"The Tablecloth"

The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to
their first ministry, to reopen a church in urban Brooklyn,
arrived in early October excited about their opportunities.
When they 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.
They  worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls,
painting, etc. and on Dec. 18 they were ahead of schedule
and just about finished.

On Dec. 19 a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for
two days.  On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sunk when he saw that the roof had leaked,
causing a large area of plaster about 6 feet by 8 feet to fall
off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit,
beginning about head high.  The pastor cleaned up the
mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but
postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home.

On the way he noticed that a local business was having
a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in.  One
of the items was a beautiful, hand- made, ivory colored,
crocheted table cloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a
cross embroidered right in the center.  It was just the right
size to cover up the hole in the front wall.  He bought it 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 45
minutes later.  She sat in a pew and paid no attention to
the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc. to put up
the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly
believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire
problem area.

Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle.
Her face was like a sheet.  "Pastor," she asked, "Where
did you get that tablecloth?"  The pastor explained.  The
woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if
the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were.

These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this
tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.  The woman could hardly
believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the tablecloth.
The 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, that 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 older man, whom the pastor recognized from the
neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare,
and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving.  The man
asked him 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 and
how could there be two tablecloths so much alike?  He
told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his
wife to flee for her safety, and he was supposed to follow
her, but he was arrested and put in a concentration camp.
He never saw his wife or his home again for all the 35
years in between.

The pastor asked him 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 man climb the three flights of
stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door, and
he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.

True Story...submitted by Pastor Rob Reid
Painting above by Kinkaid

WhisperWillow2002

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