The inside of the Easteregg

This is my best easteregg. It is, as you may notice, a Babusjka. Inside are more holy perso s and churchfathers. Only trouble is the state of the egg. It's so tight that the poor saints inside never see the sun. On the other hand, the real ones have other options and are not locked in.

If the eggs we give our children, filled with chocolate and candy, where just as tight, easter would be a hard time for sugarlovers.

When I was a child, there where two periods to get extra candy. Around christmas where swedish children dress in white and sing Luciasongs to make way for the christchild. Walking from door to door, stairway after stairway, people wouldn' t get rid of these singing little brats unless smilingly giving us candy, money or gingerbread.

At easter we dressed up as witches or something similar, red cheeks and baskets and feathers. We called out Happy Easter to anyone who dared open the door and hoped for candy.

Today,the christian angel of easter has disappeared somewhat. We decorate, cook, bake and eat all we can muster. Many considder easter a better holiday because there is no rush about expensive gifts in fancy wrappings, i e the inner meaning of christmas...To celebrate easter is a real joy actually, it means life and light in the middle of all this darkness.

Only, while we were eating and celebrating in our quiet part of the world, other forces blew away the light and joy. Yesterday Lahore was the next goal. 

Easter may have lost some of its meaning to many, but to the families in  that park, easter was a celebrationday.

That terrible deed took the light away. Darkness fell over the world once again. The police calked them Soft goals. Indeed.

The christian history is filled with martyres, many more unwillingly added this day.

Once again we are faced with the unbelievable. 

But life is still stronger, light can't be covered forever, new sisters and brothers need our faith and strenght. We will not bend.

My easteregg is made of wood and is lovingly decorated. Just as the love in the world now seem hard to reach and enjoy, just as the other pictures in my egg, we have to keep hoping that it's stronger than anything. We keep fighting to open the treasures of compassion and grace. 

I still want to wish you happy Easter.

And when I do my heart cries for the people of Lahore.

My coach is for life!

Goodafternoon!

So today the bad hip with owner included took a trip to the physioterapist for a checkout. Yes I does have a name, but you probably don't know him. He strikes me as rather young, very casual in his approach but don't missjudge, this boy knows what he is doing. So, back to my homework and a little more than that, good advice and healthy instructions. No shortcuts.

If life in general could be coached in the same fashion, wouldn't it be nice?
Oh there are coaches for all kinds of things, some are good I'm sure, but life does take many strikes.
Normally, we are often stronger than we thought and braver as well, but how far can it take us in some situations? And the coach needs to be payed, is that a lifelong commitment?

People that right now suffer losses due to war, terrorism, hunger, disease or catastrophes in general, may have the ability to get up on their feet and carry the burdens inflicted on them, but they can't do it for ever. Things have to change, directions turned, options must be multiplied and mercy must be on everyones agenda. Mercy, no more, it's enough, now we must mend and start again.
If that doesn't happend, people lose faith. So for instance in Brussels, like in Paris last year and Denmark some time ago, people are gathering to support eachother, normal life goes on, it has to, but no one is left alone with their fears and sorrow. One person can't be forever strong, but many together can be.
Thats the kind of truth you learn only from experience and that's just what we see right now!

And, may I say, it seems that the enemyside is very strong and powerful and will not rest either.
What if that's because they don't have so much time to live normally, think normal thoughts, chat and laugh over a piece of pie, enjoy love and friendship, care for family and neighbours, listen to the birds and bumblebees.or watch the fish turn and splash in the lake.

When evil is working it's way with ordinary boys and girls, men and women, it can't afford to much of that, you need to focus on your mission, your mind must be set right. Or so I believe.
When Good and Love is working it's way it's absolutely neccesary to add the amazement and joy.
Living a normal life where weakness, love and suffering is something shared, you have the utmost and greatest advantage before evil. The seemingly weak love is overwhelmingly strong when needed.
At home, we read Harry Potter and we learn that the only thing that could weaken the evil Voldemort was that unselfish, sacrificing love. it's a fairytale, but like most fairytales based on truth and wisdom.

We won't bend to evil. We refuse to stop living normally. We refuse the indifference towards others suffering. We wan't to hear birds, not warplanes. We wan't to hear the voices of our loved-ones, not commands yelled out in our faces. And we need support and kindness when we are in need just as we need to be strong when others suffer. Can a coach give us that kind of strenght? I can think of one..

