Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

Travel litterature, India and Japan

Text and images Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
During my three weeks in India in 2008, I spent time every day on Carolyn and Hossy's terrace, talking with Carolyn, writing in my diary, painting and reading. Mostly reading. What a pleasure it was to come to this house filled with books, and what a pleasure to find a kindred spirit according female travel litterature.

I digged deep into Carolyn's book shelves, and while staying east of the sun, west of the moon, far from little Norway, in my mind, through Carolyn's books, I kept on travelling, east and west, north and south.

I have collected female travel litterature for the past 9 years, ever since I discovered its heaven in the bookstores of New York when I in October 2002 spent two weeks there as an observer at the UN General Assembly. I could hardly carry my suitcases when I went back home from there, and ever since my collection has been growing.

In Carolyn's collection I found dear old friends and also travel writers new to me. Like Isabella Bird. Carolyn's terrace and Isabella Bird's travels in Japan go perfectly together in my mind. I can't think of one without the other. Carolyn and Hossy have lived in Japan for many years, and now and then I let Bird's books rest in my lap while listening to Carolyn's tales from their years there.

For me it created a dream........to travel to Japan.

 
I was in Oslo yesterday, for a day trip, and sat on the airport train when the devastating news from Japan reached me.

 
Today my thoughts and prayers go to Japan!

My cry is "why God?", and still in the middle of my despair, of the world's despair, I know that God is there, is here, somewhere.......

Photos: Carolyns garden in India

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Let me also take you on a Haiti memory travel today:

In a small corner of our livingroom I have gathered some travel memories. I look at the items and my mind wanders to Eritrea, to Laos, India, The Dominiac Republic, Italy........and today most of all to Haiti.

It was October 1998 and I was asked by Norwegian Church Aid to go to Haiti and The Dominican Republic for two weeks together with a small group. The goal was to bring back information to the churches in Norway in connection with Norwegian Church Aid's annual Lental Campaign.

It was my first travel out of Europe, I left Terje home alone for two weeks with four kids, the youngest one, Marta, only 2 1/2. But the most exciting and kind of frightening part was that we were going to visit a country only days after Hurricane George which killed over 400 people and destroyed 80% of all the crops in the country.

I am sitting here with my travel diary from the two weeks. A diary filled with strong impressions, with memories when I wanted to close my eyes and take the first plane back to Europe, but also memories of a beautiful, strong, fighting, though shy (in my eyes) people.

We divided the two weeks between Haiti and The Dominiac Republic, and most of out time in Haiti were spent in Port au Prince. In a small, charming hotel with a swimmingpool where we could rest between our meetings with people and organisations. There I could pray for the children we met at the orphanage run by The Salvation Army, there I could cry out my "why" to God after seeing the sufferings in the prison we visited downtown, where prisoners lived for years without trials, without hopes. There we could laugh and cry, sleep and eat.......though most of my nights were filled with thoughts and prayers rather than sleep. And there I could linger on sweet memories from a night at Hotel Olafsson, where Graham Greene sat his novel The Comedians.

One day we drove out into the countryside, where the hurricane had done severe damage. We slept overnight at a guesthouse and I spent the whole night listening to the strange noises of a world so completely different from my soft security at home.

I am reading my travel diary tonight, and my thoughts go to the people of Haiti.

Right now they are in need of almost everything, and we can all help. Norwegian readers, you can read more at Norwegian Church Aid's pages, international readers, please find the way your country (through UN, Red Cross, CARE and organisations like them) is giving their support. 

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Later tonight I plan to start rereading Edwidge Danticat's books;

 

Breath, Eyes, Memory

Krik? Krak! (Vintage Contemporaries)

The Farming of Bones

Santa Birgitta of Vadstena

Text and images Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
I am reading about den hellige Birgitta, Bridget of Sweden, these days. The Swedish woman born in 1303, the one who once said the words which follows me every single morning - God, show me the way, make me willing to walk it.

 
In the summer of 2008 I visited Vadstena in Sweden, where Birgitta started her holy order. A visit I had been looking forward to for years. A visit which came to mean a lot for me as a person, for my spiritual life.

A place, a time, a moment, when simplicity got a special meaning.

 
I am reading about Santa Birgitta just now to prepare for a visit to Roma in May, with the deacons in my diocese.

Santa Birgitta lived many years of her life in Roma, on Piazza Farnese.

 
I met Birgitta in Vadstena..........and a couple of weeks ago I met her here in Trondheim

Tomorrow I'll tell you more about a visit to a new monastery here in my hometown.

God, show me the way..........

Return of the Light

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

I had a couple of ME hours yesterday. Quiet house, waiting to be cleaned, but I closed my eyes for that for a while and sat down with my Bible, and my diary. The House in the Woods is situated so that the sun doesn't reach the house for a few weeks during winter, but yesterday, from the deep armchair where I sat, it suddenly shone on my face for a couple of minutes.

