Lost and Found in Gnosjö

The city of Gnosjö is no metropolis. Five thousand people live here and the city center consists of a train station, a bakery, and a few churches. And somehow, I got lost. Very lost.

Picturesque train station depot

The hostel in town is situated a little outside of the city center. Almost everything in Sweden is walkable.  You can go to Stockholm and walk almost anywhere. Gothenburg is the same way. Bike and walking paths are plentiful and easily accessible. I thought the same would hold true for little old Gnosjö. Google Streetview showed a path to the hostel and it would take about twenty minutes of walking. I arrived in town just before 5 pm and the church meeting did not begin until 7 pm. Easy.

Promo poster for the event

I started walking in the right direction. Just to make sure I was going the right way, I asked a woman who was jogging by. She had earphones on but stopped to talk to me anyway. She explained the path up to the hostel, which sounded mighty complicated. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because I found myself on a roadway. It wasn't a highway by American standards. No six lane monstrosity, so I pushed forward keeping near the side of the curb. This was a bad idea.

I soon realized I would have to cross a busier bridge with traffic to get to the hostel. I knew it wasn't going to work, so I stopped at the side of the road, pulled out my computer, and started looking for another route. A woman driving an SUV stopped, rolled down her window and asked if I needed help. Did I? Yes! She offered to drive me to the hostel just over the bridge. She opened the lift gate and helped me hoist my bag into the trunk. I got in the passenger's seat and in a few minutes, we were at the hostel. I thanked her profusely but did not think to ask her name. Would you have picked up a strange woman walking along the highway with all her bags in tow? I'm not sure I would have. But she did.

I had a booking at the hostel and told them I would be arriving a bit late. The" bit late" ended up being even later, so when I got to the building, no one was there. Not a soul working there. I called the main phone line with no answer. I called a second number posted on the door. "We're sorry, the person with this number is on vacation until March 12", said the recorded voice on the other line.

I tried another strategy, so I walked around the building and spotted a few people inside. A little girl saw me standing out in the cold and opened the door for me. I thanked her and walked into the kitchen where families were cooking their evening meals. It smelled delicious. They told me no one worked there at night. I called a third number posted inside and still no answer. Unsure how to get back into town, I called the number to the local taxi company. The man on the other end informed me, "We don't have any Taxis in service tonight. I'm sorry". It was 6:20 pm.

I almost started to cry. The closest hotel was 45 minutes away and there were no taxis to be found. The concert was supposed to start in 30 minutes. And I had no idea how to get back. I was lost and without a home. What was I going to do? I had no answer. I took a deep breath, sighed, and sent up one of those desperate two second prayers. "Oh Lord, what am I going to do?" I started walking along a pedestrian path not knowing where I would end up. After about 10 minutes I saw familiar buildings I had passed on my way up. I was heading toward the center of town.

Twenty minutes before 7 pm and the church lights appeared in the distance. I was out of breath, sweaty, and smelly, but up the steps and into the church I went. Almost. As I opened the door and started walking in, my backpack got caught in between the door and the frame. I was in mid-stride when the abrupt change in momentum snapped me back. A wry smile crept across my face as I thought to myself, "Funny. Very funny." Almost two hours later and nearly everything had gone wrong. Now, my backpack jams in the doorway just before I step inside. The moment capped off an absurd amount of mishaps I encountered over the last two hours.

I asked a few of the gentlemen standing in the hallway if it was OK to place my luggage near the coat racks. They said it was no problem and welcomed me in.

I was supposed to get a shower at the hostel and that didn't happen. I cleaned up in the bathroom to feel normal again after my sweaty ordeal. Yes, you can sweat when it's freezing, I learned.

I took a seat in the back pew and caught my breath. About five minutes before the concert, I was in better shape physically. Mentally, I was still working out where I could go after the concert. Maybe there was a bus I could take in the direction of Växjö? Probably too late for that. Would I spend the next several hours sitting on a bench waiting for a bus in the early morning? I've done so in the past. Never over six or seven hours and never in the cold.

Five minutes before 7 pm, a familiar face walked out of the crowd. Jenny Berggren walked up and said, "Hi Sara! It's so nice to see you again! I'm so glad you made it here". She apologized for not having the chance to meet Dimitri and me yesterday at the club concert. She said she looked for us, but was unable to locate us in the crowd. (She wouldn't have found us anyway because we were in the main hallway talking to the club manager when she was looking in the club). She said she felt bad about leaving without seeing us, but was she glad I was able to make it to the event. I mentioned my crazy mishap at the hostel and almost not making it to the event because of it. It was nearing 7 pm, so she had to get ready for the start of the event. Before she left, she abruptly said, "Do you have a place to stay?" I sheepishly admitted I did not. She said, "Let me see what I can do. Wait here."

A minute later, she came back with Sara, one of the youth leaders at the church. Sara told me I could stay with her and her family if I wanted to do so, even though she didn't know anything about me. I nearly fainted from relief. I had a place to stay! Sara told me to sit tight and we would talk after the concert was over.

