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Posts tagged ‘Hiking’

Aug 22

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Life is too short to not pick strawberries

The other day Steve and I went biking. It was a beautiful day, one of the few where it was warm enough to wear shorts in Norway this year. After spending the day by our desks using only our butt and finger muscles by sitting and typing, it felt good to move the whole body.

This is me biking on a different day. Not so sporty-looking, you may say, and I agree. 100%. But the surroundings are spectacular though. Or what?

I had gotten a pulse watch from Steve for my birthday so it was fun to keep track of our pace and distance ridden. I was amazed at my speed. We have nice bikes, all high-tech and light weight. Steve was in a rebellious mood and did not put on his helmet. I wore mine, because, quite frankly, the downhills scare me. The helmet on my head gave me a small sense of security. Still I used my breaks diligently as I made my way down.

We wanted a real workout. We wanted to sweat and hurt a little. We wanted to see if our time was better this time than last time. So we trotted on. There was just one problem: there were wild strawberries on the side of the road. Every few meters there were big amounts of them (not big, because wild strawberries are small, but you get my point). At first I kept looking past the strawberries and changed gears to make the impact on my body a bit more intense. This was not the time for picking strawberries. This was the time for sweating. This was the time for high pulse. This was the time for calorie-burning.

Sweet, red and tempting

But finally it got too much. I could not resist the temptation. I stopped, got off my bike and started picking strawberries. They were delicious! Sweet and tart at the same time, bright red and vulnerable. When we had picked them all, we got on our bikes and went a little further, until we saw more strawberries. Then we got off and picked more.

We finally made it home, but not in record time. And, in the end, it didn’t matter at all.

This is what I thought: How many chances like this will I get this year? A sunny day, a beautiful place and strawberries on the side of the road. Next week they may be gone. Next month fall is already here. Next year this road may be a be paved and the strawberries gone. Why not enjoy them now? Why am I in too much of a hurry to stop and pick strawberries?

To experience the joy of strawberries to the max, thread them on a straw like Kristin and her cousin did here. If you do that in a hurry, you will fail. If you take the time required you will end up with the finest jewelry.

While adding handfuls into my mouth I thought that my experience as a good illustration of real life too. Often we hurry along, trying to break our own records in efficiency and perfection. Often we get so busy that we forget to look for the strawberries in our lives. And if we see them we don’t take the time to pick them. And when we finally decide to make time for the stopping, picking and enjoying it may be too late. Winter is already there, the strawberries are gone—either picked by others or rotted.

So I committed to not pass up strawberries. Not on my bike rides, not on my walks and not in my own life.

Aug 11

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Rebuilding a blogger

Not really sure what went wrong there. It was like…I stopped blogging.

I had my reasons. My daughters and I got the worst possible flight to go to the US, and we travelled for three whole days and saw more airports and breathed more bad airplane air than all of you perhaps have in a lifetime. At one point where we were starting to get violent. That was in Chicago when the flight attendant informed us that she didn’t know when the pilot was going to show up because, actually, he was at that moment at a different airport. 

This family has seen more airports than the average family. This is in Australia many years ago, but it was no more fun then.

During those days I did not feel like writing a blog.

Then we zigzagged around America, spreading the good news about Partners, and when not doing that we did stuff like hiking, canoeing, shopping and drinking beer from local breweries.

No blogging opportunities at the Boundary Waters. We were just busy following the tracks of the Indians and the beavers.

Somehow, every time I wanted to write a blog, we were either on a lake, or at our campsite without my computer, and with no internet. Or my computer was out of battery and one of the girls had all the chargers. (No matter how many chargers we have, there is never one for me, and the girls always manage to get one. Of course, they have first priority, considering how much catching up they have to do on Facebook.)

At the few moments when I was at a place with my computer, with Internet and with a charger, I just did not feel like writing. I just thought that if I had to write anything right then I would start to feel sick. So rather than getting sick from blogging, I simply kept reading my book or I did another workout. Some times I even checked Facebook instead. But that was VERY rare.

On nights like this, I wrote blogs to God in my heart.