The sun was low and shone through branches so I was able to look almost directly at it. It must have taken shells from my eyes. All of a sudden I saw the world with new eyes. The beauty of winter. The beauty of the colours. The beauty of life. I know spring is still many weeks away, but for a short while yesterday I could smell it, feel it, and the wonderful spring feeling filled my body.

The spring feeling. Like being in love. Like being in love for the first time.

The most wonderful feeling there is.

I am thankful to live in a place where we are cherished by the beauty of all four seasons. Ok, I confess I am not always that fond of winter, and sure, it can be too long, too dark, too cold. But you need shadows to see colours, you need challenges to appreciate victory, I needed the branches to be able to look directly at the sun.

Thank you God and Creator for the beauty of your world. Thank you for the seasons, the light and the darkness, the colours and the shadows, for life and for death.

Reflected

Text and image Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 
Let the reflections of my life show your glory God.

Let your light shine

Text by Jesus, image and prayer by me, self portrait

 
Let your light shine among the people so that they may observe your good works and give glory to your heavenly Father

Dear God, thank you for keeping my light lit. Let it shine to show me and thouse I meet the way to you. Amen.

The garden where I got my inspiration

Text and photos Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 

There is a Silent Garden somewhere in Oslo. This garden is the source of inspiration for the part of our garden which I call my praying garden or my silent garden.

I visited the garden this week and had a most needed walk. Now I want to take you along. Sit down, try to find the silence in yourself. Stay there and when you can hear the silence, put on your walking shoes, wrap a shawl around your shoulders, bring a basket for prayers and thanks, and come along.

 
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The Lord is my Sheperd!

 
Thank you for walking along.

May God bless your day!

My garden for silence and prayers

Our backyard is my praying garden, my silent garden. A bench where I can sit down, a path where I can walk, trees with leaves, birds, squirrels, flowers, a rose which will not grow very well in the shadows. Stones, quite a few stones.

 
I dreamed about my friend last night. The one who died of cancer a few weeks ago. In the dream she fought the illness and won. We met and we had a lovely time together.

Sadness filled me when I woke up to the reality.

 

It felt good to walk in the silent garden after breakfast, before church. Walk with my God, with Jesus, with The Holy Spirit. I could cry out all my whys.

Autumn has arrived in my silent garden. Soon the frost, the snow will come, the carpet of leaves will be covered, hiding sleeping life.

God is there though all seasons.

I couldn't live my life without prayers. Without hope. Without believeing in something bigger than myself.

You Listen Before I Pray

Text and photo: Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland

In our home we sing a prayer before every meal (a lovely Norwegian tradition). For a long time I had problems with one of the prayers we sing:

For the gifts you give

we give you our thanks oh Lord.

You, who listen before we pray

praise be to you.

My problem was in "You, who listen before we pray"........what is the use in praying at all if God listen before we pray.......what is the use of talking to God at all?

I am learning along my path of life and today I know it to be true. God listens before I pray because He knows my needs before I do, and when I realise and startspraying it is so much easier to see that God already is there. Walking my path together with me. Some days pushing me ahead, some days carrying me, some days with my hand in his, some days just there beside me, quietly.

Today was one of these days, when he listened before I prayed. I have been at Tautra, the small island in the Trondheim Fjord with the old monastery ruins and the new Maria (St.Mary) monastery. I was there for a conference for work, but in between I had time to walk the whole island. In prayers, talking with my Creator. God surrounded me with his love and comfort.

(More photos tomorrow.....or another day)

Memories and anticipations

Copyright! Text: Britt Arnhild Wigum Lindland Photo: Marta Kristin Wigum Lindland

 

"You are a rich woman" a good friend uses to say to me "and I love rich women" My friend is right. I am a rich woman. Not in money, though we have have enough to buy salt for the porridge as we say in Norway, well, we have enough to buy different types of salt actually, which I love to do when I travel.....but that's another story.

 

Yes, I am rich. I am very rich. I am a millionaire. On memories. On anticipations. On family and friends. On love. On smiles and laughter. On colleagues. But most of all I am rich because of today. Because of every day. Because of everydays.

 

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I have been sad lately. I have found it hard to find joy in the path I am walking, in my everydays. A lot of this is because a friend is struggling with cancer. Struggling hard. We don't know which direction her struggle will take in the end.

 

I talk with my friend on the phone and realise that she, though she don't know, though she has pains to struggle with, questions with no answers, still finds joy and blessings in the every days.

 

Over and over again I must learn to pray the St.Birgitta Prayer:

Show me the way God. Make me willing to walk it.

 

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Thank you Marta for your photo of the Croatian cricket. I miss their symphonies.

Prayers

A friend is fighting cancer.

Fighting hard.

Orange flowers fill my prayer basket. A glass angel on my desk, transparent with two small orange dots on her dress. The orange flowers, my prayes are given back to God, The Creator of all things.

I have no words. No comfort to give.

Prayers. Faith. Hope. Love.

Why God? I cry.

I Am. He answers.