The Church Rose

Saturday brought the same old routine to the Larsen house. Mr. Larsen had taken the day off from work to kick the soccer ball around with Erik, fix a lunch for the two of them, and then sit in front of the television all evening to watch Bergen Football. Bente would be spending the day at church with her mother.

Today, however, was different in a few ways. First off, there was the swap meet.

“Bente! Hurry! We don’t want to be late!”

Every spring, people from church gathered with baked goods and craft items to swap. Whether they traded goods or simply sold them, it didn’t matter. The real focus was on the church family.

Bente scurried downstairs, careful not to stumble on the way down. Her fingers curled around the top of the handrail, gliding over the smooth wooden banister. Her mother handed her an armful of painted baskets and cookie pans.

“All this?”

“I’ve been busy all winter,” said mother.

“Do you need any help?” said father.

“I think we’ve got it.”

Bente and her mother packed the trunk and went to church. Instead of walking over the hill, they drove around it, parking in the lot next to the old stave church. The lot was full. The church was busy.

“What do you have, dear?” asked Mrs. Berg.

“Painted dishes and cake pans.”

“Ooh! Let me see.”

Bente carefully lifted the box lid to reveal the dishes inside. Each dish was embellished with swirling floral designs. Long stemmed tulips slalomed in S-shaped curls on the plate. Their long pink and yellow petals intertwined at the center.

“I’ll be sure to stop by with some of my cookies,” said Mrs. Berg.

“Where’s Ingrid?” asked Bente.

“She’s watching our table. It’s crowded in there, so I came outside for a bit of fresh air and to grab move cookies from the truck.”

“See you inside,” said mother. Then, they parted ways.

Bente followed her mother into the old stave church and headed for the meeting hall. Its atrium was dark but lofty. Tables formed four long aisles, like an ancient Viking dining hall. These tables, however, were not filled with Viking feasts, but handicrafts, cookies, and other baked goods.

“Let’s set up over here,” directed mother.

Before they finished placing their goods on the table, they had a crowd.

“How much for this cake tin?” asked one lady.

“How about these dishes?” asked her daughter.

“Are you selling this basket?” asked yet another.

Mrs. Larsen set the prices and made the deals. Meanwhile, Bente simply tried to keep pace. By the top of the hour, they had sold everything they brought.

“That was quick!” exclaimed Bente.

“It always is.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now, we’re free to browse.”

They ventured up and down the aisles until Bente ran into a familiar face. It was her friend and choir mate Ingrid. Meanwhile, Mrs. Berg was selling cookies.

“What are you doing?” asked Ingrid.

“We sold all our stuff, soe we’re just looking around.”

“Mrs. Larsen,” interrupted Mrs. Berg, “Did you save me some dishes?”

“I completely forgot, but I’ll make a set especially for you.”

“That would be nice. Here are some of my delicious krumkaker so you don’t forget!”

Mrs. Berg carefully picked the best of her baked goods from the display plate. The krumkraker, with their soft, flaky cones and crème-filled centers, looked scrumptious.

“Do you want one?” Mrs. Berg asked Bente.

Bente nodded enthusiastically.

“Me, too?” asked Mrs. Larsen.

“But of course.”

Bente took a large bite from the cone, gobbling up nearly the whole thing. The cream filling balanced perfectly with the crispy outer shell.

“Bente! Be polite!”

Bente wiped her mouth and then took tiny nibbles, just like her mother. She couldn’t understand how her mother could be so patient. It was so sugary sweet. It was perfectly yummy.

“Mamma, can I go looking around with Bente?” asked Ingrid.

“If it is okay with Mrs. Larsen.”

Bente’s mom nodded. The girls immediately disappeared into the crowd.

“Be back when it closes!” Mrs. Berg shouted after the children. She and Mrs. Larsen stayed at the table and chatted while the girls ventured around the swap meet.

There were baked goods of every kind, from krumkaker to sweet lefse flatbread to biscuits. One lady had pans of lutefisk. Most, however, had handicrafts like Mrs. Larsen’s painted pans.

Shopping wasn’t quite as fun as it could’ve been. They had no money. If they couldn’t shop, they decided they’d go looking other places. They ventured from the meeting hall to the chapel.

“Hallo!” called Bente. Her voice echoed through the rafters.

Ingrid wrapped her arms around her shoulders as a light draft blew through the empty chapel and across her face.

“It’s so cold in here,”

“Just like when the Vikings went to church here.”.

“Vikings didn’t go to church!” said Ingrid.

“They did so. Ask Mr. Hagen, he’ll tell you.”

Ingrid thought about it as she traipsed through the aisles. She traced her hand over the old wooden handrails at the end of each pew. The oak endplates that covered the sides of each pew were carved. Vines curled in S-shapes. A single rose blossom sat in the center.

“Rosemaling,” said Bente.

“What?”

“Those designs. They’re called Rosemaling. Norwegian craftsmen have been doing that since the Vikings first started going to church.”

“Oh, Bente!” said Ingrid.

“They built these old stave churches, just like they built their ships. They also did these designs. That’s why my mother paints her cake pans like that. Her mother taught her how to do it. One day, I’m sure I’ll know how to do it, too.”

As church people filtered out of the meeting hall, some entered the chapel. Ingrid and Bente returned to Mrs. Berg’s selling table. All of her krumkraker were gone.

“Aww,” said Ingrid, “I was hoping I could…”

Mrs. Berg reached under the table. She presented a small plate.

“I put some aside for us,” said Mrs. Berg.

The girls ate the cookies as they headed towards the parking lot.

”We’re not going to church?” asked Bente.

“We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Goody. I’m very tired.”

They said their goodbyes to the Bergs and returned home. Mr. Larsen and Erik were crashed on the couch, with snacks and drinks littering the floor.

“Get up, lazybones!” Bente said to father.

“Who won?” she asked.

“We fell asleep.”

“Too bad. Maybe we can find something else.”

Bente dug a few chips out of the bag and snacked with her father as they watched Norway’s capital team, Oslo. Meanwhile, Mrs. Larsen went to the attic and returned with fresh cookie tins. She washed and dried them before settling down beside them.

“What do you think they’ll like, Bente?”

‘Paint some Rosemaling.”

“Mrs. Berg really liked the Telemark plates. I think I’ll do that instead.”

Mrs. Larsen stopped periodically to let everyone judger her progress. She finished just before halftime. They watched highlights from the Bergen game during halftime.

“I ran into Mrs. Berg today,” said Mrs. Larsen.

“How is she?” asked Mr. Larsen.

“It has been awhile since we’ve spent time with them.”

“It sure has,” said Mr. Larsen, “there’s a crab feast next weekend. Maybe I should tell Mr. Berg he and his family are invited. I see him almost every day. It’d be a good chance to catch up.”

And so it was all set. Bente’s father would talk to Ingrid’s father and they’d hang out at the crab feast next weekend. Bente couldn’t wait to tell Ingrid the news when she saw her at school.

.