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Archive for December, 2010

Norse Yule traditions are still alive

You see, we are still celebrating Christmas here on top of the world. Today is the 5th day of Christmas.

“Fæmtdan,” we call it. We still shake people’s hands when we meet them and say: “God Jul.” Some people even say: “Løkk me jula,” which literally means: Good luck with the Christmas. These are some of the things we do on the first, second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth day of Christmas:

We eat. This is the most important activity we do.

We have spent considerable time preparing cookies, and other yum-yums before Christmas, so now we must eat it all. We have also spent considerable amounts of money buying food we normally don’t buy. Now we must eat that too.

Some of the things we eat are: Figs, dates, tangerines, marzipan and loads of cookies. We also eat something called Pinnekjøtt which is dried, salted and smoked lamb that has been cooked for hours and eaten with mashed turnips and potatoes. It is incredibly yummy and very unhealthy. That is why we only eat it at Christmas. We drink a liqueur called Akevit with it. It is the Norwegian Scotch and is supposed to help cure a lot of ailments—bad mood for example.

Some people think that they have not had Christmas before they have eaten this.

Another thing we eat is Lutefisk. This is fish that has been cured in lye. It has a jello-like consistency and tastes almost nothing at all. We don’t know who thought about putting fish in lye and then eat it. But it tastes good—at Christmas. With the lutefish we must have these things: Potatoes, mashed green peas, crispy bacon and bacon grease. And Akevit, of course.

As a child I thought eating Lutefisk was a punishment. But not any more. I have become an adult.

We also eat cod or halibut, ribs and spiced meatballs, sour cream porridge and rice porridge.

Then we eat nuts that we have to crack ourselves, with a nut-cracker. We eat much meat and fish on our bread for breakfast. We drink homemade beer. We eat peanuts. We eat chips. We eat just plain chocolate, or chocolate that is not plain. We drink coffee until midnight.

So now I have written about the most important thing we do at Christmas.

The other activities are: Play board games. We play these with our family and many visitors that come over and eat with us.

We visit people or have visitors. This happens at least every day, at least if you are a part of my family. When we visit or get visitors we sit around and eat and talk and play board games. Some of the women knit. Many men are slouching.

We also go skiing, walking or “Sparking” (kick-sledding). We of course have to do this so that we can burn some calories. But many of us also do it because we like it.

Here you see us today. Minus ten outside. We cross-county skied to a place that had dried trees for wood, made a fire and ate hotdogs and bread while we shivered with cold. This is high class Christmas celebration.

Lastly, we read the books we got at Christmas Eve during the lazy days of Christmas. And we watch movies on TV.

Sadly, some people have to work during Christmas too. I will write about them later.

There are other things I could mention as well, such as the “walk-around-the-Christmas-tree”-parties and the children that dress up and walk around the neighborhood asking for candies, like Christmas trick-or-treating. But, frankly, it is a little boring. Better not write about it quite yet.

So now you know a few things about Norwegian Christmas celebrations and hopefully you still respect us.

Creatively messy, or messily creative

The house is as quiet as only a house full of sounds and noises can be. What I mean is that because there is always so much commotion here, it feels even more quiet when everybody is in bed and the world around me is sleeping. I only hear my fingers typing and the kids turning in their sleep.

All around me there is the evidence of life. Some would call it mess. I did. There are clothes scattered about. Art supplies are taking over the home. Books, newspapers, magazines, musical instruments to outfit a whole band. Wrappers, socks, dust bunnies. Dust horses. “This house will never be clean and tidy,” I lamented to Steve while we admired the view of what looked like the residue of a typhoon. And he said these words of great wisdom: “If this house is tidy and clean you will be sorry. It is looking this way because people are living in it.”

Cozy? Cozy. This is our home on a not so messy day. But Martha Stewart may have have had a cow.

I thought that this was wise and true. The thought also occurred to me that he said it as a cop out. But, let’s assume that it was not a cop out, but a word of wisdom uttered by a man full of insight. Then I can see life, not clutter and messes. I see a scrapbook in the making. I see songs waiting to be played. I see stories in books. I see designs and art being made by pens, markers, paints and paper. I see memories. I see solutions and innovation. I see opportunities to learn and to grow.

