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Archive for November, 2010

The people who change the world are the ones the world seldom hears about

Last night we had a Partners Norway board meeting. Board meetings are seldom a blast. We are supposed to stick to an agenda, speak about serious issues only, and come to conclusions. We must sign legal documents and think words such as governance, budget and policy. An almost impossible situation for me who usually get so sidetracked that I forget what I was trying to say myself, and who like to follow my feelings rather than my intellect.

But a Partners board meeting is a little different. We plough through all these legal documents, yes, but behind them are hearts that burn for something worth living for. The board members I was with last night were people that I would describe as generous, servant-hearted, passionate and committed. Some of us, like me, feel terribly illiterate when is comes to certain board issues, others are so talented that they ought to be professional board members. Together we have been able to compliment and help each other as we are splitting brain cells to come up with how to make this organization become more of what we are good at, and better at what we are not so good at.

There is a young mother, Ragnhild, who works fulltime as a teacher who drives on windy and dark roads almost three hours each way to get to our meetings four-five times a year. This she does after a full workday. And she is happy to because she is so excited about Partners and the work we do. She has never been to Burma or to Thailand. She hasn’t even met anybody from Burma. But her heart is on fire.

This is a committed woman. She has contagious joy!

Jon runs his own company and, at his own expense, flies from the south of Norway to our place equal amounts of times. He misses a whole day of work every time we have a meeting. In his spare time he goes to preschools and talks about Partners and help them raise money for projects that matter to the children of Burma.

Jon is also very sporty. Here he is on top of the tallest mountain in Norway together with some other sporty men: My husband and my brother.

There is a widow, Britt, who has raised her three kids pretty much on her own. She has become a fulltime politician, spending her life going to meetings, doing political stuff. Bravely she has spoken of this small organization called Partners to politicians and lawmakers who are not easy to convince of anything. Last night she joined our board meeting after going to five other meetings.

Britt likes to conquer all kinds of mountains!

Then there is Gunnar—headhunted by companies and more analytical than an operations researched analyst. He works long days and nights at times. He is a dad and a husband. In his spare time he spends hours on Partners legal documents and database torture. He makes sure that we remember what boards are supposed to do, and gently pulls us back to the agenda or the issue we were supposed to deal with.

Here is Gunnar. He has a very funny sense of humor too.

Anne Sofie works at a human rights resource center and is a well of gifts and talents. On her own initiative she approaches people of influence and ask them for favors and money, as well as advice. That she shares with us. Whenever we are stuck in a rut, Anne So is the one to ask. She knows how to do about everything, and she does it with joy. She makes it look fun to make a budget. She never keeps her opinions to herself.

Anne Sofie, she loves being a Norwegian. Among other things she loves.

Lastly, there is Linda, our board leader. She is an American lady who has been living in Norway only three years. Not only has she said yes to lead the board, but she also has to do it in a language that is not her own, having to read and understand documents that are difficult for us natives to understand. She spends countless hours on Partners issues every week and her own vacation time to go to see our work in Thailand besides. She too, works fulltime and is a mother of young kids.

This is Linda. I had a different photo of her here, but it turned out it wasn't even her on the photo. It was her mother in law. :-(

I look at this list and feel humble and proud at the same time. What a blessing to know these people, and what sacrifice they have made. My prayer is that their efforts will be worth it and that they all, one day, will see the results of all their work. I am thankful that God has put them in my life, because, God knows, I need them. To me, it almost fills me with reverence to think that all over the world there are people similar to the people on my board who are giving sacrificially of themselves, their time and resources to help the people of Burma. I wish the people of Burma would know. One day they will. I also know the One who knows and who smiles when he sees it.

Putting your sins on a banana boat

My favorite Thai holiday is Loi Gratong. It is today and I am sad it is minus eight outside so that I cannot float my sins down the river on a banana boat.

That is what we do, you see. Beautiful floats are made from the banana tree trunk slices, banana leaves and brightly colored flowers. When the float is ready—looking like a wedding carriage for Thumbelina, we put a small candle and fire crackers on it. Then, full of somber reverence, we walk down to the edge of a river, and put the float on the water. The Buddhist idea is that we put our sins on the float and the river takes it away. The Christian idea is similar, except that for us, the river becomes a symbol of Jesus and what he has done for us.

Elise and Naomi with their home made floats some years ago. Jesus will be happy!

