In memory of Torleiv Iversen
24th of September 1947 – 23rd of September 1996
This post isn’t like my usual news content, but it is still very important and it has to do with my grandfather. I recently went to visit his grave - BUT IT WAS GONE!?!
What is going on?
This is a guest post written by my mother - Peter
Some days ago, my son Peter and his wife went to visit my father’s grave.
Torleiv died just a few days before Peter’s second birthday, so naturally he doesn’t remember him, but I remember that Torleiv was very proud of becoming a grandfather for the very first time.
Arriving at the cemetery, Peter called me and I tried to navigate him to the right spot, but to my amazement he said: «I just can’t find it anywhere.»
So I had a look in the grave-register online, and I also phoned the church office.
To my shock and disbelief, I found that the grave had been deleted by a very close relative, without asking my opinion. And thus erasing his memory. The memorial stone had been taken away, and the grave is now occupied by someone else.
Needless to say, it felt like losing him all over again.
It is so uncivilized and disrespectful towards his memory.
Since I am unable to restore his grave, I write this memorial about a man that loved Jesus, and to show respect to his memory.
I believe this heinous act shall be turned into something good, and I hope that this memorial might be of help to someone.
A seemingly tragedy that God turned to victory!
My father was a quiet and kind person.
An easygoing person that was easy to like. This was reflected at his funeral, where the chapel was completely full of colleagues and friends that wanted to pay their last respect.
Imperfect and flawed, but his heart was soft and good, because Jesus lived in his heart.
He was born in the small industrial town of Odda, Norway, located at the inner end of the Sørfjorden, where he lived the majority of his life working in a big factory.
The later part of his life he got a better job, working as an operator at a gas processing plant, close to the city of Haugesund, Norway.
As a young man he made a decision to follow Jesus. He told me that he walked in to a Salvation Army church in Odda.
He did not hear a word the preacher said, because he waited for the invitation to «bow his knees,» which was the term he used. When the preacher gave the invitation, he walked forward and kneeled down, giving his heart to Jesus.
The change in his life was like night and day. He was baptized in water and the Holy Spirit, speaking in tongues.
He told me that he was «on fire», and was the evangelist on the street, seeing around 50 souls coming and «bowing their knees» to God.
He was a simple and honest man, so when he saw a lot of hypocrisy in the churches he didn’t turn a blind eye to it, but instead it bothered him a lot.
He felt the newborn Christians didn’t get much spiritual help, and one by one they fell back to their old life.
Naturally, my father was very disappointed.
That his wife was a psychopath, did not make it easier. (And this is not just a saying, but in 1993 she was diagnosed by a psycologist as being a psychopat.)
I was his second child of three, and similar to him in personality.
I remember a home where he was the one that did most of the household chores, like cleaning, washing and making food.
He often served me whale steak, and I had no second thoughts on that. He was the one that I felt cared and looked after me.
As a young teenager I gave my heart to Jesus. And though he had become more or less a back slider by then(or maybe just very depressed), he still wanted to see me getting baptized.
He said: «This is a very important occasion that I must see.»
Every now and then I could see a glimpse of his faith:
One time when I had a head ache, he laid his hands on me and prayed and the headache just disappeared.
Or the time I was sitting on the living room floor playing with my toys, suddenly I heard him bursting out loudly in tongues and praising God behind me. I turned my head looking at him while wondering what he was doing.
Another time my little new kitten got the cat plaque. He was already close to death when my dad anointed the kitten with some drops of oil, whilst praying to God. We left the cat and went to sleep not knowing if we would find him dead the next morning. As soon as I woke up, I ran to the bathroom and the cat was alive. I shouted for joy: «The cat is alive and looks a lot better.» He miraculously recovered.
A small thing you might think. But not for a young girl that saw God’s love in saving her cat.
I clearly remember coming home from school once and heard him praying loudly upstairs. As he came down, he was clearly touched by God, with tears running down his cheeks, telling about how God had showed him that he had been grafted into the good olive tree. I did not quite understand. But I was touched by his earnest prayers to God.
So we both had a longing for God.
He also shared his sorrow with me, quoting Prov 21:9
“It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.»
I just nodded and agreed.
When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas, his answer was always: «peace and quiet.”
Another time I found him sitting in my bedroom. He told me he liked to sit there, as my room was so peaceful.
He suffered a lot, but he kept much of his suffering to himself, with just a sigh every now and then. He never raised his voice towards anyone. He hated conflicts.