So as I am finishing this day, I am thankful that we live in a messy house with messy people. I think that our messes will fill the world one day, and you may be able to enjoy some of them. I am also thinking that tomorrow morning I can tell the girls—again—that they really should pick up the dirty socks and that orange peels don’t belong on the floor. And if they say that they are just being creative and free-spirited, I will have to remind them that actually being creative is not the same as being messy—all the time. Then I need to go into my own bedroom and put my own clothes away. They don’t look good on the floor.

But for now I will be content resting my eyes on a guitar, wool slippers from Riga and the homemade craft box, a book on novel writing and a colorful hat from Nepal.

Nine years is not very long

Tonight was the last night my baby went to sleep as an eight-year old. I got a little teary-eyed and quickly raced through all her birthdays in my head. It could not have been nine already, could it? I even panicked a bit. I am never getting the years back. I am never getting the days back. I am never getting the hours, the minutes, the seconds. I am never getting them back. Have I used them wisely, I wondered.

Kristin turning 4.

The answer to my question is probably yes and no. I have wasted a lot of time by nagging, by being pre-occupied, by focusing on small stuff and missing the big events, such as a hug or a confession. I have been tired too many times, under pressure too many times, irritated too many times, selfish too many times, impatient too many times.

Kristin with her best friend, Holly at 5. This was the year we had a zoo party.

But I can also say that I have been there. I have savored her life. I have laughed with her, painted with her, baked with her, read with her. We have years worth of cuddle time. I have been there for my little girl who is growing up. I think that she will remember all those times better than the times when I lost my temper. At least I hope so.

Kristin and me, Rocky mountain national park.

Happy birthday, big, little Kristin.

Who is the little match girl?

A year ago I wrote this story for the Partners blog. Then recently I saw that it was published in the Free Burma Rangers’ prayer guide. That made me happy (and a little proud). I think that the words are as true today as they were a year ago, so I think I will post it here. Right now.

Who is the little match girl?

Every year at about this time I am exhausted. I work so hard on making a perfect Christmas for my family that I run the risk of ruining it for them by turning into a grouchy Grinch. I read in the newspaper yesterday that the Christmas season is the time of the year when most marriages fall apart and depression is as common as the flu. The counselor explained that she thought the reason was that we all have such high expectations for this time. Then the expectations turn to disappointments when the people closest to us don’t pick up on the clues, and it goes downhill from there.

As an act of great discipline I have decided that perfection is not the house that resembles the Pottery Barn model home, or the food that would Martha Stewart impressed. Perfection is the contented looks on my children’s faces while we do things together. Perfection is stopping and making time for the ones who thought that the world no longer had time to spare. My daughter Kristin, who turns 8 tomorrow, summed it up for me two nights ago: “You know, mom, I like getting ready for Christmas more than Christmas itself, because we are doing things together.”

One of the things we do together in order to calm our hearts, is reading Christmas stories aloud. Tonight we will read The Little Match Girl. This is a story that makes me cry every time I hear it. I think of this little cold girl sitting on the street corner trying to sell matches. I imagine her cold fingers and I can almost hear the growls from her hungry stomach. I wish I could have walked by her and picked her up, wrapped her in a blanket, taken her to my home and fed her a warm meal. Why didn’t the passer-bys do that? I am sure my voice will break as we read and my kids will look at me and smile at mom who always cries when we read stories.

The girl in the story becomes a picture of all the little match girls—and boys, who are as cold and as hungry as she was. There are too many of them right now. The ones I am thinking of are in the jungles of Burma. As the temperature drops drastically they are cold, hungry and afraid. Many are sick and have no medicine. I imagine that many of them also look into a small fire that keeps them warm for a moment and dream of a world when they can eat until they are full, be so warm that they feel drowsy and enjoy the luxury of fearlessness.

Another kind of match girl. A child who has just lost everything she owns to the Burma Army and who is now living in a hide site where Partners is providing help. This photo was taken by one of our great volunteers who work for his company called Exposure Projects.

I am not sure if we are all this way, but I tend to be very self-righteous. I think that I would not have been one of the busy people who did not notice the little match girl sitting on the street corner. I would have done something before it was too late. I think that I would not have been among the ones who got Jesus crucified. I would have recognized him as the Son of God. I think of myself as a person who has great judgment and sense of righteousness. It is easy to watch on the outside and know the right thing to do. What I tend to forget is that I am actually not merely an observer of a play. I am in the play. I can do something to change the ending of the story.