Our kids love Loi Gratong too. They look forward to sitting on the floor at the Partners office every year, cutting flowers and pinning them to the float. The only sad thing is that they will float away in just some hours.

“Goodbye sins!” The girls would say as they watched their elaborate sin-boat float away while fire works lit up the sky, along with thousands of lanterns that floated on the sky. The higher up the lanterns flew, the better your karma would be.

He put eternity in their hearts, says Ecclesiastics. How true I have found that to be. I have never seen a better illustration of forgiveness and redemption than I have seen on the river banks of Thailand late at night, together with thousands who are all so eager to see their sins float away, washed away by the water. The water of life is who I think of. For him I can make the most elaborate display. Because my sins are so many that there needs to be some attractive colors to divert the attention. Happy Loi Gratong!

A year or two later. The girls with their "Gratongs."

When you go to bed full you wake up hungry

Some wonderful friends had us over for a scrumptious meal last night. You know what we ate? Steamed halibut (that they had fished themselves), potatoes, cucumber salad, boiled egg-butter (Yes, it is melted butter with cut up boiled eggs in it. It’s normal to eat with fish), sour cream and crispy rye flat bread. Just writing about it makes my mouth water. Then we had rice pudding and raspberry sauce for dessert.

When I went to bed last night I was still super-full and drowsy. I felt like burping. Then I woke up this morning feeling….famished. I was so hungry my stomach growled and I could hardly hear God speak to me because my stomach was so loud.

That is when I came up with this saying: When you go to bed full, you wake up hungry.

As I read it now, it does not sound any more profound than something Paris Hilton would say at a press conference.

One of my favorite kinds of meals. Fresh mangoes from the trees at the Partners farm.

But it may make a little more sense if I explain my experience: I try to eat light at night. I don’t eat anything at all the last few hours before I go to sleep. If I go to bed a little hungry, I wake up feeling kind of full. I can read and have my quite time for an hour without feeling starved. Then, I will make my special breakfast consisting of muesli, yogurt, fruit and such.

Still you are thinking: So??…?

Well, it’s like this with life too. Don’t you see it? We stuff ourselves with as much as we can fit into our already crammed lives, thinking that, just like egg-butter, more is better. We cram in and cram in. We burp and get gas—credit card gas, and status burps— and then what happens? We wake up feeling starved, like we need more and more and more otherwise we will die from the hollow hunger we feel. So we fill our lives with more cholesterol-stuffed bacon and eggs—symbolic eggs and bacon, that is. And then we just keep feeling more and more hungry.

If only we would be satisfied with less, we would learn to understand than we will wake up feeling satisfied. If only we would learn to stop eating before we get nauseous, we would be able to enjoy the feeling being satisfied with just right. But strangely, most of us think that if just right is good, then more will be that much better.

My other kind of favorite meals. Lots of friends together, eating, yes, but more importantly: Being together.

No wonder we live in a constipated world.

All this is to say: The halibut last night was great. The fellowship even better.

The glue that holds a community together

One of the most important things for people in any society, any culture or  any social group is community. And one of the most important things to glue a community together is culture. The Karen sing, and any Karen community with respect for themselves has a good choir that meet and sing regularly. The Thais dance. Slow, graceful moves, where the fingers play the main part. The Shan sing, and do colorful dances as well. The Americans do Rodeos. And the list goes on.

Tonight we went to the opening of the culture center at our small community here. They named it the Magnus’ hall after  King Magnus Lagabøte who lived in the 1200 and who passed the laws the country was to abide by, here on Frosta.

We got a small teaser of the talents the community has to offer in the two and a half hour long show tonight. I was impressed, and a little teary-eyed at times. It seems almost impossible that a small community such as this one can afford a culture center as nice as the one we just got. And it seems impossible that a community as small as this one should have so many talented people too. But I was there and I was not dreaming.

Here are some of my favorites

Naomi and friends doing Hoola hoops. The people started clapping and the girls got so bewildered they left the stage a minute before they finished their performance. But nobody noticed.

These guys are real studs. And some of our best friends' sons too. You may run into them at a circus one day.

Two of my girls, Naomi on the top and Elise two layers down. And friends.

Here they are again, the Walking Pickles. They are really, really good. The most amazing thing is that they write their own music. Get their album when it comes out, OK.

Some of all the kids. The future of the nation, the future of the world. Notice my girls among the rest.

My favorite photo of the night. One of the members of the accordion club.

