Lögberg-Heimskringla - 08.11.1985, Síða 5

WINNIPEG, FÖSTUDAGUR 8. NÓVEMBER 1985 5
Discovering My Icelanders
Thingvellir.
The words, "The Lord will open
the way" were literally ringing in my
ears as I conversed with this in-
telligent and intriguing relative who
seemed to have all the missing
geneaological information I needed.
I felt I had known him all my life,
and soon we became close personal
friends.
About three weeks after he and his
wife, Gudrun, returned to Iceland, I
received a package in the mail con-
taining five generations of names of
my father's side, a photograph of my
great-grandfather, and clippings from
books and articles about my family.
He also said I had a large number of
living relatives in Iceland and that a
visit by me would open all the
records I needed for genealogy.
I had always dreamed of going to
Iceland, but in three trips to Europe
I had never been able to arrange to
go that far north. This past spring,
however, an assignment to the Nor-
dic countries opened the way, and
almost before my wife and I realized
it, our airplane was landing at
Keflavik Airport in Iceland.
To our dismay, no one met us at
the airport, even though we had writ-
ten to Marino more than a month
prior to our departure informing him
of our flight plan and requesting that
he meet our plane if possible, since
we knew no one else in the country.
After a short wait, we boarded a bus
for a forty-five-minute ride into Reyk-
javik, the capital city of Iceland, and
were delighted to see two mis-
sionaries in the crowd looking for us.
They informed us that Marino was in
The Netherlands and woufd be
unable to return during our short
stay. Imagine my disappointment! I
could feel my opportunity for
genealogy work slipping away.
The elders took us to our hotel and
then told us of the church meeting
schedule and the opportunities they
had arranged for us to speak. After
they left, I looked out the window at
the gray clouds, the dark seas, and
the recently fallen snow and felt
despair. In spite of the opportunity to
be of service to the Saints, I felt I was
about to lose my one great chance to
■ serve my kindréd'dead.
About that time the phohé rarig and
a pleásarit femaíe voicé ásked for me
by my first name. She said her name
was Valborg, that she was a cousin
of mine, and that Marino had told her
I would be in Iceland. She wondered
if I could arrange my schedule to
meet with her and other family
members the following day. "The
Lord will open the way" rang again
in my ears.
My spirits soared. On Sunday we
spoke to the missionaries, in Sunday
School, in sacrament meeting, and at
a fireside to the forty or so members
and investigators who were eager to
hear someone from Church
headquarters.
Between church meetings, Valborg
came to our hotel and took us to a
fine, large home where we found a
dozen elderly and middle-aged
relatives who were just as anxious to
meet us as we were to meet them. As
soon as we were introduced, I pulled
family group sheets from my brief-
case and asked them to help me fill
in the information I was missing,
which they were pleased to do. Most
of them were children of my grand-
father's brothers, and they related
many stories about my family that
spiritually buoyed me up. They were
warm and friendly and seemed
delighted that we could be with
them. They were even more ex-
pressive when I told them they were
the only direct relatives I had ever
met on my Icelandic side of the fami-
ly. Afterwards, I could have floated
back to the hotel, I was so happy.
Coniinued on page 7.
by Clark T. Thorstensen
The Ensign, August, 1981
The term Icelander has a special
meaning in the immediate area of
Spanish Fork, Utah. The "Iceland-
ers," as they are affectionately
known, came to Utah as converts in
the late 1800s from the Westman
Islands just off the coast of Iceland.
They settled in the southeast corner
of Spanish Fork, which was known
as the "bench," and they had such
an impact upon the other settlers that
the area rapidly became known as
"Little Iceland."
Both of my father's parents were
born in Iceland, and my father taught
me that being an "Icelander" was
akin to being one of noble birth and
heritage. I have always believed that
and have held a special place in my
heart for anyone with a heritage com-
mon to mine.
My father died when I was just a
child, and my grandparents died
shortly after; so when it came time
for me to search out the information
for my four-generation sheets, I had
to turn to records that were either in-
correct or incomplete. Family records
were almost nonexistent, and church
and community archives contained
so many inaccuracies that I bécame
frustrated. After hundreds of ex-
asperating hours at the Brigham
Young University branch library as
well as the Church genealogical
library in Salt Lake City, and even
with assistance from skilled
genealogists, I still had not been able
to complete the four-generation
sheets as asked by the Church. But
I never gave up, and I regularly
enrolled in genealogy classes in
hopes that someday there would be
a breakthrough.
About two years ago, as I sat in a
ward genealogy class, I raised my
hand and gave vent to my consterna-
tion, explaining that I had done all I
could but was unable to complete the
task required. I still remember the
teacher's reply: "Brother Thorsten-
son, if you have done everything
possible that you know how to do
and still can’t complete the
worksheets, the Lord will open the
way for you."
Her words were stated so firmly
and in such a positive way that I felt
she was right and I would be helped.
Some two weeks later I received a
telephone call telling me that a man
from Iceland who was visiting in
Spanish Fork thought he might
possibly be a relative of mine. In just
a moment of conversation with
Marino Gudmundson, I learned that
his grandfather and my grandfather
were first cousins and that Dr. Thors-
tein Jonsson (former mayor of the
Westman Islands) was a common
great-grandfather! Marino was a
nonmember, but missionaries who
had just opened Iceland for mis-
sionary work, after our having no
missionaries there for almost one
hundred years, had contacted him.
During their conversation he
remembered that he had heard of
Mormon relatives who had gone to
Utah. His curiosity about Utah, and
the possibility of relatives being there
led him to make a special trip just to
get acquainted with them.
Akureyri.