So as we sit down to read the Little Match Girl tonight we will also ask ourselves who the match girls and boys are today that we can do something for. I would hate for a story to be written some years from now about the cold and hungry children in Burma who died alone because the world was too busy making Christmas cheer to take any notice of them.

A picture of Jesus? A newborn baby in Mae La refugee camp last week. Partners was there doing a Christmas party for the children. The photo was taken by my friend Stu.

When your good deeds meet a closed door

Naomi likes agendas and schedules and plans and calendars, and to stick to them. It is really sad for her that she was born into our family. She is the only one of us who is made this way.

When we started on our good-deed mission, Naomi started planning ahead. “When it’s my day for a good deed, I want to make some cookies and give to the old lady in the neighborhood,” she said. I liked the idea very much. It was exactly the kind of stuff I had wanted us all to do. So, yesterday we made cookies and it happened to be Naomi’s good deed day. “Do you think I should bring her cookies today, mom?” “Yes, I think today is a perfect day for it. Bring Kristin too. You two can do a good deed together.” Naomi took a deep breath. It was scary and uncomfortable. Maybe she could put it off until her next good deed day. “It won’t be any easier then,” said I. She walked upstairs and told be on the way up that she was just not ready for the big challenge yet. She needed to plan for it.

Five minutes later she and Kristin came downstairs. Resolve was written on their faces. “We are going!” they said in unison. The room had the same aura as it may have had if they had just decided to cross Norway on skis. They got a pretty box and filled it with cookies. They even wrapped them nicely with a napkin. Then they went out on their mission. That was after they had rehearsed what to say to the old lady.

Who could say "No, thanks" to this?

I was so proud and happy. In my mind I saw the look on the lonely lady’s face when my two angles showed up with  fresh cookies and bright smiles. It may change her life. Give her back her faith in humanity. This was Christmas spirit at its very best.

It only took ten minutes for the girls to return. “What did she day?” we asked expectantly. “She didn’t want them,” they replied. And they didn’t lie. The lady had taken a look at the girls and at the cookies and then told them that since she had already made cookies herself she didn’t need theirs. So, goodbye.

I was stunned and offended and thought of a few new names for the old lady. She didn’t want the cookies? So what? She should have pretended like she wanted them. She could have given them to her cat. Now she had ruined my girls’ desire to do good deeds forever.

We’ll probably avoid the cookie giving this Christmas. But this is the thing: After we got over the initial shock of the downright rejection we had the best Christmas story ever. It will be a story we will never forget. We can laugh at it and tell it to all our friends. We can write blogs about it. And, best of all, according to Naomi and Kristin: They still got good deed points!

Can Spaghetti Bolognese save the world?

A couple of days ago we decided that in order to make our good deeds fly, we would have to do them together. This means more work for me, but the benefits are so many I think I will find that it is worth it. A big charity in Norway has a campaign every year where families are encouraged to invite an invisible guest at the dinner table every day during lent. That is what we are going to do every day until Christmas.

Here is a photo of the ingredients for our dinner today. A simple, wholesome meal: Spaghetti bolognese and a salad.

To make up for the canned tomato sauce we eat whole wheat noodles and locally grown lettuce.

A simple meal in Norway is not cheap. When I added up the grocery bill, it was 200 NKr, or 33USD, or 1000 THB. (Don’t ask what a dinner including steak cost. You don’t want to know).

I did the math and figured out that that is 40NKr per person (or 6,7 USD).

At dinner we set the table for one extra person, the invisible guest. On the invisible guest’s plate we put a jar, and in the jar we put 40 NKr.

The invisible guest got to sit on middle of the table

We often have guests over for dinner. No matter how broke we have been, there has never been a time when we have not had enough money or food to share with a guest. I am pretty confident that even though the guest is currently hiding somewhere in the jungles of Burma, we can feed that person every day for the rest of the month.

This we will do every day until Christmas, and after the extravagant Christmas dinner we can count the money and send it to Partners Love Campaign, of course. You want to know more about the campaign. Read here and here (in Norwegian).

