And now the moment you've all been waiting for...the longest post in history.

Is it quality or quantity?  I can't remember.  I started by going through all three discs of pictures that my Mom and I took and moved them into a folder on my desktop.  There are no fewer than 100 pictures I want to include.  Does that make your heart palpitate a little like it does mine?
Are you ready?  Do I need to have you sign a waiver, promising me that you won't sue for medical expenses due to a sprained scrolling finger?
Can I just link to my Mom's post and call it good?
If Blogger spontaneously overloads and blacks everyone's accounts out, I apologize in advance.
In any case, I will try and remember to remind you to take a little break where you can stretch out your scrolling finger, or maybe get a little snack, take a nap or have a bathroom break.

(See how I did that?  I slipped in a picture or two just to keep you going...aren't you dying in anticipation? I know I am.)
As I said before, this trip was hands down, the most memorable trip of my life; my not so short, 33 year old life.
Besides the fact that it was the coolest trip ever, one will have to endure the fact that I am sharing twice as many pictures because there are meaningful ones, beautiful ones and the normal silly kind that get taken too.  That sounds like there should be three times as many but I am trying not to scare anyone off.
In addition to taking pictures of our food, churches and doors, I also discovered a knack for taking pictures of flags, signs (like my mother) and toadstools because for some reason the fungi in Sweden is so much more interesting (I am so sad that the red with white polka dot mushroom found in early fall eluded us...we looked and looked but to no avail.)
The thing the girls will remember most will no doubt, be the slugs, and hopefully time with Mo and Papa, and Papa's stories at night, and possibly a little of the family history...the fact that they sat in a desk that was in the same classroom as their great great grandfather is something alone to remember.

(Seriously, huge slugs every time we went for a walk.  The person walking in front was on "slug patrol" and was expected to yell out "slug!" whenever necessary.)

So, without further adieu (are you having commitment anxiety yet?...)

Part I (and the only section labeled "Part anything")

Travel. 
I simply must begin with the tedious details of how we got there. If I didn't, how would you know?

 We got on the metro.

 Abby was sick and lethargic with a fever and sore throat...and only a portion of her silly self.

 We chased a pigeon around the Newark airport.

 We flew over Sweden and got our first look...even though this is not really what the majority of it looked like.  Think, deep green forests and gorgeous countryside, rocky cliffs and moose.

And suddenly felt overwhelmingly happy and content.

FOOD

This is the part about food.  Very important.  I find myself wanting my Mom's mushroom gravy at every meal.

Bacon was also a very important part of the trip.

And vendor food? Forget hamburgers and fries! Sausage or meatballs with mashed potatoes!

 Enough said.  The only disclaimer is that we did not, indeed, eat moose sausages.

HOME

in every sense of the word.

Being with my parents is like home.  It's a good thing my husband was so convincingly wonderful when we met, because otherwise I might never have left home.

 The queen of all welcome baskets...aprons, trays, treats, Swedish CD's and adorable polka dotted tissues (my mother is solely responsible for my obsession with polka dots.)

 Indeed.

 My parents are in Sweden for three years (two down, one to go) on a church assignment working in the temple just outside of Stockholm.  They live in the temple president villa that is directly outside the temple gates.  They make this walk to and from almost every single day and I wanted to remember it always.  We were lucky enough to arrive a couple of days before the temple closed for their two week shutdown period and were able to join them in the temple on Saturday.  A very special experience and never to be forgotten.

 They have several fruit tree in their side yard.  My Dad planted several more as the "Gustav Emil Oscarson Memorial Fruit Orchard".  His Grandfather joined the church and emigrated from Sweden in the late 1800's.  In Utah he was a fruit farmer.  Hopefully these trees will grow and thrive and always be a part of the Oscarson family there in Sweden, just outside the temple gates.

 We had plum cobbler and an apple tart and several nights of piping hot homemade applesauce.  All made from fruit straight from the trees.

Delicious.

 My Dad has been telling us stories about Christine and Alushia Taylor ("two Mormon girls growing up in the sprawling city of Nauvoo, Illinois in the late 1840's...") since I was little.  My girls loved hearing them when we lived with  my parents during my pregnancy with Hazel and they were anxious to pick up where he left off.  His stories start with the same opening and theme song as they always have, the same one I remember from my own youth.  He likes to end each night with a cliff hanger, drives the kids nuts but they secretly love it.  Someday, we are all going to make him write them down.  They are priceless.

 Their fridge has both water and carbonated water.  You buy different syrups at the grocery store and make your very own "soft" (is that how you spell it?)

 This was taken after church.  My kids sure stink at making friends quickly.

One night the girls watched Princess Victoria's wedding from last summer.  Loved it.

TEMPLE

In the afternoon on the last day the temple was open when we were there, we went and waited outside for them to come out...a tradition that we used to do when Mo was working in the Houston temple when we lived there.  The girls and I would often go wait for her on Wednesday afternoons to come out.

