CHRISTMAS

Merry Christmas from Copenhagen.  Here is a run-down of our Christmas Season:

Holidaze. First of all, we spent many days and a good number of nights helping  put together Christmas for the missionaries.  Someone had the bright idea to do a picture slide show of all the missionaries when they were younger.  Every family was asked to send 3 or 4 pictures by October 30th, to be included.  Our Christmas Conference was scheduled for December 9th.  Plenty of time.  Well, these pictures trickled in until The. Last. Minute.  Besides the last minute rush, we found that all pictures do not open the same when sent from different computers and servers.  ARGHHHH.   And, many pictures tried to get lost in the deluge of e-mails we received each day.  Oh it was fun.  Elder Buxton stayed up  one whole night working on it and was happy to report that people do walk along the lake path right by our apartment.  The entire night.    Just as we suspected.  But, in the end, it was worth it to watch the missionaries so enjoy seeing each other as kids.

UPS  (unwrapped present storage)  Contrast the two pictures  of packages/mail.  The first picture is a normal month's worth of packages which show up here.   We cannot forward packages, so they all have to stay until monthly conferences.  The second picture is the December Christmas packages. Stacks.  Piles. Walls of packages.  Ready to topple at the smallest nudge.  The president's office, where we stored all these,  smelled suspiciously of chocolate mint.  What you can't see is the hundreds of cards and letters, tucked into boxes.  NOT exaggerating.  You figure 100 missionaries and every missionary got a minimum of 6 or 7 letters.  You do the math.  More fun:  we had to divide the heaps into zones, and we had to keep track of who didn't get a package so we could provide one.  Oh well, it was hard to be Scroogy when the missionaries were so tickled at zone conference with anything from home.

Celebration.  We scouted out a score of Christmas markets, spent a few nights at Tivoli and ended up with a Christmas Eve dinner at our apartment with the couples in Copenhagen.  It wasn't quite the same as having family around, but it was very nice.

Christmas Eve.  Meet the couples:  clockwise from my left.  The Brookes (he is a train nut and she is our Christmas Market tour guide);  the Ottleys (he's a physicist and a walking encyclopedia and she is the mother of nine); the Parkers (our neighbors in the building and retired managers of  Aspen Grove, the big church family camp ground near Provo).  Super people.

Tivoli, all decked out for Christmas.  The lights really are white, not yellow.  We actually ate sandwiches in this park.  In a sleigh.  Outside.  Could see our breath.  Hey, that is what you do here.

The Reason for the Season.  Between our various conferences and branch celebrations, we also found  time to get to Vor Frue Kirke (The Church of our Lady) to see the original Kristus and the statues of the twelve apostles.  Located on a narrow side street, this church is very Greek looking with Roman columns and lintels.   Huge, carved wooden doors stand open so you can walk directly into the small foyer then into  the cavernous chapel with a wide, tiled avenue running straight between the high-back pews to the dais with the Kristus,  glowing in a golden alcove. This alcove is flanked by marble columns and huge antique candelabras.  The lighting draws your eye directly to the statue.  This famous statue was carved by a Dane, Bertel Thorvaldsen, and has become a symbol of the Mormon Church because of the copy on Temple Square.  Pedestals along the sides of the chapel hold the statues of the 12 apostles, each separated by alcoves with fenced seating on two levels.  The 12  were also carved by Thorvaldsen when he was in Rome. (He brought them to Denmark and it has been a bit of a sore spot for the Italians.  Our church has commissioned replicas of the 12  statues to be made and displayed in the Rome Temple Visitors center as a gift to the Italians.)  This marvelous church holds regular services and is available for weddings and christenings.  Bells ring out over the rooftops celebrating every event.

It was good to end the week by focusing on the Savior and The Gift of His life and sacrifice for us. What a blessing it was to reflect on all we have as we chatted and skyped with our loved ones at home. Closing that distance between us just a little, brought great joy to our hearts, and made me realize how much Heavenly Father and the Savior desire us to do the same with them.  
 

