Sometimes, life has a way of stopping us in our tracks, urging us to reflect. It’s so easy to get swept up in the holiday buzz, with its endless plans, lists, and preparations. This year, my Christmas tree is surrounded by a growing pile of gifts—a testament to my large and loving family. My kitchen has been alive with the scent of baking, filling my heart with joy and festive spirit. But as I revel in these moments of festive cheer, a question lingers: Do I truly appreciate it all? Or have I, perhaps, taken some of it for granted?

A few days ago, a Christmas movie nudged me into a different frame of mind. It was about a soldier and the traditions his family kept to honour him during the Christmas season. Moved, I found myself reaching for a collection of my grandfather’s old war letters, tucked away like treasures of the past. The first one I picked up felt like a message from another world—written exactly 83 years ago to the day, in early December 1941.

At the time, my mother was a baby, and my grandfather was fighting on the frontlines of the Continuation War (jatkosota), as Finland defended its hard-won independence. I read two letters that day: one from my grandfather to my grandmother, and another from my grandmother to him. Their words, though simple, painted a vivid picture of resilience, love, and sacrifice.

In her letter, my grandmother shared two humble Christmas wishes: half a kilogram of coffee and the hope that her young husband could somehow come home to spend Christmas with her and their six-month-old daughter. She described how little food they had but assured him that their baby was getting enough to eat. Even amidst scarcity, her concern was for her child.

My grandfather’s reply was a tender blend of encouragement and longing. He urged her to buy the coffee, reminding her that everyone deserves a little treat. He held onto a fragile hope that he might be granted leave for Christmas, though he couldn’t be sure. His words carefully avoided details of the war, both because he couldn’t share them and also because he preferred not to dwell on such grim realities. Instead, he focused on the thought of his wife and baby, grateful for the letters that brought him a connection to home.

It struck me how much strength it must have taken for my grandparents to find moments of love and hope in the midst of such uncertainty and hardship. Their letters were not just communication—they were lifelines, weaving together the threads of a future they dared to dream of despite the darkness surrounding them.

Today is Finland’s Independence Day, a day to reflect on the sacrifices of men like my grandfather, who fought to secure a future for their families and for our nation. The cost they paid was immense, and their sacrifices ensure that Finland remains independent to this day.

As I sit here, surrounded by the abundance of modern Christmas preparations, I think of their Christmases during the war. They lived through a time of scarcity and uncertainty, finding joy in the simplest of things—a small bag of coffee, a letter from a loved one. Their courage and resilience are the foundations of the peace and comfort we enjoy today.

Yet, even now, war ravages parts of the world. Families are separated, enduring their own hardships and uncertainties, much like my grandparents did all those years ago. It’s a sobering reminder that freedom and peace are precious and fragile.

Their letters reminded me of how universal and timeless some values are—love, family, and the hope for a brighter future. Even though the world has changed so much since then, their priorities feel incredibly familiar. It made me realise how important it is to preserve and share these stories, so future generations can understand the strength and sacrifices that shaped the lives we lead today.

This Christmas, I’m pausing to recognise the blessings in my life and to honour the sacrifices that made them possible. May we never forget to cherish what we have—and to hold those who came before us, and those enduring trials today, close in our hearts.