Cupcakes & Tea with Elizabeth

Tag: Family

  • Reflections from Sweden: My Grandma’s (Mormor) Words and the Vasa Ship

    Reflections from Sweden: My Grandma’s (Mormor) Words and the Vasa Ship

    While in Sweden, I came across one of my grandma’s old diary entries from her own trip decades ago. On a page titled “Comparisons,” she wrote:

    “Comparison:
    In those days, people feared things
    like lion’s faces. We fear things in
    the shape of mushroom clouds — nuclear bombs.”
    ~ June 1986

    She was writing about the Vasa Ship, the 17th-century Swedish warship that famously sank on its maiden voyage and was later recovered and preserved. The “lion’s face” she mentions refers to the carved lion figurehead at the front of the ship — a symbol of courage and power that’s been part of Swedish culture since medieval times.

    Reading her words while visiting the Vasa Museum myself in the summer of 2017 was surreal. It felt like we were sharing a moment across time — her thoughts from 1986 intertwining with my own experiences.

    I remember watching teams of researchers working carefully on the ship, preserving it for future generations. The recreated colors of the Vasa were so vivid and striking — a reminder that history can breathe again when we take the time to care for it.

    Her reflection about fear — how it changes shape across generations — stuck with me. The world she knew was different, yet her words still ring true.

    Maybe that’s the beauty of shared experiences: even when years and oceans separate us, our thoughts and emotions still find a way to connect.

    vasa2

    VASA
    A picture of the lion I took at the Vasa Museum!

  • Following My Grandma’s Footsteps in Sweden: Reflections on Equality, Culture & Connection

    Following My Grandma’s Footsteps in Sweden: Reflections on Equality, Culture & Connection

    While reading through my grandmother’s travel diary from her time in Sweden, I came across an entry that stopped me in my tracks:

    “Swedes are allowed to go anywhere, eat in the grass at the palace lawn, see parks as they wish. The new law is that the Princess who is older than her brother will be queen. We Swedes are implementing equal rights for women!”
    ~ Vivian Olson, June 17th

    I found myself smiling — not just because of her words, but because I had nearly the same thoughts during my own visit to Sweden decades later.

    There’s something truly special about how open and accessible life feels there. I remember watching newlyweds taking photos outside a royal palace, families picnicking on the palace lawn, and children playing with their dogs in the gardens. In so many other parts of the world, these spaces are roped off or reserved for the elite. But in Sweden, the royal grounds feel like they belong to everyone. That sense of shared belonging left such an impression on me.

    Just as my grandma observed, Sweden continues to lead with progressive values — especially when it comes to gender equality. Women have a strong voice in government, and citizens tend to vote based on values and policies rather than gender. It’s a refreshing contrast to what I often see in the U.S., where the focus can still be on who is breaking barriers instead of why they’re leading.

    Yet, even in Sweden, there’s acknowledgment that progress is ongoing. Equality is not a finish line but a continual effort — a mindset I think both our nations are still navigating.

    I love seeing how my grandmother’s reflections and mine intertwine — two generations apart, yet observing the same beauty in everyday freedoms and the same hope for equality. Her words remind me how much our perspectives are shaped by those who came before us, and how their journeys continue to guide our own.

    Side Note: Some Swedes still feel their country has work to do in reaching full equality — which makes me wonder: how far behind is the U.S.? Are we striving toward an ideal that even the most progressive nations are still perfecting?

  • A Sense of Unity — Connecting with My Grandmother in Sweden

    A Sense of Unity — Connecting with My Grandmother in Sweden

    Peak morning, this sunny mile through peaceful wooden Sweden,
    sense of a unity of my blood with all I see.
    I wish Mom would have seen this.
    It is so wonderful to think it is my heritage,
    this graceful, serene land.
    Saw a deer back in the wood.”

    — Vivian Olson, June 15th, 1986

    Reading this entry from my grandmother’s diary fills me with so much warmth. When I picture being back in Sweden, it feels like home — calm, familiar, and full of quiet beauty. In so many ways, I feel like my grandparents are there with me, walking those same sunlit paths and breathing in the same crisp air.

    During my own visit to Sweden, I often found myself thinking about those who came before me — the generations that shaped who I am today. My grandma and I both experienced the same awe for the Swedish landscape, the same peace in its forests, and the same feeling of belonging that transcends time.

    There’s something incredibly special about reading her words and realizing we shared this deep appreciation for the country that’s part of our heritage. Her poems and reflections remind me that history doesn’t just repeat itself — it connects us. Even though she’s gone, her voice continues to guide me, bridging the past and present in the most beautiful way.

  • The Stories That Built Me

    The Stories That Built Me

    “I have great respect for the past. If you don’t know where you’ve come from, you don’t know where you’re going.”
    — Maya Angelou

    Every family has stories that shape who they are, and around Christmas a few years ago, I got to hear some of mine. My parents sat me down and shared pieces of our family history that left me in awe — stories of strength, courage, and quiet resilience that built the foundation I stand on today.

    One of those stories was about my great-grandmother’s sister, who worked down South as a schoolteacher. She was light-skinned and could pass as white — something that came with complicated privileges during that time. Across from the school was a hat shop that allowed white customers to try on hats before buying them. Black customers, however, had to purchase any hat they touched. My great-grandmother’s sister would walk into that shop and try on as many hats as she pleased, knowing she could get away with it. It was a small, almost defiant act — one that spoke volumes about navigating an unjust world with quiet boldness.

    Then there was my grandmother’s father — my great-great-grandfather. He was also light-skinned, with light eyes, and worked as a painter at a hotel. One day, he walked in with the Black maids, and his boss pulled him aside.
    “Why did you walk in with the colored women?” the boss asked.
    My great-great-grandfather simply replied, “Well, they play cards with my wife.”
    The manager, shocked, said, “Your wife? You mean to tell me you’re colored!?”
    “Yes, sir,” he said calmly.
    The boss looked around and whispered, “Look, I like you. You’re good at your job. But don’t tell anyone you’re colored, or we’ll have to fire you.”

    Hearing these stories, I felt an ache — pride mixed with sadness. These were people who carried themselves with grace and strength in the face of injustice. People who worked hard, protected their families, and found ways to keep their dignity intact in a world that didn’t always see it.

    Some might say, “The past is the past — why bring it up?” But I think remembering is an act of love. It’s how we honor the struggle, the perseverance, and the humanity that got us here. Forgetting would mean erasing the very roots that keep us grounded.

    If I could talk to them today, I’d tell them how proud I am — proud of the resilience that runs through our blood, proud of the lessons they left behind, proud to carry their spirit forward.

    Resilience. That’s what created me.

    “You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose… That is your role, your gift.”
    — Erin Morgenstern

  • After All Tomorrow Is Another Day – Losing a Grandparent

    After All Tomorrow Is Another Day – Losing a Grandparent

    “We’re at the age where we’re starting to lose people.”

    That’s what my friend said as we sat across from each other at a local coffee shop — two friends who hadn’t seen each other in months but picked up like no time had passed.

    During the conversation, we spoke about loved ones who had left us this year. I explained how I had seen a loved one’s body minutes after their soul had left. I almost couldn’t believe it was the same person. There was nothing behind their eyes. I was taken back by the blank stare, and the body reminded me of wax. I will never forget this image, and sometimes I wish I could. However, this image also seems to give me peace. I believe his soul had left his body and moved on to a better place.

    I’m not sure what I believe in, but I know that there is a God. Sometimes I wonder if those who have so little confidence in God are the ones who have never seen a body without a soul.