All this is to say that I am sorry that so many of you, faithful followers, have not heard from me for a very long time. I feel like I have let you down. But I am also glad to report that I am back to stay. Just look at this spot from time to time, and you will find that I have been here. 

For now, this is all I have to say.

May 9

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When the sarong of perfection falls off

Kristin and I taking a bath in Burma.

Some of  you may have read my latest book, Picking Flowers on Dusty Roads, already. But if you haven’t, I thought I may give you a taste, just to tempt your appetite for more. Here are a few paragraphs from page 103:

“Obviously, we are from different worlds: the Western world with all its trinkets, and the jungle world with all its jungle gadgets. It’s only natural that we behave like clumsy amateurs in a world that is not our own. I can keep wishing that they could see me in my element, with my hair a different style than the mop-look I have been forced to adopt during these weeks. But I can also decide to give up my pride and let go.

I have no problem being totally honest and sincere while I’m just uttering my silent prayers to the only One whom I believe knows me just the way I am while here. Often it goes like this: ‘Help me, help me, help me.’ ‘Please, please.’ ‘Say something, will you?’ My prayers aren’t any more eloquent or impressive than the clumsy climbing moves I’ve had to make as I crawled up steep hills to get here. But they’re all I have. I can’t make them any better. If I did, I’d be a liar. Maybe I have come here to learn not to be too impressed by myself, but instead to see that I am weak and dependent. In the convenience of my own world, I often don’t see this, because I can do so much, and the rest I can fake. It’s a humbling feeling, but also freeing. In a way it is like the sarong has fallen off and here I am in my imperfection. You can take it or leave it, but this really is who I am.”

If you want to read more, then that is possible. You will just have to buy the book! You can get it at Partners or at Amazon.

Apr 19

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Why not dance? It’s spring.

Kristin, one of the world's biggest lovers of spring

It’s spring-time in Norway. Nothing can compare to the feeling of spring in a country that has winter from November until April. Like jolly calves who have just been let outside, we too dance around like dorks. Well, not exactly dancing. We just dance in our heads. Norwegians are reserved people after all, and one does not usually do anything that one’s neighbor isn’t doing.

It’s like we have been in hibernation for six months, and now, when the sun comes out and warms our bodies, we crawl out of our dens. You can see Norwegians outside wherever you turn (in Norway I mean. You can’t usually see them in the rest of the world). It’s not hot by any means, but it feels hot compared to how it has been. So although the temperature only is around 10 degrees Celsius (which is 50 F) we put on our sweaters, take a blanket with us and eat our dinner outside. The nice weather is just too nice to waste.

We go for walks, we rake the lawn, we have visions of our future gardens, and we close our eyes and face the sun. Mmm, the warmth it produces is better than ice-cream.

No snow, no ice, no need to spend more than a minute to get dressed. It is nice going for walks during spring-time.

I think that people who have not lived through a long, dark winter cannot appreciate how nice spring is. They may find it lovely and smile, but they won’t long to be outside like we do, they won’t fall in love left and right like we do, they won’t get all excited when they found the first flower of the year like we do. But we, having lived through the darkness and the cold, see the beauty of spring with all new eyes. It makes us smile. It makes us talk about it at the store. “Now spring is here,” we say to the strangers in line at the grocery store. It’s like the world is smiling at us. Do you have any idea how nice it is to go outside without three layers of clothes on?

It’s like life. Without the harsh realities of life’s winters we cannot appreciate spring as much.

It’s what I am trying to teach my kids when they have a hard time; when they don’t get the best grades, when they don’t get picked for the A team, when they don’t get as much money as their peers, when they don’t seem like perfect people that always get the best of everything. I tell them that this hurts right now, but later in life they will be glad for the experience. It will teach them endurance and it will make them appreciate spring more when it comes.

The same is true for me.

 

Jan 25

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What is luxury anyhow?

Luxury

Once I was watching Steve as he took a half-a-liter vanilla yogurt container and poured most of it into his cereal. “What are you doing?” I half shouted in despair and shock. “You cannot use all that yogurt and you cannot pour it out of the container like that.” Steve looked pretty surprised at my violent reaction. He had no idea he had done anything wrong.