The event itself was put on by the youth in the congregation. They were responsible for leading the event and  a group called "Joy Noise" opened and closed the event. Jenny would be the guest speaker for the middle part of the evening. There were about 200 people in attendance, more or less, which is about 5% of the total population. So much for that Melodifestivalen effect on Saturdays. Sara told me the effect was more pronounced several years ago, but today it is not as noticeable. Still, she says the church tries not to schedule any big events during the final program in Stockholm. The Mello effect is still alive in that sense. It was not evident during the Second Chance event.

The evening's program started with a Bible reading and prayer. Singers from the youth worship choir and "Joy Noise" performed a few pop worship songs, which were translated into Swedish from their English originals. Afterwards, Jenny spoke about her life from the time she was a little girl up to today. She started by showing a promotional video for her solo work. She spent the next hour speaking about her life experiences, her dark days, and how God has brought her through everything. She mentioned a few experiences with Ace of Base and sang a few verses from various songs. The crowd also heard a song called "Help Me Jesus" she recorded for a hymn CD and her classic solo song, "Give Me the Faith". Afterwards, the youth band led the crowd in worship with a few more popular Christian songs. The meeting closed out with prayer and an invitation to a taco dinner. Yum!

A table in the hall with copies of Jenny's book and solo album

Sara met me after the service was over. She let me know I could take my pick of places to stay. I could stay with her that night or I could stay in the church if I wanted. I thanked her and said I would be happy to stay in the church. She just had a baby not too long ago and she has a full house, yet she was willing to let me stay on her couch without hesitation. I don't know if I could have done that either. With that, I had a home. I would be "Church Surfing" for the night!

I didn't feel too hungry for food at that particular moment. However, when someone offers you Swedish food, you shouldn't refuse, so I took Jenny up on her offer to eat. I had no idea what goes on a Swedish taco. Tacos weren't very popular when I was in Sweden several years ago. Sure, you say, tacos are straightforward - except you have to remember Swedes puts ketchup on spaghetti and mashed potatoes on hot dogs. Anything is possible. With that in mind, I said, "You go first. I'll watch you and see how to make one."

Tbe popular taco line after the presentation and book/album signing

Watching others is how I learned to eat most Swedish food. You should have seen me the first time someone put a Swedish cheese slicer in my hand. I didn't know whether I was supposed to slice cheese or flip a hamburger. This is why I let the Swedes be my guide. It turns out Swedish tacos are quite similar to the American version. Same ingredients for the most part. I don't know anyone in the US who puts pineapples on their tacos though. I should have tried it on my taco. Instead, I kept it conservative.

The candy table - a prelude to the taco table. The gentlemen serving tacos and Jenny joked that this is what Swedes put on their tacos. I wouldn't be surprised.

Jenny and I sat down after getting our dinner. We discussed different topics, including her experiences with Melodifestivalen this year and helping Terese Fredenwall during her journey. I'll leave those specifics for another post.

After our chat, Jenny got ready to drive back home and I checked out my new digs in the church. Sara showed me my "Church Surfing" room and another woman grabbed a pillow and comforter from her home! Sara showed me where everything was, including the showers, and said goodnight. She let me know the church service was 10 am the next day, so I booked my ticket to Växjö for 1 pm so I could attend church services with the people who gave me something to eat and invited me in, even though I was a stranger.

Jenny bundled up and ready to drive back home after her presentation. You know why she's wearing that coat? Because it's still cold here - despite the spring warm up currently winding its way through the country.

The church service in the morning included songs I recognize, including Amazing Grace and To God Be the Glory by Fanny Crosby, except these were the Swedish translations, of course. The pastor spoke about the Armor of God and how it's important to have all the gear you need to fend off evil and fight the good fight, so to speak. He reminded the congregation to rely on God's strength and not your own. One of those items include shoes, which represents a person's willingness to go out into the world and serve God. The idea is something I mentioned to Jenny during our dinner conversation. I said I would like to go out and take concrete action like she does when she gives presentations and like Terese does when she visits prisons, but things like nervousness hold me back. You know what Jenny said? She relies on God and his strength. She's using every bit of God's Armor - and her shoes are well worn from all the traveling.

The entire congregation of Gnosjö have their shoes on too. They are willing to walk out of their comfort zone and straight into the unknown to serve God - to let a stranger stay and eat and sleep in their church home with no questions asked. People like Anna, Josephine, Matilda and Maria have comfy,broken in shoes. They welcomed me to their table during the after-church coffee meeting and let me into their world for a time. Thank you ladies!

The sanctuary of the church

As for me, I had to get lost in Gnosjö to find the proper shoes. I traipsed all over town in my own shoes relying on my own strength. It got me nowhere. The answer to my desperate "What am I going to do?" prayer was, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." God worked through these people to give me what I needed instead. He could do it because the people he used chose to don the proper footwear. Their shoes took them places others are unwilling to travel.

The entrance to Gnosjö missionskyrka

When I get home, I'm getting a specific pair of shoes and calling them my Gnosjö shoes. I will wear them whenever I feel nervous or unwilling to go into unfamiliar territory. Make they take me far and wide.

Gnosjö, you have my heart and my many thanks. God bless you for your willingness to go. Keep on walking.