Journal of a Living Lady #50
Nancy White Kelly
It is hard for people to understand what they haven’t been through. I know what it is like to lose a parent, both of them, but I don’t know what it is like to lose a child or a spouse. I don’t want to know.
Some people think they know what it is like to be facing a terminal illness. Probably not. Even though I lost my own beloved father to cancer, I didn’t fully understand his battle until I was thrust into it myself.
Strange how life takes such crazy turns. My father was assigned to the unit that took part in the catastrophic invasion of Normandy . Everyone went but him. He was rejected because he had flat feet. Instead of going overseas, Dad was left to guard prisoners of war in Florida. I often wonder if I would be here today if God hadn’t left out the arches in my father’s feet.
Since moving to the mountains, we have made several friends who are from Germany and Austria. They are intelligent, witty and each has a strong Christian faith. They pray for my healing and insist that “Nichts ist unmòglich.” I agree, but add, “mit Gott.” Based on my one semester of German, fully translated that should mean, “With God, nothing is impossible.”
Christmas is not too far behind. This is a true story, passed along by Pastor Rob Reid. It reaffirms my belief in miracles even in February.
A new pastor and his
wife ‘s first ministry was to reopen a church in urban Brooklyn. They arrived
in early October and were excited about their opportunities.
When the couple saw
their church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to
have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve. The pastor and wife worked day and night repairing pews, plastering walls, and
painting. On Dec. 18, they were ahead of schedule and just about finished. The next day a driving rainstorm hit the
area and lasted for two days.
When the pastor returned, his heart sank. The
roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster to fall off the front wall of
the sanctuary. Discouraged, the pastor headed toward home.
On the way he noticed a flea market sale for
charity. He hesitated, but decided to stop. One of the items for sale was a
beautiful, hand-made, ivory colored, crocheted table cloth. The workmanship was
exquisite with fine colors and a cross embroidered right in the center. The
pastor estimated it was just the right size to cover up the hole in the front
wall.
He bought the table cloth and headed back to
the church. By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to
catch the bus. She missed it. The
pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus which would come
in about 45 minutes.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the
pastor while he got a ladder to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The
pastor was awed at its beauty and delighted that it covered up the entire
problem area.
When the woman looked toward the front, she
grimaced in astonishment.. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you
get that tablecloth?" He explained
about the rummage sale. The trembling
woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials “EBG”
were crocheted into it there. They were.
These were her initials. She had made this tablecloth 35 years before
in Austria. The woman could hardly
believe what she was seeing. The wearied woman explained that before the war
she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she
was forced to leave. Her husband was
going to follow her the next week. She
was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth,
but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving
her home. He felt that this was the least he could do. She lived on the other
side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning
job.
What a wonderful service they had on
Christmas Eve. The church was almost
full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the
pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would
return. One aged gentleman, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood,
continued to sit in one of the pews and stare. Finally the old man asked the
pastor where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical
to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the
war. How could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came and
that he forced his wife to flee for her safety. He explained that he was
supposed to follow her, but was arrested and put in a concentration camp. He
never saw his wife or his home again for all those years even though he had
prayed for a miracle.
The pastor asked the man if he would allow
him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same
house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the
feeble gentleman climb several flights of stairs to the woman's apartment. The
pastor knocked on the door and witnessed the greatest Christmas reunion he
could ever imagine!
Nichts ist unmoglich mit Gott.
web:
https://www.angelfire.com/bc/nancykelly
