It is cold for September, even for a Swedish September. The rain makes Sodertalje, about an hour outside Stockholm, look miserable and uninviting.

But maybe that's just a matter of perspective.

Yacob and Georgette, getting wetter by the second, seem oblivious to the weather's cruelties. Both wear broad smiles.

That's understandable. For a couple who've just escaped human cruelties, a little Nordic rainstorm is so banal it's beautiful.

So is the opportunity to finally worship in peace.

They are Iraqi Christians, in their sixties, who have just fled violent persecution in Baghdad to seek asylum in Sweden. They are standing in the parking lot of the Syriac Orthodox church, moments before Sunday service.

"In Baghdad, we couldn't go to church even at holidays. We were targets. We can't believe we can come here without fear," explained Georgette, holding her husband's arm. These two know fear well. "Yacob" and "Georgette" are, perhaps predictably, not their real names. When they rushed out of Iraq they couldn't afford to pay smugglers to bring their entire family. So they had to leave loved ones behind. Now they are terrified their relatives will be hunted down.

Leave or be killed

In his worn wallet, Yacob still carries the letter pushed under his Baghdad door by a militant group. It contained clear instructions and was addressed to them personally. Convert to Islam. Or leave the country. Or be killed. They had 72 hours to decide.

That was only months ago. Now, all around them this day, clusters of families walk towards the music spilling out of the church doorways. Conversations in Arabic, Assyrian and Swedish all blend together. These are the sounds of harmony and safety. Finally.

Sweden has kept its distance from war for 200 years. But it has come to know intimately the toll of war. For decades, typically generous Sweden has opened its doors to refugees fleeing conflict.

Partly, it's because this is a country with an aging population that both needs and wants immigrants. But it's also a matter of principle. To the Swedes, it is simply the right thing to do.

Sweden, the most welcoming country

Before this current desert conflict raged, there were already 50,000 Iraqis on Swedish soil. Now, there are 80,000. No country outside the Middle East has been as welcoming to the refugees of this war. The Swedish ideal is that within six months, the asylum seekers will get word on whether they've been accepted. In some countries, not only is the wait much longer, the odds of being accepted are appallingly low. Britain and Germany, for example, usually agree to take in perhaps 11 or 12 per cent of those who apply. Sweden's acceptance rate is over 90 per cent.

And Iraqis know that. Not only do families send back word, but smugglers design and pay for ads featuring lots of Swedish flags and promises to simply "arrange everything."

The attraction isn't just the likely acceptance, or the fact that new arrivals will be walking into well-established communities. It's also the benefits.

Refugees who successfully obtain residency will be provided with monthly allowances, medical and dental care, language classes and help finding a home and job. Sometimes, the Swedish government, in the name of encouraging employers to open their doors, will pay 80 per cent of the refugee's salary for three years.

Paying for Sweden's generosity

The situation sounds great. And it was. But now, Sweden is stumbling. Paying for all of this is getting tough.

No location in the country feels more pressure than Sodertalje. The tiny city has taken in twice as many Iraqi refugees as the entire United States. The big apartment blocks built for the new arrivals are full. There simply isn't any more room in the language classes and jobs are scarce. Sodertalje is precariously stretched.

Mayor Anders Lago knows that the laws in Sweden give refugees the freedom to move to whichever community they choose. But he's afraid his city can't handle the 100 extra people who show up every month.

"It's impossible," he said, "I think we are coming to the end now … now we must stop."

What he wants to stress is that there is no backlash here. There aren't mass street demonstrations or nasty spasms of violence directed at the newcomers.

The few political parties that seem to promote an anti-immigration agenda haven't done well enough in elections to gain any power at all. And Swedes seem proud of their accepting ways, just disappointed that they can't offer more, and that other nations do little.

Sweden wants other countries to help, too

Sweden has long advocated for the European Union to adopt a strict common asylum policy. It wants other countries to step up. But nothing seems to change.

Tobias Billstrom, the minister for migration, seems fed up with his neighbours.

"Sometimes I get the feeling all the countries up to Sweden, they have turned their back on this because it is too much paperwork, too much bureaucracy and too much asylum cases."

It's not just Europe failing here. Canada's numbers don't impress either.

Mention the United States to Billstrom and he pulls out a well-used line. In order for the Americans to have taken in as many Iraqis as Sweden per capita there would have to be 500,000 Iraqi refugees in the states now. At the start of this year, fewer than 1,000 had been accepted.

• Video: Adrienne Arsenault reports for CBC-TV on Iraqi refugees finding safe haven in Sweden (Runs 4:38)

There may be some changes ahead. Sweden's migration board is tweaking the rules. Now asylum seekers will have to prove they were personally at risk in Iraq. It's not sufficient to simply be fleeing a country at war. That may mean more people will be sent back in the months ahead.

There are delays, uncertainties, crowded accommodations and no work.

And it will only get worse unless other nations start behaving more humanely towards those in need.

Even if Sweden does mean safety, this is still not the Nordic dream many Iraqis risked their lives and spent their savings to get.

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