Our hou­se has been my home for most of my life. Be­fo­re that it was the home of a Ka­re­li­an fa­mi­ly eva­cu­a­ted from their own home du­ring the war. They had some dai­ry cows and li­ved in a small cot­ta­ge.

When I was two ye­ars old, my fat­her bought this hou­se and it be­ca­me our fa­mi­ly’s sum­mer cot­ta­ge. In my ear­liest me­mo­ry from the time of re­no­va­ting the hou­se, my fat­her lifts me over the half-comp­le­ted stairs and puts me down on the ground. From that time on­ward we li­ved here from spring till au­tumn for many ye­ars.

When our fat­her died, the cot­ta­ge pas­sed on to us, his child­ren. Even then we spent many long sum­mers here with our mot­her.

I le­arnt to know well these woods, flo­wer me­a­dows and roc­ky spots. Over time trees grew in pla­ces that had been tree­less, and we al­so hau­led fi­re­wood from the fo­rest. The fo­rest see­med to be al­wa­ys dif­fe­rent. It gave me blu­e­ber­ries, mush­rooms and even con­so­la­ti­on at bad ti­mes.

When I was about twen­ty, I be­gan to feel cer­tain that I want to stay here. I bought my sib­lings’ sha­res and be­ca­me the hap­py ow­ner of a cot­ta­ge. When I was 25, I li­ved here for as long as pos­sib­le in the fall. My on­ly me­ans of he­a­ting were an open fi­rep­la­ce, its brick wall and a small elect­ric he­a­ter.

The fol­lo­wing win­ter I be­gan to pull out the chip­bo­ard li­ning of the in­te­ri­or wal­ls and de­ci­ded to make a hou­se out of the cot­ta­ge. And that was what hap­pe­ned. With the help of a few books and some won­der­ful pe­op­le the cot­ta­ge was tur­ned in­to a hou­se: plum­bing was ins­tal­led, old elect­ric wi­ring was rep­la­ced, a brick oven was made, the wal­ls and floors were pro­per­ly in­su­la­ted.

Ima­gi­ne the hap­pi­ness when eve­ryt­hing was done! I of­ten had be­lie­ving kids vi­sit me even when the re­no­va­ti­on was not yet comp­le­te. We pla­yed and sang and laug­hed but did not dis­turb any­bo­dy in the mid­d­le of the woods. In the ear­ly sum­mer I of­ten hos­ted out­door ser­vi­ces, which was lo­ve­ly. It see­med that the hou­se had such a warm at­mosp­he­re that I so­me­ti­mes won­de­red how it could be that I had been bles­sed with all this hap­pi­ness!

For ye­ars around that time my hou­se al­so ser­ved as a va­ca­ti­on home for my brot­her’s child­ren, who li­ked to spend time with me du­ring their school bre­aks. I had cats and go­ats and a dog and la­ter even sheep and rab­bits.

When my sis­ter died, this hou­se be­ca­me home for her child­ren for a few ye­ars. At that time I pra­yed that the He­a­ven­ly Fat­her would give me a spou­se to sup­port us.

Five ye­ars la­ter I my pra­yers were ans­we­red. My hus­band and I found each ot­her. There is now a man in the hou­se. By the time he mo­ved in, I had even built a porch, so that when we en­te­red the hou­se, we did not need to come straight in­to the li­ving room.

Soon af­ter our wed­ding we re­a­li­zed that the cot­ta­ge was pret­ty small for two pe­op­le. The fol­lo­wing ye­ar we built an ex­ten­si­on, which doub­led the length of the hou­se. While wor­king on the ex­ten­si­on, we re­a­li­zed that we both en­joy buil­ding, so we de­ci­ded to build a ga­ra­ge next!

Over the past fif­ty ye­ars there have been many chan­ges in the hou­se and in its sur­roun­dings. I have been ab­le to live here with many dear pe­op­le and have al­so en­jo­yed the com­pa­ny of my ani­mals. On­ly yes­ter­day I said to my hus­band that, God wil­ling, I would like to live in this hou­se un­til the end of my life.

Text: Lii­sa Lil­va­nen-Pel­ko­nen

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

You will find the ori­gi­nal blog post here.