A Dash of Gudrun

Fall 2010

I have a lot of wild and holy aunties in my life. One of them is a tall and generous woman named Gudrun. She sprinkles her stories with Norwegian phrases that warm your soul. She snaps her fingers when she forgets the next word. This rhythm tricks you into believing you understand her Norsk and can guess what she’s about to say. 

Gudrun gets tipsy at family weddings and teaches old people the electric slide, busting so many joyful moves that she’ll need a Cortizone shot in her knee. After her hysterectomy, she gave her reproductive organs a reverent ceremony and burial, rejoicing for the children they co-created. She lives out loud, naming things that are lovely or hard and - often - both.

Gudrun lives on Lake Superior. Her backyard unfolds onto a sandy beach that stretches for ages. You can find her beyond the dunes, walking with her dog and her handsome husband. She's the one with wind whipped hair and arms filled with trash she picks up along the way. She's the one you see and think yourself, I'll bet she is worth knowing well. And she is.

I am welcoming a new sister into my life this year. My little brother is getting married next summer and Cara is a blessing to our family! I love this woman for her wisdom and words, thoughtfulness and humor. Cara is worth knowing well, too.

Gabe and Cara have decided to make kransekake for their wedding reception, a Norwegian wedding favorite. In order to learn, and to soak up maternal love on the North Shore, Cara and I spent last weekend at Gudrun's house baking and laughing. Gudrun's daughter Laura came over and the kitchen filled with estrogen, our conversations nourishing each other.

Gudrun is the first person who has asked to hold my growing belly and burst out in songful melody. When she was done with the ditty, I looked down at my unborn and sent them a thought: That was Gudrun - I'll explain her later. This kid doesn't know it yet, but soon its photograph will adorn her refrigerator, which operates like a string of prayer beads, filled with images of people and places that Gudrun holds in her heart. It's a good place to be.

Cara and I felt full driving home the next day. The simple visit filled us up. Sure, we were full of chili and vaffler and delicious tea and the extra kransekake dough. But we were also filled with the love of a woman who took time to shower us with celebration and wisdom. As we rounded a cloverleaf on the highway just south of Duluth, I felt the child within me do a complete 360 degree flip.

There were lots of reasons to leap for joy on Saturday. I have no doubt that our dose of Gudrun was one of them.