough to cope with. Neither would she come to us in stay in the town for some time. Then one morning she phoned that it was to be Christmas as usual with Mom at the steering wheel.
We all had to set everything and everybody aside to achieve this aim.
My father's headstone is not yet on its place. After Christmas Eve mass we lit a lamp and hung a wreath at his grave.
Serina and my brother Kel at the church yard, both in deep reflections.
Gunnar and my dad were real good friends, they shared many interests and showed mutual respect. "We'll have to wait till Gunnar comes home," my father used to say when there were troubles of any kind.
Our small but tightly knit family gathered around the dinner table. Roasted lamd and crisp roasted pork with vegetables and wonderful Mom made sauce for main course. Monten as we call her, also has hand painted all the porcelain for Christmas table.


The ordeal was reading the gospel from St.Luke 2. My brother sitting on my father's place took over my father's task.
He even read the "extended" version to verse 20, like my father would always do.
The torch was delivered on, my dad had taken over in 1961, when my grandpa had recently passed away.
We knew we all would shed a tear at that moment. Sorrow is the price of having loved. I was willingly paying that sum.For dessert; rice cream and cloud berries with a hidden almond in it. The finder gets a marchpane pig for a winning price.
el found the almond, Serina was delivered the pig. Last year she got it from my father. In nineteen years she has never had the luck to find the almond herself. The saying is unlucky at games makes lucky at love.

After the washing up is done and I have had my daily rest; time for opening the gifts. Gunnar is trying out some new gadgets. The Mighty Mouse.

An angle from Ruby was highly appreciated. Christmas coffee set handpainted by Monten.
Too much of everything is wonderful. My hand spun and hand knitted dress origins from 1974, when I was twenty kilos younger.
Chaos is unavoidable, even though we were only five adults. Guess I would miss it, if only checks were passed around.
My mother also shares the same thrill of the unexpected. From midst November when she changed her mind about Christmas celebration she knitted four pairs of woolen socks and one tiny black scarf, crouched a big tablecloth(Serina), kitchen curtains(aunt Lilly), two pairs of potholders(Sigrid) and small table table mats for her dear friend Aile. She then washed and decorated the house, made all the special purchases of Season groceries with not even her car to help her. She's huge. "I can manage anything if I'm only allowed to work," is her slogan.
Serina with a small selection of presents.
First Christmas Day has always been my favorite. The tension and hurrays are over, now is time for enjoying each other's company, read the welcome book gifts, watch feel good DVDs eat, play card games, totally relaxed and contented.
Tough Monten is looking victoriously over her successful work.

Serina wanted to return to Haugesund to party with a bunch of old friends New Year's Eve. The old Nisse man from her childhood is getting a good hug.
Grandma has taught Serina a special art of crouching, called hacking. She proudly demonstrates her new skills at home.
Sundown at Cross Hill on New Year's Eve. The sun has risen a cock's inch from December 21 st, my grandma used to proclaim. We are heading towards spring, and still having Serina with us for another few days.
It has been a most special and memorable Christmas to all of us. We feel tighter knitted than ever. So thankful for having each other and our anchor safely placed in the cradle and the cross.

FOR THE NEW YEAR

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Alfred Lord Tennyson
and Felisol

SANTA LUCIA

Christmas remains the major feast in the Lutheran Church,like it or not.
Guess I like it despite all the junk and glitter. Christmas is above all coming home. To church and songs, foods and games, gathered family and finding an oasis of peace despite pains, loss and sorrows.
Today is December 13th. The feast of the Sicilian Santa Lucia. The arch-protestant children are dressed in white clothings, flaming candles and going from door to door singing and giving away Lucce-cats (buns).
Serina is fronting this row (aged four, I guess) in our staircase.
The dark winter afternoon was icy, but the warmth of the surprised neighbors who were becoming something instead of tricked or treated, I'll never forget it.
Hope the children also still remember.
Angles, homemade all over the house.
"Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God," Luke says.
Great! I like that expression.
In twenty years we've only stayed twice in Haugesund. First year of our marriage I became ill, and the faily gathered Here.
About eight yeaars ago my father had to undergo an unforeseen hip operation in Christmas. I made him this angle, and Gunnar went to the hospital late, after my father had fell to sleep to make the night nurses help himheng up a sock with a present in.
The most wonderful smile met us next day when we came to visit.
Christmas workshops and Christmas Children's TV still are essential parts of pre Christmas activities.
And all kinds of choirs, amateur and professional artists, filling the churches day after day for a whole month.
Isn't that a worthy way of preaching the gospel to all mankind???

