Monthly Archives: December 2019

Speaking Finnish

Humor, Inspiration, Master's Commission, True Stories, ,

Two weeks ago I submitted a post about a visit to Finland– to Santa Claus Village on the edge of the Arctic Circle. I have actually made four visits to the beautiful and amazing nation of Finland. The people are warm and friendly, and Finnish culture is so rich.

Finland is unique among the other Nordic countries of Northern Europe. It borders Russia in the east and Sweden in the west, but its language and history is entirely separate from both the Slavic Russians and the Scandinavian Swedes. The Finnish people call their nation, “Suomi.” Their complicated language is more akin to Estonian and Hungarian than any other– containing lots of double vowels, and double consonants, and spelling rules that are quite challenging to the English speaker. Still, most of the Finnish youth are bi- and tri-lingual– usually Finnish, English, plus a third (Swedish, Russian, or German, etc). They are a well educated people; not backward at all. Finland is the home of Nokia Telecom and other advanced technology companies. While in Finland, I was NOT the most educated person around– for sure. Other than “kiitos” (“thank-you,”) I did not try to speak any Finnish. I was just happy to let the Finns practice their English on me!

On my very first visit to Finland, my friend Israel and I stayed in the home of a wonderful couple named Tuulikki and Kalevi, who remain my friends today. Tuulikki understood and spoke good English, but her husband Kalevi did not. One cold Finnish morning we were treated to an incredible homemade breakfast prepared by Kalevi after his wife had left for work. There was no need for a common language between us. Kalevi did all his speaking through his culinary skills! He provided an array of all kinds of sweets, meats, cheeses, pancakes, fruits, and breads. Delicious!! And the coffee was from heaven!

There was only ONE item at the breakfast feast that we ate sparingly. It was a bread that was dark, dry, and packed with FIBER: Finnish Rye Bread (Ruisleipä)  One small piece gave us all the fiber we would need for a month or more! Kalevi handed me a second piece, but I hid it in my jacket pocket. Israel did the same when he was handed his second one. Each time we hid one, kind Kalevi just offered us another, thinking we loved it.

Not knowing Finnish, I looked for another way to politely refuse his offers. Then is dawned on me– NO means NO in most every language. But of course I didn’t stop at a simple, “No, kiitos.” Instead I motioned “no” with my hand and said, “No, kiitos, we can’t handle any more styrofoam.” It seemed to be a safe thing to say since Kalevi didn’t understand English. Besides, my comment got a little chuckle from Israel. Our host nodded his head signaling that he saw that we were stuffed already. Our happy faces showed our gratitude for the delicious mega-breakfast.

In the evening we returned to our host’s home for a relaxing end to the day. Tuulikki offered us use of the hot sauna that was located in the home. We had been instructed by our Finnish leaders that going to sauna at the close of the day is the very definition of hospitality in Finland, so we knew to not refuse the offer. Finnish saunas are unlike anything in American gyms. They are much hotter, and provide eucalyptus water to throw on the hot coals every few minutes. It is quite therapeutic for the skin, the lungs, and the circulation.

Finnish Sauna

Handing us two towels, Tuulikki intended to politely ask if we knew what to do in the sauna, but used the wrong English word in the process. She meant to say, “Do you know how to be in the sauna?” But instead said, “Do you know how to pee in the sauna?” Izzy quickly whispered to me, “Do we have to do that?” I simply nodded to Tuulikki in the affirmative. At the moment, ignorance seemed better than inquiring about using the sauna as a bathroom.

The sauna was nice, and (of course) we did NOT relieve ourselves there. Later, we returned to the family room and thanked them kindly for the wonderful sauna experience. With a broad smile Tuulikki was eager to say, “I’m sorry. I think I said the wrong word to you earlier. I should have used a B instead of a P.“ Together we laughed about the language mixup. Izzy and I were just glad that we didn’t follow her original instruction!

Then, Tuulikki added, “My husband is also very sorry that he offered you styrofoam for breakfast this morning.”

Izzy and I froze in embarrassment, but Tuulikki and Kalevi continued smiling. I was absolutely mortified at what I had said. How could I have been so rude and stupid?

“I’m so sorry,” I finally said. “Please forgive me. I thought Kalevi didn’t understand English, and I was just trying to be funny with Israel.”

“We’re so sorry,” Israel pleaded alongside me. “The breakfast was wonderful.”

