An almost 100 year old man...

Tuesday, May 8, was my grandfather, or Bedstefar's birthday.  He turned 98!  Wyatt and the other kids are excited for him to be so old and hope that he lives to be 100!  He is an amazing man.  Our family has the privilege of feeding both my grandparents, my Bedstemor is 94, every Saturday night.  We are a noisy bunch, I know they love to have the kids over and give them treats and stuff.  We all went up there on Tuesday night to wish him a happy birthday.  It was so nice to be with them despite the fact that their little house is about 98 degrees all the time, they forget a lot of things, you have to repeat yourself several times per conversation because they either didn't hear what you said or they forgot you already said it.  I usually have to ask them a number of times to "say that one more time.  You said it in Danish.."  And then my Bedstemor will tell me I need to learn Danish!  They truly are wonderful examples of living a righteous life.  Just last year, my Bedstefar was driving and would drive them to church every Sunday!  Thankfully neither of them have licenses anymore, so the roads are a little safer....
  Some other interesting facts about my grandparents are: when they were a young married couple with I think two small girls, they hid guns and other things for the underground during World War two.  They immigrated to the United States in 1951 after joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints so that they could be sealed together as a family in one of God's temples.  There were no temples in Europe at the time.  They packed up their four kids, two steamer trunks and fifty dollars and away they came.  My grandfather, who has been on the seas since he was 14, got sea sick, that's how rough the water was.  He even held my dad for most of the trip across the Atlantic since he could barely walk on land by himself.
  I could go on and on about them, but I'll have to do it in segments.  A couple of weeks ago, my Bedstemor fell and broke her hip.  My aunt Gayle called my sister and I up to help her pick her up off the ground after she fell.  As soon as we moved her, I knew her hip was broken by the way she was moaning and grabbing at her hip.  As I left, I cried, thinking that that was it for my Bedstemor.  Statistics are not good for old people who have broken hips.  They usually don't recover well and are bed ridden.  Well, I'm happy to say that she is trying her best to get better and is even at home with her sweetheart.  He missed her so much while she was in the hospital and would forget so many more things without her being there.  It is so sweet to her him tell her how beautiful she is looking when I would take her to get her hair done every other week.  Another wonderful privilege I've had.  I'm so grateful I get the chance to see them on a regular basis and learn how to better myself through their giving example.