Yogurt is not particularly expensive in Norway, not compared to other groceries at least. But to me, yogurt is a luxury that one should eat sparingly and with much gratefulness. One should not take yogurt for granted.

When I grew up they did not sell the yogurt in big containers, just small ones that was enough for a nice little snack. In my family with four kids and one income, yogurt was a luxury we only got some times. And when we did, it was very special. We would never open the fridge and just pull out and eat a container of yogurt. Never. At least we would have to ask first, and that was after behaving well for a while.

So even now, a hundred years later, I have the feeling that yogurt is always sparse and we need to treat it with respect and modesty. To not do so violates my yogurt values.

I feel the same way with OJ. It is cheaper to buy than milk, and I can probably have it in my fridge for the rest of my life. But still, I always feel like to fill a whole glass with OJ is a luxury I don’t deserve. I always just fill it half way up. Twice. I honestly don’t think there was OJ in our fridge more than a handful of times when I grew up. The few times we tasted it, I felt like I had tasted Paradise.

Russian Caviar? Luxury? Well, I guess in most people’s eyes it is because it is so darn expensive. But for me, that is less luxurious than OJ and Vanilla yogurt. I am not even sure if I would have eaten the Russian caviar had I had it in my fridge. It does not go well with musli or with homemade bread.

A free light show on the sky

Last night at 11 PM I sat with Steve at our balcony, all bundled up in warm clothes. The temperature was minus 10 and on the sky the northern lights were dancing salsa. It was a show more spectacular than one you could watch in Vegas. And it cost us nothing (except from lack of sleep). Luxury? Oh, yes.

What else do I think is luxurious?

Avocados. I will never take an avocado for granted. It is luxury in pale green.

Walking my dog on a dirt road with the mountain and and the forest on one side, and the ocean on the other. After living in a big city for 20 years, that is luxury.

Sleeping past 6 AM. That is decadence actually. 16 years as a mom has taught me to value my sleep.

A good cup of cafe latte. And by that I mean a good cup. And it can’t be in a paper cup, and it can’t be drunk in the car or while walking. What is the pleasure and the luxurious feeling of rushing through a cup of coffee like that. No, my friend, sit down, listen to jazz, watch something pretty or read something stimulating, savor the coffee with a piece of good chocolate. Get in touch with the inner you.

A good marriage. How many can honestly say their spouse is their best friend after 21 years? To have a person to share one’s joys, fears, frustrations, thoughts or laughs with is worth more than the jackpot.

Time alone. Baby, that is my biggest treat to myself. Time spent alone when I can do absolutely what I want to do. Is there a better gift? What can be more luxurious than reading a whole chapter of your book without getting interrupted?

Pine nuts. They are more scarce than yogurt and taste so good when I on a rare occasion splurge and buy them.

Time and ability to exercise. I have lived through times in my life when I had to move as little as possible. That was enough for me to realize what an incredible luxury it is to have a body I can move.

And the list goes on. What is luxury for you? Not a new diamond, I hope.

Jan 20

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What is your favorite word?

A journalist recently did a long interview with me. I hope it will not make me look too bad…

After hours of talking, she also had a few very basic questions, that are standard questions for the type of article she would be writing, like what is your birthdate and your current title and where do you live.

There were some fun questions as well:

They are not cute. They are scary.

Do you have any phobias?

I did not need to think long about that one. I am scared to death by rats and mice. Cockroaches are gross, but I can handle them. Snakes too. And spiders. Mice and rats however make me lose my breath. Those beady eyes, the nose that moves all the time, the long tail, the stiff fur. I get the creeps.

Then they asked what did I want to become when I was a child.

I remember wanting to become a nurse because I liked their uniforms—starched hats and white dresses. In the early seventies when I was a small sprout in the farmlands of Norway, a nurse’s uniform was a dream outfit. I also wanted to become the prime minister, but that was later.

What am I good at, they asked.

