He's got the whole world...

Kiddo: Mom, I know who made snow!
Me: Yeah?
Kiddo: Yes. God did!
Me: Yeah, that's right.
Kiddo: Because God made the clouds, and there's where snow comes from.
Me: True. So now we know who to blame and complain to.
Kiddo: No, we can't complain. Because snow is made of water, and we need water to live.
Me: Huh. Yeah, that's true.
Kiddo: And besides, if there's no snow, the eskimoes won't be able to make igloos and then they will freeze.
Me: Right (deciding not to argue about the name, makes mental note to inform kiddo at some point that the people in question prefer the name inuit). Of course. Well, let's not complain then.
Kiddo: Yep.

no void

Jesus.
When you stepped out of that grave, you stepped into my life.
When you left the void of death, you came to fill mine.
When that heavy stone was rolled away, I could stand up straight.

I have so much to thank you for.
Today, I thank you for taking away the emptiness.

Spitfire RIP

There is a special place in heaven, where all butterflies stay right where they have landed, and taste like newly fished shrimp. Where fish swim leisurely slow and close to the surface, so that any kitten can catch them without getting her whiskers wet.

In that special place there are never any loud noises, and nothing ever changes.

It is lined with cosy radiators, covered in woolly blankets. There are wonderful warm rays of sun to lounge in, and quick little darts of light that one can dash after, if one feels like it.

Here the milk is always fresh, the humans never get up so one has to move from one's comfortable slumber. No, all laps are calm and warm. The mice have three legs so that they can run just slow enough.

There are trees with birds in them. No annoying crows that taunt cats, but sweet little chirping sparrows and succulent and lazy pigeons. The trees are just high enough to give an enterprising feline a great view, and low enough that the same feline can get down without injury.

In that wonderful place there is a new little queen.

No more pain.
No more coughing.
No more hiding away.

Rest in peace, Spitfire, sweet little one. We will miss you so.

the vacay story #3: the other England

We left London behind. Getting out of the city proved to be somewhat of a challenge with the different rail stations and train companies (and subsequent panicky teary break-down by wife/mother), but finally, an hour later than we thought, we were on a train heading north. Destination: Heath Hayes, in the middle of (sorry to those who disagree) nowhere.

In Stafford (relatively close to Birmingham) we were picked up by fellow ycw (young clergy woman) Leah, and went with her home to her lovely family. There we spent a couple of days doing not very much. Relaxing, eating, playing, talking. We went to church on Sunday, which was interesting, and...interesting. And we became friends.

It is wonderful and funny and cool that people can meet and connect like this over the boundaries of language, nationality and church traditions. This was of course an easy one, we are after all western Europeans in protestant churches, but still.

On Monday morning we returned to London, leaving sad kids behind. It will not be the last time we meet, but who knows when the next time will be?

And early, early on Tuesday morning we flew home to Sweden. It was a relief, and very sweet to be home. And already I miss traveling.

the vacay story #2: London

We arrived in England. Already in Victoria station, kiddo showed signs of enjoying the wet and cold more than the balmy air of the Mediterranean. She even moped a bit about it not raining as much as she wanted.

We stayed in a guest apartment in one of the huge neo-brutalist estates in the Barbican area. The room was basically a queen size bed, a chair and a chest of drawers. To this was attached a pretty roomy bathroom. This was to become the adult hang-out when kiddo had fallen asleep. In that bathroom we played cards, talked, read books...even had pizza one night! The weather was never nice enough for us to sit outside.

The days were filled with adventure. We shopped of course, we went to London Zoo, to Princess Diana's Memorial Playground in Kensington Gardens (fabulous playground with Peter Pan theme), we wandered around Camden, visited British Museum to see mummies (too scary, but the North American Indian things were cool, thought little one) and the Natural History Museum to see dinosaurs. We had Sunday dinner with friends. We went by boat on the canals, by double decker bus and of course by tube. We had lots of coffee and smoothies. Starbucks sure benefited from our travels...

After almost a week of this, we took the train to Windsor and Legoland. Kiddo was overjoyed! She skipped and skipped, talked and talked. We rode rides that made us wet and rides that made us dizzy. We shot bad guys with laser guns, and watched Johnny Thunder defeat an Aztec queen. We had boring food (always at amusement parks) and lots of water and soft drinks. And we saw really, really cool things built of Lego. On our way home, daughter asked when we were going back.

