I had to endure what no Christian should have to put up with by fellow Christians, or pastors serving the church!
They missed the boat with someone who's grandfather served as a pastor for 52 years, and our cousin, Rev. J.A. Eklund, was the Bishop of the Lutheran Church of Sweden. We are supposed to be related to Martin Luther too on my German side. Boy, did they miss the boat! I am afraid they would have rejected Jesus if he had walked into their midst. If Luther were alive, he would have told them a few choice words. My Dad would have told them off on the spot, and called them "protoplasm" as he referred to people who were dead and worthless in charge.
They would not be a good fit for me either, I decided, and I am free to go to a seminary on my own without a gatekeeper.
If my late Mother was there, she would have told them (in true pastor's kid rebellion) "OH GO PISS UP A ROPE!"
I left the Lutheran camp where it took place and I hope they all saw my middle finger extended in the rear view mirror!
The second part of my trip turned into a sentimental journey.
|Grandma Eklund at Covenant Point 1940|
|Same spot today 2012|
|Rev. Axel G. & Frida Eklund|
|Mom and Grandma Frida in parsonage kitchen 1941|
|Same kitchen 2012|
|Grandson in same spot 2012|
|Grandpa Eklund in front of his church 1940|
|Downtown Ironwood where Mom plied the streets growing up|