Over Advent and the holidays, I read the back of my Swedish hymnbook where Bible readings, sermons and hymns for the four Sundays of Advent and the Christmas morning mass are shown.
I received my hymnbook from my parents to commemorate my confirmation in the
I decided to make this little book my treasure for today. Then I remembered that I have another hymnbook, commemorating a confirmation that took place almost 60 years before mine.
I took it out of my bookcase and was transported back in time, holding the book and thinking of my beloved paternal grandfather. I remembered how he smelled comfortably of pipe tobacco and wore a vest with a gold pocket watch in the appropriate pocket. I have that watch and I also inherited his Swedish potato nose. I've said it before on this blog -- it may not be the prettiest nose in the world, but I'm happy and proud to have inherited something I can touch from this very sweet and kind man.
My mother told me this was his hymnbook, but when I opened it and saw the date, 1897, I realized it must have been my grandmother's. She was 15 years old then, the age of our first communion in the Swedish church. It doesn't really matter whose it was, maybe they read it together and maybe she sang the hymns with her lovely voice, one of the few in our family to be blessed with a beautiful voice.
Here she is again, at a younger age. She never lost that look of determination for as long as she lived, almost to the age of 90.
Right now, as I have to fight my way back to health and strength after last year's adversities, I find myself hoping to have inherited some of her determination.
FYI, winter has arrived here in the canyon. It was 19 F this morning, not as cold as some places, I know, but it is winter and I intend to enjoy it. Yesterday, I drove to town on snow and ice and found out that it is a skill you don't forget. I was a bit tense, but all went well. I still don't understand why our road was not sanded.
Have a great day everyone.