Easter speaks of weakness, failure, cruelty and suffering, but also about hope, light and comfort.
And above all, we won't bend to evil, it can't win. Ever. My coach told me so. Because his commitment is lifelong. And free.

The light of easter and the darkness of the world

Goodafternoon!

I went almost as far as the woods today, just to see the springflowers. I dared not go through the gates but I saw enough. Easter brings us light and God knows that we need it.
I met an older lady and spoke about personal losses and how long it takes to get back to life. Walking everyday takes your mind of things, seeing everything bursting through the soil in the sunlight is somewhat comforting.
This week is the real passiontime in church, Goodfriday coming up and then the joyous easterday.
With the very recent events in Brussels today, there must be said on or two things about this darkness.
It will do nobody any good trying to wipe out darkness by killing the enemy. Both sides believe they have a light and right order to defend, there will never be any real solution in this. Shorttermed solutions, yes, saving lives, yes, restoring peace, yes. But it comes back, doesn't it?
I know it sounds naive, and so it is, but I can't think differently.

I know, we have to defend ourselves, it's important. But still.
We can't bomb away this. A man said on the news this morning that it will make no difference in the long run, how many buildings or other goals we manage to blow up, this is a question of belief.
It's ideological, religious perhaps, but it has to be reasoned with. We need to come in contact with eachother to see what goes on in the other persons mind and heart. I know that you sometimes need to use violence because of a threat, but we need to understand the reasoning behind it. The persons.
We see much happening today, not only terroristattacks, that seem to have a reasoning we don't understand. If that reasoning seem harmful, we have to speak up. For everybodies sake.

The message of easter is that nobody has to fight for any kingdom, it's moving anyway, nobody has to prove his or hers value in terms of neither violence or the right kind of piety. Nobody should be in doubt when it comes to being loved, everyone of us has a value, a mission, a right to be and take part.
Evil can't win, but it does hurt us, everyone gets hurt  so, everybody can use support and comfort. We all have the ability to chose right.
In the ever brightening sunlight of spring we see life emerging, life is stronger because love is stronger.
Love , if anything, is what needs to be protected, not borders or religious beliefs or political standards.
In love lies also the concern for the one. Nobody left out, everybodys voice be heard, every need tended to, without force.
Yes, I'm scared and concerned by this, but I still believe there has to be ways to reach behind and see how much greater things we already have and much greater to come. And that none of it can be taken by force, it can only be given out of love. And love can never be reached in violence, but given when needed.
And there I go, preaching. Couldn't leave it, could you? No, seeing the wonders and beauty of life and knowing that the only way to preserve it is by loving it, I can't keep quiet.

The old folks in my life - part two

Goodevening!!

This day I had to take it easy, the hip was in a bad state because I had been straining myself all too much. Stupid, but I'm getting a bit restless.
The old folks , yes, what would the world be without them? It says in the bible that old is what you are when someone else decides for you, but it also speaks of the old as the ones to listen to.
When I was a child we lived in a block with several houses in a cluster. We had dustbins of the old kind, complete with rats.
On the bottom floor lived an old woman called mother Maria. She had the kettle on all the time wich made her coffee more like tar than anything else, but she gladly invited visitors.
They said also that she had very little money and from time to time took a pidgeon on the windowsill, necked it and cooked it. Never had a chance to prove it, but she was a kind soul.
So, when my grandfather died, only 66 years old, my grandmother was at first frightfully sorry, she wasn't very able and grandfather had done all paperwork, he was a strong personality and she missed him. My cousin actually lived with her from time to time but I took it on me to go shopping with her every friday.
So I took the bus after school and out we went. They lived very central, in an enormous flat by the canal. Close bye was the fancy store where my grandfather used to be Santa Claus for the customers children. We went there or the other major store. Grandmother was very nice to be with, she was kind and had a great sense of humour. Trouble with her, and that was a problem with my aunt as well, was her total lack of direction.
Shopping with grandmother was equal to spending half an hour just looking for her. She was short and quick and disappeared in a wink. These shoppingrounds always ended the same way, coffee and something from the bakery, we had our favourites. She told me endless stories about older days and as a child I was allowed to watch and touch everything in the house. She had these old records and her absolute favourite was Jim Reeves. Some years after grandfathers death she kind of flourished and when we got married my husband and I, she was present together with my husbands grandmother, both looking smashing with hats and jewelry. We got married in my grandfathers homechurch, they too were married there.
 Grandmother had her roots in Norway, a strangely secretive story with secondmarriages and all that. She had three brothers of whom I got very close to one in particular.
I remember as a child two of the brothers were often present at christmas, one tall and cheerful, always singing in a frisky sort of style, and the other, shorter, heavily built, with a more laidback approach and a kind and listening way arround him.
One year after our wedding my husbands grandmother died, at the age of 94.
She had been a widdow since the fifties, managing brilliantly with a big house and a child. I knew her as a very bright and capable woman.
She was a wonderful cook and made the most lovely cakes and was very good at making clothes. My husband was brought up in that same house but she moved out after a few years. We spent many sundayafternoons with her. My grandmother didn't cook and bake so much when she got older, but she had in past years. We helped her move into a smaller apartment close to my mothers, there she stayed until her health forced her to move again.
The year after my husbands grandmother left us, my own grandmother died at the age of 84. Years before, my favourite of her brothers also left us. With all three I was there when they died. It was peaceful and sad.
My grandmother, just as her husband, was brought back to her hometown and we took farewell in that same church where she had been married and me too.
All these old folks left traces, we can hear them laugh and talk, we can quote them and tell stories of their lives and adventures. Our house is full of postcards, photos and things, china mostly, you know!
Our children never met any of these old folks, I'm sad to say. We tell them to make the most of the life with old folks they do know, namely our parents! But also elderly neighbours and others we meet along the way. A while ago our oldest told me of some Youtuber that made a quiz with older people , for the fun of it. Yes, until I realized they where my age!!   Let's face it, we go from folks to old folks in a wink. Let's make the most of it!

