A Monthly Newsletter

It's week two of school in Zoomland. Every evening I experience a schizophrenic moment - seeing all these familiar faces and having got used to the school rhythm, I want to go to the dorm after the class and then have dinner in the caf and later hit the library or watch a movie with my classmates. But instead, I find myself walking home from my church office, and I can't help but have this surprised look on my face. Something's wrong here, my two worlds are clashing in an odd way.

But the classes are good and Zoom is slightly less exhausting than I feared. And there is always an opportunity of sending private messages on Zoom which, on the one hand, distracts but, on the other hand, adds some spice to the class. I just pray the private messages don't show on the host's screen! If they do, oh man, this is the end of me.

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Life is slowly returning to its normal rhythms and habits. The restaurants are open again - I know because I had my birthday lunch with dad and K. in my favourite place and it felt like a revenge for all these times I've been turned down on the door because the place was full of tourists. Now it was almost empty and all the clients were locals. It's actually a welcomed change. Gyms are also open - I know because I've just come from one. There was a big smile on my face while running on treadmill although it took me considerably longer than usual to get my 6K done. The pool is still closed but that's ok, they'll open it one day, too. Friends are again within my reach - I know because I've sat in a sauna (and have listened to all the gossip I've missed) and have baked a chocolate cake with some of them. Even churches are open again - I know because this last Saturday, I didn't watch an online service from my couch but went to my home church. It was just a little group that gathered but it was church nevertheless! And a potluck!

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There's one thing I wanted to share. During the national emergency, an extra church service was added to the program of our National Broadcast. And toward the end of the emergency, our church's turn came to have this service. It so happened that our service was to be aired on Mother's Day Sunday. And in the beginning, I tried to convince I. (with whom I was asked to conduct the service) that the Mother's Day wasn't that important and we could pick any other topic. But then a clear signal came from the tv guys about the Mother's Day being very important, and my heart just sank. Suddenly I didn't want to be a part of it. Actually, I had a message written on my phone, telling I. he should find someone else to do this service with beacuse I wasn't up for it. I stared at that message for a while and then deleted it without sending it. I took a couple of deep breaths and decided I could do it.

And I told whoever was on the other side of the camera lens and tv screen about my experience. How I try and stay away from the social media on MD so that I wouldn't have to think about the meaning of this day. I don't have Mother's Day any more. And I never will. But if there is any truth to Romans' 8th chapter, the love of Christ is always with me, no matter what.

In a way, what followed didn't surprise me. So many thank you messages from people to whom the Mother's Day is not about flowers and family breakfasts but about deep pain. And I recognise God's handwriting in it. It's exactly where my clay pot is most broken that His glory shines through the brightest.

We were also crucified, of course, me and I., by some lovely church members. Because the service was aired on a SUNDAY morning. Fallen, fallen is the great Babylon, and together with it also I. and M.! But that comes with a package, I guess. *sigh*

Here is the service. Sorry for not providing subtitles!

Exit Strategy

On Saturday I had a long conversation with U. We were discussing a sermon he is preparing, and it brought back memories from our glorious Newbold days when we would play table tennis in the student centre and have endless discussions on sermons (his sermons, that is, I never discuss mine before preaching). 

One Biblical text we talked about was that of John – where he says that only love drives our fear. It basically means that love and fear are opposites (not love and hate, or fear and courage, as we are used to think). I really liked that idea. And I made up my mind on the spot – only love can bring me out of that atmosphere of fear we’re stuck in. I decided „love driving out fear“ would be my exit strategy (with exit strategy being such a hot topic everywhere).

I didn’t know any better – I wrote to the manager of the local Food Bank and asked if I could volunteer. They are quite reluctant when it comes to letting in random strangers but I swore I had been well and healthy over these past weeks so she let me join them. Because, on the other hand, they don’t have enough (wo)manpower there. The number of people who need food packages is going up and up daily, and a number of regular volunteers are out of play at the moment, taking care of their health. So for the past couple of days, I have been putting together food parcels, lifting boxes, pushing trolleys, counting cans and tins and chocolate bars. By the evening, my feet are burning and my back is aching but that’s a small problem. I actually feel wonderful because I can be useful. And because doing good to others dissolves my own fear/anxiety. Of course, it would be safer to stay home. Even though we use gloves and masks at the Food Bank, we can’t have a decent distance in between us and sometimes some guys walk around with bare faces (the horror!). But in my heart I know the risk is worth it.