We spent another day in London. Then we went north, to fellow ycw L and her family. Great adventure!

the vacay story #1: La Bella Italia

A long post...and in English. Bear with me.

The day of vacation finally arrived. At times during the months before I could not believe that there would be a time this year when I would not be working all the time. Yes, it has been a rough Spring and start of Summer. Absolutely wonderful in many parts, but insanely busy. But that wasn't what this post is about.

The family went on vacation abroad. Daughter has not been abroad since she was one, so this was a big, BIG thing for her. Due to very cheap airline tickets we chose to fly, in spite of actually preferring to go by train. It's insane that it costs three times as much to take the environmentally friendly option. But that, of course, is not what this post is about either.

(This promises to be a very chatty post.)

Anyway, we went. Kiddo was excited. She basically skipped the whole way to the airport, on to the plane, off the plane and on to the airport train that took us to the centre of Milan. She didn't skip as much when we had arrived, it was very late. We stayed at a small hotel in the old city centre, which, we realized, meant that it was superquiet at night, when all the bankers had gone home to their villas somewhere in the outskirts of the city.
Day two we walked and walked, and saw all the sights except The Last Supper. Kiddo was not too pleased with the temperature (it was hot!), but very pleased with the suddenly very liberal rules regarding how much ice cream she was allowed every day.

Anyway, the Duomo was insane. Very beautiful and very impressive. Daughter liked the relics and the treasury most. Mommy agreed in secret.
We went to a park and saw butterflies (husband has apparently developed something of an obsession since he has insisted on visiting every single butterfly exhibit during this journey). Funny dogs and rides and carabinieri lounging in the shade. Daughter pulled us into the archeology museum, which was mildly interesting.

We had pizza and pasta and kiddo disliked everything.

The day after, we rented a tiny car-ini and went south to the mountains of Piemonte. Wow. The scenery was amazing! We drove and drove until we arrived in the tiny village of Montecapraro, 800 m above sea level. There we stayed in an apartment and enjoyed the silence (and had water fights, destroying the peace for everyone else).

The day after, day four of the vacay, we left la Bella Italia to go to England. But that post will come little later.

change is a-coming

On Monday the Diocese of Stockholm voted for a new bishop. The person who won is called Eva Brunne, and she will be the fifth female bishop in the Church of Sweden.

I know her a little. My experience of her is that she is wise, kind, pious, structured, humble and funny. She is also known to be loyal and a very good leader who takes care of her flock, both employees and other sheep *smiles*

All in all, she seems to be a perfect choice for bishop, right?

But are those qualities listed above what people discuss? Are they what makes blogs and comments splutter with indignant rage? Of course not. Some people don't care about Eva's suitability. The only thing that makes all of these bloggers go absolutely bananas is the fact that Eva happens to be married to a woman.

Funny. And tragic. Mostly tragic.

Please pray for Eva and the Diocese of Stockholm. They have made a good choice, and a brave choice, and your prayers will be needed.

Minor Luthersites...

Going to Lutherland, it is easy to just see the big ones - Wittenberg with the Lutherhaus, Erfurt and the Mariendom, Eisenach and Wartburg castle (and of course Eisleben), but there are plenty of other cool, funny and somewhat strange Luthersites.
This time around I had the immense pleasure to visit two of these sorely ignored and undervisited sites.

The first one is right outside Erfurt, in Stotternheim. There a stone marks the place where Luther supposedly was not struck by lightning and as a result became a monk. The stone has some interesting statements on it, the best of which being "Wendepunkt der Reformation", turning point of the reformation. Like there was a reformation already, but it was headed somewhere else...

The second amazing sight was the place, close to Eisleben, where Luther caught the cold that subsequently killed him. Yes, that spot is known. It is possible to have a picnic there. The view is very nice, and the draft on the exact spot (well...) actually is colder than the surrounding air.

Other than those two un-missable sites, I visited Erfurt and the beautiful cathedral and the Augustinian convent, and of course spent a lot of time with my friends in Eisleben. I miss them already.

Good Friday

It gets me every year. Sniffle.

(In spite of sitting in the pew behind six s.e.r.i.o.u.s.l.y. bored confirmands, in spite of people not respecting the "we leave the church in silence" instruction, in spite of the weather being too good, in spite of a headache [but that actually fits the mood], in spite of the really cute baby that was grinning at me for most of the service...it still gets me. Sniffle.)

blood is thicker than water. but without water, there is nothing.