CHRISTMAS AT THE PIG FARM

Christmas markets start popping up all over Denmark after Thanksgiving. These sprout up for several weeks in December, on the "walking street" in Copenhagen, in numerous small town squares and even inside castles and courtyards  Like this one in Copenhagen:

Sister Brookes, determined to find every. single. one.,  has been  dubbed  our "Christmas Market Tour Director."  We started out with the Barnholm Ferry (a winner), found the Hans Christian Anderson Market in Copenhagen (a bit over-rated), and tried the public square in Roskilde (a bust because of rain.)  Well, she outdid herself last weekend. She found one in a small town called Borups, and the picture on the internet lured her with an old manor house, plus wagons pulled by horses, and promises of a "unique" experience.  Elder Buxton's job was to translate the Danish website for the details such as transportation and time tables.  Right.

We (Buxtons, Ottleys and Brookes) arrive via train, and find the good citizens of Borup not sure where the market is,  but think it is perhaps about 3 km. out of town.   On a farm.   No problem; we'll take the bus.  Problem:  seems it doesn't come by very often.

Bus stop.  No bus. (Check out my winter boots.)  

Thankfully, a kind couple who were on the train offered to take some of us in their car.   Problem:  It is a tiny car.  Chivalry demands that the 3 women ride and the husbands wait for a bus or walk.  Good plan.   Sure enough,  about 3 km. along a windy asphalt road, we three are dropped off at a muddy farm track lined with Danish flags.  Cars are filing in, so we figure it's the entrance.   As we get within smelling distance, we find out two things real fast:   1. This is a PIG farm.  A big, pig farm.  2. People are arriving in cars because there are NO buses on the weekend!

A farm employee named Michael took pity on us and drove his rusted, red farm truck back down the road to find the stragglers.   Bless the man.  With a lot of apprehension, we got in line with the cars,  paid the entrance fee, and followed the muddy road around a turn.  To our delight,  a beautiful, old estate unfolded before us at the end of a pine tree lined path.

The estate is called Svenstrup Gods and it is indeed a working farm.  Thousands of hectares of farm and forest.  They raise 10,000  pigs and pheasants a year.  The pheasants are let loose in the forests for hunters.  Thankfully, the pigs are in sheds way over by the entrance.   The house inhabited  by "The Baron" and "The Baroness."  She ladled stew inside the market.

Families strolled up and down the road and bunched around the out buildings and the estate mansion (dating back to 1700) .  Big-hoofed horses, breath puffing out in the cold, pulled wagons full of rosy cheeked riders in a wide arch around woods full of  huge, rough-bark, crooked-limbed trees, hiding an old thatched-roof,  mushroom-shaped hut. Green fields stretched in all directions.   SUNNY. Pastoral.  Perfect

Riding in the horse cart with  the Brookes and circling the estate .  Every time I tried to take a picture of the hut, we jiggled.  You get the idea.

Meet Michael, our rescuer (top picture) with Elder Buxton.  Michael supervises all the buildings and was a fountain of information about the estate. 

The Christmas Market, located in the old horse stables was a delight:  cobble-stone floors with bits of straw still underfoot and  horse stalls lining the walls; each framed with a fancy, carved, wooden arch and ceramic tiles on the back wall.  Lucky horses. Each stall was strung with tiny, twinkling lights, draped with greenery,  and stuffed with home-made goodies from vintage clay ornaments (made by Daria and Diana, Romanian sisters) to the cutest stuffed moose and mice, woolen clothing and  intricate folded paper ornaments.  And the food: wine (of course), home-made hot mustard,  hard tack candy and black licorice to buy, and stew and æbleskiver for lunch. We browsed for hours.

The arches separate each stall.  Can you see the tile on the walls?  Pampered, just pampered.  I hear the Queen's stables are marble.

Just a tiny glimpse of all the booths, overflowing into several other outbuildings.  One booth, sandwiched between a tangle of glass ornaments and the dessert pancakes caught our attention.  Can you pick the picture that is SO OUT OF PLACE HERE?  Yes you are seeing right.  TUPPERWARE.  In Denmark.  In a horse barn Christmas market.  Criminal.

We ate too much and spent too much.  Reluctantly, we turned to leave and Michael, who had generously given us his phone number, offered to shuttle us back.  We decided to walk because it was such nice weather.  We voted it the best Christmas Market yet, and promised ourselves to return next year.  Sister Brookes really scored on this one.

