Bless the Child

It was my dad’s birthday on Wednesday. Very conveniently, the 24th of February is also our beloved Independence Day which means that it is always a bank holiday in Estonia. That, in turn, makes it very easy for all of us to go and visit dad on his birthday as no-one’s at work that day anyway.

We weren’t sure it would be a good idea this year, though. The Covid numbers are up and up and the government advised everyone to stay at home on the bank holiday. In the end me and K. decided we would drive to dad’s for a day, but a couple of days earlier I called S. in Tartu and he said he wouldn’t come with his family. It sounded like a plan, or at least a half-decent thing to do in these circumstances.

On the birthday morning H. (my sister-in-law) told E. (my four year old niece) that they would record a birthday song on a phone and send it to grandad for his birthday. But she also let it slip, accidentally, that aunie Mervi and uncle K. would actually be visiting grandad that day. And then – bless that child! – E. turned into a bit of a drama queen and made a racket and demanded she’d be driven to grandad’s place, too. There was no way she would miss the occasion! She hadn't seen her aunt and uncle for too long a time! So S. called me that morning, a little perplexed, and we cooked up a plan on the spot. It was clear we wouldn’t all cram into dad’s living room but we decided we would all drive to Türi and have a quick birthday lunch outdoors. Now, my dad lives in a boring apartment building around which there’s no place to have a picnic, but we invaded our church that afternoon, brought some chairs and a table from the church building, and put up a nice birthday party right in the middle of the church yard. It wasn't very private, mind you, but it was the best we could come up with. Then we ran around in the snow with kids – there’s still loads of snow waiting to melt – and had the lunch, we drank hot drinks and went inside the church to get warm occasionally (but then, as decent citizens, with masks and distancing). It wasn’t the most comfortable or the longest of birthday lunches – there’s only so much time one can sit in snow – but we pulled it off! No hugging that day, but real joy of being together. (Actually, now that I think of it, we hadn’t been together with the whole family since last summer.)

As we were driving back to Tallinn with K. (I did the driving, by the way, and I was very proud of myself lol) the whole thing made me so very happy. Just to think that it was E. who got us all together! If the whole thing had been left to us, rational adults, to decide, we wouldn’t have met up that day, that’s for sure. But she managed to bring us together, despite of and in the middle of all that tiring reality of worrying and distancing.

One day this disaster will be over and we will be back to normal rhythms of life, one day we won’t have to think about cancelling birthdays and Christmases any more, but what will remain is the sweet memory of celebrating my dad’s birthday in a snowy church yard. This will stay. And although E. might be too little just yet to understand the importance of that birthday, one day in the future I’ll remind her of it and will thank her for bringing this ray of light to our lives during this terrible pandemic. Bless you, my sweet E.!

With E. in birthday snow.

So Much To Do

In the Old Town

I remembered something yesterday.

I remembered a concern I had had last summer when I quit my job with no plan B. When trying to picture a post-church life, I had this abstract and yet a very real concern. I thought to myself, "What if I wake up one day and have simply nothing to do? What if I wake up, say, on October the 16th or on January the 10th, everyone else going to school or to work and living a normal responsible adult life, and I have nowhere to go?"

These questions came back to me yesterday evening after a busy day in the school and even busier afternoon in the Seminary, totally exhausted after a full day of teaching and lecturing, and this past concern of mine sounded suddenly somewhat ridiculous. But it also made me very serious. It made me count my blessings and it made me thank the Almighty for ever making new shoots sprout where only dead stumps used to be. 

Honestly, the idea of waking up in a morning without having anything to do seems more like a dream these days.

The strangest thing for me is that I never looked for a job or any other thing to do. And here I am on February the 11th, getting a little - or more than little - over-stressed about the to-do list that just keeps getting longer and longer. How on earth has this happened? I have to teach them kids every day at school, prepare for classes and mark tests, answer a million questions that have nothing to do with our topic and read the same books I make them read. I teach homiletics again, and although it took me more than four hours to go to Tartu and come back to Tallinn yesterday just so that I could lecture for three hours, I loved it (the students clapped in the end of the lecture - something I'm not used to). I've just had to write and submit a review on a theological peer-reviewed journal article. I need to write a review on a photo exhibition and submit it by Sunday evening (totally out of my league but so happy about the challenge). This damned doctoral thesis of mine needs to get written. A sermon needs to be preached this Saturday (and, uhmm, written first). A jazz concert on Saturday night is totally calling my name. A dear friend with a burnout diagnosis needs my support and some hang-out. A car needs to be bought. So much to do, so little time!

And I'm having to re-read The Hobbit these days. When I told my fifth-graders some weeks ago about the book I wanted them to read the next, I was greeted by loud and unanimous wailing. "Please, Miss, no, not that book!!!" The truth be told, the book I had in mind really was on the boring side, definitely not the kind of stuff I would have enjoyed as a kid. So I took pity on them and consulted with my colleagues and decided it was time for my 12 year olds to read The Hobbit. I started reading it yesterday evening on the train, braindead as I was after my lectures, and it just made me so happy! What a book. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit..." Ah!

But I'm very much looking forward to the next mid-term break. I try and ignore the fact that at least half of that week will need to be spent slaving away at my thesis. But also some visits and skiing and Netflix and books are on the menu. 

Like I said, so much to do! Thank heavens!