When my shift is over, I shyly glance at the people outside the Food Bank’s distribution counter. Elderly people. Parents who cannot feed their families. A mother who asks if there is any cake because it’s her child’s birthday… (I'm not making this up) And I feel almost physically how my world is being streched. Because I’ve never known that kind of people. I didn’t really think they existed. But they do, pretty much outside my window. It’s unnerving and yet, a necessary realisation. I don’t know what to do with that realisation but it’s here and by the looks of it, it’s not going to go away.

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To be honest with you, I’m exiting all sorts of things these days. My job, for example.

I’m not ready to discuss it in depth it but today the conference’s ex com approved my application to have an unpaid leave from the beginning of June until the end of December. And I’m not sure I will return after that.

Because I’m exhausted. Because my well is empty. Because I don’t get along with God any more. Because I don’t think I’m strong enough for this job. And because I wish He called someone else, someone tougher and better.

We’ll see where this road will take me. If there is any road left for me.

Covidiots

I think I’ve developed something called a near miss syndrome.

I don’t know if it’s a real thing but I read about it in Malcolm Gladwell’s book David and Goliath. He talks about the Blitz and how the Nazis bombed London for 56 days in a row. And he says that in the beginning, everyone was afraid for their life an ran for cover. But after the bombs had fallen for some time, the ones who had survived got the idea that as they had dodged all the bombs so far, they couldn’t possibly get hit, they couldn’t possibly die. And he talks about children playing football on the streets of London while the jet fighters flew overhead.

Things aren’t nearly as dramatic as that but somehow the anxiety just wore off. So much so that I went back to work this week. And as I was walking to the office on Monday morning (fortunately I don’t have to use public transport to get to work) something clicked in my mind and all fear disappeared and life as I’ve always known it returned. So I’m pretty much living a normal life now. Of course, the contacts are few (usually I’m the only one in the office), all the meetings take place in Zoom, and when I do my weekly shopping, everyone in the grocery store looks as if they’re in the middle of the valley of the shadow of death. But other than that, the normal rhythm has returned. I get up earlier again, I hit the office by 9 a.m. and this week I've even got some school work done (only one more book to read and a reading report to write before the school session starts).  

Yesterday was a massive exception to that rule. Because yesterday was a long recording day in our office since they wanted to get all three online church services for this weekend shot in one go. And yes, there was a shooting schedule and the idea was to have as few people in the studio at any given time as possible. But it still somehow happened that in the late afternoon everyone – more than 10 people – was there at the same time. And then someone ordered a mountain of Chinese food and we all turned into, uhmm, Covidiots. Because there was no 2 x 2 meter rule left and we sort of had an impulsive party. Everyone was so happy because we’ve all been deprived of human contact and we’ve missed each other so much. If all 7 pastors who were present… if we are all to get sick now, that would be a scandal, to say the least. It was very reckless of us, of course. But the joy of seeing each other and the short moment of feeling normal again somehow topped the potential danger. And the joy was great. For example, my little brother was there to help out with music (he plays the flute in my dad’s band). I hadn’t seen him for more than a month! And I’m like, there’s something different about him. Of course, he’s hairy, as everyone is these days. But then I suddenly realise he’s walking around with glasses. Now, he’s had the same eye surgery done as I have so he doesn’t need any glasses. But he’s wearing these silly spectacle frames without any glasses in them, and it just made me laugh so hard. And it will make me laugh again when I see him on my computer screen tomorrow morning, playing his flute and wearing fake glasses. Oh, man, this is what I’ve been missing! Real humans, silly humans!

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I preached in the online service last Sabbath. And it will go to my personal history books as a memorable event. 

I preached on Mark 9, „I believe, help my unblief“ story. My central idea was that this odd prayer is the most human prayer of all. Because we all have these conflicting things in our lives: many people can pray to God, „I believe, I don’t believe, help me nevertheless!“, these days we pray, „I am not afraid, I am afraid, help me!“, many married couples stuck in their homes should pray, „I love, I don’t love any more, help me!“ And God takes whatever little faith, love, peace or hope we have left, and works miracles in our lives.

