We have just celebrated Midsummer, MIDSOMMAR in Swedish. It’s 29 years since I last was in Sweden for midsummer. This is a very special time to welcome summer! One of the traditions is to have pickled herring and new potatoes, with a sour creme sauce and chives. And fresh strawberries!
My sister strayed true to tradition, even if she is not very fond of pickled herring. I can’t say it’s a favorite of mine, either. I love the sauce. Then we had freshly picked strawberries from her garden.
I could not enjoy the day as I would have wished. My body was attacked! To get a cold in the middle of summer is no fun. And to be attacked on Midsummer Day was not fun at all.
This was fun!
A happy memory I will take with my from my visit in Sweden is the days I spent with my grandchildren here. Brianna loved the lake close to the house where we stayed. I love the lake and wish I could have been there every day. There are a lot of things I wish I could do, but my feet are not very cooperative. At least I can look at the pictures!
This has been a very special week. Our Swedish Pentecostal Movement has a yearly conference called “Nyhemsveckan.” This year was the 100th Anniversary. I’ve been listening to the services on the Web. Dad was invited by a friend to go there on Thursday. He had an interesting experience. Standing in line to get dinner he was speaking Spanish with the friend who invited him. A young man, Joseph, heard it and approached him. Joseph had been several months in Chulucanas, Peru on a mission assignment. My friend Anita Olsson and her husband planted a church there 40 years ago. Dad was there a few years ago and spent some months helping out. Both Dad and Joseph had worked with the same man, Gumercindo. Dad thought it was very interesting that Joseph sent an email message on his phone and got an almost immediate answer–a greeting from Chulucanas!
Joseph followed Dad around all afternoon and sat with him for the evening service. We never know when we can make a new friend!
I captured these little Swedes on television. They will have to do as a farewell. Next time you hear from me I’ll be back home. What is Home? Sweden is my country of birth, so I feel very much at home here. The United States is my country of choice. I feel at home there, too.
Home is where the heart is, they say. My heart is with Jesus. That is my home!
Do you have the hope of and eternal home with Jesus? If you have questions and uncertainties, write to me. My greatest desire is to help you find Jesus’ wonderful love. That is home!