In Sweden a cinnamon roll is called “kanelbulle.” Since 1999 this day, October 4th, has been the day of the cinnamon rolls. My brother-in-law Ola gave us a bag-full of them yesterday so we could celebrate. He’s a chef and cooks for 100 children at a day care center. These rolls he baked for them all to celebrate the day!
See the one in the middle? It’s not there anymore. It’s traveling through the dark passages of the esophagus finding its way to a certain decomposition. It was good. I enjoyed it! But now it is no more!
Yesterday I enjoyed some similar pastries at a birthday party at the Swedish Lutheran Church. They invite people in town who have turned 80, 85, 90, and then each year after that. We had a good time, singing songs, chatting, and drinking coffee and pastries. They didn’t celebrate me. I’m still young. It was my dad.
I felt like I had taken on my mothers mantel. She was a talker and would make friends wherever she went. Dad and I are more the quiet type. It turned out that the priest sat down at our table. We got to talking and he gave me some good jokes to pass along. The best one I’ve already used a few times.
“I’ve got Teflon memory… Nothing sticks–it slips!”
It’s true! I can’t remember a thing, other than that it was fun and enjoyable. Maybe if I take a break it will come back. The memory. Not the cinnamon roll, I hope.
Tomorrow I’m traveling to Tidan, Skövde to preach on Sunday. I take the train from Vaggeryd to Jönköping at 10.47 AM. In Jönköping I have to change trains. In Skövde a lady friend will meet me and drive me to Tidan. I know her, I stayed with her last year.
Here’s something special about Sweden. You take sheets and towels with you when you visit. This friend called to tell me I didn’t have to bother with that.
Back to the priest and the party. I do remember something. My memory must be a bad quality of Teflon. That’s a good thing! But not if you want to fry an egg.
The priest talked about the mustard seed and what Jesus said:
He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches.”
He encouraged us to be a beautiful garden. I told him about my mustard seeds, how I encourage people that even the tiniest acts of kindness can be multiplied. The Lord has spoken to me very much about sowing seeds of love and what a tiny seed of faith can do. My ministry name in Spanish is Seed of Love. You can read about my vision in Seed of Love.
When I get back on Monday I hope I’ll remember what I did on the weekend. To be sure, I’ll take my camera with me. A Teflon memory is a fragile thing. Had it not been for my sister Agneta, cinnamon rolls would have been spelled cinnamon roles.
I looked at the word and “knew” it was wrong. The spell-checker didn’t help. It recognized “roles.” There is a difference between rolls and roles. What is that difference? It slipped my mind! I guess I do have a Teflon memory after all!
(I’ll have no Internet until I get back.)