Spiritual Things Matter

…the flower withers, but the seed remains. ~Kahlil Gibran

Each year, at Easter, my mind wanders back to my orphanage years. Easter was celebrated by going to church, and then later hunting for eggs that we all painted together.

One year, when I was about eight years old, I received a package in the mail. It was a huge surprise since I had never received a package before. I was excited and very curious as to who would send me a gift and I wondered just what might be in it. I noticed that the package was from my brother, Jean.

Approximately six months prior to Easter that year, my brother had been adopted out of the orphanage by an older couple who had lost a baby during WW II. It had been their only child; the mother had been unable to nourish her baby with her breast milk because they had been fleeing the Nazis and had been malnourished. The baby died in her arms. Years later, this same couple wanted to adopt a son. My brother was one year younger than I and we were very close. I was always very protective of him. Even though he had his own set of friends in the orphanage, we were fortunate to be in the same group since many siblings were split up.

I remember the day when that couple came to pick up my brother. We were at “Fraule’s” house. There had been no forewarning to my brother or myself that a couple was interested in adopting him. The couple liked me as well and expressed an interest in me, but they could not take me because my mother had never signed any papers of release for me. She had only signed papers for my two brothers and my youngest brother had already been adopted a number of years before. I don’t know why my mother did not release me.

It was a strange day, one moment my brother and I were together and the next moment he was gone from my life. I felt empty and alone. I felt sad and forgotten.

Nevertheless, that Easter a package came in the mail from my brother. As I opened the package, I reached in with curiosity and excitement that only a child could feel. I pulled out a little pink rabbit. What happened after that was beyond my own understanding. I clutched that little pink rabbit and started to cry as I had never cried before. I fell down to my knees and wailed with sadness because for the very first time, I could physically feel my heart break. I then realized he was not coming back and I would not see him again. I felt lonely and abandoned and in that moment all of my emotions which I could not put into words, came to the surface.

That little pink rabbit was somehow lost in the orphanage. The loss of my brother, Jean, however, has always stayed with me. The pain of that moment was so profound and deep that all I have been able to do is to deal with it at the various stages of my life. Today, in my mid 40’s, I write about it. Over 30 years would pass before I would see my brother again; in 1996, Jean, called me because he was getting married and he wanted me, his sister, to be a part of this special moment in his life. I was ecstatic and could hardly wait to see him again after so many years.

I am happy for people who have siblings with whom to share their joys and sorrows. My own two children have each other and I try to teach them never to take one another for granted. I always tell them that none of us knows what tomorrow may hold because one moment something is ours and the next moment it can be gone forever. I also try to teach them the value of spiritual truth which will abide forever. Hans Christian Andersen says, “The human life is a story told by God.” No matter what the story may be, may it always bring honor to the One who has created us. God’s love can heal all broken hearts. I truly believe that!

At the heart of our loss is gain - unseen, and yet eternal.
At the heart of our gain is loss through too much knowing.
At the heart of our joys are mysteries that remain untold.
At the heart of our tears is wisdom - embracing the cycles of life,
thus, finding stillness and peace within.

~Viola M. Jaynes

Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom; mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.
~Lao Tzu

I read a wonderful essay that Dr. Sanity wrote which gave me so much to think about. If you like, you can read it in its entirety. She speaks of the defense strategies that we humans use in order to protect ourselves from each other.  She says:

“The most psychologically healthy of these strategies are those that allow us to transform primitive instinctual energy of even the most destructive emotions into works of art or entertainment that give pleasure to others (sublimation and humor); or behavior that is socially beneficial (altruism, anticipation, suppression). People who achieve optimal psychological health are those who have come to satisfactory terms with their neurobiology. They are people who have learned to accept their anger, rage and other potentially deadly emotions and, instead of destructively acting out, repressing, denying or projecting; have creatively expressed those feelings in a way that improves life both for themselves and for others.”

In my younger years, I used to be so embarrassed when feelings of anger or rage would rise up from within. I would try to hide the anger and suppress it as long as possible;  only on very few occasions did someone close enough to me even gain a glimpse into the frustration that I often felt. I remember once, when studying at a school of ministry where I also worked, that the pastor once asked me very calmly and lovingly, “Viola, whom are you mad at?”