ROUGH DECEMBER RIDE

I am a December lover. So was my mother and her mother before that..And I am pleased that Serina also seems to appreciate the busy time of advent and in fact is passing on the tradition of arranging a Christmas work shop with her fellow students in Drammen. I packed and sent her the advent calendar midst of November, and my big little girl was never so grateful for so little..
First weekend in December Serina had some days off and went by the night train and coast buss for approximately ten- twelve hours to come visiting friends and her parents. It was an undivided joy to light the first advent candle together while reciting the familiar verses.
Outside our kitchen window the sparrows are fed with seed, apples and cornballs.
On the seminar I attended in November I was strongly encouraged to allow myself to set my own priorities and make clear limits. I am doing my very best not to let every body think they can feed on me. Making a memorable December for my closest family is my clear goal and I do focus on that aim. I have had say no to other people's wants or cravings. It's not being easy, cause I hate to disappoint or not fulfill friends' expectations. Then I tell myself how really worn out and ill I've become the previous advents, and I think I shall manage to keep my mind made up.
This is a blog in reverse and ends with last week of November.. Gunnar is about to redecorate Serina's room.
To do that he had to empty to room entirely, and many a hidden treasure popped up. The flute had been gone for five years,and was found under a huge writing table. Serina immediately regained her long lost love of playing, and within a few minutes she was playing from Mozart's Magic Flute,- by heart. Wonderful!
Because of the hallway was being occupied by Serina's furniture, I told on the phone that there might not be any Christmas decoration displayed for the first of December. She sounded so disappointed in that far away place, that Gunnar made the Red Sea divide and fetched down six huge boxes from the attic.
The crib has been developed through 37 years. There's a lot of happy memories combined with these small figurines.
The advent calendar was sewn by my mother, my brother and me in 1957. My mother had a book with cross sticks patters. We were allowed to choose figures. I remember protesting strongly against that lilac rabbit, but my mother democratically let her animal loving son have his will in that matter. I do admire her for that now.
Mostly Norwegian Youlenisser are sitting on our trunks. They are more rural dressed than the former bishop St. Nicholaus, and they are reminiscences of old Norwegian traditions where amongst other trolls and nisses were a part of people's daily life. The youlenisse lived in the barn and was treated with porridge and other goodies Christmas night.
A newer crib, where the most spectacular is Serina's self made rehaired Barbie inspired angle.
The big nisse is wearing a jumper that both I and Serina wore as three yearlings. Gunnar and cousin Kristine are still a bit jumpy when they meet the old guy.
Two hours before the first candle was lit.
The days are getting shorter and darker till December 21. Now the sun rises about nine in the east. What's worse is that it's getting dark about four in the afternoon. My mother use to say that the Lord is wise to send white snow in our darkest hours.
Gunnar having a few moments' rest with a box of doughnuts and some uninteresting TV.
Husband Gunnar made it. New wooden floor has replaced the smelling carpet in Serina's room.
The bed which was partly being stored away in the attic and partly in the basement has been put together for homecoming princess.

The hallway is still blocked by important memorabiliaes.

Who would believe that we have stored away thirty boxes in the attic and given away a trailer with Serina furniture. There's more to go!The old rug is about being removed.
We've had snow for a few days two times now. Tradition says third time it will stay until spring.
Leaving Mom and Sauda in sun. The Hoofland peak in the background was mounted by my father and me in 1965. I always think of it as our peak.
Dramatic change in the weather on the way in. We drove into a tunnel of ca 500 meters. One minute there was heavy rain, coming out the road was covered with snow, the sight was zero, high mountain on one side of the road, and the fjord 400 meters steep down on the other side.
Our old car was shoed with summer tires.
My hands were trembling with fear, I could hardly hold my cell cam.
Gunnar has been out a winter's night before and kept his head calm. We arrived at my mother's without any incidents.
We had to stay one more night to wait for the roads to be scraped and salted for our safe return.
Former colleague Kirsten is a keen bridge player
with a lot of humor. She's writing poetry and painting vividly. Always brings a lot of fun and interesting subjects.

Norway was occupied for five years by the Germans in WW2. There are unpleasant memories from that time all along the coastline. The Germans called it "Festung Norwegen" and put a huge effort in "defensing" the country from the Allied Forces.
Here we are on a hike to a fortress with bunkers, cannons and on the heights :the tower of command.
Our freedom was dearly paid for.