CHAPTER 21
Lysa had been pleased to find a Bible on the shelves in the bedchamber.
Reading from it had always brought comfort.
Thankfully, her dyslexia had become a manageable affliction.
She’d been diagnosed early in life and worked with a trained specialist who taught her new reading and comprehension skills.
She’d never considered it a disability, more a challenge that she’d learned to master.
She paged through and found some of her favorite quotes.
Jesus said to him, I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.
So much wisdom. And truth. She was a devout member of the Church of Sweden, faithful to its evangelical Lutheran core.
The archbishop of Uppsala, its head, was a close personal friend.
His predecessor had married her and John.
But for all its fundamentalism she also liked its progressive leanings, allowing women as priests and sanctioning same-sex marriages.
Love was love, no matter the form, and a priest was just a person close to God no matter the sex.
That made sense to her, and on those points, she and her brother differed.
He was much more of a traditionalist, but few knew how he felt as, like a good king, he kept his opinions to himself.
Many Swedes lived by the mantra of lagom.
Middle way. Moderation. Along with lagom ?r b?st. Enough is as good as a feast. The right amount was best. Doing something the lagom way meant not taking risks, not overindulging, not standing out from the crowd.
Intertwined with lagom was jantelagen. A maintaining of modesty and humility.
Where no one was more special than anyone else.
She lived her life more by jantelagen than lagom.
She detested those who wanted to be noticed or be special, or who spoke highly of their accomplishments.
Thankfully, John was none of those.
He was quiet and modest, avoiding the spotlight.
True, he was enormously wealthy and lived a lavish life, but never was it flaunted.
Instead he dutifully practiced philanthropy, generous with his contributions.
There was no question that tension existed between her brother and husband.
She’d known that from the start. Nothing uncomfortable or threatening, though.
Just an aloofness that she assumed came from one being royalty and the other not.
Wilhelm was unbending on that point. But that was surely generational and she could forgive him.
She and John had discussed the situation and, true to his nature, he’d told her that he understood the king’s coolness and that it was okay, he was not offended.
He would just stay out of sight. Their lives were pretty much centered in England, so that had been easy to accomplish.
Only she ventured to Stockholm on a regular basis.
And she loved her visits.
Always good to be back home.
She approached one of the bedroom windows and glanced out at the looming night.
She’d always enjoyed the Swedish summers, arriving around late May or early June and lasting until mid-August. The time of the midsummer festivals.
Full of joy, togetherness, and renewal. She recalled dancing around a maypole adorned with flowered wreaths and indulging in a smorgasbord of herring, new potatoes, and fresh strawberries.
Her childhood had been a happy one. Unlike other royal families hers had not been dysfunctional.
Her father had been warm and loving, her mother the same.
She and Wilhelm were blessed with two good parents.
The one true regret she had with her life was the inability to have children.
She’d been told in her twenties that conception for her was not possible.
Again the Bible had brought comfort.
Rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
For you formed my inward parts. You knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart, I have overcome the world.
That he had.
No matter. She had John. Her brother. Her nieces and nephews.
And the Swedish people.
She was a wife and princess.
Life was good.
What more could anyone want?