When I vi­si­ted the Pa­ris Dis­ney­land in 1998, I went on a rol­ler co­as­ter ride that pas­sed at high speed through a dark buil­ding with pla­nets all around.

For the past few weeks my life has been a bit like that ride. Our fa­mi­ly’s dai­ly life is like a rol­ler co­as­ter car spee­ding through so­cie­ty’s state of emer­gen­cy.

I have spent most of my time at home, fee­ling that we live in two dif­fe­rent re­a­li­ties. When things have been good, we have been up high, en­jo­ying the suns­hi­ne and ste­a­di­ly ma­king he­ad­way. Child­ren have ma­na­ged their school work, te­ac­hers have had time to lis­ten to my con­cerns, and I have been ab­le to comp­le­te my own study as­sign­ments.

At ot­her ti­mes were have been tra­ve­ling through a tun­nel. I have felt ho­pe­less in the bat­t­le against moun­ting chaos, and it has been im­pos­sib­le to con­cent­ra­te on school work or stu­dies. We have been we­a­ry and down­right ex­haus­ted.

At ti­mes the lit­t­le brot­her has felt frust­ra­ted wit­hout any friends to play with, and he has dis­tur­bed the big­ger child­ren who have been trying to work on their vi­deo les­sons. The rol­ler co­as­ter car has ban­ged loud­ly against the wal­ls.

Des­pi­te the in­ten­se and va­ri­ab­le fee­lings, things have been qui­te good in our home car. The ser­vi­ces and ot­her prog­rams bro­ad­cast at Eas­ter time were like an oa­sis in the de­sert. The child­ren lis­te­ned with great con­cent­ra­ti­on to the sto­ries read by Ta­pio Hol­ma. He­a­ring on the ra­dio the fa­mi­li­ar voi­ce that they re­mem­be­red from CD re­cor­dings hel­ped them calm down.

The emer­gen­cy state is the same for eve­ry­bo­dy, but each per­son li­ves through it in their own way and in their own re­a­li­ty. The rol­ler co­as­ter ri­des of life are comp­lex. Ot­her cars oc­ca­si­o­nal­ly come so close to ours that we can hear wor­ried com­ments: ”Inc­re­a­se yo­ur awa­re­ness and share yo­ur know­led­ge!” “Help ot­hers by joi­ning groups on Fa­ce­book!” ”We don’t have enough cus­to­mers in our shop!” ”I have this he­alth prob­lem. Do I dare to go shop­ping?”

The de­mands we hear from the ot­her cars op­p­ress us. Isn’t it not enough for me to hold fast to the si­des of my own car? The wor­ries of ot­hers weigh on my he­art, yet there is not­hing I can do about the loss of cus­to­mers or ot­her pe­op­le’s he­alth prob­lems. It is sad to hear that some child­ren may not have hot me­als or sup­port for their school work in their home cars. So­ci­al wor­kers and child wel­fa­re are nee­ded to help.

I try to fo­cus on the small cau­ses of joy and the lo­ve­ly things that keep us af­lo­at in dai­ly life. Child­ren have been a real joy to each ot­her. As a mot­her, I have gre­at­ly en­jo­yed watc­hing their won­der­ful ga­mes. I even en­joy me­di­cal ap­point­ments. It was fun to ac­com­pa­ny our ol­dest child, who mo­ved away from home last fall, to an ap­point­ment at a uni­ver­si­ty hos­pi­tal. Sin­ce the ap­point­ment did not cau­se any wor­ries, we tho­rough­ly en­jo­yed the trip to and from the hos­pi­tal. It was lo­ve­ly to be ab­le to dis­cuss things at lei­su­re for the first time sin­ce we last had a mo­ment to­get­her long ago.

The co­ming of the spring and the inc­re­a­sing suns­hi­ne are com­for­ting. I make my­self a cup of cof­fee and sit down for a mo­ment. I am lis­te­ning to bro­ad­cast ser­vi­ces, and that ma­kes me feel safe: ”We are pro­tec­ted by eter­nal God and car­ried on His strong arms.” When we can­not rely on our own strength, the on­ly thing we have left is trust in God and faith.

Text: Suvi Myl­ly­mä­ki

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

You will find the ori­gi­nal blog post here.