Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Love and wisdom shared.

My thoughts yesterday must have hit a string in many of you. I am amazed and thankfull by the responce, by all the love and wisdom you share in your comments and also in e-mails sent directly to my mailbox.

Searching for a photo to go with this theme I came up with these straws growing through the snow, and bent by the strong and icy cold winds of life.

Mouse, Mary and tut-tut started the commenting, pointing out that as human beings we are all equal. In a privat e-mail a friend asked a question I had forgot to ask, and for her this is ths most important question of all; "What would Jesus do?". I am a christian, and one of the most important theses for me is that we are all part of God's creation, and as that we are all equal. Do I have any right at all to pass by the beggars pretending not to see them? Another friend pointed out in an e-mail to me the words of Jesus; "the homeless will always be with you", and by this he of course also tell us that it is our responsibility to help.

Darla wrote a long comment where she shows the complexity, we don't want people to go hungry as long as we have more than enough, at the same time there are signs showing that some of these people might not be as needy as they pretend to. Oh my, this is really not easy.

Ardi, and also others of you, are writing about giving these people dignity, and from all the comments this is what is teaching me the most important lesson I think. I am not sure if I will start giving out money, but I will start meeting the eyes of the people I pass, may be even give them a smile, and "give" them a prayer. This will be my way of showing dignity.

CathyC, I can well understand your frigth, blueVicar, I share your feeling of not to know what to do, Caroline, like you I will from now on try to give them the honor of looking into theyr eyes.

Lindsey, like you I have also learned alot from my travelling. I have been to Eritrea twice, and I remember one time in the capital Asmara alot of young boys were running around trying to sell small packets of paper handkerchiefs. They called them "softs", and we heard the cry SOFT, SOFT everywhere. Asmara has too many beggars and it was impossible to give to all of them, but every time I met one of these boys I bought a small packet of softs. I filled up my suitcase with softs during that travel. Some years ago I spent a week in Haiti. The helpworker who was our host during that week told us to always give to "beggars" who offered to do you a job, opening the car door, carry your luggage, polishing your shoes, but never to those just sitting there. Nel, the hardest times to refuse is when children beg. It really make me feel bad to pass them without giving anything. What I am learning now, after posting yesterday's blog is that "me feeling bad" is not the point, I have enough money for food and my other needs, what about the "feeling bad" of the beggars who lack all these daily needs? Terri and Maggie, thanks for your throughts as well

Wendy, your thoughts about "need" as a sacred think really gave me something to think about and to reflect upon. I have a favorite story about St. Francis from Assissi which I heard told in quite a new way at Lindisfarne in October. I will blog about that tomorrow. These thoughts are not going to leave me too fast.

Occupation: Joy Maker

I love to watch street artists during our summer months. In winter our town is too cold for them.

Trondheim is not used to beggars, though lately thay have come from several countries, some just sitting humble on the pavement with an empty paper coffee cup in front of them, hoping to get some money. Others are sitting, hour after hour, playing accordion.

We don't know how to act when we pass them, most of us hastens by  preventing to meet their eyes. telling ourselves it is no use to give them money. They will spend it on drugs, or give it to stronger men behind them.

Then our newspaper started to write about the beggars, investigating their backgroud, wondering who they were. We got to know five young men from Eastern Europe with no other choice than begging to get money for their families to survive. They had come to Norway in a small van where they slept at night in the terrible cold we had. We met a husband and wife from another Eastern European country with three small boys at home, no work, no possibility to get enough money for their living. The hearts of the people in Trondheim opened wide, these beggars got a place to live while they were here, clothes and money were gathered, even a concert tour was organised at the local malls where they could play their accordions with local musicians.

The people of Trondheim have helped a few, but now some are afraid that our city will be overflown, that beggars from all over Europe will look at Trondheim as a paradise for beggars. I find it hard to know what to do. Shall I put a coin or two in the paper cups when I pass. Shall I meet their eyes, may be even try a weak smile. Or shall I pretend not to see them?

Untill I know what to do I open my purse for street artist, like this joy maker I met last summer, and I walk hastly passing the beggars, eyes flickering.