In the space between my mouth and the ears of the listeners a miracle happened, no doubt. God added something to my words in a way that many people were touched. After the service, I received so may messages and emails, I stopped counting at 25. And this is not bragging. The truth be told, my own faith has been renewed and strengthened through this experience. To think that God would still be willing and able to use me for something good during a phase in my life when I’ve thrown a good measure of f-words to His face… That’s the biggest miracle of all. [I will tell you about that phase in my life once it’s over.]

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But now it’s time to return from the memory lane. Easter dessert is waiting to be made, some work emails are waiting to be sent before the Sabbath kicks in. And the yellow tulips on my kitchen table are as bright as the sun.

Trench War

It's week No. 3 in lock down and it's beginning to look a lot like trench war.

The first week was a week of shock and chaos and also some excitement. Everything was new, none of us had ever seen such a situation before. We were all walking around with our eyebrows raised and question marks above our heads. My emergency shopping list was mostly about cans and tins and porridges. I rationed my library books and battled psychosomatic chest pains.

The second week was that of settling down. I finally got back to working mode. I'm currently translating-editing Church Manual because the last Estonian translation is way too old. It's a terrible job to be stuck with - I wouldn't want such a fate even to my enemy (not that I have any, of course). It's slow and tedious work but last week I really put my mind to it. The shock was over. On my shopping list there were maily fresh things, veggies and fruits. My dearly treasured library books retreated and gave way to Netflix (to Line of Duty, to be more precise). No chest pains.

The beginning of the third week has been sobering. There's no excitement left, it's more like, oh, dammit, this is our new reality now, this is going to last for a while. Everyone's nerves are strained, I realised that yesterday when we had long online-meetings. People are tired, people are touchy, people get offended where no offence is intended. Parents are stuck with their home-schooling kids and I hear from here and there that everyone is struggling, parents and kids alike. The Church Manual, thank heavens, has had to retreat and give way to Sabbath school prep, to sermons and radio programs. I went to a nearby grocery store early on Sunday morning and now Ben & Jerry's is ruling my life. Some might say I've deteriorated fast but I'm saying - one needs proper weapons to fight in a trench and to keep up one's spirits. Ice cream certainly is a trench war kind of food. This is strategy, you see! (even though it will require a lot of sweating in the gym afterwards) I'm fed up with Netflix so long evening walks are on the menu now. There are no chest pains but there are back pains because I don't have a proper office chair at home...

I wonder what the fourth week will bring us?

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Last week I decided I needed some mental excercise to build my gratitude-muscles. They can become a little emaciated during a worldwide pandemic, let's be honest. So I started a list where I would write down all these things I can be grateful for while in quarantine. There are some 50+ things on that list now. I thought I'd share some with you, too.

blue sky
mint chocolate
fresh air
Netflix
friends who do my shopping for me
breakfast pancakes
sun raising earlier
sun setting later
free online concert hall of the Berliner Philharmoniker
ice cold showers
warm apartment
healthy lungs
books
online church services
audio Bible
auntie R. and her lentil casserole
evening walks
Tallinn Old Town, abandoned by tourists (a sight to behold)
A.
bread straight from the oven
candles
Arvo Pärt's music
prayer
migrating birds coming home
spotless and shiny bathroom
vitamin D
unwashed hair
my colleagues
crocuses
fresh fruits
peace of mind
sleep
cans in kitchen cupboard
God
Whatsapp
jar of apple jam
smell of spring
smell of my favourite perfume
gratitude
cup of hot chocolate
phone calls with my best friend

Despite everything, there's a lot to be thankful for, guys!

Quarantine Diaries

If it was up to me, I would make everyone who’s in quarantine keep a diary for 14 days. It’s amazing how much you find out about yourself and life once you’re forced to slow down and face yourself, that beautiful and terrible self of yours.

Things I have found out about myself aren’t really that surprising, to be honest. But the clarity of these things is what amazes me.

First, I’ve known for a while I’m a HSP, a highly sensitive person. And one thing that characterises HSPs is an odd, overdeveloped sense of empathy. Like, I go listen to my favourite pianists in a concert hall and before the concert begins, my heart starts pounding and my palms get sweaty. I’m not kidding. Someone says they’ve recently had a stomach bug and I instantly feel sick in my stomach. So what do you think happens to me during a worldwide pneumonia pandemic? Of course I get those odd chest pains. It got pretty bad on Thursday night, at some point I even felt I couldn’t breathe properly. And all the while I knew it was in my head. The battle is not in my lungs but between my ears. It’s so strange.