Old folks in my life - part One!

Goodevening!

Today we went to our smallest church, maximum 149 people. It's an old building, 14th century, and very beautiful. Old can be very beautiful. I never really cared for the latest. I love old cars and old buildings, I have kept quite a lot of grandmothers china and I read all the old books in mothers bookshelf.
Todays post will be about old folks in my life. Serving in church as I do, old folks are a part of my daily life. Where we live, family is important and most people I know have their old folks living close by, often in the same village. In the old houses you often find people that are actually born in the house or at least have spent their entire life at the same spot. Through the years I've met several that never left home and got married but stayed on to help out on the farm. They tend to grow very old out here, and it's ever so interesting to sit by the kitchentable and listen to their stories,providing you can understand their accent!!

In my own family I've had older folks only on my mothers side, since my father was nonexisting.
My grandparents were born 1911 and 1912. Grandfathers parents were alive when I was a child and they were the first really old people I knew. Their weddingpicture is hanging on our wall, next to the old clock from my husbands grandparents. Greatgrandfather had been a very harsh man, my mother was actually a bit afraid of him when she was a child, but when I got to know him he was very old and mostly chuckled underneath his mustache and gave us lollipops. He died when I was seven, and I wasn't allowed to go the funeral. Greatgrandmother on the other hand, was a wise and kind woman. They had moved in to the old folks home, the real sort that doesn't exist anymore. Mother and I took the train and payed her a visit once in a while. The ritual was always the same, chicken for dinner, then she went for a nap. Sometimes whe stayed on in the quiet room, where only the ticking of the clock was heard, or perhaps we walked down to the park by the church to feed the ducks.
When she woke up it was always lemonpudding for desert.

My own grandfather was something of a mystery to me. My mother and aunt told me of his bad temper, his fierce mastering of his two girls . I never discovered that part although it was obvious who was in charge.
My grandmother was a sweet, funny and quiet lady and grandfather loved her dearly and had spoiled her enormously.That's why the house was packed with things she had found beautiful. She loved china and he was fond of paintings and artefacts of all kinds.
Grandfather was a big man, with waves in his hair and a great beard, several years before he died he acted Santa Claus at the fanciest store in town. Beside that he owned a hotdogstand close to the Cityhalltheatre and all visiting stars came to him for a late night bite.
He was a great pranker to, Thatcher Joe would have loved him, he scared the neighbours and did all sorts of jokes on us all.
When he died I was 17, and he was only 66, but cancer had reduced him to almost nothing. I do miss him and so did we all. It was from there on my mission to care for grandmother and so I did. More of that in my next post!

Important decisions in the EU and also, Travelling memories part 2

Goodmorning!

Well, actually it's almost noon but I have no better word. Spring is really emerging from every corner and today I took a walk all the way to the harbour and our brilliant little shop. On the way I had a very interesting and good conversation with a nice lady. The wind was eastly today so we could hear the churchbells, and stopped for a while, thinking of those the bells chimed for.