We loved that tradition.

FAMILY HISTORY

Now don't let me lose you on this part for those of you "less enthusiastically inclined towards genealogy" type people.  I have a true nugget of wisdom at the end of this section and it will be worth your time, I promise.

 Clark has become increasingly involved in his own search for family history finds and my Dad is what you might call an "enthusiast" and expert.  Clark's Great Great Grandparents on his mother's side are from Sweden.  We were able to visit the town where his family comes from.

It was gorgeous.

This is an area called Vingaker.

 What is amazing about Sweden, besides the incredible countryside, is that it is all so old and extremely well preserved and maintained.  The old homesteads and farms are mainly still there, and people live in them.

This home behind Clark is one where his family lived along with other families that worked on a larger estate.

 And this house below was the home (or rather the site, as the older home had been replaced) of one of his great, great grandfathers.  It was amazing to stand beneath the trees that shaded them and bore fruit that they collected.  Just incredible.

 This stove was sitting to the side of that home up above, and sitting right in front of a grassy area with remains of a stone foundation from the original homestead.

 When Abby shared that it has always been her dream to touch a cattail, Mo immediately made us pull over.  Apparently, it had always been her dream too.

Dreams were coming true all over the place.

 This picture makes me slightly emotional because Clark and I are standing on the spot of another family home, and in the background you can see the church steeple where his great great grandparents were married in the 1800's.

*************

On a separate day (but oddly enough wearing the same dress) we were able to go through the town where my own Great Grandparents were from.  This is the schoolhouse where my Great Grandfather Gustav went to school as a young boy.  These families stayed in the same town for generations, sometimes sending children off as they got older and were able to find work elsewhere.  My Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother left when they joined the church and emigrated to Utah.

 This is an original desk from that time.  Could it have been the one he sat in?

 Clark was fascinated by the old tools on a shelf.  A very nice man from the local historical society had agreed to come this Sunday afternoon and let us in.  He spent time with us, showing us around and letting us explore.

 There were several pictures on one wall from different school groups throughout the years.

This is the parish church, called the Vardinge Chapel.  It is so gorgeous.  We had a picnic outside the wall and enjoyed the surroundings.  On one side of us was the church and on the other was the view of a beautiful lake.  Near that lake just a couple of miles down the road is where my Great Grandmother Lovisa lived with her family.

Four of my Great Great Grandparents were buried in that churchyard.  Two of their spots are marked, the other two have yet to be found.

This was taken in the schoolhouse where Lovisa and her siblings attended school on the Sjunda Estate.  Both Clark's and my ancestors were workers on larger estates. 

What is neat about the picture below is the photograph that Abby is holding.  It is a picture of the old school marm that taught at that school for over 30 years.  She is sitting in this very classroom, with the blackboard behind her.  The original blackboard still spans the front of the room and this map behind Abby, is the one hanging behind the teacher in the photograph.

Let me tell you a little story about my family.  A woman named Johanna (where my middle name comes from) heard the missionaries and joined the church.  Because of her, Gustav and her sisters Clara and Lovisa also joined the church.  Johanna and Gustav were married and emigrated to the United States but Johanna died not too long after.  Lovisa came to care for the children and ended up marrying Gustav.  Lovisa was my Grandfather's mother.  So even though we come through Lovisa and Gustav, our family truly loves Johanna as well because of her influence with the gospel.  Lovisa is Mia's middle name.  These two women, along with Gustav, made decisions that have influenced generations and GENERATIONS of people.  My life is what it is, because of the struggles that they faced to follow convictions and testimonies.  We are so fortunate to have written accounts from them about this time in their lives.  They struggled, life was not easy.  What exceptional individuals.

Here is that nugget that I promised would be worth it.  This entire trip was saturated with reminders that people are amazing, and they do amazing things and make decisions that would influence countless members of their posterity.  It made me more aware of the decisions I make in my life, for better or worse, and how they will influence the lives of generations to come.  That is some responsibility but one that I am grateful for.  And I am grateful for these people and the incredible individuals that make up both my own, and Clark's ancestry.  Our lives would not be as blessed as they are, without their fortitude.  What unbelievable stock we come from!!  And how grateful I am for them.

It feels almost inappropriate to switch back and forth from the more thought provoking experiences, but they were so mingled with other experiences, such as the fear my Mother has for this squirrel that sits in the schoolroom.  They have met before.  And she remembered him.

Mia ironing.  I had never seen this method before.

Our delicious picnic in front of the Vardinge Chapel.

The view from the other side, the lake is off to the right.

The original baptismal font in the Vardinge chapel.  Very likely the exact one that our ancestors were christened with.

OK.  Now go take a bathroom break, get a snack.  Stretch.  I will give you a break because believe it or not, I  have just scratched the surface.
Gotta pace myself, and feed my kids breakfast.