“Oh, no worries,” Tuulikki answered. “It is true that Kalevi does not speak any English. But the Finnish word for styrofoam happens to be, ‘styrofoam.'” Unfortunately, I spoke more Finnish than I thought.

The Northern Lights

“Fools multiply words. No one knows what is coming….” Ecclesiastes 10:14

The Year of the Sweater

Family, Humor, Inspiration, Small Town America, True Stories,

It was the Christmas of 1971. It was customary that Grandmother Nichols would arrive early in the morning at the Sims house with her annual contributions to the family Christmas meal. She was a widow and enjoyed spending holidays with us. We only lived two blocks away from both of our grandmothers, so the daily interaction between generations was one of the most wonderful thing about growing up in a small town around loving family. Grandmother Nichols’ secret recipe for homemade yeast rolls was legendary. They were rolls that literally melted in the mouth. None of the family has mastered her recipe since she passed away. What made it special was probably the measureless cup of love that went into each roll. It was a requirement that she provided the rolls for any special dinner at the family table.

Estelle Nichols

When Grandmother finally came through the door, I noticed that she was without with her freshly prepared pan of yeast rolls. Instead she carried an armful of gifts to place under the tree. I assumed the rolls were still in her car. My little sister gained her attention immediately pointing out the array of toys Santa had brought. Amidst the joyous confusion, she placed her gifts under the tree just before the time to open our gifts for one another.

I was fourteen years old and in junior high in 1971. Home from college, my older brother Mike was 19, and our sister Donna was only eight. Of course, Donna was the center of attention during the gift opening time, squealing at the opportunity to open each new gift, and then loudly declaring what it was to the entire room. I remember it as heartwarming chaos.

Being fourteen, I had transitioned from toys to other “stuff,” although I remember secretly longing for those days when a new Christmas toy lit up my life. But I was working hard to appear as mature as possible, so I never let my disappointment show. Most of my Christmas gifts were clothes, and electronics (which in that day were limited to clock-radios and lava lamps). My brother’s gifts were even more adult– clothes, a billfold, and some 8-track tapes for his car.

Grandmother Nichols waited breathlessly for my bother and me to open her gift to us. They were shirt boxes wrapped identically in green holly wrapping paper. It was difficult to decipher which box belonged to whom, since “Mike” and “Mark” looked the same in Grandmother’s handwriting.

Expecting a warm winter shirt, we each tore the paper away and opened the gift. I got to the goods first and held it up in front of me– a light blue sweater with two huge brown deer adorning the front!! “Oh, wow, Grandma! Thank you so much,” I uttered with fake glee, thinking “How in the world can I wear this sweater in the front of anyone who knows me?” Fourteen year olds have a hard time with self-image as it is, so wearing it in public was out of the question for me. I had a hard enough time getting my bangs to swoosh over my forehead in an acceptable manner. The blue sweater emblazoned with deer was a reputation graveyard.

I cut my eyes over at Mike who was giving me the smirk that said it all. He knew I was mortified and all he could do was hold back a laugh. Then he opened his box from Grandmother Nichols. Oh yes. It was light blue as well. Alas, she had found the giant deer print in his size too! Matching sweaters for the Sims boys!

Grandmother was so proud of her accomplishment. “Do you like ‘um,” she asked? All we could do was say meaningless words like, “wow,” and “look,” and “oh, boy,” Mom was watching closely, covering her mouth as she always did when she was in shock. She remembered how she used to dress us up in matching attire– until Mike refused to be dressed like his kid brother– five years his junior. Dressed in matching pedal-pushers (light blue and gold) had been the end of the twins-look for the Sims boys– and that was a full decade ago. What could we do? Of course, we did what we had to do. We thanked her profusely and gave her lots of hugs as kisses. Besides, the rolls at the dinner table would be quite enough for us.

Mom announced that we would be eating Christmas dinner at Grandmother Nichols house this year, since Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bruner would be joining us at the family table. Mom instructed Mike and me to help Dad get Mom’s food loaded into Grandmother’s car so that she could return home to prepare. In our house coats and pajamas we loaded her car and sent her on her way– eagerly anticipating a wonderful Christmas feast (and yummy yeast rolls) in a matter of hours.

Returning into the house, Mom met us at the door with a smile, and we all had a big laugh. We acknowledged with Mom that Grandma’s gift came with a heart of love, and how thankful we were for her undying affection for all of us. Then Mom said, “She will be so happy to see ya’ll in those sweaters at Christmas dinner.”