I thought about what I am good at and felt like while I can do a lot, I am not super good at much. Like, I can go for a run, but not win a race. I can read books, but never get the best score in class. I think that I am a pretty good mother. I help my kids with homework and I feed them well. But I did not want to write that in case it sounded cheesy. So I said that I am good at making good food. Because this is really true. I make delicious food. Better than most.

Cooking is my secret weapon

What is your favorite word they also wanted to know.

I thought that was a hard question. I thought of it for a long time. I thought I probably should have said Love, Forgiveness, Generosity, Integrity or something big like that. But I thought about what word makes me happy without fail, what word that makes me excited to be alive and ready to take on anything. It’s not beer (although I thought about saying that that was my best word too). It is the Norwegian word for going for a walk, going for a hike, going skiing, trekking: TUR. That is my favorite word. TUR.

TUR

If I had been the newspaper I would have added a few more questions: What is your favorite possession? (Maybe they thought that was too materialistic.)

I have a lot of favorite possessions and I guess it depends on the situation. I love my slippers and they are the first thing I look for when I come home. I can’t walk in the house without my slippers. But something else I love is my computer. It is sad to say so, but so much of my life depends on my computer. I think I love it and hate it. It used to be my iPod. I could not run without it. But now I am bored of my music and too busy too find new so I don’t use it much. I love my desk. It is my own messy world.  My desk and my slippers. Boy, do I ever sound boring.

I think I would have asked what five items would I have brought to a desolate island too.

Let’s see: My journal, a pen, a blanket, a lighter and a knife. Or: My journal, a pen, a knife, a pot and a lighter. Or: A devotional like My utmost for his highest with blank pages in the back to journal, a pen, a knife, a lighter, a pot. Should I prioritize the journal? Such a hard choice.

I can go on and on. What would I bring if my house was on fire? Easy: All our photos. What’s the most useless item in my house? A potato washing glove.

How about you? What is your favorite word, your phobias, your childhood dreams and favorite possession? Who is the person you would like to have lunch with right now (except your spouse or mother)? I think…not Johnny Depp. I would feel too awkward. Perhaps Meryl Streep. I think we would have a lot to talk about. And of course: Aung San Suu Kyi. But she is so busy right now, running for an election and all.

In any case. I hate rats and I can cook great enchiladas, I like my slippers and to go for walks in all kinds of weather. I want to have Meryl Streep over for lunch, and I don’t want to become a nurse any more. My little exercise made me look quite eccentric. Sorry about that. I am a lot more exciting than you think. I hope.

Tur

Sep 15

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The rocky trails in marriage and the cozy coffee breaks that follow

Some trails are hard to walk. But the fact that it is a trail means somebody has walked there before you

It may be a little cheesy, but I thought I would write something about this day. Steve and I have been married for 21 years and we decided to celebrate the day by going for a hike together. We would have preferred a warm and sunny day for this event. Instead it was rainy, windy, kind of cold and from time to time the sun came out and said hello, as if to tease us.

I carried a heavy backpack full of weights (!). I am training for a long hike I will have to do soon and take every opportunity to carry heavy burdens in order to get in shape. The trail we took was new for both of us. It was pretty overgrown and steep. The rain made it slippery on parts, and we both fell a few times.

Climbing up one of the hills Steve mentioned how we could have spent our anniversary had we not been living in the world’s most expensive country, and had we not worked for a poor aid agency that spends most its money on refugees, not on its staff. A spa, dinner at a fancy restaurant, a night at a nice hotel, maybe even a whole weekend away.

Instead we were climbing a steep and slippery hill with weights and homemade sandwiches in our backpacks. Then I had the thought: This hike is a bit like marriage.

It is hard, but it is also so good. It is fun, but it is also so tiring. It has it’s challenges, but also prizes to die for.

The 21 years I have been married to Steve have been great years. We have a marriage that people envy at times, and numerous times I have heard this: You and Steve were so lucky, you are so perfect for each other, have so much in common and seem to have such a great relationship.

