Spiritual Things Matter

Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.  ~Lionel Hampton

We spent eight days in Germany over Spring break, and it was one of the most rewarding vacations we’ve had.  It was too short to see all that we wanted to see, but the time we did have was filled with so many impressions.

This time, because of our children, we rented our own flat and car.  We mainly just slept in the flat, and the rest of the time we were doing things with our friends, Simone and Heiner.  Simone and Heiner live in the heart of downtown Munich and are true trendy city people.  As we walked around Munich together, I realized how much I miss the energy of its active, vibrant streets.  There was life everywhere.  I wanted my children to experience the wonderfully fresh bread (brödchen) and pretzels that were available in the bakeries there.   Heiner, who is a wonderful cook, often prepared for us delicious and thoughtfully prepared meals, and then we would sit around for hours drinking, eating, and laughing together.  My children felt completely at home with them as it was apparent that they both love children.  I  soaked in every moment, not having laughed this much in a very long time.  My husband loves to travel and see other cultures, wanting to experience the true essence of being a part of that culture.  He always enjoys visiting Germany because he has been received with open arms by my friends and my brother. Taking time off from his busy career, he enjoyed the wonderful laughs and the great conversations we all had with, of course, a good glass of wine or beer.

We experienced many wonderful moments there, one of which was when Heiner, who is from Austria, took us to Salzburg, Austria.  This was a day filled with so many beautiful images.  We stood on one particular overlook and I was taken back by the beauty of old Salzburg.  I counted 10 steeples clustered together, each being a different shape and size with the beautiful Alps in the background.

One thing my son wanted to see was the concentration camp “Dachau” which was only 10 minutes from our flat.  He studies history often on his own and was very interested in seeing it for himself.  I am amazed how much information lies in that place. The German people have made sure that such a horrific event can never happen again. Every document that they still find is displayed in some museum somewhere. To this day, one becomes aware, that the German people as a whole have suffered and are still suffering from the atrocities which took place in WW II. One young person told me that many are still ashamed to even show their German flag: they would rather be called “Europeans” than “Germans.”

Heiner wanted to show us some villages south of Munich, and they indeed were the picturesque Bavarian houses that you would see on postcards and calendars.  One town in particular, Bad Tölz, was a wonderful little town with intricate painted houses up and down its main street. It just so happened that this town was also the home town of my friend Annelise of whom I wrote about here. I also had the opportunity to be with her and her family for one day during our visit.

It was delightful to hear my family try to exercise the German they knew.  My daughter especially was not afraid to try to speak to waitresses and check out clerks in German. I was really proud of her how free and uninhibited she expressed herself.  Children are amazing!

One day we wanted to visit Augsburg where I grew up.  Since we were going to the orphanage anyway we decided to visit downtown Augsburg after that.  One place we visited is called the Fuggerei which is the oldest social housing project in the world, built in 1521 and operated by a catholic church today.  There are 140 apartments in the 67 houses that were built and to this day people who are allowed to live there only pay .88 Euros per year and  they are asked to pray 3x per day for Herr Fugger and his family. When I walk through its small winding little streets, I feel as if  I am in a medieval city within the city of Augsburg.  It has its own gate which is closed each night, its own little church, and community. You can’t help but stand in awe of the incredible amount of vines, which are very old, growing on these little homes, winding itself around the small window shutters, and having reached high up its walls. It is an incredible sight.

My brother, Jean, drove to Munich to spend three days with us.  You may recall the story about my brother, and how it came about that we were separated.  It took over 25 years for us to be reunited again in 1996.  Another 13 years had passed since we saw him again for the second time on this trip.  One of the things that Simone, Jean, and I really wanted to do was go back to the orphanage where Jean and I were kids, and Simone was employed as a social worker.  I have written about my impression of Simone here. Simone had already called the director ahead of time and arranged the meeting.  All of us, including my husband and children, Simone’s husband, Heiner,  and Jean,  drove to Hochzoll, Augsburg, to visit the orphanage.  We were welcomed and invited into a meeting room.   The director wanted to answer any questions we might have, as well as share how things have changed over the years, and what has stayed the same.  She appeared to have been very moved and interested by our visit.  Afterward, a social worker came into the room who has been working there for about 20 years.  He showed us around the entire property and he was amazed at just how much we all remembered our experiences there.

