Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Prayers for Norway

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The people of Norway needs your prayers.

The court case after the national trauma of July 22nd starts today.

 

Andre Brink, Darkness at Noon

The Love Givers

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The Swedish priest, a young woman, welcomed us into the old church.

The ten of us, pluss the priest, were sitting close together, in a circle in front of the altar.

Hymns, reading, prayers around the circle, for each other, for our dioceses, for the world.

 The young priest read from Psalm 23, where God let us know that he makes the table for us, right in front of the eyes of our enemies....

From His Table he serve us His Love, and through His Love he makes us His Love Givers.

I am God's Love Giver.

Nothing less! Nothing more!

 

A short Pilgrimage

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Two short days in Sweden, starting with lunch one day, ending with another lunch the next. A few hours one. Still enough to make new friends, enough to discuss diaconia together, enough to do a pilgrimage.

Hållandsgården is a wonderful campsite east of the Norwegian border. I have been there once before, years before blogging, and looked forward to come back.

Last time I was there with the sami people, working indoors all weekend. So I had no idea that the path along the river was a perfectpilgrima path, a St.Olav walk............a short path along the pilgrim road to Nidaros.

A small group, dressed in waterproof booths and warm coats.

Crossing the railway.

Last summer I took the train along this line, on my way to Härnösand.
I had no idea I passed so close to a pilgrim road.....

Walking.

A pilgrimage don't need to continue for days, though one day I want to walk "all the way" to Santiago.

Two hours, with a long coffee stop can be a full walk as well.

A St.Olav's spring with fresh water. Holy water? Isn't all water holy? Life giving.

Follow the way.

The right way.

Halfway, an old log cabin, a fire burning, the smell of coffee floating out of the door.

 A fire. To sit down and let your eyes and mind rest.

Prayers without woords.

Drifting thoughts.

 Coffee.

History in the walls.

A several hundred years inscription, INRI, Jesus from Nazareth, King of the Jews.

 

Two hours along paths new to me.

Two hours to bring with me into Easter.

 

I believe in miracles

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I was in church last night, helping with a Lental campaign, when a group of kids came in. Between tears and sobs they told us that a good friend of them had commited suicide the same day, now they wanted to come to the church to lit candles, to cry, to be together, to ask all their whys.

I am a deacon, for many years I have worked with people in mourning, and as the church workers were busy with the campaigns, I agreed with the priest that I would be together with the group.

 A coincidence that they found the church open. Or may be not. May be God would have made a plan anyway to open the church. To let the crying girls and boys come to His House with their sorrows, their cries, their despair, their questions.

 

I stayed with the group for an hour. First in silence, with the air filled with sobs, with cries. Each one of them lit a candle.Then they came forward, one by one, to share a memory from their friendship with the dead boy. Before they left I could share a few words, finishing with "May God bless you all"

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The church became important in Norway after whet happened in Oslo and at Utøya July 22nd. For the mouring kids today it was natural to come to their local church. They found the church open and could come in with their lives. Their grief.
All I had to do was to be there with them, in silent prayers.

God was there. God is there.

 

I believe in miracles.
I had planned to post today about the first snowdrops in The Blue Garden. I had planned to name the post "I believe in miracles". Then God sent another miracle to a group of mourning youngsters. His love!
His care!

His life!

My Lectio Divina

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Early morning. Marta still asleep. Terje gone to work.
I am staying behind for some quiet time. Some silence. Some preparations for the day ahead.

For my Lectio Divina

To get silent time between me and my Creator is a challenge during the busy, filled to the brim with things happening days. Not that I am busy all day, but still days are filled, with reading, eating, listening to music, blog writing, photographing, house fun, walking, talking........you name it.

Sr. Miriam and Sr. Judith at Turvey Abbey are both teaching me about Lectio Divina........of being in the presence of God.

Why is this so difficult for modern men?
Why do I have this urge do DO something all the time. Not just BE.

BE, in the loving presence of God.

 

The English word BE means PRAY in Norwegian. May be that´s a key to something.
Å be, to pray, doesn´t mean to seek out the correct words all the time.  Å be, to be, to pray.