Everyday memories.

How often don't we long for things to happen, to be somewhere else, to meet people, to be seen, to gain new land, to play on greener grass!

It is not easy to be satisfied with what we already have. To find quiet, peace, joy, satisfaction in everyday life.

I would be proud if I could be called an artist of creating everyday memories. To fill an ordinary day with love, with joy, with beauty. To make extraordinarity out of ordinarity.

A Sunday dinner made with love. Not because of the skills or the extravagance put into it, but because it is made with the main ingredience of love. A meal prepared without salt tastes pale. A meal prepared without love tastes plain and colourless. Prepared with the right ingridients a chicken salad becomes a feast. End the day with hot chocolate in front of the fire and everyday memories are created.

Booktalk on a Sunday 4

Today I want to forget time. I'll wrap myself in travel tales, fairy tales, stories from close, stories from far away, poems, prayers, the stack of paperbacks on the side table, waiting to take me east of the sun, west of the moon. Why is it that books can give us such comfort, such joy. I can live without new clothes, I don't need a modern car or new furniture. But can I resist a bookstore if I pass one? Can I resist buying a book or five if I don't resist the bookstore when I pass it?????

Our oldest son har gone back to Australia and the big office in the House in the Woods is again mine. I have my travel books and my art books here, I have my spiritual books, my collection of National Geographics, and it is slowly filling up with other books as well. Tomorrow I plan to tidy my desk, finding space for the piles of books which are growing. The desk will feel empty without my comfort friends, but I need the space for some writing project I have to work on....The desk will soon enough fill up with piles of new books. Books which will enrichen my life with memories and stories.

I had planned to make Chocolat last all Lent, but again I have been mesmerized by Joanna Harris' writing and have already finished the book. I have continued to my next Joanna Harris though, Five Quarters of the Orange, which fits perfectly well for the second week of Lent, my orange week. I have read it before and know I will enjoy my reread. Some people find Harris' books too dark. I can understand why they do, but for me they are not dark but words and stories helping me to see deeper into humans, our dark sides as well as our brighter sides. Now it seems like Lent will be a period to read again all my Harris books. And in my orange mood I am on my way over to amazon.uk to buy her French Kitchen, A Cookbook.

The comments and e-mail I have got since my last booktalk have given me several good book recommandations. Linda tempted me by mentioning The Mermaid Chair, and after several e-mail to and from Paris discussing the book with her, I ended up ordering the book. I read The Secret Life of Bees some time ago, but didn't put it quite on top of my list, though I know alot of people do. It is translated into Norwegian, but I prefere the English version. Now I look forward to start reading about Jessie in South Carolina.

I started several "red" books last Sunday, and have finished none of them yet, so more new books will not be put on top of my pile yet. The coming week is winter break here in Trondheim. The girls are off school, and days are quieter for me at work. I had actually planned to take the week off, but now I will have to work at least the three first days. Thursday (or Friday) we are heading for our cabin though, and hours and hours of reading time are waiting for me there.

Venezia.

The Floating Book, which I mentioned last Sunday, is a thick book and will still take some time to read through. I still do have another Venice recommendation for this week also, "Venezia. Il carnevale" glorious photos by Francis Glorieus. I bought the book in Venice during carneval last year and have it on display all year long on my special Venice table. I can't find this book on amazon, but here is a link to Glorieus' webpage. The book I have is the second one shown. And I have a link to some great Venize photos taken my Merisi's Vienna for Beginners. Enjoy your Sunday!

The first photo today is from Northumberland/England, the second is Cueros working on her mask shop in Venice.

My travel "blue" away.

The winter continue to hold it's icy cold hand over Norway. I was at the airport today waiting for a plane south to Stavanger. The plane was cancelled because of too strong wind. Winter break starts this week-end, so the airport was a scene of chaos. My travel was just for the day, two hours on the plane down, a day meeting, two hours back again. I decided to cancel it all and took part in the meeting through the phone.

The change of plans gave me some blue hours at home, a fire in the hearth, reflections, time to make a special treat for Terje and the girls. Some days doesn't turn up as they were planned. The art of living is making the most out of unexpected turns.