Secondly, my reaction to all this stuff getting cancelled. My vacation was cancelled and I was like meh. The GC got postponed and I was like meh. No love lost there. The moment I finally realised our Newbold school session would be switched to stupid Zoom, I sat on my couch and wept. I’m such an nerd.

Third. I’m worrying a little bit about running out of stuff. But I don’t mean food. I mean books. I only have 5 library books at home and during the past week I have actually been rationing my reading time. I’ve been like, ok, that’s enough for today, don’t be greedy, remember you have at least 1,5 weeks of isolation still ahead of you, be sensible now. So I only read 2 books last week, and started the third one.

Other than occasional moments of panic about getting old and wrinkled in this isolation and occasional breathing problems, I’m fine. Most of the time my mood is good although sometimes the loneliness is hard to bear. I’m baking bread. I’m cleaning my little apartment – I don’t think my bathroom has ever been as clean as it is now. I’ve offered prayer to my Estonian friends and I have 104 names on my prayer list now (I’ve managed to go through 70 of them). I listen to good music (Berlin Philharmonics, bless them, have opened their online concert hall for free!). I start my days with an ice cold shower. I’m sitting in all the conference’s online meetings. I ration news reading time – just read any newspaper for half an hour and you get an anxiety attack. I’m ordering food from a cafe just around the corner because I know they’re struggling without clients. I’m listening to audio Bible. I chat with my auntie. I look awful. And when I feel like losing my mind, I sneak out for a walk.

Here are a few pics from my solitary confinement:

I'm becoming an expert in healthy smoothies.

Chocolate is a must!

The weather is glorious.

Oh noooooooooo!

Library books waiting for their turn. 

A salmon wrap from my local cafe.

Crisis Talk

I went swimming last night and there were about four other people there. Everything was eerily quiet. As I was swimming back and forth, I kept thinking about one question – are we the last brave ones who keep calm and carry on as usual or is this the finest collection of absolute idiots here who should be the first ones to become extinct? I never found an answer.

I did ask the gym receptionist about their plans to close their doors and he said with a stony face that he has not been given a permission to comment on it. Alas, it sounded a lot like „Girl, your pool party is over.“

So far, of course, I have only encountered first world problems. My spring trip to Israel has been cancelled (I actually don’t mind), next week’s concert I was looking forward to has been cancelled (I actually do mind), there will be no preaching at TED’s Master Guide Camp for me because there will be no camp to preach at. The hardest blow will be the cancellation of our school session in Newbold. There has been no official announcement yet but I have no doubt it will come. And that will make me very sad! On a more positive note, I am keeping my fingers crossed about the GC session in Indianapolis to be cancelled also – I have no warm feelings about the GC. I don’t want to go. Duh!

Things got more serious this morning when the government decided to declare national emergency. The grocery stores are full of people, some calm, some slightly panicky. I’m totally lost as to what I need to do. I always have only little food at home because I need so little and also because I generally don’t care about food or cooking. Is there any real reason to be concerned about the possibility of running out of food? Like, really? I don’t know. Anyway, I did get some cans from my grocery store early this morning, if not for any other reason than to show solidarity with my fellow countrymen. The only craze I absolutely refuse to take part in is this toilet paper madness (and I really hope I won't live to regret it).

The church services have also been cancelled. We just finished an emergency meeting with our conference’s AdCom and we decided that for at least two weeks we will ask our church members (many of whom are elderly) to stay home. This feels odd – on one hand it feels like a vacation, on the other hand not. In any case, I have no idea what to do tomorrow. There will be no preaching, no teaching, no socialising. Sounds like a day for long walks and maybe an emergency visit to my aunt’s.

But always look on the bright side of life, du-dum du-dum du-dum-du-dum-du-dum! My dear boss I. was let out of quarantine yesterday morning. He stayed in isolation for 14 days and it was so odd to only text him. The office was quiet and bare. So it was with great joy that I welcomed him back yesterday. I mean, I minded my own business and he minded his but there were these moments when, in between writing emails and sermons and what not, we would have short theological discussions. And I need those moments like air.

