Sweden: the churches

Friday, June 20-Saturday, June 21 

Until I took an Ancestry DNA test, I considered myself mostly Swedish.  If I'd, you know, looked at my genealogy, I would have seen that that wasn't the case, but I think it was because of my grandpa (Harvey Dahl) and my Great-Grandma Jaynes (aka Grandma with the Brown Eyes), Ellen Arvella Nelson Jaynes.  He was 3/4 Swedish and served his mission there.  She was half Swedish and her dad, Eric, was born there.  They valued their Swedish ancestry and told me about it, so it was also important to me.

(I'm about half English/Scottish so maybe my love of London is genetic.  And now Adam and I want to plan a trip to England, Scotland and Ireland.)

The impetus for our entire trip was that when I was looking at where my Swedish family was from, they were all from the southern part of Sweden!  Really close to each other!  And then Adam's grandma was from nearby Denmark.  What if we went there?  What if?

(Tell Adam if you have a dream like that.  He's a granter of wishes, that one.)

I decided to limit our sojourn to the churches where people who emigrated to Utah were christened.  I thought it was a doable goal.  I was hoping to see where some people were buried as well, but if families stop paying for graves in Denmark and Sweden, they take away the headstone and reuse the grave.  You read that right.  Just pack it down and add another body.

Adam said cemeteries would be like a clown car at the resurrection, person after person climbing out of the same grave.

Some headstones were lined up against rock walls in Sweden.  I don't know if people can come and retrieve them or what.  I read that in Denmark, they grind up headstones and use them to pave roads.

To prepare for our trip, I studied Family Search like it was my job.  I read sources and records and memories and pinned down the churches where our people were christened.  (If I knew Danish and Swedish that would have been a whole lot easier!)

Maybe because of the research I had done, going to the churches was very meaningful to me.  I loved it!  It is still very rural, which was great because it helped me imagine what it was maybe like when they lived there.  It was mostly rolling hills of verdant farmland.  Field after field of barley and rye and wheat waving in the breeze.  I don't know if it was all farmland or more forest back then, but it was beautiful. I loved hearing the birds, and using my Merlin app, I could identify them (yes, I am this nerdy).  The European jack daw was a presence. I imagined my ancestors hearing the ancestors of the same birds. and seeing the same blue skies.  I imagined them smelling the same June scented air.

These wild roses are my favorite flowers that grow in Starr Valley--and now I know they grow in Sweden as well.

It was just the most lovely, photogenic place.   I kept asking Adam why we didn't live there.

I was struck by how well kept the churches in both Sweden and Denmark were and by how close together they are.  You could see another one across the fields.  

Trolle Ljungby

My great great grandfather, Eric Nelson was born there.

Eric died when my great grandma was only 3 years old, so she didn't tell me many memories about him as her father.  I know he meant a lot to her though.

He wasn't christened at Trolle Ljunby, I think because his parents had already joined the Church at the time (they emigrated to Utah when he was two years old).  His parents, Matts and Elna, were both christened at this church and so were their parents.

I can't explain the I'm from here feeling I got over and over.

The next day we saw the rest of the Swedish churches on the list.

Blentarp

Soren Yorgason (Americanized spelling) was christened in Blentarp. He is my Grandpa (Harvey) Dahl's great grandpa.

I read on Family Search that he was 6'4" tall.

He would have had to duck to go into this church.

What is astounding to me is that at the time of his christening, this church would have been 500 years old!  (America is a baby.)

According to what I read, Soren studied the church for three years before joining.  When he was in, he was all in and that decision blessed my life.

Villie

Soren and his wife Karna were married in Villie and she was also christened there.  (Karna's grave is the one we found in Moroni the week before our trip.)

The church was locked, but I held my camera up to the window for a picture inside.

Karna joined the church very quickly upon hearing about it and cried when she first heard the song O My Father, because she recognized truth.  She looks like a woman not to be trifled with.

I love that I have ancestors who immediately took the plunge and also ancestors who didn't enter into anything lightly.  The world needs both kinds of people.