Elise had a good point though: “I like the idea, mom, but you have to admit: You and dad will be paying all the bills. I don’t have any money to begin with, and we also never have to pay you for the food we eat.”

But mom had already thought of this. “You will get to contribute by not eating certain things. We can fast from chocolate, and put the money we save in the jar. We can fast from meat and put the money we save in the jar. I am even so brave that I will suggest that Dad and I fast from the Friday night beer some times.(Ugh, why did I say that?)”

So that is all from the good deed arena. More is to come. Tomorrow I will share about the saddest good deed my girls have ever done. It will make you cry.

Did the wise men wear tights and do angels have wings?

I asked Kristin if, as one of the wise men in the Christmas play they were going to do, she couldn’t wear bright pink tights and a shiny jacket with sequins. She didn’t catch the joke, and said that in the times of Jesus they wore more earthy colors, like brown. We ended up with a costume that was a bit of a compromise. She wanted to look like a poor shepherd, but we thought she should look a little richer than them. As long as it wasn’t too colorful she was fine.

She has practiced quite a lot for the one line she was going to say: We brought you some gifts, gold frankincense and myrrh. Here you are. To be honest, I was a little bummed that she got to say so little, but for Kristin is was totally OK. She was more than happy with her two sentences and the turban on her head. Her only concern was that her Rs would not come out right. She struggles with the Norwegian Rs.

When she handed the gift of Myrrh to Joseph in the play, Joseph was in such a hurry he threw the gift on the manger and it landed on baby Jesus’ head.

We are working our way through the Christmas story in the mornings, before school and work. It takes some effort to get the girls excited about  “Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.” It’s a story they have heard so much and it is often performed, like tonight at Kristin’s play, together with plays about Santa and other Christmas stories. It’s hard to see something new in it when we have heard it, sang it, performed it and read it so many times. It’s a little difficult to make it more real than just another fairytale.

Here you see the whole story on stage. Notice Kristin in mustard colored clothes. Looking very wise. And how about baby Jesus under the sheep skin. Not exactly how I imagined it. The angels here did not have wings, but red belts. A new trend.

Today we spent time talking about this, while making PB&J sandwiches: What an interesting thing that God chose to reveal the news of his son’s birth to shepherds first, the lowest and least significant in their time. The closest we got to a current analogy was that the most important event in history would have been revealed to the underpaid Eastern European workers here in this country before it was revealed to us. Then we talked about whether angels have wings or not.

To be on stage is serious business for some. For others it is incredibly boring

Lastly we talked about how darn difficult it is to do a good deed every day, especially when we are busy with other stuff. It’s not that we don’t want to (although that occurs too), it’s just that it doesn’t’ just happen. We need some guidelines. So today we made a list of ideas for good deeds, kind of the same format as a wish list for Christmas. Then we also agreed that we need to help each other do good deeds. It’s not a one person task. Just like in real life. We seldom can do good things alone.

Good deeding it at Advent

Advent means to wait. I guess it is a word in the English-speaking world, but not used very much. Here in Norway, however, it is a 24-day long season. The four Sundays before Christmas are referred to as the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th Sunday of Advent, and we light a candle every Sunday. At Christmas we have four candles, all burned to different heights. The advent color is purple, so we have purple napkins and candles. I even have a purple dress.

The main thing about advent though is the Advent calendar. This is a calendar that is supposed to help us count down to Christmas and to make the waiting a little less stressful. When I was a girl I was happy with an advent calendar that had a new picture to look at every day. I still remember the feeling of awe and tingling in my heart when I opened the last window, which was twice the size of the other windows, and there, with glitter and gold, was a picture of the baby Jesus in the manger. The most beautiful image I had ever beheld at the age of four.

None of these shiny baby Jesus pictures here...

But times they are a-changing. My kids, materialistic like all kids are these days, would probably have disowned me as their mother if I had provided them with a calendar of cute pictures to look at every day. No, no, no. Nowadays small, wrapped gifts are the only option. For a few years I spent valuable hours of my life wrapping 72 gifts (we only have 24 days on the calendar, Dec 1-24th) for my darlings. This caused more stress and filled the house with more useless junk than we needed, so I changed the rules. Now they have to take turns opening 24 gifts. And if the gift contains a pair of new socks, then so be it.