I could use a long time to tell about all the wrath his wife poured out in the home, but this is a memorial about Torleiv, not his abusive spouse.
But I will say this one thing: It was unbearable. And not just for him. I myself moved out when I was only 17 years old.
But me and my father kept in touch by phone and he visited me when he had the opportunity.
In one of those phone conversations he told me that she had taken a hammer to hit him in his head, but he managed to stop her with his hand. He was clearly shaken.
A short time after that, he left her.
Unfortunately, he found himself a promiscuous, ungodly woman, and went to live with her.
This was a dark chapter in his life. Maybe all the hardship got him to make this decision.
But God in His great mercy had a rescue plan to get this man to heaven.
God knew his heart and He wanted him. He did not ask men for their opinions about my father’s heart.
By now they had all judged him to hell. Even calling him a «fornicator» in their own self-righteousness.
God knew all the sufferings he had gone through, and how little help he had gotten from other «Christians» (except for judgments of course).They did not help him, and no one put his psychopathic wife in her place.
God sees to the deepest part of a man’s heart.
One day, my father called me as usual (He lived in Norway with his fiance, and I in Sweden, with my husband and our son Peter). He told me that the cancer he had a few years ago (mole cancer) had returned, and this time it had spread, so he needed chemotherapy. I was young, inexperienced and only 21 years old. So I just assumed that it would be all right this time too.
But then…
God expressively told me a little later to call my dad and say certain things to him. (And just to explain: I am not a prophetess that walks around and says: «God says this and that».)
But there has been a few times in my life (less than the five fingers on my hand), where God wanted to tell me something. And then He makes sure to get His message through.
And those few times, have been very precious. I have no need for others to believe that God spoke to me. I only tell others if I think it is necessary. Like now.
At this stage he did not confess to be a Christian anymore. But he was still the simple person as always, and to confess being a Christian, was for him dishonest.
Anyway, I called my father and one of the things I said was:
«God wants me to tell you that you are welcome to heaven.»
When everyone had condemned him, God still wanted him, and stretched out His hands and invited him.
My father replied:
“He really means that?”
“Yes,He does”, I said.
And I repeated it several times, to make sure he really got the point.
I think he felt this was now or never, so my father put his hand back in God’s hand once again.
And there it stayed. He was so glad that God had not abandoned him and still wanted him.
Little did I understand that the invitation was a literal invitation to heaven.
Not long after, my father called again.
All I could hear was his sobs.
«They say there’s nothing more that they can do for me. I don’t want to die».
I prayed to God to heal him. But God plainly told me (one of those very few times again):
«He will die but he will be saved.»
So when he died on the 23rd of September 1996, only one day before his 49th birthday, I had peace, knowing that he had gone to heaven, just as God promised.
At the moment of death, he said: «Now the angels are coming to take me home.»
To lay on his coffin we bought a flower decorated cross with the words: «We’ll meet again soon.»
For many years it has been for me as the Bible says in 1 Ths 4:13;
«But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.»
God turned his death into victory!
Finally he got the peace he wanted for Christmas. No more suffering, only happiness and joy in the presence of his Saviour, Jesus Christ.
John 11:25; «Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:»
«You don’t need a grave dad, because you have eternal life!»
God is so good!
I am so glad God had a way to get my father to heaven.
Even though he messed it up big time, his heart loved God.
I hope my father’s story will help others who are in a similar situation to come back to God.
Jesus wants to save you more than you want to be saved.
But you have to give your heart 100 %. This was how Torleiv was. For him it was either 100 % or nothing.
Jesus gave His all, His life, and I love Him because He loved me first!
You might wonder why they deleted his grave. So do I. I have called, messaged and emailed them, but they refuse to even answer – much less tell me why they deleted my father’s memory. However my son managed to get hold of my sister, and was shocked when he understood that other realtives did not care and did not want to pay the yearly graveyard fee of about $20, and rather chose to erase his grave – without asking me or my son.
However – erasing my dad’s grave does not hurt him, as Torleiv a long time ago has left his earthly, flawed body and now is in heaven – where there is no pain, no sorrow, and nothing can hurt him.
This post was originally published here: https://torleiviversen.wordpress.com/
 | A guest post by
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A grave stone is one respectful way to memorialize a man’s life.
But a heartfelt account from someone who bore witness to the life that he lived - with both the highs and the lows - is an EVEN BETTER way to remember your father and to celebrate his brief time on Earth.
God bless you for sharing your father’s story with families across the globe. He would be proud of you.
What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing. 🥰