The view from the road as we are leaving.  

Side Note:  This was so interesting to me because in my Danish Census Research I have found rural records with huge lists of multiple families and employees listed as workers on the farm.   I'm guessing much as this one was a hundred years ago.  I can't image how harsh the Utah deserts much have seemed to these faithful, stalwart Saints.  I am so thankful for our Danish ancestors who had the courage and strength and testimony to leave this beautiful place for the gospel.

SMOKED EEL AND GOOGLY EYES

The health system here is totally free.  Check-ups, free.  Hospital, free.  Ambulance, free.  Everyone new to Denmark is assigned a general doctor  once you get your VISA and ID number.   There are specialists, generally private doctors who you can see if your general doctor recommends you.  The church kind of side-steps all this referral part,  so I was able to travel to see a rheumatologist  for some routine stuff I do every 4 months.  The reason I am writing this is I wanted to show you the view from the clinic's waiting room window.  WOW

Fredericksberg Slot (slot means castle.)

Unbelievable.  This is The Most Famous Castle in all of Denmark.  Fredericksberg Slot.  A national treasure.  This window  literally frames the castle, and drew me like a magnet.  How could the medical staff concentrate with all that just across the street?  Googly Eyes. Think me, with cartoon googly eyes. I left my nose prints on the glass.

Anyway, the doctor met me in the waiting room and escorted me toward  her office just to the left of The View.  I kept stretching my neck to see through the window as long as possible and almost tripped on her heels.  Once she mustered me in, she introduced herself and just chatted away asking questions and taking notes by hand.  By hand.   Interesting appointment.  No rush.   Very simple.  Very casual.  I liked it.  She can't do much until I get my ID number (need my VISA to show up), but she made me an appointment here in Copenhagen  for routine tests.  They will need to draw blood. Which made me pause, since my flu shot a few weeks ago was in my NECK.  YES.  They pinch the fatty skin at the base of your neck and shoulder and slide that needle right it. Easy Peasy.  It made me flinch.   I wonder how they draw blood for testing?  Not going to think about it..............

So, during the last crazy week, we had a smoked eel show up at the office.  Could smell it downstairs and all the way up to the second floor. And it was wrapped.   It was escorted by the parents of a Danish missionary who was about to arrive from the MTC in Provo,  before being shipped to Iceland.  Mom and Dad decided to surprise him with his favorite food.  Since they live just a few hours away,  and since they couldn't ship it to Iceland (illegal), it was no problem to drop  it off here for him to share with his MTC buddies and all of us.  Apparently the Provo cafeteria had worn a bit thin for our little Dane, and he was hankering for some home cookin'.   (He told me later he mostly ate cereal at the MTC.)  Poor child.

This eel was a yard long, stiff as a board and looked like shoe leather.  Head and tail attached.  The fins on the head stick out like long, thin, curled ears.  The missionary's  father catches these in the ocean in a net, then hangs about 12 at a time in a smoker.

Elder Johansen, eel chef.  Peel the saran wrap off  this little bugger (the eel, not the elder)  and you could taste it through your nose.

When the Elder got here, I escorted him to the kitchen to see his surprise.  He was like a kid with candy on Christmas.  Wide-eyed and thrilled.  He picked up the eel and held  it to his nose, sniffed it from one end to the other,  and let out a big sigh.  I asked him if he knew what to do with it and he said, "Absolutely.  Hand me a knife."  He sliced it into 4 inch sections, peeled back the skin and gouged out the bones with his thumbs. (the smoking pulverizes most of them.)  Then, he cut the pieces in half lengthwise and placed them reverently on buttered Danish bread.  Pepper sprinkled on top.  Just pepper, mind  you, not salt.  How did it taste?  Oily.  Fishy.  Smoky.  Texture kind of like cold, cooked cereal.  The Danes love this stuff.  It costs as much as caviar by the pound.  A delicacy which they generally eat layered on the bread with scrambled eggs. We had to make do without the eggs.  Sadly.  I guess it is an acquired taste.  His MTC buddies were up for the challenge and ate a piece.  By the way, one of those new missionaries is a 200+ pound Hispanic from Texas.  Going to Iceland.  Had people praying with him on the plane.  Awesome.

