Text: An­na Pärk­kä

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

My hus­band can be qui­te sec­re­ti­ve. While sha­ring his life with me, he has pro­bab­ly le­arnt that he should pre­sent new ide­as with a thought-out plan, or ot­her­wi­se they may chan­ge in the “sup­re­me court”, as he is fond of sa­ying. Well, I don’t know about that.

It was the ye­ar 2001. We had had our fourth baby and were li­ving in Li­min­ka. The Ruuk­ki Sum­mer Ser­vi­ces were over, and we hitc­hed up our ca­ra­van trai­ler and set out for a va­ca­ti­on trip to Nor­way. My hus­band’s brot­her’s fa­mi­ly came with us, but they tur­ned back when we were still in Swe­den.

We ar­ri­ved in Os­lo and set up camp by a be­au­ti­ful lake at the Bogs­tad cam­ping ground. We en­jo­yed our stay there, and the days pas­sed in a re­la­xed at­mosp­he­re. At some point my hus­band sug­ges­ted that we could go and vi­sit an ent­rep­re­neur who was an ac­qu­ain­tan­ce. I did not know then that he had al­re­a­dy ag­reed about a mee­ting to dis­cuss pos­sib­le emp­lo­y­ment.

We met Tero in front of the old Cus­toms Hou­se in the cen­ter of Os­lo. He gave us Hen­ri’s phone num­ber and said Hen­ri might have a job to of­fer. My hus­band cal­led Hen­ri and ag­reed about an in­ter­view on Fri­day.

It was a qui­te shoc­king to think that we might not be re­tur­ning home, and to won­der how I could fi­nish my stu­dies li­ving in Os­lo. These tem­po­ral obs­tac­les were at the top of my mind. And an­no­yan­ce. That he had not told me about such im­por­tant mat­ters. But I al­so re­mem­ber the tick­ling ex­ci­te­ment and the dre­ams of all the op­por­tu­ni­ties that might open up. What new things would this bring to our life? Op­por­tu­ni­ties for our child­ren, pos­sib­le emp­lo­y­ment for us. I pul­led my­self to­get­her fair­ly soon. My hus­band star­ted in his new job on the fol­lo­wing Mon­day.

So how did we go about it? Through Hen­ry we found Tint­ti, who hel­ped us find home in Hol­ter. God’s gui­dan­ce was very strong­ly pre­sent in this up­he­a­val. How inc­re­dib­le it see­med that our land­lord la­ter wan­ted to hire my hus­band to work for him.

My land­la­dy ac­com­pa­nied me to the emp­lo­y­ment of­fi­ce and hel­ped me sign up as a job see­ker. That was on a Thurs­day. I had a phone call on Mon­day from Rolf at the air­port. He as­ked me to come for an in­ter­view! We did not even have day care ar­ran­ge­ments for our four child­ren. What now?

True to my­self, I jum­ped at the op­por­tu­ni­ty. We did not have a Fin­nish-Eng­lish dic­ti­o­na­ry. Rolf had said to me on the phone that I should come to the stone in the de­par­tu­re hall. I was won­de­ring about what “stone” me­ant. We did not even have a pro­per In­ter­net con­nec­ti­on then. I tried to com­fort my­self by thin­king that I su­re­ly would ma­na­ge.

I came well ahe­ad of time to look for the “stone”. I wal­ked around the se­cond-floor de­par­tu­re hall, mi­nu­tes tic­ked by, and I re­a­li­zed I was al­re­a­dy late for the in­ter­view. The child­ren and my hus­band were wai­ting in the car out­si­de the air­port. I knew they were pro­bab­ly not en­jo­ying their stay eit­her. I be­gan to pa­nic and thought that this was it then. If I did not find the in­ter­vie­wer, I would not get the job.

Trust in God, I said to my­self. I be­gan walk to­ward the exit. From far away, I saw a lady who was hol­ding a sign­bo­ard with my name on it. She was stan­ding next to a big stone. Okay, so that’s what “stone” me­ant.

I was as­ha­med and felt like crying and laug­hing at the same time. The in­ter­vie­wer was a lo­ve­ly per­son, and af­ter the in­ter­view she was con­vin­ced that she should hire this lady with four child­ren. Rolf came soon and just said, come to work next Mon­day. So I had a job in Os­lo, too.

We then got an au pair in the same way, very ea­si­ly. We had lo­ve­ly, won­der­ful Sai­la, who la­ter be­ca­me the god­mot­her of one of our child­ren. I was ab­le to comp­le­te the re­mai­ning stu­dies for my dip­lo­ma re­mo­te­ly, which was not com­mon at that time. All my fe­ars had been in vain.

By the way, there are sum­mer jobs again at that same air­port! Gar­de­mo­en Air­port has of­fe­red good jobs to do­zens of our friends. Yo­ung pe­op­le have good lan­gu­a­ge skil­ls, and now you even know what ”stone me­ans” – in case you did not know it al­re­a­dy.