I read today in the paper about the new deal EU is hoping to conclude with Turkey. It would mean no more refugees on dangerous boats , risking their lives. But it will also mean that Turkey takes a very great part of the responsibility because the refugees are to be transfered from Greek borders back to Turkey and from there , I'm not sure, but their future is meant to be handled in a more secure and orderly fashion, hopefully to get good decisions quickly. Hopefully there will be many countries ready to open up to these unfortunate people, in need of security and an opportunity to restore lifes most vunerable values. Yesterday I spoke of identity, all these people need to feel that they still have a life and still have their story to tell. And part of it is here and now, but most of it is something much greater.

Anyhow, todays post also contains another travelmemory. When I met my husband, I hadn't been further than Denmark and Norway and oh yes, a trip with the churchchoir to Germany.
But I had never been in an airplane and that year we were getting engaged and wanted a longer trip.
So we booked a chartertrip to Greece with ancienthistorytheme. We arrived at the big big airport in good time, all was new and scary to me. We strolled round and looked at departures and arrivals on the boards , people running to and fro, bags being handled, buisy officials.

Our departure didn't show, but another one destined to Athens did, but that departure was only about 30 minutes away so that couldn't be us, our liftoff would be some 2 hours later.
We decided to check things up, looking for our travelagency and were met by two running and screaming officials: There you are!!!! Where have you been, the plane will lift in 15 minutes!!
The fact of it was that the departure had been altered ten days earlier, only our names had fallen out so we never got the information.

My first airborn travel!!! We ran like mad, throwing in our bags, diving through security and racing into the aircraft. Our seats were taken, so we ended up in the back, between two sturdylooking spanish ladies, talking and smoking without recess, this was a while ago you understand. Well, all was forgotten and forgiven once we landed in Greece and the adventure began. If you want to know about the rest of that trip, look for it in a few days!
Tomorrow will be Earth Hour, see you then perhaps!

Stolen identity and prejudice

Goodafternoon!

A brand new day has been running for some time now. I hope you've had time to enjoy it, I for one have met some beautiful people and the sun is still shining.
In a while a friend of mine will drop in and we'll take a walk.
Todays post is a rather serious one, partly. Yesterdays news gave me a glimpse of something very important. Almost two years ago I was invited by three lovely young syrians to take part of their story.
Not only me, of course, there were many of us. They showed us pictures and maps, spoke of their homes, schools and where grandmother had her house and summerholidays. They showed us pictures of places before and after war began. The most touching in all this was their pride. Our beautiful country, look at that fine landscape, see the architecture of the school, the church, the mosque. See
the flowers and trees! And they cried. All people know is that Syriah is a country full of sand, arabs and terrorists and ruins from gunfire and bombs. What kind of identity is that to carry in your heart?

And so last night on the news we met a syrian artist, painter. He has been given a chance to live and work in Sweden for a while. He said, and this is important: People see only the number of casualties from Syriah, every day. Syriah is nothing but dead people in the newspaper and on the news.
He wanted to give us another picture of Syriah, one of beauty and real people. Just like the young people we met.
The same evening there was a documentary about survivors of the naziyears. One hebrew father said: My son came home from school, very upset and asked me; Father, who are the nazis and why do they wan't to kill us?
The father wanted his very young son to live through his early childhood feeling good just about being a jew. His identity was taken away from him. Just like it was for our young friends, they wanted noyhing else but to be young syrians living in peace in a country they love. Instead they are poor creatures from a warzone. Syrians are almost equal to refugees, or casualties .
Jews are a kind of people that nazis want dead.

Who took the liberty of robbing people of their identities?
And it happens all the time, to people close to us, we just love to label up people because it's easier??
And we always have, take for instance the woman visiting Simons house, washing Jesus feat with her tears. She had no identity of her own..she was THAT KIND OF WOMAN.
We have extremly high knowledge of how people are, africans and afroamericans are all singers, dancers or basketplayers, chinese people are always smiling, italians are all maffia, mothersinlaw are always horrible, fat people are lazy and stupid, skinny people are dry and boring, americans are loud and rude, germans want's worldpower...

The real heart of the matter is that we have our deepest and greatest identity in being humans. We share it, all of us. And then, whatever more people want to add into that identity, they must be able to keep.
Proude of who you are, where you come from, what you love doing, that's part of your identity.
Please, let people have their identity secured, don't let prejudice be the glasses through whitch we wiew and judge people we meet.
I am a swedish woman, sooooo, I'm blond, liberated and stupid, right?