There is family, and then there's family.
Sometimes family are people that one is related to. Blood ties, legal ties.
Other times, family is people that have grown close, that are as important as the others, or even more so. People who you can count on. People who will always be there.
And sometimes they're combined.
I have been blessed with all three kinds: I have blood relations that are close, I have friends that have become family emotionally, and formal family members that are not related to me. Yeah, it's a mess, but a good mess. Because at the center of the jumble, there is love.

In the end, love matters so much more than any shared genes. Love is what makes a family. Love, and only love.

pink Fender

Last night I chatted with some ycw friends. We were united in our sermonizing angst, and discussed how one can avoid the feeling of saying the same thing over and over again, week after week. One of them suggested that we could give each other themes or words to incorporate in the sermon, which (stupid) I thought was excellent. Subsequently, since I was the first one to be preaching, I was given the fantastic words "pink fender".


Pink Fender. Thank you so very much, dear, dear sisters. Not.

But it worked out really great. I talked about how we can spread the gospel, and used Symeon and Hanna in the temple as examples. Some people stand on mountaintops and shout it out, others tell the people they meet. You use whatever voice or talent you have. You can even write songs about it, and play your pink Fender when spreading the word.

So there. Now...what should the next preacher talk about?

juggling

Right now, my desk is a complete mess. I come to work, and immediately go to church for morning prayer, or join a meeting of some kind, or sit down to plan something. Then I visit my office to put down one pile of papers, and pick up the next on the way to the next meeting.
There's just a lot going on, and I'm juggling several projects at the same time. But my desk suffers. And I get frustrated because I don't find things quickly enough. And when the work day draws to a close, I prioritize the loved ones instead of organizing.

But soon...after this weekend...after I've...then I'll fix it, then I'll clean up. Soon. But not today. Gotta go to a meeting.

holy chaos

You know that kind of worship service that just goes smoothly? When everything works, and you look at the time afterwards and can't believe more than an hour has passed? Well, this one was not one of those.

This was a joint effort thing, a huge service with lots of people. A third of the congregation were children, and another third were elderly. We had two really messy and chaotic liturgical parts (the baptismal remembrance and candle lightning) when long lines formed down the aisle. The church was full of noise, babies crawled and ran everywhere. The whole thing took an hour and fifteen minutes. Nothing ran really smoothly, yet nothing went wrong. The mood was great, people smiled and sang. Yeah, it was holy chaos, a feast in the house of the Lord. It was utterly wonderful.

one step forward, two back?

This here clergy chick is tired. Yes, the holiday season has been fun, but it has also been strenuous, both personally and in a way workwise. I have been working one or two days, then had one or two days off. And as much as it's nice and restful with that kind of rhythm, that bone deep relaxation that comes after a week or so off has not arrived.
So, I'm tired, and know that this will be a superfun and joyous Spring with lots of celebrations, since my congregation celebrates it's 60th birthday, and our church's 50th, but I also know that it will be wraught with work. And studying. And family asking for a piece of the mama/wife.

But there are also outlets. I'm learning how to play the bodhran. I and a friend will take a class in church embroidery (yes, extremely nerdy). And there will be some visiting friends. Yeah, I'll manage, 'cause it's all fun, and all good. And 'cause I know there is God in it too.

and speaking of...

U2, here are two Christmas and New Year's favorites. Enjoy, and have a great New Year's Eve! See y'all in 2009.

I Believe in Father Christmas


New Year's Day

(I wanted the video with the guys riding around in snow, in Sweden [!], but Youtube wasn't cooperating. Oh well. This is a good live version, anyway.)

a love that does not rust

Tonight, I and the husband went to see U23D.
I have been a U2-fan since my late teens, and this love does not rust. Granted, I am not a fanatic anymore, but I still think they are great.

This concert movie, filmed in Buenos Aires, was, as the title suggests, filmed in digital 3D. Sometimes, I wanted to ask the chick in front of me to take down her hands, only to realize the second after that the chick in question was really an Argentinian girl at the concert. Or when Bono reached out towards us, and it felt like his hand was only inches away. Very, very cool.

We wore silly 3D-glasses, though they are no longer the flimsy cardboard things I remember from when I was a kid. This is how cool (hihi) the husband looked:


He's trying for the The Fly-look. Succeeding? Well...

