Scandahoovia, Here I Come!

Like many life-long Minnesotans, I’m at least one-eighth Norwegian. I don’t know exactly — I’m between one-eighth and one-fourth. I had one great-great grandfather named, Thor Thorson. Sounds pretty Norwegian to me. He changed it to Thor Michaelson when he came to the States.

Growing up, many holidays were spent in Gaylord, a small farming town in south central Minnesota. My grandmother, Florence, was the Norwegian (she married a Welsh-American), and she served the Norwegian-Minnesotan staples: lefse (that’s flat potato bread, often served with butter and sugar), egg coffee (made with the whole egg, shell and all), and the coup de grâce, lutefisk (cod, soaked in lye, then boiled until gelatinous). Supposedly, she made a nasty entry in her diary about me once since, when I was about 10, I complained about the smell in the house while the lutefisk was cooking.

Thus, the Norwegian heritage played strongly in my upbringing; in fact, more than the German, Welsh, or English did. So, it is with great anticipation that I sit in the MSP Airport, about to take off for my first trip to Scandinavia. I’ll land in Copenhagen tomorrow morning and spend some time with my host, Thomas Willer, and his church-planting team. Then I’ll lead seminars Monday-Thursday. On Friday I’ll speak for Soren Ostergaard in Oslo, and have a free day in the Norwegian capital on Saturday before flying home next Sunday.

So, needless to say, I’m excited. It’ll be great to see the land of the Thorsons, to meet some emergent folks there, and to smell the lutefisk again.

Of course, if you’re in Copenhagen or Oslo, look me up and we’ll grab a cup of egg coffee.