Last year I included a word of wisdom or a Bible verse in each present. The idea was that we would take some time and talk about the words and care less about the stuff. But, not surprisingly, the words of wisdom were forgotten as fast as the color of the wrapping paper.

Useful gifts—like nail-polish

This year Steve and I almost decided to skip the whole thing. But then we thought about the looks in the faces of our traumatized kids when we told them. They would not recover from a blow like that very easily. So this year we are doing this:

They take turns opening a gift that contains useful stuff like chocolate or nail-polish. Then we read a passage of the Christmas story every morning. Steve is making an Advent journal where he records the morning, the temperature, the gift, the verse we read and other interesting facts about the day. In it we will put photos he takes every morning of the family groggy, sleepy, cold and annoyed. And then the really challenging thing about the whole program:

The person who gets the gift needs to do a good deed that day. A good deed! The girls were not entirely pleased with this. None of their friends have to do something that silly. And what do you mean by a good deed anyhow?

When it is seven in the morning, dark and minus 13 outside,when the homework isn't done yet, when there is too much to do at work, when the house is a mess and the dog desperately needs to go pee-pee, that is when we are the most excited about having our picture taken.

A good deed has been defined as something nice you do to another person without being asked to do it. The first day was a fiasco. Kristin was the good deeder. But when she sat down for dinner she had a stricken look in her face. She had forgotten all about it. Her little head worked fast and she remembered she had carried wood when her teacher asked her to.(I know. This is what kids to at school in Norway. Carry wood. More about that later.) This made her pass, but only because she was first and the youngest. Next time she has to do better. Then it was Naomi’s turn. She also forgot. With an even quicker head, she rattled off some stuff she had done at school (smiled at a girl without any friends). We said we were not impressed. Yesterday Elise was on. Finally we were going somewhere. She came home and said: Do you want me to take the dog for a walk?

Then dad had to ruin it because when she got busy watching TV, put off the good deed, and the dog needed to go to the bathroom really bad, Steve asked Elise when she planned to take him out. Now she had to think of something else because it is not a god deed if somebody asks you to do it. Teary-eyed she walked into the bathroom and cleaned it. That qualified big time. She is now the good-deeder with the highest score in the family. Today Kristin is determined to find something nice to do. She wants to look for an old lady who needs to cross the street. Then she will help her. It may be a challenge here, but who knows. Stay tune.

I am off to cleaning my kids messes without being asked to. Wonder how many points that will get me.

Pray, exercise, blog

When busy there are two things I tend to not do as much as I would like to: Pray and exercise. When busy those are probably the two things I should not give up on doing. When busy I spend time browsing other people’s Facebook profiles. With glazed eyes and a slumped back I passively soak up what my friends are up to—it’s brainless work and I am too tired to think or act. Facebook is good for tired people—or should I say bad? I could have done some push-ups instead. Before Facebook I bet people did more push-ups.

But what I really wanted to say was that another thing I don’t do when I am busy, is write on my blog. It’s really too bad, because there is plenty to write about. I just have had to choose between cooking dinner and writing my blog. The dinner won. I have had to choose between sleep and writing a blog. Sleep won. I have had to choose between going to work or writing my blog. Work won. I am trying to get “write a blog every day” put into my job description. But my leaders are a little reluctant to do so. I don’t understand why.

I think that what I have learned, but am not that good at practicing, is that we need to not let ourselves get so busy that we forget to choose right before wrong. That is the worst kind of trap. The trap we fall into when we get ourselves so busy doing good deeds that we end up hurting our neighbor, ourselves and our environment while we are twirling around good-deeding.

Frogs. We have a friend in Thailand who has a frog farm. This is a picture of his frogs. You know that frogs don't feel that they are being boiled to death. At least that is what I have heard. Similar to people.

Perhaps you can’t relate to this. But I can. For example getting myself so busy preparing for Christmas that I don’t have time to sit down and read a Christmas story for my little girl. For example getting myself so busy raising money for refugee projects that I don’t have time to visit refugee families that live close by. For example getting myself so busy sharing about the meaning of Christmas that I don’t take the time to spend time with the One whom we celebrate at Christmas.

I think something has to change. More exercise, more prayers, more blogs are coming your way. Wait and see. Wait and see.

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