Thank you, Mot­her, for te­ac­hing me the ABC of life. You were lo­ving and ca­ring. By yo­ur examp­le and ad­vi­ce you taught me about simp­le faith. You trus­ted in me, though I was not al­wa­ys wort­hy of yo­ur trust. You were hard-wor­king and the­re­by taught me to ap­p­re­ci­a­te work.

Mot­her, you have told me about the day when I was born. On a sun­ny day in July you wal­ked around the hos­pi­tal yard, won­de­ring what to do. You de­ci­ded not to go in yet and took the bus home. Half­way home on the bus, you re­a­li­zed you should have sta­yed. You got off the bus and took anot­her bus back to the hos­pi­tal. They took you in, and I was born a short while la­ter.

Mot­her, it was im­por­tant for you that I could get to ser­vi­ces. I re­mem­ber one time, when I was le­a­ving for Ou­lu spring ser­vi­ces and you did not have mo­ney to give me. You bor­ro­wed mo­ney from the old lady next-door, and I got to go to ser­vi­ces.

When I left home and to start my stu­dies in town, you ad­vi­sed me: Be ho­nest, do not steal. Even if you are hung­ry, do not steal but ask for food. You al­so gave ot­her ad­vi­ce that hel­ped me then and has hel­ped me la­ter. God mi­ra­cu­lous­ly pro­tec­ted me even when things were dif­fi­cult. I know I was a child of yo­ur pra­yers even then.

Mot­her, you have al­wa­ys been part of my life. When I got mar­ried, you and Fat­her gave me a Bib­le. On the first page of that Bib­le you had writ­ten these words: “But god­li­ness with con­tent­ment is great gain”. Those words have a pro­found me­a­ning. I am sure you ho­ped that I and my fa­mi­ly would keep our gift of faith. You have bles­sed me with the gos­pel so many ti­mes, and that has com­for­ted me.

Mot­her, this is the first let­ter I have ever writ­ten to you. I am sure there would have been many re­a­sons to write over the ye­ars, es­pe­ci­al­ly when I was yo­ung. I have writ­ten short What­sApp mes­sa­ges, but they are not let­ters.

We have na­tu­ral­ly al­so dis­cus­sed over the phone. I like to call you and hear yo­ur voi­ce and laugh­ter. You like to tell me how many fish you have got with yo­ur jig. You love yo­ur count­ry cot­ta­ge more than anyt­hing el­se, and when yo­ur mind is at rest there, even the pains seem to les­sen. I am glad that you are still so ac­ti­ve and cheer­ful.

This spring we will ce­leb­ra­te yo­ur six­ty-eighth Mot­hers’ Day. My he­art is full gra­ti­tu­de, and I can ne­ver thank you enough for all the things you have gi­ven and taught me. Dear Mot­her, I wish you hap­pi­ness and God’s bles­sing.

Mot­her’s hand

gent­ly holds her child.

I have ex­pe­rien­ced

the warmth of my mot­her’s arms

the smell of fresh milk

smi­les and ad­mi­ra­ti­on

the call of a lul­la­by

and the love of yo­ur he­art.

All this will car­ry me

through life.

Can a child ever for­get

his mot­her’s love?

Text: Vesa Kum­pu­la

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

You will find the ori­gi­nal blog post here.