Their smiles are my roses.

Counting, I realise I must have been in charge of more than 50 kid's birthday parties. Big sister of three brothers, mother of four children, the birthday parties makes a colourful circle, like precious beads on a golden string.

As a young mother I looked forward to the parties for weeks. Planned menues, made artful invitations, decorated, let my light shine.

The toddlers grew up, and celebrating with a bunch of active kids became more challenging. But still celebrations have always been outstanding in the House in the Woods.

Now Marta is the last little kitten in the basket, and turning 11 in a few days my time as birthday-queen is soon coming to an end. At least till the grandchildren starts to come and ask for a birthday expert granny. There are now 7 shining roses in the livingroom. They have had taco, danced limbo, sung karaoke, had cakes and sweets and are now watching a movie. What a blessing to have them all around. When Marta grows out of birthday parties we'll have to find other occations to open our doors to their smiles.

How are my lips today?

"Yes, I am coming, just let me re(d)fresh my lips first!"

We have been hosting a conference at work for two days for 250 church workers in the diocese. It is a challenge to find a place to feed so many people, and two of the meals were in the County House's restaurant. Imagine 250 people invading a lunch restaurant, sitting down and starting to sing a prayer for the food. (It is a Norwegian tradition to sing prayers before we start our meals :-).)

The other workers who had lunch in the restaurant sat dumbfound, wondering who all these pious people were. Then I overheard: "Church-workers, oh, you mean pastors, vicars, deacons, organ players, grave diggers and so on? Oh, yes, I can see that now because the all look so happy and none of them wear makeup!"

Give me a challenge, and I take it. The first thing I did after I heard this statement was to go out and buy a lipstick. My old one was bought 10 years ago and is hardly used. I am not going to change my happy smile, but I don't want to be put in a pigeonhole! I am a church worker! I use makeup! At least from today.......;-)

Ash Wednesday

Among my heartshaped stones there is one which stands apart. It has the cross printed deep into its body. I found the stone years ago, on a very special night, and it has walked with me since then.

When Easter comes, this stone will be part of my Easter grave decoration, but before that it will be moved from the heart stones and set on my Lent table. There it will be a sign of hope, reminding me what Lent is all about - the road to Easter, the road to the death of Christ, the road to his risen to eternal life.

My Lent will not be so much about the refusal of food as it will be of trying to do good what I have done wrong. To do good what I am doing wrong.  I am starting today making a difficult phonecall far south, to another country, to a "pay it forward"-person which I misunderstood and offended badly in my ignorance and selfishness. May God bless us both!

Fastelavnsris!

For more than 60 years "sanitetskvinner" (a group of medical women) in Norway have made "fastelavnsris", twigs decorated with feathers in the colours of the rainbow. The rainbow bouquets are sold and the money used for charity in the women's neighbourhoods, or for projects national or global.

I have been developing the rainbow idea and am using it to create a calendar for advent. The rainbow is a sign of hope given us by God, and the period of Lent is a good  oppportunity to look for the signs of hope. And through our looking, learning that God want our lives to be signs of love for his people and his creation.

The rainbow has seven colours, Lent has seven weeks. I have given each week it's own colour, and have a side table in our livingroom where I decorate for the different weeks. The red table will soon be shown here.

The second photo shows my aunt Oddrun, the sister of my mother, from last year's fastelavnsris workshop.

Letter to my daughter.

Dear Ingrid.

Life is hard for you right now. You are sad, you have grief, you are tired, exhausted. As your mother I want to wrap you in my quilt of love and give you all the care I have hidden in the secret room of love in my heart

Your life is of infinite value. You are loved. Loved by God. Loved by me and dad, by your sister, by your two brothers, your three grandparents, your aunts and uncles, by alot of friends. A circle of people is surrounding you, wanting to walk the miles with you, help you to carry your burdens.

Your life is of infinite value. Your inner beauty is infinite. Your outer beaty is infinite. Life goes on. You will bring your experience of love and sorrows with you. They will make you grow and you will go on, stronger than before. And with experiences which you will pay forward to the people you touch.

Love, mum