I froze, saying nothing. Mike did the same. But we knew we had to do it. Mom finally said, “If you’ll wear them today at her house, you’ll never have to wear them again.” So, Mike and I chose to walk to Grandma Nichols house that day– thorough a path in the woods– a shortcut we had used as kids. We laughed all the way proudly displaying the Christmas deer for all the animals in the forest to see. Mom was satisfied. Aunt Ruth thought they were darling. Grandmother Nichols showered us with love all day long. And the rolls were delicious.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:13

Remember……..

Family, History, Inspiration, True Stories, ,

Isn’t it amazing that there are certain events in our lives that have been engraved in our memory so deeply that we remember almost every detail about that event? I remember asking my parents, “Do you remember the attack on Pearl Harbor? Where were you and what were you doing?” Mom and Dad remembered vividly. Each time I asked them about it, they recalled the very same details in the very same way.

On December 7, 1941 my parents were Juniors in high school and were already a dating couple. In fact they were together that fateful Sunday afternoon when they first heard about the Japanese attack on the radio. Dad and Mom were drinking an RC Cola and talking with friends right in front of Jordan’s Drug Store on the square in Ashland. It was a Sunday afternoon gathering spot for teens. My parents were listening to Big Band music on the radio when the announcer broke in for a special news bulletin. From that day on, their lives changed. Dad even remembered thinking that eventually he and all of his friends would be going to war. Each time either of them recounted that day, they brought up a friend who was talking with them at Papa Sims’ car– Ned Browning, an Auburn freshman who was home for the weekend. My parents both lamented that it was the very last day they ever saw Ned. Ned died somewhere in the Pacific before the war was ended.

For me it was remembering the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was a second grader in November of 1963. It was just after lunchtime when our teacher, Mrs. Garrett, was called out into the hallway by Mrs. Levie. Like it was yesterday I remember exactly what she said when she returned to the room. Mrs. Garrett quietly closed the door and said,

“Boys and girls, President Kennedy has been shot in the head.” She even pointed at her temple as she said it. I remember being stunned. One of the kids in the class spoke up immediately and said,

“My daddy’s gonna be glad somebody did it.”  At that outburst, Mrs. Garrett grabbed him by the arm, jerked him up, and blistered his behind! I remember not knowing what to think, or what to do. I knew that my Dad was not very fond of President Kennedy—I had heard him say so—but I couldn’t imagine him wanting the President to be shot!

School let out about an hour early that day. I walked home with my friend Cathy. We were both confused and a bit scared. When I stepped into my house, I remember seeing my Mom sitting in the den in front of our black and white TV watching the news coverage. She was crying. Mom got up and met me as I came through the kitchen and held me close to her as she cried and said,

“I’m just so sorry you and Mike and Donna have to grow up in this terrible world.”

I was relieved knowing that my parents didn’t think his death was a good thing—not that I figured that they would—but it was comforting to know for sure. Second graders need clarity.

In college I asked fellow students “Where were you when Kennedy was assassinated?”  Just like me, every one of them could recall almost every detail. Even my wife who lived in South America in 1963, remembered it vividly.  Why? Because our baby-boomer world changed that day.

For my children it was the attack on 9/11. They can relive it in their minds like it was yesterday. Again, the world as we all knew it changed.

Remembrance is part of the uniqueness of humanity.  It has always been this way–  “Passover,” “The Parting of the Red Sea,”  “Lexington and Concord,” “Remember the Alamo,” “Remember Pearl Harbor,” “Remember 9/11.”– they all take us back to a singular moment that the world changed.  Even in the book of Isaiah we read the prophet Isaiah’s quote:

“In the year King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord……” Isaiah 6:1

According to Isaiah, his life changed that day. During a period of intense grief, Isaiah saw a vision, and he was never the same after that day.

It’s good to remember. It’s good to go back and relive the days that changed our lives.
And it won’t be just one or two, but many days where even the finest details are forever etched into our minds. Sometimes it causes us great pain, and other times great joy. But nevertheless, they are defining moments.

It is why I celebrate Christmas and Easter;

It is why I remember the day of my Baptism;

It is why I recount the miracles of God that I have personally witnessed.

It is good to remember.

“Remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me…”
Isaiah 46:9

“Santa?”

Inspiration

In the late winter of 2003 I took a crew of Master’s Commission students on a ministry trip to Finland. We were helping to establish a Master’s Commission program in the city of Rovaniemi—a city in the far north of Finland—a city actually bordering the Arctic Circle.

