The Tidan “adventure” started Saturday morning. Mary and I were all set for the 10:46 train leaving for Jönköping. From there we would have to make a transfer. We arrived promptly at the station, to discover on the board that there was no train for 10:46. That was not a happy discovery! My brother-in-law and I had both checked on-line for the departure times from Vaggeryd. Now we saw that if we had arrived ten minutes earlier we could have caught a train. I already had the tickets to Jönköping and if we didn’t get there to catch that train I would lose them.
Ola is very kind and helpful so he drove us to Jönköping. My sister went on-line to check it out again and, yes, there was supposed to be a train at that hour on Saturdays. But, what was the problem? We had forgotten that just that Saturday, November 3rd, was a holiday—All Saints Day! We had looked at the schedule for regular Saturdays!
It was a dreary, somewhat drizzly day, not made to walk long distances, at least not for me. I told Ola that the Lord was playing a little game with us. He knew that the walking for me would be quite painful so he planned a way for me to get help, so that I could get to the transfer station without the long walk. Was I ever thankful for that!
A friend met us at the station in Skövde and drove us the rest of the way to Tidan. That afternoon we spent at the church together with other “immigrants.” They counted me in as I had come from the States. We were a total of 19. The church has gatherings every month, with games, coffee and goodies (“fika” as they say in Sweden), and a devotional and prayer.
This is one of the games that the Mission-treasurer of the church has devised and made. It’s not the easiest to get all the pieces in place so that the colors match. Both Mary and I were given a game. Now we can sit for hours trying to get the colors in the right places. All of them have to match, as you can see above. Ola is working on the game even as I write!
This is the “fika” table
The Filadelfia church in Tidan has supported me ever since I was a young missionary, even before I met my late husband, Bengt. So I have known Leif and Miriam, that were our hosts, for a long time. After supper we just talked. That is, Mary told stories of her childhood and I translated for her. When we were close to 10:00 PM Leif was tired. I guess he didn’t know how to tell his visitors to “shut up” so he asked, “What time do people in the States go to bed?” I got the point!
I told them Mary had more stories to tell, like how she met my father, and we decided to do those the next evening. “Then we need to start early!” said Leif. He didn’t want to have another late night.
I’ve discovered that Mary, my dad’s wife, is very good story-teller. Another discovery I’ve made is that for many years her dream has been to write a book about her life. I promised to help her. During our train rides this past weekend we decided on the perfect introduction and the 20+ chapters it will have. A dreary and cold winter lies ahead. Instead of long “bored” hours, cooped up inside, she can travel down memory lane and bring to life her experiences. Hopefully one day soon you will be able to read her book, because my goal is to publish it, at least, in the three languages I know: Spanish, English, and Swedish.
(Will continue tomorrow)