This, of course, is true. But what I need to inform the observers of our marriage is this: It hasn’t come easy. It has been a lot of hard work. Look at us, we are as different as they get! He is American, I am Norwegian. We even celebrate Christmas on different days! He grew up in a family with values a lot different than mine. His interests were very much different than mine when we met. We liked the same music and some of the same books, we wanted similar things for the future, but mostly we were different. He likes to sleep in the mornings, I like to get up. I like to watch movies with happy endings, he likes action. He likes the windows open in the car, no matter what temperature. I like them closed. He likes a good cigar, I like bran muffins.

Some days our marriage has been a bit like walking up a steep and slippery trail in bad weather. Some days all I have seen has been the brush and the branches with thorns. And, I am sure that there have been days that Steve has wished that he had chosen an easier trail too. Perhaps he has wished he chose to spa and the five star hotel.

As we walked today I thought about this. I was struggling some places. I had to hold on to roots and stuff to not fall. Once, after getting up a particularly steep spot, my water bottle fell out and rolled all the way down the hill. I got to discouraged to go all the way down to get it, and begged Steve to be my hero. Which, of course he did.

Notice the beauty

Then I decided to look around me and noticed the beauty. I saw the crazy wildness of the nature surrounding me and marveled. I picked berries and observed colors that only fall can produce. I felt the cool wind in my face and the rain was refreshing on my hot cheeks. I saw water trickling down modest creeks and a grouse taking flight right in front of us. I saw quiet lakes and smelled the sweet smell of the bog. Had I not made the effort on the trail, those are blessings I would not have experienced.

So much like marriage. If we just take the time to look around and see the blessings that come with commitment and persistence, with devotion and love, then we will see it is worth it. Not only worth it, but incredibly fun, rewarding, beautiful, and meaningful. In the end you come to a lake, sit down and make a fire, eat a nice lunch, drink the strong coffee with some chocolate and think: Ah, this is why I said Yes.

Steve and I have been on many different trails that have been hard and challenging. But we have never thought of quitting, of turning around, of going back before we got to the end destination. We have fallen and helped each other back up. We have even pushed one another to fall (very seldom, but it has happened, and probably I was the one who pushed). But we have always gotten back up and continued on the trail.

There has been more laughter than tears, more music than nagging, more love than resentment and more forgiveness than bitterness. Doing the steep hills and the challenging climbs have not been easy, but we have made it. And, guess what, it has given us marriage muscles that we can be proud of, and a stamina that many wish they had. Not only that, but the trials have formed us and shaped us to become more like Jesus—a lot more likeable.

My advice today is: Don’t focus on the roots and the loose rocks on your trail, but focus on the beauty around you. Don’t think that turning around is an option, but rather think of the nice coffee break you will have together at the end of the difficult hike. It is totally worth it.

Totally worth it.

Aug 25

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The benefit of blueberries

My bank account is anything but fat. In fact, I think it is anorexic. Still I think I am rich. One of the luxuries I get to enjoy is walking into the forest just minutes away from our house to pick wild blueberries. I have picked many pails full since I found my own secret spot. They are big, juicy, give me blue fingers and are full of antioxidants. I feel myself getting healthy while I pick them. Honest truth.

While picking the berries I enjoy the luxury of quiet. I only hear the birds singing, sending messages back and forht about what to bring on their journey back to southern Spain where they will spend winter. For me it is a time to reflect and to dream.

Naomi doesn't have the newest iPod, but she has free blueberries.

Next to me you will find our dog, Marley. He loves blueberries. Like a cow eating fresh grass in the spring, he is bent over the blueberry patches, chowing it down. He frequently makes it over to my patch and starts eating where I was picking. “Go away, sucker!” I say, and point in the direction of some dried raspberry bushes. But mostly we stay friends and enjoy each other’s company.

I looked through a children’s book today that is about being thankful.With great illustrations it lists all the things we have to be thankful for. A good reminder in a time when we are mostly concerned with talking about what we don’t have, and not focusing on what we have.

I don’t have a new car, and won’t be able to afford one until I win a lottery. I don’t have the coat that I think I need, and it seems like I won’t afford it until it goes on sale because it is out of style. I don’t have a boat and a cabin and a leather sofa. But I have free blueberries in the forest, a closet full of clothes, a car that runs and a house that keeps me dry, warm and comfortable. And when I think of it, I don’t need any more stuff. But I would like some more berries in the freezer for the long winter to come.