Aurora Borealis

Needless to say, it was quite cold in Rovaniemi, but beautiful beyond belief. We enjoyed seeing the Northern Lights in the sky after the short hours of sunlight, and ice fishing through a hole on a frozen river. Especially wonderful were the evening visits to typical Finnish saunas. After a few minutes in the blazing hot sauna, rolling around in the snow or taking a quick dip in 33 degree water (after a hole is cut in the ice covered lake) gives one’s heart a workout! Then the run back to the sauna leaves the body covered in frost, only to melt in the sauna once again. Riviting! The temperature was cold, but the hospitable Finnish people were as warm as their saunas!

The Napapiiri

While in Rovaniemi I was given the use of a small car. Driving in ice and snow in Finland was much different than driving in ice and snow in Alabama—probably because they do it half of their year and they’re good at it! One particular day I journeyed a short distance on a north bound highway, just so I could say I crossed the Arctic Circle. Sure enough, there was a marker on the side of the road reading, “Napapiiri” in Finnish, and “Arctic Circle” in English. Just to step across the line felt like a big thing.

Just across the Napapiiri was a famous tourist park called “Santa Claus Village.” It was actually a family friendly North Pole experience frequented by Finns, Swedes, Germans, Brits, and wealthy Americans. Everything was labeled in English since most Northern Europeans now understand English perfectly. Unfortunately, I arrived just after the village closed, but I was still able to walk right in like I owned the place. The very first door I opened led me into an enormous empty hallway spilling into a beautiful room adorned with all sorts of Christmas décor. At one end was a huge wooden throne surrounded by fragrant evergreens. It was obviously where Santa sat to greet the throngs of children who visited Santa Claus Village year-round.

Santa Claus Rovaniemi, Finland

I tiptoed around since I was the only person in sight. I didn’t want to make noise to draw attention to myself as I crept toward the enormous throne. Then, all of a sudden I heard a deep, kind voice echo in the huge room, “Hello.”

I spun around and there behind me stood a tall white bearded man in a deep red wool suit. He was at least 6’6” and wore reindeer hide boots, a black belt, and a red and white cap. My 47 year-old body was transfixed in front of the impressive fellow. And then, like a trembling 7 year-old, I somehow found a way to simply utter one word– one question:

“Santa?”

“Welcome to my house,” he responded, seeming to see that I was caught off guard by his powerful presence. I calmed myself and tried to think of an adult comment to make. So I decided to ask a question.

“Oh, so you speak English?”

“I speak every language,” Santa answered.

“Every language?” I responded with blind and total belief in what he just said.

“Not really,” he laughed. “I just speak Finnish, Swedish, German and English….and American since I spent a few years in the states.”

I finally relaxed and reached out for a handshake. We sat and talked for at least thirty minutes, exchanging life stories and common experiences. He had attended college and worked in North Carolina for several years before moving back to Finland to be closer to his family. He wanted to discuss with me the recent 9/11 terror attack on New York, and the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. We talked culture and politics and economics and sports and even religion. He commented on how important faith seemed to be in the lives of many Americans that he came to know. We were able to have a real heart to heart talk.

He even explained to me some things about Christmas tradition that really made sense.
For instance, in Lapland (which is a part of Finland) the early Laplanders had a tradition that on Christmas Eve a white bearded goat stained with red dye would find all the little children who had not been good and would spike them with his horns. He was called the “Joulupukki” (“Christmas Goat” or “Yuletide Goat”) the to the Laplanders, and it kept the children in line for a whole year—much like the threat of  “switches and lumps of coal in the stocking” motivate American children to be good. Eventually, the cruel “Christmas Goat” tradition merged with the “St. Nicholas” children’s gift-giving tradition, and became a man in a red suit and white beard will bring gifts to children who have been good. It makes a lot of sense.

Before I left I asked him why such a highly educated and successful guy would be working as a full-time Santa. His response fascinated me. He basically said that the only way he could find happiness was in making other people happy. So he left the rat race and moved to Finland to be Santa. “Besides,” he said, ” I look the part.”

I asked him if he ever regretted it, and he said, “Absolutely not.”

I’ll never forget the day I met the “real Santa Claus,” and we sat down at the Arctic Circle and talked about what’s really important in life.

Santa Claus Village Finland

“Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered.” Proverbs 11:25

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Philippians 2:4