So, you can see there are lots of talents and potentials here. And I have not even posted photos of more than a fraction of all the participants. May they all live long and use their amazing talents to make the world a better place. Amen.

Good friends pack envelopes with you

I decided to have a cup of coffee even though it was 4.30 PM. This proves that I have been living in Norway for a while now. Norwegians drink coffee all day long and when I say I can’t sleep if I drink coffee late in the day, they either:
1. Look at me funny, as if I just said: I can’t pay the parking ticket because my favorite color is red.

or

2. Say: Yeah, I know some other people who have that problem. I think it is gene related.

Then they pour themselves another cup of the black liquid that, BTW, is so strong there is no way you could notice if a fly was drowning in it.

So this is why I am here, at 11.30 still able to write and not particularly sleepy.

We had a work party here at the house tonight. A bunch of willing friends came over and helped us stuff envelopes with letters and cards for Christmas. 1000 of them to be accurate. We will send them to people all over the country asking them to consider buying a pair of boots for a relief team member, a duck for a village, some rice for a family, or other items like that that we can use to help the people of Burma.

I am crossing my fingers for success. The envelope stuffing was a great success, but I am hoping the campaign itself will be successful. Wouldn’t it be cool if a thousand people decided to give money to something like that rather than all the useless junk we usually find ourselves buying and giving away to people who already have so much? A duck is so much more useful than a new tie.

I was really blessed by all my friends who gave up their Friday night to come to our kitchen to fold and stuff thousands of pieces of paper. That, to me, is commitment and true friendship.

This is why:

1. They had to leave their houses and it is 6-7 below outside.

2. Some of them had to drive quite far. It is dark, it is slippery, it is cold, and gas is expensive.

3. When getting to our house, they had to pass Marley, the vicious, loving labradoodle. To many, that was a great step of faith and courage. Because they are afraid of dogs, and Marely loves people in kind of a rough way.

4. They had to fold and stuff for a few hours, always making sure they put the letter and brochure the right way in the clear envelope.

5. They had to stay in our house that is extremely hot by Norwegian standards, but normal to us who are used to the Tropics.

6. They had to put up with some of my preachings against the establishment.

7. They had to eat a lot of pizza and no greens.

8. They had to eat the pizza on paper plates.

9. They had to count the letters too.

10. They had to sit on hard chairs all night because we don’t have soft ones.

11. They had to do the whole trip in reverse when going home.

12. They were told I will invite them again to do the same kind of project.

Here we are, happily packing. Another group was in the living room. We got pizza in the end. But, honestly, these people deserved a gourmet meal.

When the world falls apart in a small way it feels big

Today disaster struck. And by that I mean DISASTER.

Like a chirpy bird with weights on my legs I was going to work this morning at 6.30— after my first cup of tea. The first task of my busy day is to check in on Facebook. After that comes other smaller tasks, such as strategy planning. But the Internet was down. This is worse news than running out of beer on a Friday night. It was terrible news for me because my life revolves around the Internet. But poor, old Mr. Modem had died during the night, and the earliest the Internet company could replace it was in a week. They informed us of this when they finally opened their offices at eight. (Yes, you have read that this is the BEST country in the world. But to get us a modem when we need it before the world falls apart? No chance. People here have strong labor laws and abide by them.)

I packed my briefcase and was happy that at least I could do my work at my office. It’s a drag because my office is messy as anything, but I could spend a day working there. And check Facebook besides.

You may not believe this, but it is true: The Internet was down at the office. For FOUR freaking days. I wanted to bang my head on a rock. I banged it on my palms.

This is how I felt inside today. This, BTW, is a rock group from the place we live. They are called the Walking pickles and will go far. Look out for them. Steve wants to join their fan club. In fact, he may already have joined.

No Internet on this busiest week of the…week. And by busy I mean BUSY. Not only is there a board meeting to prepare for and a budget to make. There is a Christmas campaign that needs to get out the door, there are email updates and web site work. We have to write a whole strategy plan about how we are going to change the world and I need to write my blog!

All day I was edgy. All day I was grumpy. All day I was thinking about all the work I was not getting to do. I took too few deep breaths and thought too few positive thoughts.

Now I am sitting at my desk and all is calm and all is well. Steve drove two long trips into town and bought a new modem with is own hard-earned money.(Why two trips, you ask. Good question that I am not going to answer. It may be addressed in a later blog.) It (the modem) is winking at me now with it’s yellow eyes, saying: See how much power I have over you and when are you going to let go of the control you feel you must have in all areas of your life. Today was a test and you did not exactly excel. But there will be more chances. Have no fear. Life does not usually follow our perfectly planned schedules and plans. It is when it takes a detour, as small as today’s, that we learn how far from perfect we are and how hard it is to trust that somebody other than you is in control.