Simone was with us for two years.  Her energy, vitality, laughter, and love brought an enormous amount of joy into our group.  Even though many years have passed, she still has such a positive and happy outlook on life.  She was as moved as I was as we walked through the various buildings and rooms.  We often would just embrace each other when we would remember a particular instance.  Simone, Heiner, and I would also remember the times Heiner would come to visit.  We would rough-house with him until we were completely worn out.  I have one such photo where I was getting ready to attack him.  He is, to this day, a very dear man.

My brother, Jean, who left this particular orphanage at 8, still had such vivid memories of the bedrooms, the arts and craft room, the learning room where we did our homework, the dining room, and the entrance foyer room where we would polish our shoes.  Jean remembered so clearly how we sat on the little benches polishing our shoes there, something I had totally forgotten until he brought it up.  On occasion, he would simply place his arms around me.  Words were not needed.  We understood each other.

I can’t begin to find the right words to express what this visit did for me.  It was in some way, perhaps, an expression of gratitude.  Jean and I are now in our mid-40’s, and Simone, who was only 23 at the time, is now approaching 60.  Jean was already gone when Simone first arrived at the orphanage, but his memories of him and I being together there were deeply moving for me.  Oh, how I missed him when they took him, and how thankful we both are that we were brought together again.

During my years of living at the orphanage, Simone was the one social worker who left such an impression on my heart.  It was her laughter, her energy, her light heart, and her sheer joy of being alive that moved me so deeply.  Being together with her and appreciating the many experiences we had together was a true gift for both of us.  I am so very grateful for her life and for the time we were allowed to spend together.

My heart is truly full from this very wonderful trip.  I remain deeply grateful for the experiences and people that have touched my life throughout the years.  I am equally grateful for those people who touch my life today.

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.  ~John F. Kennedy

The absolute value of love makes life worth while, and so makes man’s strange and difficult situations acceptable. Love cannot save life from death; but it can fulfill life’s purpose. ~ Arnold J. Toynbee

All around the globe, Valentine’s Day was celebrated this month as an acknowledgement of that special someone in our lives. In this country, that celebration has extended beyond that romance partner to include all those people that play a special role in our lives. We give flowers, cards, chocolate, and perhaps for some, a more meaningful and lasting gift.

In the midst of all those fuzzy feelings floating around, I was ever so keenly aware that there is yet another dimension to love that is not so readily seen. You see, I believe that certain people are placed into our lives, perhaps just for a season, or, perhaps much longer. They are placed into our care, our soul-care, if you will. Those are the people whom we want to elevate and inspire. These are the people we want to be there for and to encourage.  These are the people that we always remember in our prayers.  At the same time, I believe that we are also placed into someone else’s care, someone else’s soul-care. It is that person, or those people, who will stand with us no matter what. They somehow understand us, accept us, pray for us, and see us through our own “dark night of the soul.”  Such a gift cannot be bought at any price.

My mind goes back to August, 1976, when I experienced such a relationship as a 14 year-old girl.

I was upstairs in my bedroom folding my clothes and getting ready to pack to move to America.  My father, an American, had found me in an orphanage in Augsburg, Germany.  As I was packing, I noted that I was filled with such varied emotions of excitement, fear, trepidation, and sadness of leaving my friends behind.  My thoughts were interrupted by the voices of the children calling me from downstairs, letting me know I had a visitor.  It was not a usual occurrence that we had visitors, and thus, it took me by great surprise.

I proceeded to go downstairs when I saw a teacher standing at the bottom of the staircase.  I could see her white teeth as she greeted me with such familiarity and warmth.  This was a school teacher whom I had in third through sixth grade.  Her name was Anneliese Reisberg.  You see, I loved this teacher with all my heart and yet I kept that love tucked away as a secret.  I had felt embarrassed and ashamed of it, because after all, she was just my teacher.  One of my favorite things she used to do is put her hand on the back of my neck each time I was being mischievous.  She did it with such tenderness, and in this way, I believe she revealed her heart to me.  Perhaps, being mischievous came just a little easier because of it.  Walking further down the stairs, I noticed she had a letter and a gift in her hand.  She explained that the children at the school told her that I was moving to America and she had wanted to come to the orphanage so she could say goodbye and to wish me well.  As she handed me the letter and the gift, she embraced me tight.  I was speechless, and my face had turned completely red.  Our last goodbye was quick.  She left and I proceeded to go back upstairs to read my letter and to open my gift.