Lyngby

Soren and Karna's daughter Ellen, (my great-great grandmother) was christened in Lyngby.  She is a favorite amongst my sisters and me and we always pose for a picture by her and her husband Alexander Dahl's grave on Memorial Day.  She was a generously proportioned woman and whether we like it or not, when you do the Compare a Face app on Family Search, we all look like her.

I have this picture of Ellen and Alexander hanging in our stairwell and I love it.  There's something about Alexander that reminds me of my dad. (Alexander is from Norway so we didn't get to see where he's from.)

I chose my soda in her honor.

Here's the church where Ellen and her siblings were christened in Lyngby.

Skabersjo

(These are out of the order that we visited them, but this order works with the narrative better.)

My grandma's (Thelma Louise Wood Jaynes) great grandmother, Anna Pearson Oleson, was born and christened in Skabersjo.  While we were on our trip, Emma went to the Salt Lake Cemetery and found Anna's headstone.  Anna's and her twin brother Henry's mother died in childbirth.  They were raised at Skabersjo Castle, where their father, Ole, was groundskeeper.  Henry joined the church first, followed by Ole and Anna.  They left Sweden behind and went to Utah.

The castle is still there.  Here's the private drive (as close as we could get).

On the other end, we could see this view of the back of the house:

Here's the church near Skabersjo Castle where Anna was christened.

Anna did not have an easy life.  I see this picture of her and want to give her a hug.

My Grandpa (Harvey) Dahl's parents were David Dahl and Amanda Pehrson.  David was Alexander and Ellen's son.  Amanda was John Pehrson and Matilda Anderson's daughter.

Here are John and Matilda:

They both left Sweden as young adults and got married once they got to Utah.  They were each the only one in their families to join the Church.

I had the hardest time finding out information about them.  They both were apparently born to unwed mothers and according to my research, that was not looked down upon at the time.  There is a wacky story on Family Search about John being the son of the prince of Sweden, but I don't believe a bit of it.  The story comes from the daughter of one of John's friends who was apparently eavesdropping on John telling her dad the story in Swedish.  They didn't know she'd understand, but!  She did.  

I. Don't. Think. So.

Källstorp

I couldn't find a record for Matilda being christened (maybe I would have had more luck if I knew Swedish), but her mother, Karna, was christened in Källstorp.

It was a very lovely place.

Malmö

My best guess is that John was christened in Malmö.  The big church there at the time was Sankt Petri Kirke (St. Peter's Church).

It was MUCH bigger than the others and more of a tourist destination.  We could go inside.

this was the floor in the Merchant's Chapel

I don't know that there was anything earth shattering about this venture of seeing these churches.  I am not even 100% sure the last church was the right place.  Here's what I do know.  The trip mattered to me.  Between the prep work and walking the churchyards, I felt closer to my family.  I felt increased gratitude that they left everything they knew (this amazingly beautiful place!) for a Gospel they loved.  I appreciate that their sacrifices rooted me in the privileged position of a little girl who knew she was a child of God and that Jesus wanted her for a sunbeam.  

Also, because of what they did, we are all sealed as a family.  What a gift!

I am grateful to live on the rock they planted.

Castles and Christian IV

Before I dive in,  this:  on Sunday, my friend Kim (who is the primary president) broke her key off in the primary closet.  She felt terrible.  She is one of those conscientious people who couldn't imagine inconveniencing anyone.  For this reason, I felt compelled to tease her a bit about how she didn't know her own strength.

A few people stopped by to try to help.  One little primary boy tried with his tiny fingers to pull it out.  It was stuck.

Yesterday, before he went to work, Adam said, "If Mark wants a project, tell him to go try to get that broken key out."

Mark's our fix-it guy.

Mark needed to go pick up a prescription (he is also our prescription guy) so I rode with him and we stopped at the church, Adam's keys in hand.  Mark took his tool box.  He looked at the lock and saw what I had not seen, the first step was to use two screwdrivers to make it horizontal like the other locks on the closets in the hall so the key had a chance to get out.