We love these new missionaries.  What a variety of personalities.  I download their pictures and application as soon as they are assigned, even before they get their call, sometimes. Also send them a welcome letter and track them through the MTC.  So, I feel like I know them before they get here. Not been disappointed yet.

THANKSGIVING THOUGHTS

We spent a wonderful Thanksgiving at zone conference, feeding the missionaries a home-cooked turkey dinner and watching their talent show.  Now, you have to understand that pulling off a real Thanksgiving feast in Denmark is quite a juggling act.  First of all, turkeys are hard to come by, bread stuffing ingredients are non-existent, and they don't do Jello in Denmark.  Who doesn't do Jello?  Our turkeys were only about 10 pounds and cost $45 each.  E X P E N S I V E.  We had to do the pioneer thing and make our dried bread cubes  (we are so spoiled in America),  and we had to beg Jello off anyone who had received a care package during the last year.  Shhh......we have Jello Hoarders here. Secondly, each apartment has an itty-bitty oven and a miniscule freezer/fridge. Good thing the turkeys were small and some of us had a freezer big enough if everything else was removed.  Turkeys were cooked  in shifts.  The dressing rotated into the oven after the turkeys came out to be carved and put in crock pots to stay warm.  And, have you ever tried to maneuver a cake pan full of  red jello into a fridge with no wiggle room?  Tricky. Sticky.

Of course, the missionaries ate every bite of food and were geared up for the "Turkey Bowl."

I told them to look "tough."  By the way, the word on the pink t-shirt, "kærlighed" means "love."  Appropriate. 

We are thankful to be here in Denmark with such kind, warm-hearted Danes.  They are beautiful, warm and generous people.  We love our branch and all the friends we have made already.  We are grateful for the missionary couples we serve with and their kindness to us.  We love the young missionaries here and their willingness to work and work and work with few baptisms.  Great leaders. Great testimonies.  Great spiritual strength.  The church is in good hands.
We are grateful for our good friends at home and for their support.  We pray for them and for our ward family and our temple family.
We are grateful for our family and for their encouragement and love.   We love them.  We love their uniqueness.  We love their strength and goodness.  We love how they have supported one another this year through thick and thin.  We admire them as parents and wives and husbands.  Most of all, we love them for giving us 26 beautiful grandchildren who are so much fun.  Each grandchild is absolutely special to us.  From the married , engaged and missionary ones,  to the braces-on-the- teeth girls,  right down to the two-year old tantrum throwers.  Wish we could hug them all.
We love the gospel and the strength we feel from living the best we can.  We are grateful for the priesthood in our lives and the temple blessings.  We love our Savior and have felt His peace and comfort and know that he is watching out for us and our family.
Even though we are away from home this Thanksgiving season, we have truly felt thankfulness for all we have and for the opportunity to serve here. 

SNOW AND STUFFED SQUIRRELS

We have snow!  Saturday started as your normal, blustery, chilly day with great promise.  When I went for a walk at 7:30,  the clouds were tinged with pink and yellow from the sun struggling to rise above the horizon.  Deceptive.  One forgets how fast the weather can change in Denmark.

Morning sunrise across the lakes

Things went downhill from there.  We went furniture shopping with another couple who, like us, only has Saturdays to run errands.  We trundled from store to store, and the weather got worse and worse.  Of course, the last place we stopped had a little Christmas shop set up outside in a tent.  We were just dumb enough to go inside to look for a small Christmas tree.  Outside, the wind was just waiting to belt us with sleet as we left.  It captured our very breath, swirled it up and away and then went after any loose hair and clothing.  Struggling to open the car doors in the wind, we finally wrestled our way in, and collapsed in a heap of dripping coats and boots, and headed home.  By evening,  and after all the teasing, the weather finally got down to business and snowed in earnest.   

We ventured out into the twirling whiteness and watched fat, wet flakes hit our coats and drop to our feet in instant slush.  The lighted dome on the beautiful old theater down at the corner lit the tornado of flakes careening around the spires and rooftops.  Plunging down into darkness, the flakes disappeared until they swarmed past the street lights in a giddy effort to stay afloat as long as possible.  By the time we got home, we were wet halfway to our knees.  It was worth it.  A side note:  I bought a down coat made for the cold of Russia.  I know.  Bring it on, Denmark.  Let's see what you got.

