Chaos

It's chaos and mayhem at school. But, on a positive note, it is already the third week of chaos so everyone has gotten used to it and no-one makes a big deal of it any more.

The wave of omicron has swept over us. Last week the school was really quiet - most classes were sent home to isolate since they had confirmed Covid cases among the pupils. For some unfathomable reason, my classes were one of the few ones who were at school so I continued working as usual. The corridors were very quiet and I only saw a couple of colleagues in the teachers' room. Every time I saw another teacher, there was a moment of mutual surprise - oh, hello, so I'm not the only one here! Last Wednesday in the middle of my lit class for the fifth graders (introduction to the life and work of Astrid Lindgren!) someone started playing the piano downstairs in the assembly hall. The girls concluded that it must have been a ghost - since the building was virtually empty - and they found it very funny. 

Some classes come back after a few days of isolating and testing, others go into isolation. Teachers get sick and get well again. Everyone who is well is trying to cover for their sick colleagues. The principal was hit the hardest and is only now, after two weeks, slowly emerging from her Covid cave. Things change so fast I can barely keep up. And honestly, it is NOT quality teaching that is happening at school these days. Too many elements are changing, too many essential people are missing for any normal school life to be able to take place. But I always think - we have been interrupted for two years now. But just think about the World War II - millions were displaced, the whole continent was at war for years on end, schools were closed and books were burned, and yet a perfectly normal generation grew up after the war. I have my doubts about this generation, though. The will to learn, the capacity to discipline oneself, the desire to move forward and make the best out of this sorry situation seems to be missing in so many cases. I don't know what these teenagers will grow up to be.   

But then there are these other moments, too. Moments that bring pure joy. It was just last Friday when I asked one of my fifth graders to copy a poem she had recently written in the lit class on a decent paper so that I could send it to some competition or other. And she took out of her school bag a perfectly old-school pot of ink and pen and wrote the poem, dipping the pen into the ink after every three words. I couldn't help staring at her - and grinning from ear to ear. Not all is lost!

The only thing that I can't figure out is why I haven't caught the virus yet. I no longer count the close contacts, there are too many of them, and my peace of mind is more important than the everlasting counting. I don't think I will be able to dodge it for long, though. From a human perspective, it doesn't seem possible - and maybe not necessary either. What has to happen, happens. But until that I try to live as normally as possible. Even if "normally" means walking around eerily empty school buildings. 

Comparing (or not)

When the New Year comes, all of us look back and look ahead. And so often we find ourselves weighing and comparing, contrasting and summarising. What was the last year like? How much sorrow did we have, and how much joy? How did that year compare to all the previous ones? How much did we lose and how much did we win? And as it often happens, we take a sneak peak into others people's lives, too, and wonder about them. Whether they had it better or worse than us, whether they gained or lost more than we did. 

It's totally human, this comparing thing. And also rather pointless.

The truth is, you can't put your experiences and your life events on a weighing scale. It just doesn't work like this. Let's take 2021, for example. All that grief and sorrow which I experienced in the first half of that year, saying goodbye to my closest friend of 15 years, does not cancel all that joy I found in the second part of the year. Neither does the joy take away any of my grief. They stand next to each other, back to back, and there is no way to compare them. Both of them are just there - the largest of human experiences, the deepest of all emotions. 

I still remember those terrible days in mid April when A. stopped replying to my messages. For a couple of long days I didn't even know whether she was still alive. And later, when she was gone, I remember walking mindlessly around the city, trying to walk off some of that terrible burden. Nothing and no-one will ever replace her. She will miss my wedding, dammit. And I will always miss everything that could have happened in her life.

And yet that did / does not lessen in any way the surprise and pure joy of finding a person who has brought color and future to my life, who has completely changed the direction of my path. Who has made me - ok, he hasn't, that I've done out of my free will - study Swedish words every day. All that joy is undiluted. 

I also have a temptation to compare all the recent Christmases. But I want to resist that temptation. All these Christmases over the past 8 years have been spent in the valley of the shadow of death. Mom died on December 23 and it's amazing how long a shadow one death can cast. There were Christmases when we couldn't find aything to be joyful about. But I don't want to "cancel" these Christmases in any way. Let them be there, let them have their rightful place in my life and in my memory. And also let this past Christmas stand by itself, without a comparison. A fairy tale Christmas, as if something straight out of Astrid Lindgren's book. A Christmas filled to the brim with family and love and sunshine and good friends and good food and much needed break from the never ending work. 

We are celebrating our six month anniversary with S. today. Well, 'celebrating' is maybe not the right word because S. is doing 12 hour shifts at work and I am battling with the last school tests and Christmas sermons (too many!), we haven't seen each other for almost 1,5 months and we are beyond the normal limits of tiredness. But even in our crazy rush hour before Christmas it is still so very sweet to look back and look ahead and to come to a conclusion - all is well. So today is a day of counting the blessings and a day of thanking the Almighty and a day of putting my favourite memories together like pearls on a string. 