Anyway, one of the things I really respect and love about U2 is their continued consciousness. Some people laugh at Bono's travels, projects and hanging out with presidents. I know his hobbies have caused dissent in the band, but they go on in spite of disagreeing sometimes. And in the meantime, they actually help people. They actually make an impact, an effort. And that makes it possible for them to still sing Sunday, Bloody Sunday (but make it about the Middle East instead of Northern Ireland), or to have the Declaration of Human Rights recited during a concert, and still be believable.

Enough with the raving. They are a really cool band, the movie is really cool. Go see!

skolavslutning

Några av våra absolut mest välbesökta gudstjänster är skolavslutningarna. Och ändå tenderar de att bli lite styvmoderligt behandlade i många församlingar: man suckar och pustar över att behöva ha dem, över att folk nästan inte sjunger, över att det är rörigt osv. Men hur ofta har vi en gudstjänst med 500 barn? Inte så märkligt att det är rörigt, kanske.
I min församling har vi satsat rätt mycket på en av skolorna, och det märks. Jag har nu haft deras skolavslutningsgudstjänster, två om året, i snart tre år, förutom att jjag är ständigt adjungerad till deras krisgrupp och har haft en hel del livskunskapslektioner. Nu kommer föräldrar fram och frågar om andra gudstjänster, barn spontankramar mig, lärarna likaså. Det är genom det personliga mötet som vi är kyrka, och genom sådana här saker sprider vi budskapet mer effektivt än hur många konferenser och "interngruppsandakter" som helst.

I vilket fall som helst, min betraktelse finns på prästflickealster. Den är tvåspråkig, eftersom skolan är till hälften internationell (med allt vad det innebär av många religioner och kulturer, något som aldrig är ett problem!).

I've had an "End of semester"-ceremony for one of our schools today - a true feast! It's a great honor and pleasure to meet all these children, their parents and teachers. The school is an international one, and the sermon I held, which you can find here, was bilingual (I translated the Swedish parts, in italics under the Swedish).

Nativity

I walk into the church. A bunch of little people await me there: a kindergarten group have come to see the Nativity scene. Eleven kids, two and three years old.

"Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a country far, far away..." I begin. The children stare at me with open mouths. I tell the Story, with arms and hands and eyes as much as words, and the children soak it up. Every now and then, one of them looks puzzled, and I stop and explain. "Yes, Mary had to use a donkey when going to this other town, because there were no cars back then". "Why?" he asks, and I tell him they had not invented them yet. Amazingly enough, he is satisfied with the answer, and the Story goes on. They laugh at the notion of all of Betlehem being full of baah-ing sheep when the shepherds run to the stable, and they suggest different good things the wise men should have brought instead of weird stuff like myrrh, like a blanket or a ball. They pat the camel, and sit in Mary's lap.

At the end, we sing a hymn. They know it well, and sing with joy. The star shines over our heads, and right there, right at that moment, it is very clear to me why God had to become a child.

a Swedish Advent and Christmas

Culture comes with trappings. Stuff. Thus we, at the end of each November, go down to the basement looking for The Boxes. The ones full of Advent and Christmas stuff. Decorations. I'm not normally a fan of decorations (unless we're talking art, but china figurines and pretty tablecloths don't enter this household), but when Christmas is drawing near, I succumb to my inner child. The gaudier, the better.

I have a number of nativity scenes. I put one in each room. I have one for daughter to play with. She usually plays with the others.

Every window should have an Advent star. This is very, very common in Sweden, and the stars come in all kinds of shapes and materials. Being a minimalist at heart (though not in practice), I favour white simple ones. Lots of Swedes also put a kind of electric candlestick, triangular shaped, on their windowsills. I think they're ugly. No fake candles here.




Advent candlesticks. I love them. Four candles, one for each Sunday in Advent. I even have a tiny, tiny kitschy one at work.


And talking about anticipation, the Advent calendars are also everywhere. We have at least four at home. Three of which are my daughter's. One of those is pictured here, with one gift for each of the days in December, leading up to Dec 24. Yes, Christmas Eve. We get our gifts on Christmas Eve. Barbaric, I know.

And then there is of course the food and drink: saffron buns, julmust (a kind of softdrink), glögg (mulled wine), ginger cookies (some people build little model houses of ginger cookie dough), and ridiculous amounts of candy.

a sermon in English

I have translated my latest sermon into English. Not very humble, no, but I liked it, and I have friends who don't read Swedish, so... (and if you still prefer to read it in Swedish, just scroll down on the page!). The donkey sermon is found here.