The other great thing is that libraries are still open, and there is still chocolate to be had in stores. So I intend to do some panic library-ing today, and when it comes to chocolate – I am well-equipped. *high five*

So, folks, stay calm, pray for those who are seriously affected, don’t spread stupid conspiracy theories, go for long walks, and check on those family members who are old and might need assistance.

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A gift from my church member. Might seem small but it isn't. #lovemychurch

 

Gym Talk

It was around the time I moved to Tallinn that I realised that in order to survive ministry, I have to pick up a gym regime. So for the first time, I became a club member. We have this nice fitness club chain here called MyFitness. And I signed a deal that lets me visit all MyFitness clubs in the country. It’s quite pricy but then again, I get a decent discount since the CEO of MyFitness is our church member (high five!).   

I dropped out of the gym sometime in autumn 2018. I can’t remember why, I think there was no specific reason. I just couldn’t drag my butt to the gym any more – I was mentally tired of it – and after a couple of months I realised there was no point in my paying for nothing. But last summer I made a decision to pick it up again. There have been ups and downs but in general I’ve managed alright.

It was about a month ago when a good friend (who’s also a member) wanted to visit a specific club in Tallinn (they are all over the place) where they have a decent spa area with a smallish swimming pool and jacuzzi and a couple of saunas. I had never been to that club… and it was love from the first sight. Now I only go there. And it has become a bit of an obsession. Or a really healthy regular regime, if you will. I go swimming four times a week and I don’t know how I ever survived without it.

The spa area is a bit of a microcosm by itself. It has its own life and rhythms. The more I go, the more I like it, and the more I notice. There are times when it gets terribly crowded, around 6-7 in the evening. I don’t mind much. But I’m one of those introverts who sniffs out the quietest hours, too. Sunday morning at 9 is my absolute favourite. There have been occasions when I’m the only one there for almost an hour and it’s heavenly. Then I get a little confused, like a kid in a candy shop – I should first go to the pool, no, the jacuzzi, no, it still should be the pool, oh, but what about the saunas, do I ever get to enjoy them privately! People, when they are there, are also fun to watch. Sauna and a pool is actually a great place for people spotting. There are all kinds of them. Some are terribly self-conscious, some very confident, some are loud and others are quiet. Some could be on a cover of a fitness magazine, others, hmmm, probably not. There’s a lot of rating going on all the time, I’ve noticed. As soon as someone new comes to the spa area, there are all those glances flying back and forth. Sometimes one whole side of the pool is full of young men, clearly rating and giving points from one to ten to girls. One time there was a group of gals sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi, watching others like hawks. Guys seem to be rating only girls but girls rate everyone. And by the looks of it, they are not particularly merciful to their fellow Eves. Brotherhood seems to be much stronger a bond than sisterhood.

Being there every other day, I am surprised how few of these people are actually regulars. There are only a couple of them I recognise. There’s a girl about my age who comes quite early in the morning (sometimes I go before hitting the office) and who swims as if her life depended on it, and always leaves at 9 a.m. sharp. She’s never with a friend, never says a word, never goes to sauna. She just swims and swims and you don’t want to get in her way. Then there’s an elderly couple, and they are very sweet. I salute them for being there among all those fitness-obsessed youngsters. And then there is a young guy who is the most regular; I see him about twice a week. He is very handsome and in amazing shape, in my vainest moments I call him Mr Six Pack – for obvious reasons. I told my girlfriends about him and they screamed their heads off, and now they are asking me every other day if I have spoken to him yet. I never have, so they are disappointed and bombard me with pick-up lines (which, they think, I ought to use) that are so cheesy they make my teeth ache. But it’s all great fun, I've had some good laughs about it.

There’s so much stress at work these days. It’s not all bad stress, some of it is of the good kind. Teaching Greek is mostly fun, for example. Or radio devotionals – my morning devotionals were aired in the national radio last week and judging by the feedback, they were a success. But there are also tensions and messes, one particular having to do with money. So every time the topic comes up, my blood pressure sky rockets. So. This swimming pool with all its wonderful and weird people has turned into a life line for me. I would like to take a solemn moment and thank the heavens for all the swimming pools in the world.