I closed the door behind me and sat on my bed.  I began to read that letter, and tears quickly welled up in my eyes.  The lines I was reading revealed to me what I had felt in my heart for four years:  I was special to her as well.  She explained to me that she had wanted to adopt me but could not because of her own home life situation.  She felt it would have been unfair to me.  I then opened my gift and began to weep even more as I pulled out a tiny four-leaf clover pendant.  It was crafted with exquisite delicateness and given with such love.  I kept it for years before it was lost, and after the birth of my daughter, I had a new one made for her to keep someday.  During my early years in this country, I would read her letter over and over again, folding it and unfolding it, each time soaking it in my own tears.  One day, it simply crumbled in my hands as I tried to unfold it once more.

This love came with a bittersweet price.  Our relationship was never meant to be a mother-daughter relationship even though we both had wanted that.  As we both have grown in this mystical relationship, we both have realized that we have been given into each others care, into each others soul-care.

Love comes to us as a gift.  With it will come the most exquisite feelings of joy, of happiness, of fulfillment, and most of all, of belonging.  Yet, nothing in this life time can purge us in the way that pain, which love can bring into our lives, can.  It will take us to the very heights and to the very depths of our soul.  It will stun us into complete silence for a time.  Yet I say, oh how wonderful it is to be able to love!

And though it’s pangs are strong and fierce,
Let us never fear to love again and again,
Until we melt into its very essence.

~Viola Jaynes

Today, I received an e-mail from a man that thinks he may have been in the same orphanage where I have been. It prompted me to find a picture of it on the internet since he wanted more information, including address and a picture. The site that I found will give him that information.

The six white buildings that look the same in the center of this photo are the homes we lived in. I was in #49 which is the first row from the left side, in the back. The big field you see is where we played soccer. You can’t make it out from this photo, but this field also had a hill on which we rode our sleds down during snowy winter days. During the rest of the year, we rolled ourselves down that hill. We had a lot of fun doing both!

You will also notice we had a swimming pool. Each group had 30 minutes for the pool in the summer time. The orphanage had its own kitchen with staff, which is the building that stands alone on the far right. The building next to that had a celebration hall where we celebrated any big events with our choir singing, theater plays we put on, and so on. The director of the orphanage also had his office in that building. All the way to the left is where the director and his family lived. The entire structure of the orphanage grounds had a white wall around it. I think you can see it pretty clear here. The street right in front of the orphanage is where we walked on the sidewalk to school. It was probably about a 20 -30 minute walk or 10 minutes with the bicycle.

I will include this picture in my book which is almost finished now.

Here is the address in case anyone else is coming across this and is wondering if they have been in the same orphanage. There was a Catholic orphanage on the same street a few blocks down from us. Ours was a Lutheran orphanage.

What a small world we live in!

Evangelisches Kinderheim Karwendelstraße 61 86163 Augsburg, Germany Telefon: 0821 / 26190-0 Telefax: 0821 / 26190-14 eMail: info@evki-augsburg.de

So live that your memories will be part of your happiness. ~unknown

One of my fondest memories from my orphanage days was the start of our summer vacation, after the school year would end in August. The orphanage had been given a large cabin in Buching, Germany, that had been built during WW II and was located in the beautiful Bavarian Alps. Since the cabin was originally intended to serve as a temporary shelter to those who were fleeing for their lives, after the war it had no purpose, so it was given to be to be used as a home for our summer vacations. Each group (which usually consisted of 15-18 children) would be allotted a two week time period and usually two groups would go at the same time since summer vacation was six weeks and there were six different groups in our orphanage. This system allowed the children to be with others from a different group who normally did not share the same living quarters. Buching was approximately 100 km away from Hochzoll, Augsburg where our orphanage was located. Since Buching was only about a 1 1/2 – 2 hours drive, we were allowed on one fabulous trip, to even ride our bicycles to our cabin in the Alps. I can remember how excited we were as we looked forward to a more rugged and rustic life – if even for just a couple of weeks.

The Cabin itself always had a certain distinctive odor to it which I only appreciated in that particular setting. It was the smell of old wood and uninhabited space which matched its primitive appearance. Several social workers would go ahead of us to get the cabin ready for our arrival. As I recall, one of the cooks from the orphanage would come along with the group and prepare the meals for all the kids. By the time we would get there, the eating room was arranged in its usual setting. There was a long, old wood table with its fork and knife markings readily visible from prior years, along with plenty of chairs on both sides. Located towards the back of the cabin, were the many bedrooms and bathrooms. Each child was allowed to pick which bedroom they wanted and also choose with whom they were going to share. For the younger children, however, that choice was made by the social workers. Almost all the bedrooms had bunk-beds and, like most children, I always enjoyed sleeping on the top. We would often switch around so by the end of summer vacation, everyone would have a chance at the top bunk. The bathrooms were small but there were a number of them, since, as you can imagine, those fleeing from the war needed more than just one or two bathrooms.