My lectio divina is a lesson to let my soul be, and through this quiet being, be in prayers with The Saviour.

Sr. Miriam has sent me information about Lectio Divina. Sr. Judith has sent me a list of books to read.

The first of these books came in the mail a few days ago. "Wisdom Distilled From the Daily. Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today" by Joan Chittister.

 

I am still like a newborn, on my way to become a toddler on this road to deeper wisdom. Or is this true?

My God, my Creator, my Saviour. He is also in my busy days. In my activities. In my working, in my reading, in my writing, my house fun, my walking, my listening to music, my blogging.

I am not a newborn. I am no toddler.

I am a woman. Age doesn´t matter.
I am a woman living my life with Jesus. Learning to to wear a new set of spectacles on the way, a new pair of shoes for my feet.

My Lectio Divina.

In silence. But also in my everyday activities.

 

Photos: reflections of the cathedral spire

We must not forget

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The door into my hotel room in Syria.

Sweet memories.
I lived a dream the week I spent there in autumn of 2010.

 

 

What a contrast to the hell which is unfolding in Syria now.

Let us all join hands.

In prayers for a people. A country.

I have no words.

Only tears.

 

To water my prayers.

Let them grow into lilies of peace.

 

 

Syria holds a piece of my heart

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It is easy to leave a piece of your heart when you visit a new country, a new corner of our fantastic world.

I left a big piece of my heart in Syria last year.

My heart cries today when I read that Father Paolo must leave Syria

Jesuit Priest Asked to Leave Syria

I would gladly climb the hundreds of stone steps again to visit Deir Mar Musa.

In my mind I climb the steps again, each step a prayer......for the people of Syria.

10 Years After

America and Americans are in our hearts today

Special prayers were prayed for you in Nidaros Cathedral and in all other churches in Norway

The People of Syria

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Last night I took a break from reading about Tibet, walked over to the book cabinet where I have my travel litterature and took out two books about Syria. Before opening the books, starting to read, I opened my computer and looked through my Syria photos.

 
I had spoken to an old friend in the afternoon. Her husband was one of my travel companions during my week in Syria in October, and she told me that she looked at my Syria photos every day. I shared my hundreds of photos with the group, her husband had saved them on his computer and now they were used as screen savers.

 
Her words brought back a flood of memories, and I realised I haven't looked at these photos for months.

 
Syria and its people are on the news daily these days. The people of Syria are fighting a fatal fight for a free, democratic country. What they have to pay is more than I can comprehend. So many deads, so much pains and sufferings.

 
I fell in love with Syria during the week I stayed there. Its colours, fragrances, people, landscape, history......

.....and from books and also experience, its story telling. Its long, rich tradition of oral history and tales.

 
I have my memories, my love, my photos, my books...

...and the strongest force of all, my prayers!

 
My heart is bleeding for the people of Syria.

Send your peace and your love God. Creator of Earth and Firmament.

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If you follow this link you will be taken to all my posts about Syria

Playing

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I ordered a cappuccino, sat down at the table and opened my book. "It is never too late to give up your prejudices" I read in Henry David Thoreau's Walden.( Mouse sent me this wonderful book a few years ago)

....never too late to give up my prejudices, never too late to start something new.....

The Scriptorium at Munkeby has followed me ever since brother Jöel took me in there. A place for Lectio Divina. A place for reading, writing, praying......silence. A place for playing. With God. Yes, I mean playing, I am not misspelling praying.

God and I love to play. In words and in real life. "It is never too late to give up your prejudices". At the coffee table they became God's words to me. A challenge to play. A challenge to find a new colour.

Yes, God, I am game. I love to play with you. So tell me, what are the rules this time? The rules are up to me? To discover, to create? Oh, give me some time, let me think.....

......may be I can start

• learning Mandarin
• making filigran silver jewelry
• move to South Africa
• start playing saxofon
• press flowers

My list is long and my smile is broadening as I keep on playing with my list.

Slowly, slowly an idea is being born. A tiny little fetus. Which will be growing if I nurture it.

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If you were to start something new, if you were to follow a dream, if only for a few minutes every day, what would you do?

photo: an open gate near Snåsa church, from the day I had with Preben.