Last Saturday we went to a Loppemarked at a place called The Forum.  It is an unbelievably huge flea market.  I've heard that if you decide to rent a booth space, you call all your family and friends and they bring you all their stuff to sell.  I believe it.  Every possible thing you can imagine lying around in your house, antique or not, that you don't want, is up for grabs here.

 Hundreds of booths on the ground floor and more all around the balcony.  I mean.  You could spend hours and hours.  Just wanted to show you a few of our favorite finds

Trolls and stuffed critters.  Both very big here.  ???

Yes, you see right.  A Red Pig Candle-holder.   I was assured that it is truly a Swedish antique.

This sign originally hung at a railroad station.  Printed on both sides and made to hang with chains.

Did we buy something?  Well, yes we did.  The owner swore this Copenhagen sign is 100 years old and I told him that if I find it's mass-produced and shows up everywhere, I would come find him.

Amager Gren - Primary of 5

On a more spiritual note:
Today we had our primary program.  This is our primary.  What do you think, Ruth?   And they did the whole program by themselves.  Lots of opportunities to talk and sing. It was beautiful and brought tears to the eyes. The testimonies of these little ones comes from, and goes straight to the heart.  The theme was "I Know That My Savior Loves Me."  How could he not?

STAV CONFERENCE AND LIVER PATE'

This has been a different kind of week.  We started off last Sunday with Stake Conference.  Our stake is about 20 minutes from here and covers half of Denmark.  Yes.  We are a two-stake country.  Inside, I was surprised to see the seating going clear to the stage in the cultural hall and lots of families of all ages.  Kids bouncing up and down and clusters of  members catching up with friends they seldom see. Watching everyone stream in on Sunday was just like a typical conference in Utah except many come by bus and train here.  It's all in Danish so headphones are passed out to us foreigners and someone translates live.  It's a little noisy in the cultural hall, the sound isn't good and the video transmission from the pulpit  is grainy.  Does this sound familiar to anyone?

One young man told a story of his return to church.  He had been active and served a mission then had drifted away to the point where he wondered how he had ever believed. But,  life has a way of punching you in the ribs sometimes and  he was faced with some sort of crisis.  He was upset enough to try prayer. He prayed and asked God, "Do you remember me?"  After his prayer, he reached for his Book of Mormon which he hadn't touched in years and was impressed to read a little. A great feeling of peace, comfort and healing came over him as he read.  Astonished, he expected the feeling to fade away, but instead, it lasted for weeks and caused him to return to activity with the blessing of his wife who is not a member.  What a great lesson!  When we don't invite or even shut the Lord out of our lives, he lets us struggle on our own.  But the minute we ask,  he responds to lift and help us with our burdens.  Why are we so stubborn to not turn to him and let him "take our burdens and make them light?"  He can't be our Savior unless we let him.  I've thought about it all week and have passed a few things I have been struggling with on my own over to Him and boy does it feel good!!!!  What a blessing.

 I have been trying for weeks to track down members who speak Urdu and Arabic for the president. We have investigators who want to ask questions to someone who speaks their language.  I've talked to the Area Translation department in Frankfurt, the Berlin Germany Mission, folks in Salt Lake City (many folks in Salt Lake City) the MTC, and e-mailed a bunch more.  Nada.  And, when the mission phone is not working (down for 3 days),  and I can only talk to Utah from about 4 pm to 5 pm our time (how dare they sleep when I need them)  ARGGHHH.    Frustrating.  So, we're sitting at dinner at a member's house today with six Elders and I mention to the AP's that I am searching for these unusual language speakers who are members.  Elder Reimschussel casually says, "Oh.  I know a couple of Arabic speaking members here in Denmark."  IN OUR MISSION.  WHAT? Then Elder Mogensen pipes up,  "Yeah.  And there is a couple in Søderberg who speak Urdu.  Baptized last year. IN OUR MISSION.  WHAT?  Even know their names.  No words.  I simply have no words.