The funny thing with memories is that when we live through moments we can never tell which ones will stay bright in our mind and which ones will slowly fade and disappear. There is necessarily no correlation between the 'importance' of moments and their vividness in one's memory. And often the ones that seemed the most ordinary are the ones that stay with us the longest.

For example, I remember so clearly a lazy Sunday afternoon at home when I needed to mark some tests and S. was here and he was simply taking a nap on my sofa. There was something about doing the most mundane of tasks (I always find the marking such a tedious work), knowing that even such a small thing I didn't have to do alone. Just hearing his breathing somewhere behind my back made all the difference in the world for me. 

Or sitting in a car on a Friday evening, driving to S.'s parents near Ekebyholm, talking about whatever, and just being so happy that for that one time we didn't have to use phones on that journey. Every Friday since this summer - except a few ones - we have always spoken on the phone when he's going home for the weekend on Friday night. Sitting next to him and having a face-to-face conversation in a car felt like a sweet revenge for all the other Friday evenings when I've had to be at home and on the phone. The curse of distance was broken for one short week. And it was enough for me to remember that moment still. 

Or walking out in nature late in autumn, somewhere on the coast, getting stuck in the mud and getting our feet a little wet and laughing about the whole thing and getting warm again in the car. Tired. Happy. Lungs full of fresh sea air.

Or "parking" our kayak on a tiny rock of an island somewhere on the edge of the world, no-one else in sight, no sound around us but that of waves and seagulls, no care in the world either. And we would eat the sandwiches we had made in the morning and we would go swimming in the sea and we would lay in the sun until getting a little sunburnt. Such a simple memory. And yet so extraordinary. 

What bigger moments could one ask for?

So with gratitude I look back and with hope I look ahead. There's a brand new wedding dress hanging in my closet, waiting for its time, and there's love in my heart. I am a very very blessed girl indeed. 

Happy anniversary, my love!

Slowly but surely time is edging towards Christmas. 

The past couple of months have been very stressful. On one hand, there's the school. Everyone is tired and irritable, both teachers and pupils (which, I think, is normal in pitch-black and muddy November), plus at some point we held the embarrassing No 1 place of Covid infections' rate (if not in the world then definitely in Europe). The state schools in Tallinn closed their doors for a couple of weeks but as we are a private school, the leadership could make their own decisions and they decided to keep the school open. Evey time I heard about someone getting sick with whom I had been in close contact at school, I counted the days in my head - and sighed a sigh of relief when it became evident that I had managed not to catch the virus. Now things seem to be calming down - the infection rate is down, I've gotten my third jab, and we are being speed-tested 2-3 times a week. I am under no illusion about dodging the virus forever but right now my goal is to stay healthy until Christmas. Whatever happens after the New Year will happen after the New Year. 

In November, we had a couple of weeks when the sixth- and fifth-graders had to work on a big project. What was supposed to be fun and more fun turned into a real drama. Emotions ran wild, some of them spilled over to parents, and I got caught in the middle of it all. I understand (even if only theoretically) that an occasional angry email from a parent is a normal part of a teacher's job but it still gets under my skin. So when the project had its grand finale last Monday, I was so relieved it felt like I was walking above the ground. The first snow that was falling when I left the school looked like a personal gift from above and a burden was lifted from my shoulders. One big thing down, a few others to go.

The main reason why it is so important for me to stay healthy these days is that I have finally started my practical doctoral project which the last two chapters of my dissertation will be based on. As homiletics is my field of study and of interest, my project is a preaching series. So I am preaching in my home church for five consecutive Saturdays, collecting written feedback from the congregation each time. Two sermons down, three more to go! Yesterday afternoon when I walked back from the church, I felt for the first time that I might actually survive the whole thing. Before that it had seemed like a terribly high mountain, impossible to climb. It takes a lot more energy and effort to prepare for these sermons than the regular ones but the vibe is really good and if it didn't send some Covid police officers spying on our church, I would even let you in on a secret about the church being packed these last two Sabbaths. On top of friends from other Adventist churches and our own members who do not come that often, I have seen at least five or six people whom I have never seen in church before. And for a church of 30 members, that's really something!

I survived mom's birthday on Friday. 

Now it's three more sermons for the series. And one more for the National TV's Christmas service (sometimes beautiful opportunities arise). Some 30 or so irritable early teens to handle. One evil virus to dodge. And then it is Christmas and holidays and Sweden and all the other good things in the world. :)

The News

This is what happened last Wednesday. I swear evey word of it is true. 