He tried to coax it out with a tiny flathead screwdriver and then grab it with needle nose pliers, but it kept slipping.

I decided to google it, because you can google anything.  Sure enough.  There was a tutorial video about getting the spring from a pen, straightening it, making a hook on the end, sticking the wire into a groove of the key and popping it out.

We just needed a pen.  

I looked in the nearby primary room and the Relief Society room.  No luck.  Then I remembered I had the master key.  I opened the library (I have never felt so powerful in my life), but there were no pens in there either!

Why does everyone have to be so tidy?

I felt like Ralph S. Mouse in The Mouse and the Motorcycle when he needed to find an aspirin for Kevin.  There had to be a pen in that church! 

I looked in Adam's office and there was nothing.  Finally, I found one in the clerk's office.  Mark disassembled the pen and fashioned a little hook.

But the trick didn't work because the wire was too thick for the tiny key.  (And I'll send a new pen with Adam to replace the one we disassembled.)

We were ready to give up, but I said, "I'm going to give it one more try."  I almost got it.

By then, Mark was lying on the floor (it was hot and stuffy inside the empty church and I think he was melting).  He looked up and noticed that the bottom of the key was wider than the top.  He put the pliers flush with the lock, facing down, coaxed it out a fraction with the screwdriver and popped it right out.

It felt like a big achievement on a hot summer afternoon.

Should I be blogging about small things like that when I have a whole trip to report on?  I am, after all, all about writing about nothing....

On with the show:

Thursday, June 19-Friday, June 20

From our home base in Hillerød we went to Frederiksborg Castle (on Thursday) and Kronborg Castle (on Friday).  They were just stunning.  Over and over we read about Christian IV building this or that.  It was a pattern everywhere we went in Denmark.  He was quite a guy.  He reigned for 60 years and had over 20 children--mostly illegitimate.  

But didn't you see the sign?

I can't stress enough how amazing Adam was at figuring stuff out intuitively and also doing his homework.  He had apps downloaded and so many things figured out.

There were a few chinks in the armor.  One of them was parking at our hotel in Hillerød.  Adam knew that he needed to move it in the morning, but thought it was OK where it was for the night.

It wasn't.

He got a hefty parking ticket.  He talked it over with the person at the reception desk to make sure he was now fully grasping the parking.  She asked, "Didn't you see the sign?"

He assured her that he had indeed seen the sign, but seeing it and being able to read it were two different matters.

The food was so good

This was some version of my hotel breakfast almost every day we were in Scandinavia.  

They didn't call the pastries danishes, which I think was a missed opportunity.  They should claim their glory!

Also, we discovered a store in Denmark, Coop 365Discount.  The same grocery store was in Sweden, but just called Coop there.  It was our Maverik.  We stopped there seven times all told (brand loyalty!).  We would get the most amazing bread and really good cheese and ham and fresh fruit and vegetables.  I could eat like that every day.

Frederiksborg Castle

Our hotel was just down the street from the castle.  It didn't disappoint.

The gospel art kit

In the king's oratory in the back of the chapel at Frederiksborg Castle, I was stunned to see very familiar paintings.  They were neither behind glass nor velvet ropes, just there on the walls.  At one point Frederiksborg Castle had burned and our buddy Christian IV had it rebuilt.  Carl Bloch repainted these pictures after the originals that were destroyed.  People would walk by and just give them a cursory glance and Adam and I were just floored and stayed a while. 

We even got a shout out!

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world

We were eating our lunch of bread and cheese on the bridge outside Frederiksborg Castle and heard someone say, "Adam and Thelma?!?!"

It was our dear friends Howie and Heidi Barker from Washington!

Howie had been our bishop and Emma's doctor when she broke her arm.  (He was the one who made a frail looking elderly woman get up off a bed so I could lie down when Emma's cast was being cut off and her arm was bent weird and I almost fainted.  You really want me in a crisis!)

