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

Photograph by: R. Scott Jaynes

Home

Preserving the beauty of ancient times
Offering wisdom in the folds of its age,
This old country calls me back again
Whispering peace and assurance today.

Stretch forth your arms, oh mighty Alps,
Tell your story to the weary at heart.
Your generosity is as a healing balm
To wounded, tearful lovers of all time.

Let your brooks sing their lovely songs
As they happily, freely flow without care.
Washing away the old and making new,
Leaving impressions of life lived well.

As generations walk upon the old cobblestones
In aged cities, villages, and towns
Isolation unravels, it cannot be ignored
Finding warmth and kinship all around.

~Viola Jaynes
3/26/09

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

Love-which is God- will consider our sighs and tears as incense burned at His altar and he will reward us with fortitude. ~Kahlil Gibran

In 1995, my husband, Scott, was attending college and also working on weekends while earning his advanced degree in geology at the University of Houston. I was full time employed at a local medical clinic. We had no children at the time. We had decided to wait until the college years were behind us so I could raise our children and avoid putting them into daycare. Our lives were occupied with school, projects, field trips, homework, and our jobs.

It was on one such busy day that I received a phone call from my brother, Jean, who was living in Germany.  He had called to tell me that he was engaged to be married in May, and wanted to invite me to be a part of his wedding.

I have written here about the day he was adopted out of our orphanage and how I came to realize that I would not see him as a child again. Losing my little brother was a loss that would stay with me always. In time, I managed to bury the tears deep within me, and remove the memories from the forefront of my mind of that very painful day so long ago. It was a loss that I had to eventually find the courage to look at again, and again.  It was a loss that I could not make any sense of, and yet with time, I was able to accept it and find meaning in it, which brought some healing to my heart.

Words cannot describe how excited I was to hear from Jean again after all these years of wondering where he was and how he was doing. I quickly realized just how rusty my German had become, and I was much relieved when I realized that he was able to speak English.  That day, it became a mission of mine to regain my German language skills, to better communicate with my newfound family!   Because my husband was in college, flying to Germany was going to be more of an expense for us than what we could afford at that time.  However, the idea of our not flying to Germany to be a part of Jean’s wedding was out of the question. We were simply going to make that trip!

Some of my friends at work were so excited about the prospect of me seeing my brother again after so many years that they and my supervisor, knowing that my husband was in College, took up a collection to help out with our expenses as we prepared to fly to Germany.  Contributing toward this reunion was a very generous and kind gesture from those who did not really know me that well.  I was deeply humbled and thankful for their kindness and generosity.

As we flew to Germany, I was nervous and a bit apprehensive. I imagined every possible scenario under the sun.  Would Jean recognize me?   Would I recognize him?  Would we both feel comfortable with each other or would our time together be awkward?   When the moment arrived, and I saw Jean for the first time in 25 years, I felt something that words simply cannot explain.   I recognized him right away even though over 25 years had passed.  As we held one another in a tight embrace, the years melted away, and I cried. I cried for our loss.  I cried for our reunion.  I cried for this very profound moment in both of our lives.  The emotions that welled up in me were overwhelming as my heart raced and my body shook.  There was no awkwardness as we knew we belonged to each other.

The wedding was beautiful, and visiting with Jean and his new bride was a special time for us. They welcomed my husband with open arms, and the four of us had a wonderful time together.   During this busy time, Jean and I did managed to have some time alone. We spoke about our childhood and the day he was taken away from me.  Jean told me about his life with his new family, and we discussed how life had been for me staying behind in the orphanage and eventually moving to America.  Though there was much to talk about, there were also times we would not say a word.   Somehow, we understood each other as only siblings can. That understanding, we realized, was a part of the feeling of a deeper belonging and a deeper love.

In the years that followed, although we’ve spoken periodically on the telephone, I have not seen Jean since he was married in 1996.  Much has taken place in his life as well as in our lives.  As I spoke with my brother just a few days ago, we both knew it was time for another reunion.  We will be traveling to Germany again soon, and I can’t wait to see him and spend some time with him again.  I miss him.  My two children also look forward to meeting their Uncle Jean, and my husband will enjoy clanging his beer krug once again with his.

Life is good!  I am very thankful!

*Since we are getting ready to fly to Germany, I wanted to bring this post  back up from last January.  Finally, Jean and I are able to see each other again.  We are looking so forward to it.