 

Freedom here and freedom there

It so happened that the day Aung San Suu Kyi was released from house arrest, I was traveling. I was in the car, then on an airplane, then on a train, then I was walking, then on another train. I had heard that she was released, and all day I was thinking: I am missing out on the Aung San Suu Kyi-freedom-day.

As I walked the streets of Oslo, waiting for my train, I wondered: What is she wearing? How does she look? Will she call her sons first? What is the first thing she wants to eat on her day of freedom? Did she cry as she walked out of the door of her house that has been her prison for so long?

I got to watch her today. She is beautiful. She is brave. She is wise. She is one of the most remarkable women in the world.

I went to a small town in Norway to speak at a small church that consisted of about 50 people from Burma and maybe ten Norwegians, most of them retired. This morning I cried as I saw photos of Aung San Suu Kyi displayed on the pulpit and heard Chin, Karen and Burman refugees worship together—in Norwegian! “Yesterday was a day of joy,” I said. “The world’s eyes were on Burma and the Lady that was set free. We all rejoice in her freedom. But today we remember the ones who are still persecuted for their faith, their race, their political views, their culture, their skin color.Today we need to ask ourselves how we can use our freedom to fight for their freedom. Today we must remember them. And tomorrow we need to still fight for them. We live in a free country. Perhaps God has put us here to accomplish his plan for the persecuted people of Burma.”

Me preaching. I had to speak very slow and clear. Afterward the refugees told me they understood everything I said. That was a compliment.

I said that and a lot more to a congregation of attentive people who’s smiles and nods said: “Preach it, sister.” Then, when I was done, the church choir sang. It is led by Sverre, a sweet, old man who is living to serve the community of refugees living in his town. He bought himself a bus that has signs that say: “Burmese Bus.” He plays his accordion while the choir sings hymns in Norwegian. It is surreal to sit in the congregation listening to a choir of Karen, Chin and Burmans singing in Norwegian. You should try it some time.

The choir. I am telling you: You have not heard singing if you have not heard refugees from Burma sing

I left the church today feeling connected to Burma and hopeful for it’s people. I left the church thinking that it is far from hopeless. I left thinking that of all the gifts God has given me, one of the best is introducing me to the people of Burma.

Sverre leading the choir. You too would have loved him. I guarantee it. Unless you are a stone.

Vanilla and butter flavored love

Once Naomi was going to make a cake while I was out doing something else. She called me—panic was in her voice—and said: I think I did something wrong. I put one cup of vanilla and a tablespoon of sugar in the cake. I think it should have been the other way around. The bottle of vanilla was empty and the cake didn’t turn out that great. Since then Naomi has baked a lot and she always makes sure she reads the recipe well.

Naomi generally stays away from vanilla these days.

Today Steve was going to bless me by making a coffee cake. He has never made a cake before. And while I was suffering at the dentist’s, he was suffering in the kitchen.

He picked me up and said: I forgot to double the amount of baking powder.

I said: Why did you have to double it?

He said: Because you had written Double the recipe next to the recipe.

To which I replied: Uh oh. That was something I wrote many years ago when I had a huge pan. The pan you used doesn’t need that much batter.

My loving man’s jaw dropped: Oh, shoot. Also, that was A LOT of butter.

I felt like my crown came loose. Steve, did you use 3/4  of a Norwegian pack of butter?

He looked at me with his puppy dog eyes. Of course, that is what you had written.

I looked him with my Betty Crocker eyes. Yes, but I wrote that many years ago, and it was 3/4 of a Thai pack of butter, about 1/2 cup.

He sighed, like a knight who just got stabbed with a sword. Seriously? I think I put about two cups of butter in the cake. Crap. Is there a way to take butter out from cake batter?

The cake had to bake for quite a bit longer than the recipe said. It’s a little salty and greasy. But it was made with love—and a lot of butter.

Cake made with love, sweat and butter.

The lesson one can learn from these two stories that are accounts of unfortunate incidents that happened to two of the people I love the most in the world: Read the recipe well and follow the directions to a tee. Ignore the handwritten notes in the margin unless you know what you are doing.

This is how we should live too.