I started my weekly literature class with my sixth graders and I was explaining what we would do in the class that day. And while I was explaining, one girl raised her hand. And once I was done with my explanation, I said, "Yes, X (for this is what we call her), I can see you have a question." "Yes," she replied, "I just wanted ta ask - how are you doing, miss?" Now, about this girl. I know a teacher ought to be objective and fair and I am. But there are still some personal likes and dislikes that are somewhere deep beneath the usual objectivity. And sometimes I find it difficult to be objective about this particular girl - because she is the absolute sunshine of that class, she is bubbly and happy and sharp and smart, and she is one of these rare girls who - even in grade six - has managed to maintain her child-like warmth and innocence in the sea of early teens' newfound arrogance. So there was something in her question that totally disarmed me. And I needed to make a decision about my answer within a fracture of a second.

And I decided to tell them. I hadn't planned it, my plan was to make these things known to them only in spring. But X with her sweet question threw me off a little bit, enough anyway to change my mind on the spot.

I said, "You know what, girls, I am actually doing really really well. In fact, I got engaged this past weekend." And I waved in front of them the golden piece of evidence I had on my finger. 

The whole class erupted into cheers and clapping. The principal has her office just next door to the sixth graders and she must have thought we were doing weird things in our lit class. And we were. For the first time we were talking about my personal life. As soon as they had recovered a bit, a whole waterfall of questions was poured on me. Who is he? What does he do? What's his name? What language do you use with each other? I answered sparingly because they don't really need to know all this. And because I know how good they are at stalking on social media (for example, they know exactly what videos of mine are up on Youtube) and I had no itention to encourage them. But then I had to break the other part of the news, too. I said, "Well, good news often come together with sadder news. This will be my last year in this school. Because I will move away next summer." It didn't look like the penny dropped, I think they were too excited still about the first bit of the news.

But later that day I received a message from X. I hope she doesn't mind me putting the whole thing up here but it was just so touching and sweet. This is what she wrote [and bear in mind - she's 12!]. "Dear Mervi, congratulations on your engagement! I am so glad you have found your happiness! At the same time, I and the rest of the school will miss you very much. Over these two years, you have become my favourite teacher because you have managed to make everything we have studied so interesting. I really have become very fond of you. I know we still have 3/4 of the year ahead of us but still I almost started crying when I heard the news. Thank you for giving me the motivation to move forward and to make efforts - and not only in grammar and literature classes but also in other classes and in life in general. I hope you will have a wonderful life in Sweden! Congratulations and much joy to each day of your life in Sweden!" I was all teary-eyed when I read this. 

I didn't know such things could even happen.

But then, later that evening I received another message. This time it was from X's mother. Now, working in a prestigious school means that there are also some, uhmmm, prestigious parents who occasionally tell teachers how and what they ought to do. So my blood pressure shoots up every time I see a message from a parent. But X's mother - whom I have never met in person - was all smiles and kindness. She congratulated me and said something about having heard much about me from her daugther. And then she described her phone call with X earlier that day. "She shared the happy news, then there was a moment of silence, and then she burts into sobs on the other end of the line." And the mother finished her message, "This is what kind of influence a teacher can have on children."

I was floored. Still am.

So much goodness and so many blessings are around me. I feel like swimming in the ocean of pure, undiluted goodness these days. There is a ring and a future and pupils who think I am cool and a man who is more than I ever dreamt of. How have I deserved all this? 

The Storm

These are the last days of peace and quiet before The Storm. Or in other words, the new academic year will start next week and waves of it will surely sweep me off my feet. But God willing, I will emerge from this storm in the beginning of next June, drenched and exhausted, yet alive and sane. 

What is to come is as exciting as it is scary. Because I will be trying to brace three, no, four major waves at the same time and occasionally I have serious doubts about my ability to survive them all.

The first wave. The school year starts next week with the preliminary meetings for teachers taking place already this week. I will, once again, teach Estonian and Literature courses for two classes, one 5th grade and one 6th grade. It was just yesterday that I received my timetable for the coming year - it gets real once you know when you need to be in a classroom, smart and sassy, teaching them sweet girls (who, let's be honest, can also be a lot less than sweet). One classroom will be full of familiar faces and another one terra incognita. Everything is infinitely easier this year as I already have one year of experience under my belt but it will still take fair amount of energy to keep up with this hullabaloo that's waiting for me in the classroom.  

The second wave has to do with the fact that I'm landing back in the Conference office next week. My part-time employment in the church resumes on September 1st but I still have only a vague idea of what my obligations will be this time. And yet, I'm excited. My superiors and the other office guys are wonderful and I've missed working with them. And some things will certainly go back to the good old road and rhythm, too. For example, I have already promised to continue with my monthly program in the Christian Radio Station (which I dropped last year); and I have also promised to meet up regulary and study the Bible with a very opinionated and energetic teenager wo wants to get baptised. Thaaaat's gonna be fun. 

