Spiritual Things Matter

We cannot do great things on this earth. We can only do small things with great love. ~Mother Teresa

As I looked through my jewelry box to pick out a necklace for the day, I was drawn to my gold, four-leaf clover necklace, which has great meaning for me. In a separate post on this blog called, “Love’s Mysteries,” I wrote how it came about that I acquired such a treasure. Please do read it if you desire to do so.

This little four-leaf gold clover pendant was a gift from a school teacher that I had in the 3rd-6th grade. We shared a special love for each other that could only be felt, but was never spoken of, until separation came. My dear friend is in her seventies now, living alone and I make a point to call her once a week. I could not afford this privilege in my younger years. Our conversations are meaningful, as we have shared many of our deepest thoughts and feelings for life itself. I love her dearly to this day.

As I left my orphanage in Germany to move to America, that pendant was a treasure that I held on to. I had never received a gift such as this, one that truly came from the heart. The emotions that came with it were filled with love, confusion, sadness and tears, and yet I cherished it because it acknowledged my existence on a deeper level to someone. I faced incredibly hard times with the family I came to live with and this pendant represented hope for better days ahead.

My father, whom I had only known for a short time, eventually divorced and left a very abusive and oppressive relationship behind, for which I was all too thankful. Much of the abuse and oppression was directed at me, as it seemed that this woman needed to vent her hate and anger out on someone.

A number of years later, when my father had made an effort to turn his life around and make a commitment to God, he began a new relationship with a lady, of whom I was also very fond. She was a woman minister and perhaps, that is what drew me to her. This relationship was not destined to last very long but as I look back, I took note of this longing that manifested itself in me.

When it looked like that my father and this very nice lady were developing a deeper relationship, I looked at this precious clover pendant and decided to give it as a gift to her. The hope it represented was something I wanted to give to her, as I knew she did not have an easy life herself - or perhaps, it was the hope I had all my life for a mother. I was only 16 years old and I was swept away with ideals and dreams, sentimentality and girlish notions of what it would mean to have a loving mother in my life. Foolishly, without further thought, I sat down and wrote a nice letter, telling her of the story behind this pendant. (Since I had only been speaking English for two years at that point, I wonder how many words I must have misspelled.) I then wrapped it nicely, and presented the gift to her with all the tenderness and love I had in me.

Over the years, I had regretted my short sightedness and wished that I had not given away such a priceless treasure. I had searched for this pendant after I found out that this lady had lost it or perhaps even given it away herself. I have never been able to find one like it and so after my daughter was born, I decided to have another one made. I drew a picture of the original as I had remembered it, and took it to a local jeweler. They did a nice enough job but its delicateness was not captured and of course, its meaning is not the same.

This four-leaf gold clover is a representation, however, of love that I received and love that I gave away. It is a reminder of love that I hoped for all my life and a vivid picture of how love is not packaged in a nice little neat box, but rather it can come to us mysteriously when least expected, suddenly, and in the most unusual ways. Those moments must be cherished as they reveal to us God’s divine hand in our lives. Those moments bring hope and activate faith in us with deep conviction, that life is far greater than what we simply see with our eyes.

As I have gotten older, I reflect on my relationships with women with whom I have come in contact with over the years. I recognize that my relationships with them have often been colored by the absence of a mother in my life and sometimes by my inward, often unconscious yearning for one. I have read a couple of books on “Motherless Daughters” and I wept as I recognized myself on its pages and began to understand myself better. The struggles with fear of rejection and dealing with rejection, from women especially - have been painful to say the least. Insecurities about our place in this world, desires for understanding and recognition, sharing too much, sharing not enough, and forging meaningful relationships, have all been dilemmas and emotions that I have profoundly lived and felt.

I have risen above many of those fears of abandonment and self-pity which I could only do through an honest relationship with God. More often than not, however, I would fall again and again on my knees with so much pain before I could find a clearer inward path for myself, as I would cry out in agony for God to help.

Be it as mother, a sister, a wife, a friend, a daughter, or a co-worker, I believe women have tremendous power in their lives. I think this power, when used lovingly and creatively can bring so much healing to others. It can bring comfort through sheer kindness and thoughtfulness. It can lift a spirit through a gentle touch and a warm embrace. It can bring clarity through the wisdom and insight we possess. Women’s sensitivity could bring so much harmony and peace into our world. In their commitment, women can bring great changes into their homes and into their societies through their unfailing devotion and prayer to God.

Many have had mothers they lost in some form or fashion. Many have had mothers by birth but for some reason or another, they were not able to truly nurture their child. Many in our world yearn for love, kindness and gentleness that they have lost or simply never received. It is amazing how much humanity would heal if they were given this gift of unselfish love freely. It is dangerous to judge people when you have never walked in their shoes, for further damage can ensue from such a choice. We are in this world to support and help each other along the way - not to judge. All of us have very limited understanding of the greater scheme of things and yes indeed, all of us have much, much work to do.

Through greater awareness and commitment to a spiritual life, it is amazing how many opportunities come our way where we can exercise kindness and compassion for another. Let us seize those opportunities - for the gift of love is freely given!

My pendant was given to me by someone who wanted to be my mother but could not. I gave it to someone who I wished could have given me a motherly love. I now wear it as a symbol, reminding me that I must no longer look outside of myself. The Kingdom of God is within and its radiating love far surpasses that of a well meaning, yet limited mother’s love - allowing my hopes and dreams to be set on things above. I am deeply humbled and thankful for God’s presence and love in my life.