My reply was, “I’m not mad at anyone.”   In fact, at the time, I did not really fully understand just how angry I was. I did not even understand why he was asking me that question because I was simply going about my usual work.

Because I grew up without parents and without my siblings, I, not only had to learn to parent myself in many situations but I also had to simply handling whatever came along and bury much of the fear and insecurities that I was feeling. Too much of the time, I was an island unto myself and would not talk through things with anyone. After I gained my independence and began to established a life of my own, I found myself weeping quite a bit. I could not understand where so many tears could come from.  Eventually, though, I realized that the tears came from a place deep within me.

Only with added years I have learned to understand myself better. When I would gain a glimpse into my own heart, I would simply cry out to God to heal me and to help me. I would turn my anger over to Him each and every time it arose, and I would be honest enough to recognize it for what it was. I started to give myself much more room to allow emotions to come to the top and then to examine them as honestly as I could with the understanding that I had at the time. That was not always easy, for I also had to work through embarrassment and the tendency to simply hide. As Dr. Sanity so aptly described, however, I came to a place in my life where I could accept my anger and my rage and allow the transformative power that lay in my own heart to change me. Often, it seemed that the changes were so minute, but with time, with much time - I realized that I was on my way to becoming a whole person.

It is good to know that it is just fine to be angry and to be even full of rage. It is also extremely freeing to know that this energy can be turned to one’s own benefit. This process involves healing and creatively  allowing it to tunnel though oneself, emerging into understanding, kindness and compassion for oneself as well as for others.  With the help of a greater energy, this wholeness can and will be a reality if one continually, day in and day out, has the desire to be completely honest with oneself.

Growth requires self-examination. Growth requires self-honesty. Growth requires the willingness to be humble and to take responsibility for one’s life, one’s happiness, and one’s peace of mind. Most important, growth requires a willingness to change one’s mind, to change one’s attitude. In short, it is a position of humility that is consciously and willingly taken up for a higher purpose and a higher goal.

This is extremely powerful and transformative! For many, it will be the start of a much happier and more creative life.

Never fear to look into the eyes of your own anger. Beneath this anger you will find some measure of brokenness and fear. This brokenness and fear can be healed with love. This love has been freely provided for.  Not for some…but for all. Embrace this love through a gentle acceptance of yourself. Embrace this love through self-love that you may be healed and then begin a much happier and more purposeful life.

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. Jean invited me to be a part of his wedding.

I have written here about the day he was adopted, 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. 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 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 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 Jean’s. Life is good!

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit…For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. ~Kahlil Gibran

There are some people who come into our lives in such a quiet and gentle way that we do not even give it all that much thought. They are simply there doing what they do best, which is tending to the things of life in very ordinary ways. Yet, it is these same people that, when we are no longer with them , we realize just how rich their presence was and how much kindness and gentleness they added to our life.

After Fraule passed away, Geli and Herman had contacted the orphanage to inquire as to whether I could come visit them every other weekend, and a week or two during vacation time. Fraule was frequently not well. Many times, there was simply nothing to do at her house. So, I spent quite a bit of time with this friendly couple who lived upstairs. Geli and Herman (Fraule’s nephew) were much younger and livelier than Fraule, so I always enjoyed being with them. Also, Fraule was often very depressed, which made our interaction more difficult. I was too young to understand her better, but hindsight and maturity have given me a better insight of who she was.

Geli and Herman never had any children of their own. They were young and very much in love with each other. Fraule owned the house they lived in, and as is typical in Germany, many houses are divided into apartments. This house was divided into three apartments. There were two downstairs apartments, and Fraule lived in one of them. Also, there was one upstairs where Herman and Geli lived. None of the apartments were very large, but they seemed to fit the needs of each occupant. Behind the house, there was a large yard with a clothing line, a wash room, and a vegetable garden where I often helped myself to fresh carrots. Herman built a garden house with lanterns around it. Hanging on the wall inside the garden house, one could see memorabilia collected from various trips that they had made to different parts of Germany and Switzerland. During the summer months, many hours were spent in that garden house visiting with family and friends while eating meals, drinking coffee, and enjoying cakes which Geli often would bake herself. There also was a large divided shed - one space was for Herman, and the other for Fraule. During the winter months, Fraule kept wood and coals in her shed. While I was there, she often would ask me to bring some into the house . I always was spooked by that shed, and even as I got older, I never liked going in there. Herman’s section was closer to the house and did not seem so dark and frightening. Herman liked to work in his shed much of the time when he was at home, and I would often just stand at the door and watch him. I liked Herman very much, and sometimes would begin to wonder what it would be like to have a father.