Heidi and I were in the same book club and writing group.   Their son Max was Braeden's good friend and their daughter Gretchen was Emma's.  It was marvelous to see them.

They were doing a tandem bike tour through ten countries bordering the Baltic (like you do?).

I'm still so amazed (and grateful) we got to see them.

No one can show displeasure like a Dane

There were room after room of royal portraits in Frederiksborg Castle.  What is amazing to me is that these portraits were presumably approved.  The portrait maker said, "Here you go." 

And the recipient said, "Yes, thank you.  That looks just like me."

I told Adam to give me a look of displeasure to fill out my collage of unhappy Danes.

I thought this lady looked like Adam's Grandma Kate:

Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to be royal

I've watched enough period dramas to know that it wasn't always peaches and cream to be royal.  They had a rough time (just ask one of Henry VIII's wives)!  We walked the extensive grounds and gardens at Frederiksborg Castle and I considered maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

Deep delight

We took a tiny boat ferry across to the other side of a little lake.  There were two charming older men running the ferry.  We were grateful that like almost everyone, they spoke English.  The cadence of their Danish accents coupled with their jovial spirits and the sunshine-y beautiful day was delightful.  There was a breeze and the sun sparkled on the water.  We loved it!

Adam was paying for our passage with his phone--everywhere, even a tiny little boat on a small lake--took Apple Pay!  It wasn't working so the other boat operator took over.  He waggled his fingers and said, "Magic Fingers."  Then he victoriously said, "Success!"  

The Danes got it out of their system

They were into ornamental decorations and now they...aren't. On the left are pictures from Frederiksborg Castle and on the right are pictures from our hotel room.

Gilleleje

At the recommendation of the desk clerk at the hotel, we drove to Gilleleje on Thursday evening.  It was a  little town on the coast.  I immediately started looking for pretty rocks and Adam immediately started wishing he could get in the water.  I was wearing a jacket and it was in no way warm enough to get in the North Sea.  Adam didn't have his swimsuit, or I think he would have been sorely tempted.  There was another man who walked out on the dock in a swimsuit and dipped one time into the water and then left.  It was impressive.  

I found some pretty rocks (and as a bonus, smooth sea glass).

We had a seafood dinner and split an ice cream cone.  Some days are just perfect. 

Kronborg Castle

Kronborg Castle is up the road in Helsingør.  

The churches inside the castles were my favorite parts

No thank you

Frederiksborg Castle was set up kind of like a national history/art museum and Kronborg Castle was set up for how it would have been in the time of Frederik II (One of Christian IV's children).  In the king's bedchamber, this was the rug next to the bed.

I don't think I'd get out of bed!

At Kronborg Castle, there were casements.  I started to go with Adam and quickly realized it was a dungeon sort of cave under the castle.  Nope. No. Uh-uh. No. No. No.  I made a beeline out of there and happily sat out in the sunshine in the courtyard and Adam showed me pictures later.

This is Holger the Dane who sits under Kronborg Castle and will wake up and be ready to fight if Denmark is ever in real trouble. (I asked Adam why he didn't wake up during the five years Germany occupied Denmark during World War II.  He said maybe Holger knew they would be OK in the end.)

Kronborg Castle is Hamlet's castle so there were actors doing little Hamlet scenes.  When Adam was down in the creepy casements, an actor playing Hamlet suddenly appeared holding a skull and muttering to himself.

Farewell Denmark 

On family search, Karoline Lang (Adam's great grandma) wrote in her life story that after they joined the church and moved to Utah to join the Saints, the last view of Denmark she had was of Kronborg Castle, all lit up.  We learned on our visit there that it had been occupied by the army at the time.

This picture of Karoline and her children was in an American history book (that Adam found and purchased a few months ago) where they were used as an example of unskilled (and unwanted) immigrants.  Rude.

I still love the picture.

Karoline, Jens, Carl, Kate (Adam's grandma), Ellen and Frederick Holst (he was named after the missionary who taught the family)

We took a ferry to Sweden and I loved seeing Kronborg from the boat, just like Karoline had!