The bulletin announcement says 8 AM, but some of them arrive at 6.
They measure and mix. They stir and roll. They flip and fold and weigh and pack and freeze. They are careful and patient and precise, but there is artistry and beauty to their work, too. Many of them remember their parents and grandparents practicing this art on a cook stove, not an electric griddle.
Every Tuesday and Wednesday for three weeks, they are here. When all is said and done, they have made about 300 pounds of lefse for the Nordic Bazaar. (Plus an untold number of pounds of “mistakes” that we are forced to enjoy with our coffee in the middle of each work day.)
They will sell all this lefse in a matter of hours at the bazaar. With the money, they will send kids to camp. They will buy Bibles for three-year-olds and third graders. They will make quilts to keep people warm in our county and across our world. They will support global mission and ministries close to home. They will be the hands and feet (and wallet) of Christ.
This morning, my colleague mentioned at coffee time that he was going to make an out of town nursing home visit. The lefse makers were sorry they didn’t have a card for everyone to sign. (One of them makes beautiful cards.) “She’ll like this better,” my colleague said. He held up a bag of lefse.
Some may say it with flowers. Some may say it with chocolates or cards. This bunch says it with lefse. They say “mission”. They say “faithfulness”. They say “love.”
What’s your favorite way to eat lefse?
Never Done It That Way Before 
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