Grandma Elsie would have known the word. She was all Swedish. But I didn’t learn it until yesterday. Oh, I knew the act, but now I know how to call it by name — Fika — “A moment to slow down and appreciate the good things in life, like coffee or something to eat with friends.”

And isn’t it something to be called by name!

When I think of it, when I hear it, and of course I still do, there was a bit of a gravel and a giggle to the way my Grandma said my name. There was joy in the long “o” (almost oh!) of Jodi. That has remained in my heart’s ear all of these years. Maybe we never get to repay the gifts we are given in their time. But that’s no reason to stop trying. When I hear my friends talk about her now, even friends who never physically met her, it’s clear that they know her from the stories told. They don’t say “your grandma,” — they say “Grandma Elsie.” We have conversations about her. They use her name. They see her image. And the gravel and giggle remain strong. Nearly on Swede. 

I hope she can hear the love in that. I think she can. I think she can taste the lefsa that my friend made for me. She can see the book on Scandinavian Gatherings that they gave to me. She sits in the not so empty chair at the table we share, and she feels full. She feels the love.  I know that I do.

I have been given so much. I could shy away and say that I’m not worthy. I could be embarrassed. Uncomfortable even. That doesn’t sound like any fun. That doesn’t sound like an Elsie thing to do. So I will just be grateful. Be happy. Enjoy it!!!!  This joy, I will call it by name.