Then, I spent Friday on the phone with the area Lawyer in Frankfurt trying to figure out 3 different immigration paperwork mix-ups so we can keep some missionaries in Denmark who are about to be given their LEAVE NOW papers.  Crazy.  Two couples and one sister.  I have scanned and e-mailed a boatload of documents to Germany.  By the way, the Area lawyer is from Preston and Elder Buxton has known him for years.  He works with 31 countries on immigration. A job I would not want. Small world.

Here are some pictures from our dinner today.

Elder Reimschussel and Elder Zeigler (Swiss) multi-tasking.  Peeling eggs and chatting with our hostess, Sister Clawsen.  The members are so great here to feed the starving Elders and couples.  Then when you leave, they send bags of food with you  for the week.

L to R:  Brother Clawson, Elder Reimschussel, Elder Mogensen, Elder Fairbanks, Elder Bishopp, Elder Zeigler, Elder Buxton, Elder Porter and Sister Clawsen.  Typical Danish meal with 8 kinds of meat and fish (very thinly sliced), about the same number  of mustard and mayo-type sauces to put on top, beets, eggs and cheese, cucumbers and red peppers.  You pile all this on bread and eat with a fork.  Oh yes, and frikadeller.  If you come visit, you will have frikadeller.  (Danish meatballs).  Anyone ever had head-cheese or liver pate'?  

Marble Collection

I swear every Dane has a collection of something.  As if they have room for One More Thing.  Brother Clawsen collects marbles.  I know you're thinking, "Marbles can't take up that much space."  Well, they can if you have a hundred big jars of them.  Strung out in a double row along the window and separated by color, they shine like captured jewels in the light.  If it were sunny, you'd need shades.  Jars also line a bedroom ledge and others are tucked in among Royal Copenhagen figurines and family photos on every surface in the living room.  

One final note.  We are so saddened by the terrorist attacks in Paris.  We are glad the missionaries are safe there and pray for those families who have lost loved ones in this senseless tragedy.   We were instructed here to stay away from large crowd events and to not wear our name tags while traveling for the week-end.  We are all praying for the hatred and strife to be tempered in the world.  Such turmoil.  Such a need for the gospel.

FALL IN COPENHAGEN

Fall has found its way to Copenhagen.  It sneaked in so slowly that it caught us unawares.  The days are subtley different now; shorter, colder and darker.   Often, a misty fog comes in the night on cat paws and floats around the spires and steeples so we can hardly see across the lakes.  Church bells are muffled and a fine mist saturates the air, frizzing my hair and fogging my glasses.  The morning can brighten and be sunny, or stay damp, misty or even drizzly all day. Trees are turning all shades of gold and rust and big, leathery leaves swirl in the wind, packing the walkways and stacking up against the hedges.

Fall trees along the lake.

This looks like paint, but is actually soft, brilliant green moss.

Ivy-twined buildings dressed in maroon, scarlet and green

Bikers still brave the wind and riders are buttoned, gloved and scarfed.  The scarves are a sight: soft, fuzzy, huge, boa-like wraps made for chin tucking in the stiff breezes that barrel down the canyon-like streets.  Men wear a smaller version.

This rider is wearing a small scarf.

Babies are swaddled and bundled in buggies (big London nanny-type buggies) or zipped into these tent-like contraptions which are actually the front of the bike.  They swivel to maneuver easily.  Genius.

And, you'd think all the groceries and flower shops would pull the flowers inside for warmth.  Not so. Flowers still crowd in bunches outside every grocery like a summer party.  I shiver for them, but love seeing them. I bought a huge bunch of Gerber Daisies last week.  I felt so Danish.  These Danes resist winter and use every excuse to linger outdoors.  Blankets draped on cafe chairs help extend outdoor dining well into the fall, and some eateries have gas jets hissing warmth as well. Any bit of sunlight draws a street crowd, which disappears with the sun.  Everyone tells me this fall has been very mild, but they are expecting a harsh winter.

This out-door seating is roomy, but some of these outside areas are crowded in front of cafes on tiny, little sidewalks.  It doesn't seem to bother them at all that people edging by are brushing their shoulders and bumping their elbows as they eat.