The third wave worries me the most because that's the final push to get my doctoral project done and dissertation written/defended. Where all that energy will come from, I don't know. But fortunately enough, things are moving forward, slowly but steadily. Just a half an hour ago I received a formal looking email from Andrews Uni, from their Research Integrity & Compliance Office (heavens!) where they state that my research project (a preaching series in my home church and the collecting & analysing of feedback) has been deemed appropriate and safe for all human subjects by the Institutional Review Board. Or in other - simpler - words, I have been given a green light from Andrews to do my preaching series and get the two remaining chapters of my dissertation on paper. Phew. The preaching itself, assuming the churches will stay open, should take place in November and December, the writing in January and February. In my head, I have the deadline of March 1st for the whole shebang to be done and fininshed, but uhmm, I don't know. I don't know if I can pull it off.  

The fourth wave - my relationship and S. - is not a wave at all, of course. It's more like a lifeboat in the middle of this raging sea. But still, I need to look at my calendar and find all these airbags of free time that I could use for traveling to Stockholm. Needless to say, there are not many of those. My schedule for the coming year looks insanely tight. But for the sake of my sanity, I will find that time. I will. 

If I manage all this and come out alive on the other side, I will - with the sigh of relief and perfect peace of mind - become a housewife. Word. :)

Lost for Words

It's not often that I'm lost for words. Words are my tools, I make my living by using them so I'm used to finding the right ones. But as I try to find some words to describe what has happened in my life over the past 1,5 months, I'm lost. I'm staring at my screen, not knowing what to say. Because anything I might say will fall short of reality. 

But I'll try.

I went to Sweden in the beginning of June, dragging my feet. It had been a nightmare of a spring and I was wasted. I wasn't sure I had anything left in me to say to people there. But I got into the rhythm of preaching and of life over there, got together with lovely old friends and got to know a couple of new people and I started enjoying myself more and more with every passing day. And at some point I realised something was coming my way that I really hadn't anticipated. I didn' know if there was anything I could do about it - or should do, because I'm just no good when it comes to romantic feelings and relationships. No good at all. But although I had no idea what's the right thing to do, right things started happening anyway. So when I had an extra free day to spend in Ekebyholm after preaching my last sermon, everything happened really fast. And within less than 24 hours every big question I might or might not have had got an answer. S. whisked me off to the coast that last morning, we spent some 8 hours together and by the evening when I had to catch my plane, everything was clear. And when I say clear, I mean crystal clear. We had both found the person we had been praying for and hoping to find all these years. There was no question, no doubt left in either one of our hearts.

Honestly, if I heard anyone else say what I've just said, I would either think this person is a) immature and a little silly or b) overtly dramatic. Oh, come one, the real life is not a Hollywood script, these kind of things don't happen. But as hard as I try, I can't see myself in either of these categories. I think I have a rather mature attitude to life. And although I can be a bit of a drama queen occasionally (I think S. would agree haha), I still have a head on my shoulders. So the only option left is that these things do happen occasionally. They happened to me, anyway. To us.

I flew home that night and then woke up the next morning to a text from S. - to a kind of text message I had never received in my life until that moment - and although my apartment looked the same and although the world outside my window kept turning and hurrying just like it had done a week ago, something in my reality had shifted. The world looked completely different to me. I've said it already but I say it again - suddenly, life had colors to it! And light! It was as if I had lived in a monochrome world my whole life and suddenly I woke up to colors for the first time that morning. 

I'm sorry if this sounds terribly cheesy to you but I can't find better words. 

So now we live in a different rhythm. Mostly we live in the rhythm of visits. When will you come over? When can I go over? Have you already booked your tickets? What about our Christmas plans? There's some frustration to this rhythm (mostly because I get impatient, also because of the possible travel restrictions) but there's also beauty to it. There's emotional intensity to every moment we can spend together, there are funny messages, there are "day counts" as I call them, there are plans for the future, there are movie scenes from airports. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way (or maybe I would scrap the Covid tests haha). 

And one more thing. I had always thought romantic relationships were a private thing. This is about the two of us! But with a great surprise and delight I've found that so much of it is a community thing, and a family thing. Naturally, there are moments that are not to be shared with anyone else, or words that are not meant for anyone else's ears, but so much of this new reality can be shared with others. And I have been totally floored over these last months and weeks, because I have received so much love and support from all over, so many happy messages from friends, so many new acquaintances, so many Facebook likes haha. And spending a week with S.'s family, with his parents and brother's family and aunties and uncles and cousins and granny was just wonderful. Suddenly I have all these people I didn't have (or even knew about) before and they are my people now. It's absolutely marvelous!

So I'm enjoying every moment of this journey, knowing well that our time in this world is limited. There's no time to waste, there's only time for us to live as beautifully and meaningfully as we possibly can. So that in the end - whenever the end comes - we would be able to look back with gratitude and joy.