Be tender to the young, compassionate to the aged and tolerant with the weak, for in your lifetime, you will be all of these. ~Confucious

The year was 1972 and I was on my way to spend my usual two weeks vacation at Fraule’s (Frawley) house. On the trolley and bus rides to her home, I would think about how slowly the time passes there. It was a big change from all the activities going on at the orphanage, and it often seemed like stepping back into a different time.

Fraule was an elderly woman perhaps in her late sixties or early seventies. She didn’t fancy coloring her hair or wearing any type of make-up, so she could have even been younger than what she appeared to be. Fraule was a simple woman who never had any children of her own. She had lost her husband in WWII and had never married again. She knew her neighbors well, and when we walked to the near-by grocery store and met someone she knew, she would often stand for an hour or longer chatting as I just stood by waiting on her. She was a robust and large woman, and I would often help her with hand washing clothes outside and hanging them on clotheslines. I always loved the fresh smell of the clothes when they were dry and ready to be brought back inside.

When Fraule knew that I was coming for a visit, she would often prepare a fresh apple strudel or one of her wonderful prune cakes or a marble cake because she knew how much I loved her baking. If she did not have one already baked, we would usually bake one together. I would peel all the apples and cut them for her, and then place them unto the dough. I enjoyed her marble cake as well, and I loved licking the chocolate from the bowl once everything else was done. My very favorite thing was brushing the melted chocolate all over this freshly baked marble cake. Fraule seemed to gain a special satisfaction out of just watching me, and I often would even exaggerate my excitement just to make her feel special. Even as a young child, I could feel that she was very lonely.

Fraule suffered terribly for many years from a condition which caused a ringing of the ears. She never was able to receive any helpful treatment for this condition, and would share with me that it almost drove her crazy at times, especially during the night. It was during one such night when her condition pushed her to do something that I would never forget.

I woke that bright morning with the windows open and the fresh breeze coming into the room. It was quiet in the house, and I could hear the birds singing outside. Fraule and I slept in the same bed, and when I noticed that her false teeth were in their customary place on her nightstand, I began to wonder just where she was. I knew Fraule well enough to know that she would certainly never leave the house without her teeth. She usually woke up early in the morning, and by the time I would awaken, I would hear all kinds of clatter from the kitchen. That morning, however, there was total silence.

I got up and started to look for her. I walked outside to see if she was working in the vegetable garden or in the wash room where she typically would heat water to do the wash or to take a bath. The washroom was locked, but I also knew it could only be locked from the inside. So, I walked around to look through the window. Pressing my face against the window pane since it was very dark inside, I could see Fraule lying still on the floor. I began to call out her name, but my cries did not seem to stir her. I ran as quickly as I could to the upstairs apartment where her nephew, Herman, and his wife Geli, lived. I was talking so fast that they asked me to slow down and tell them what was going on. All three of us hurried down the stairs and Herman pried the door open to where Fraule was lying on the concrete floor, pale faced and forlorn. They called the ambulance right away, and Fraule was taken to the hospital. I was crying and so scared because I didn’t understand what was happening or why.

Later that day, we received the good news that Fraule would be fine. She had taken an overdose of sleeping pills in the hope of never waking up again. The ringing in her ears had become so unbearable that she evidently could think of no other way out.

I stayed the remainder of the time with Geli and Herman, both of whom were in their mid thirties. They asked me not to tell anyone in the orphanage what had happened because then I would not have ever been allowed back to visit them. I never told anyone.

After that incident, I returned many more times to visit Fraule, but she was never quite the same. She never talked to me about her suicide attempt, and I never brought it up. My elderly friend began to deteriorate quickly, and within about a year after that sad attempt to end her life, Fraule passed away. One night, the orphanage received a call from Geli and Herman informing them of Fraule’s passing and asking permission to come and pick me up for the funeral service. They also asked the director of the orphanage to have my usual visiting time granted to them.

My times with Fraule were never easy ones. Because of her own struggles, she often seemed to take her frustrations out on me. She enjoyed my brother, Jean, so much more because he had a much quieter and calmer nature than I had. Once my brother was adopted, my time together with Fraule became even more complicated. She often would refer to my mother and tell me that I was going to become just like her. Her criticism of me seemed unfair and unjust without any real reason behind it except for the fact that I looked like my mother. Often I would disappear to the upstairs apartment, and Geli and Herman became my refuge while I was there. This would make my time with Fraule even more complicated because she felt rejected by me and would accusingly say that I was ungrateful. Geli and Herman explained that Fraule seemed to enjoy arguing and that she had a very unhappy marriage where constant strife was the norm for her. Herman, being her nephew, also often got an earful.

Every so often, I think about my times with Fraule. As I remember back, this story seems to always come to the forefront since it was so dramatic for me. I do enjoy thinking about the nice time we had together baking and how she would smile at me as she watched me eat her cakes. She was a good woman with a good heart. In my adult years, I have understood that her loneliness just overcame her at times, and her moods were difficult for her to control.

Reaching out with kindness and understanding to elderly people is important. None of us know what burdens others carry on their shoulders. So many live with so much regret and pain. Many lives are filled with extreme loneliness and feelings of abandonment. A kind word, a few minutes of our time, and a gentle touch can make such a difference in their lives. I have often wished that I could have had more insight into Fraule’s heart while she was alive. I was just a child . . . but perhaps, I did learn just a little.