I think I will take my dog and my pail and go for a walk to the forest.

Kristin after a day in the forest

Aug 17

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The tears of heaven and heaven on earth

It’s the kind of rainy day that was made for inside activities. Part of me feels cheated. Hey, I have not had my portion of sun yet this season! We are heading towards Norway winter, and, let me tell you: it is dark and cold. I need all the sun I can get.

Then I thought about the rain as the tears of heaven. And as I think of that, I think it rains too little.

I think of the dying children on the horn of Africa—their mothers holding them, wishing only for one thing: Enough food for their babies to eat. At the same time as we, here on the mountain, throw away enough food to feed many villages every day. At the same time as we in the West encourage farmers not to produce food on their land because we have enough, and it is cheaper for them not to produce, than to produce and then have to turn it into garbage.

The mothers in Africa would like some of that food.

Politics are complicated. And economics even more so, but, holy cow, can it be that hard? If people like me raised our voices in unison and said: This is bullshit! There is enough food in the world for all of us to be fed. If only we distributed it a little differently and some of us stopped overeating. 

Could we change the world then?

Cherku Paw the way she looked when she first arrived at the hospital

A coupe of years ago I received some photos in my inbox. It stayed with me for days. For weeks. It was of Cherku Paw, a young girl in Burma, who, when she was six, was standing in front of the fire in their village, trying to warm herself. The cold season is cold. The people seldom have warm clothes. Little Cherku Paw got a bit too close to the fire. A spark fell on her polyester shirt and she caught on fire. She caught on fire.

The pictures I got was of her two years after the accident. For that long she had suffered pain, humiliation and terrible discomfort. For that long her parents had hoped there would be a doctor or a hospital somewhere who would help their little girl. For that long Cherku Paw had not been able to stand up right, close her mouth and run around with the other kids in her village.

Her father had heard of a hospital that could help his girl. For three days he carried her in his arms through the jungle. When she got to the hospital, run by one of the people I admire the most in the world, Dr. Mitch, the doctors were moved the way Jesus would have been moved. Money was raised for Cherku Paw and she was sent to an even better hospital in Chiang Mai.

Months later I received another email. This time there was a photo of a cute little girls, smiling shyly to the camera. I heard that when she thought she was alone in her room at the hospital, the nurses would see her dance on the floor. Joy filled her as she moved her legs, looked at her face in the mirror, touched the parts of her body that before only had been the source of incredible pain. Soon after I got the photo she went back to her village together with her daddy who had been with her the whole time at the hospital. She could walk with her head raised high and a smile on her face. Soon she could join her friends playing games.

Cherku Paw and her dad some moths later at the hospital.

I heard from her again today. She has just been back to Chiang Mai for check ups and we were asked to help pay for the doctors’ fees. I am so glad that I will be able to help. I am so proud that I can.

It’s still raining. Heaven has many tears still because there are so many children like Cherku Paw left to help. In the news they talk about financial crisis around—a world crisis they call it—and I understand the fear. I too fear it. I don’t want to end up on the street. For all these years we have spent resources that don’t belong to us in the first place. For generations we have enjoyed freedom that has been paid for by others’ bondage. Is it time that we realize that and change our ways? I think it is. But I also fear that even through this crisis, it is the ones with the least who will suffer the most, as usual. Not the people like me, who have my security in a nation that only gives from our abundance.

So, it still rains. For the children in Africa. For the children in Burma. For the children on the streets in the big cities around the world. Rob Bell writes about hell in his book, Love Wins. Hell is here on earth, he says. And for too many people, that is true.

But for little Cherky Paw, hell was turned into heaven because generous men and women gave their time, resources and dedication to help her.

Today, let’s try to bring heaven a little closer. Let’s try to bring the sun back in the lives of those who need it the most.

Heaven seen in little children in a refugee camp (photo by Kris Ryan, my friend)

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