My Grandmother was baptized in this church in 1876. It is still standing wrapped by the mountains and waterfalls of Telemark, Norway.
It was my privilege, to kneel at this alter and pray, “Fader var, du som er I himmelen! Helliget vorde ditt navn,” the words of the Lord’s Prayer that she taught me when I was first learning to speak.
She crossed the ocean in 1892 at the age of 16. Famine in this land of stunning beauty forced her father to make the agonizing decision of sending her to America. She worked for her uncle, in this strange land, walking behind a plow, for 2 years at 50 cents a week.
I crossed this same ocean, to find my Grandmother’s home, in the comfort of a relatively short flight. I have been able to visit her country on many occasions, always remembering the first time I stepped off the plane and found myself standing on Norwegian soil. Tears ran down my cheeks with the overwhelming sense that I was “home.”
I am grateful for my heritage and for the blessing of being able to trace my roots.
The story reminds me I have been rescued from poverty into affluence. I am the beneficiary of prayers prayed and a price paid.
As awesome as this story is to me, it pales in remembrance of “Papa God,” sending His Son to Calvary for me. Now I am a joint heir with Him Who intercedes for me.
Thank You, for my heritage.