Geli (her real name being Angelika) was a lovely and very feminine young woman. She was always very meticulous about her appearance, as she carefully rolled and teased her hair and painted her nails with light pink nail polish. Before she would leave the house, she would always be sure to apply her pretty pink lipstick. Even though she had very light skin, her skin would turn a pretty tan color during the summer months, which made her blond hair and her pink lipstick stand out even more. I always thought she had a very striking and beautiful look. Geli loved doing crossword puzzles, going shopping, and keeping her home nice and neat. Geli was a seamstress and was faithful to her job for over forty years. When I was with her, she always inquired about how things were going in the orphanage. I never failed to tell her every minute detail of events that would take place. I cherished her inquisitiveness, and it made me feel that she was genuinely interested in me. We would also laugh a lot together. Her simple and uncomplicated ways made our relationship open and so enjoyable.

Geli was a wonderful cook, and she made the house smell delicious as she often had something in the oven set on very low to simmer. I always looked forward to eating at her house, and at times would even have second helpings of the wonderful food she had prepared. I always made a point to help out as much as I could by doing the dishes after meals and vacuuming the carpet. I never wanted to be a burden, nor did I want them to regret having me in their home. When we went shopping together, I would lock my arms in hers, as is common in many European countries, and it always gave me a sense of warmth and security. She would often buy me a little something, and when it was time to go back to the orphanage, she would always hand me a few D-Marks for spending money. Herman and Geli would never ask me what I would spend the money on, although they had a pretty good idea (most of the time it was spent on sweets for my friends and me).

Almost every weekend, Geli’s parents would be at her house. I had the privilege to know them over the years when I came to visit. Geli learned her generosity and kind spirit from her mother as she too was such a lovely and very feminine lady. She was quiet in her demeanor (a nurse as her profession), and she always had something kind to say. She too would often hand me a few D-Marks as I would leave to go back to the orphanage on Sunday afternoons. I was always very touched by her kindness and thoughtfulness.

It was a shock to Geli and Herman when they found out that my father had found me and wanted to bring me to America. They had misgivings, and rightfully so, since I had been in the orphanage for so many years. I was fourteen years old already, and they wondered why my father would so suddenly make the effort to find me after all those years. Our goodbyes where not easy, and I thanked them over and over again for all that they had done for me.

Because of the very difficult situation I found myself in when I came to this country, all ties to Germany were lost. My primary responsibility was to get used to a new life and a new country, and to learn English as quickly as possible by going to school and working in the evenings. No effort was made to get letters mailed out for me, and it seemed as if I had forever left my old life behind. Over time, I even lost much of my German language. I remember once driving down the street and hearing someone speak German on the radio. I thought how strange and yet so familiar it sounded to me, and I knew then that I would somehow reconnect to my childhood ties.

I have been in America now for 31 years. When I moved out on my own at age 19, I could not afford to call Germany or to go for visits. As time has gone by, I have been able to fly to Germany a number of times. As my German has improved again, I now call Germany regularly. One of the people I call is Geli. Our first reunion was beyond description as we saw each other again after so many years had passed. So much can change, yet so much stays the same. They were deeply moved by my visit, and of course, I was so happy to see them again. Geli had tears in her eyes, and I realized that I did not fully understand that I meant that much to her. I was deeply touched.

Herman passed away a number of years ago, and I was so thankful that I had the chance to see him again before he passed away. Geli presently has heart problems. Lately, she has had to be in the hospital again. I spoke with her mother, whom I also cherish, and explained that I would like to be informed should it become serious so that I can fly to Germany to be with my friend. I am deeply thankful for my experiences with these very gentle and lovely people. They truly are a gift to me…more than they will ever know!

P.S. My friend Simone, translated this for me into German and I was able to print this story out on some nice paper and mail it to Geli for Christmas. She seemed to be deeply moved by my remembrances and my appreciation for her and Herman. Thank you Simone, for being so gracious.