Peace in an unpeaceful world

The house is quiet except from the mellow sound of Leonard Cohen. Outside is covered with a blanket of white. The temperature is slowly dropping—making me happy for a good supply of dried wood. Peace. Not much could make my life more peaceful than it is right now. Maybe if all the dishes were done I would feel an even deeper calm. But still, it is pretty nice to be alive.

The fantasy of God revealed in a winter landscape around our house.

But my thoughts cannot dwell here in the quiet corner of the world. All day they have traveled to the border of Thailand where thousands of innocent people are fleeing across the river—away from shootings, away from fighting, away from violence and oppression.

There was an election in Burma and it was supposed to be the beginning of democracy. Funny. I think the Burma generals have misunderstood the meaning of democracy.

Democracy the Burma Army way. Here is the xenophobic ruler, Than Shwe.

Because here we are, two days after the election. The Government-backed party, not surprisingly, seems to have gotten the majority of the votes. The army has been guaranteed 25% of the seats in the Parliament. No international observers were allowed to the country because, as one of the government officials said: We have a lot of experience with elections so we don’t need any help from the outside. A lot of experience? An election every 20 years is what we are talking about. The election was dogged by accusations of fraud and voter intimidation. But victory has been secured, say the leaders of the party who won, the pro-junta Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP).

And the victims are, as always, the innocent civilians. When fighting broke loose, they were the ones who had to run. And here they are:

Fleeing across the border to Thailand. This photo was taken by Partners staff.

And, you know what else is weird? For a day, or perhaps two, Burma was in the news. But on the third day after the election, it is no longer news-worthy. Last I checked on the biggest news site here in Norway the headline: “Why other people’s farts smell worse than yours,” was higher up on the news feed than the tragic situation in Burma.

It's not a joke. This was an article on the news, after the news about soccer and the weather, of course, but before any news from Burma. I would have named the article: Why our world smells of indifference and self-centeredness.

My world is peaceful. But the world is not peaceful. Not for the 10,000 to 50,000 new refugees who have just joined the hundred of thousands of other refugees from Burma.

Running to an uncertain future. Today Partners has been trying, along with other organizations, to get aid to these people.

In my heart there is a struggle of feelings, the feeling of thankfulness for what I have gotten, the feeling of something like guilt for having so much, when they don’t even have an assurance of life tomorrow, and the feeling of: What am I doing here, listening to Leonard Cohen?

To kick sled or to car sled?

It was the scariest day ever. My muscles felt tense and I had to remind myself to keep breathing. A couple of times I thought it was the end and for a split second I wondered if I was ready to face eternity. I knew I could do this, and that this was facing my fears—head on. The dim light was slowly dying all around us, making the feeling of gloom turn to dread. Darkness was all around us. There was nobody there to trust other than myself and God, and—like I said—I wasn’t sure whether or not he planned to take me home a little early.

I was driving in the season’s first snow storm, and it was a storm of dimensions. My car protested up the hills of thick slush and ice, the windows fugged up and all I could see was millions of snowflakes dancing towards my windshield like flying bed bugs. The car swerved like a ballerina on ice when it hit the spots that seemed to be a few degrees colder than the rest, and more slippery. I told the car I was it’s master.

After the three-hour drive today I decided that snow and winter is better enjoyed other places than from behind the steering wheel of  a car. I am inclined to think that we should all try different ways to get from one destination to another in the snow. It sure is a lot safer, less stressful, and a lot better for the environment.

This is one safe and enjoyable way to move on the snow.

And then there is the real-life analogy: Driving down life’s highways while it snows and storms and there are stupid drivers everywhere, some of them incapable of following the simplest rules, it is hard to look around and enjoy the scenery life has to offer. But put on your skis and slow the pace down and you will realize that the world is a fairy tale castle and you are the princess.

Here is a princess on a life discovery tour in her fairy tale kingdom. No traffic jams here.

This Norwegian mode of transportation is quite genius as well as fun. Add to that the great aerobic exercise it provides and you can ask yourself why you would ever want to travel any other way. This is how I got to school during the winter in my childhood all those years ago.

Ok, so this is a pretty lame blog in some ways. But you have to give me some slack. I had a close to death experience today and lived. I am still feeling a little bit like jello on the inside and I am wondering what the people who met me while driving thought I was looking like. Like the model for Munch’s Scream? Tomorrow night I will have to drive an hour to pick up Steve. He probably doesn’t want to be picked up on a kick sled.

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