The social workers did a great job planning for the two weeks and I can remember that we had many different and lively adventures. Often, we would fill our backpacks with sandwiches and apples, and spend an entire day, just hiking in the mountains. The smaller children would stay behind with a social worker, who would keep them occupied with age-appropriate activities. Those children, who were able to hike an entire day, could look forward to many exciting adventures and wonderful scenery ahead. Once, we even went on a hike at night and this was particularly exciting for us. Simone, who was my favorite social worker (see “The Laughter Of Simone“) invited her boyfriend, Heiner, to come along and join in the fun. We all so enjoyed harassing Heiner and picking on him – and Heiner seemed to have as much fun with it as we did. It was a sad day for us when Simone an Heiner eventually married and she left her work at the orphanage. Today, though, I am happy to say that we are all in close contact again after so many years apart. Both of them are a delight and as much a gift in my life now as they were back then.

It was always fun when our journey took us through the little towns and villages where the farmers and towns-people would wave as they saw a whole group of children going down the street. On occasion we would see a tractor coming from or going into the field, dogs barking as we would walk passed their farm house, and cats sitting leisurely in their yards. Often other little children, dressed in dirndl and lederhosen, would watch us with curiosity. I am sure they were wondering who we were and where we came from.

My favorite places to stop were always those where we could walk far enough up the mountains to where we could look down into the valley below. It was lovely to see the quaint little towns, each with their own small church encased in the various shades of green and earth-tone mountains. Often one could hear the church bell ring in the distance and a feeling of complete connectedness, peace, and joy would settle in my heart as nothing else could do. I still cherish those moments as they become alive in my memory. There is just nothing like a good hike and then sitting down at noontime to enjoy a sandwich, along with a good crisp apple.The girls would often make “flower crowns” as we sat in the meadow during our break. Also often we would pick a blade of grass, put it between our thumbs and make what we called “grass music.” My own children today find that fascinating. Each year we would visit some of the castles nearby and fortunately for us, in those days, the tourism did not take over the experience. We were able to really soak in the magic and imagine what it was like for a person, or the king himself, living in those days of yesteryear. Those times were beautiful and majestic in so many ways. I particularly loved the crystal clear lakes that surrounded the castles. When you find a spot where you can see the castles and the lakes from a far-away view, it is truly like stepping into a fairy-tale land. One could get lost in its beauty and forget that a different life even exists.

After a long hike, we would often go swimming in a lake nearby. I especially remember a particular little brook with a small body of water that we made certain to visit each year. It was a favorite spot with the children because the water was so clear and incredibly cold that it became a “dare you” game as to who would be willing to jump in first. My fingers and toes easily become snow white when I am cold and just putting my feet and hands into the water seemed to have been enough for me.

Each year we would go, at least once or twice, on a “scavenger hunt” in the forest. I remembered the stories of “Rotkäpchen” – “The Little Red Riding Hood” and “Hänsel und Gretel.” As much as I loved these games though, I always found myself looking over my shoulders…even after I was old enough not to believe in such fairy tales. Walking through the thick, dark forest and being able to hear each crack of a branch, made me aware that the silence was greater than the noise we children would make. I always made sure to stay close to the other children but I would never allow them to know that I was secretly afraid…but perhaps they were afraid as well.

After our evening meal, we often would sit outside after dark, in front of a big open fire, roasting marshmallows and singing our songs. One or two of the social workers would always have a guitar and I cherished those moments of togetherness. The warmth of the fire seemed comforting to me and being cuddled up with the other children during those moments created a special bond of togetherness. There was a calm and a peace on those nights, without any rivalry and competitions of of any sort. The social workers too seemed more relaxed since there was no need for so much strictness and order. They also enjoyed visiting with the other social workers who came along from the other group. They would all sit outside on the porch, talking and staying up long after the children went to bed. We, of course, would often sneak out of our bedrooms to see what all the laughing and carrying on was all about!

Those memories of Buching, the beautiful Alps, the quiet and dark forest, the many wonderful hikes and the beauty of that corner of the world, will stay with me forever. I am very thankful for those memories which bring such fondness and happiness to my heart.