Help in a time of need...
Time has a way of slipping by so fast that before we know it an event or period of time that marked us in remarkable ways, is a part of our distant past, As I started to write this post, I realized just how long ago it was...and was startled since it seems like only yesterday.
Like Job in the old testament, I too went thru a period of time that was marked by loss. I suppose we all do, but the suddeness, and the intensity of the experience was numbing and I struggled for a time to grasp all the changes that it wrought in my life. During this time, my second oldest son, went thru a period of turmoil in his life that was at once frustrating and yet heartbreaking at the same time.
As a family we'd gone thru the two year long cancer treatment of his older brother, the loss of my marriage, and followed soon after by the terminal illness of my mother and the loss of two of my closest friends in life. To say I felt "under siege" would have been an understatement. To have this son suddenly decide to become rebellious was at least in my weary mind, unthinkable, although in hindsight understandable.
It was during this time of conflict that we were driving into town, he in full adolescent rebellion and me feeling aggravated and overwhelmed. I pulled up to the curb to let him out at his destination, frustrated by his lack of "remorse" and rebellious attitude, i'm in full "mom mode" and giving him a piece of my mind as he storms off leaving the car door wide open. Watching all of this is an elderly woman, worn little hat, and gray coat, clutching her handbag and looking at me with an intensity that was surprising.
I put my head down on the steering wheel...frustrated with him and myself for letting things get to this state, and begin to think, life just has to be easier than this...when the elderly woman walks up to my car... She was not someone I knew, but she peers her head in and asks in a heavy german accent, " Are you ok dear? At first i'm startled...but then I assure her i'm fine. She smiles this "knowing" sort of smile and says this..."In the end, it's always their hearts" I was confused and asked "their hearts? She smiled again and then..without invitation sits down in the passenger seat of my car. There we were..her and I...I wasnt sure now what to say, but she gets this faraway look and begins this tale.
"It was during the war in Dresden, he was a fine boy, tall handsome, like yours. He had been injured on the Russian front and so was sent back to me, broken, but I was a good mother, and did my best to make him well. Everday I walked 40 minutes across the city to give my blood, my blood and his forever mixed and at this a tear silently tracks down her cheek. For a long moment she is silent at the memory....then goes on in a voice that is now a whisper...."It was then the bombing started, and the city was on fire", at that moment I became aware of the deep scars on the back of her hands and wrists . She continued "but still I walked, her voice now powerful and strong...but in the end it was his heart......it's always their hearts " ...the silence that followed that moment was still as a prayer, ...I was humbled at this mother's sacrifice and loss and suddenly keenly aware of my own impatience and lack of gratitude. Both of my son's were surviving, one from a two year battle with stage 4b cancer in both lungs, and the other in spite of his recent risky behaviors, and there I was feeling sorry. She looked at me, with those intense knowing eyes of hers and gave me a gentle smile. A look of remorse must have crossed my face because she reached out and squeezed my hands in hers, and then without another word got out of my car and left.
I've never forgotten this moment...and for years after I looked for her in our small town, asking friends if they had ever seen or heard of a small german woman, who'd lived thru the fire bombing of Dresden, but no one could recall such an individual.
Though the years after this time have brought there fair share of challenges, I've never forgotten her advice to me and i'm profoundly grateful for experience.
Like Job in the old testament, I too went thru a period of time that was marked by loss. I suppose we all do, but the suddeness, and the intensity of the experience was numbing and I struggled for a time to grasp all the changes that it wrought in my life. During this time, my second oldest son, went thru a period of turmoil in his life that was at once frustrating and yet heartbreaking at the same time.
As a family we'd gone thru the two year long cancer treatment of his older brother, the loss of my marriage, and followed soon after by the terminal illness of my mother and the loss of two of my closest friends in life. To say I felt "under siege" would have been an understatement. To have this son suddenly decide to become rebellious was at least in my weary mind, unthinkable, although in hindsight understandable.
It was during this time of conflict that we were driving into town, he in full adolescent rebellion and me feeling aggravated and overwhelmed. I pulled up to the curb to let him out at his destination, frustrated by his lack of "remorse" and rebellious attitude, i'm in full "mom mode" and giving him a piece of my mind as he storms off leaving the car door wide open. Watching all of this is an elderly woman, worn little hat, and gray coat, clutching her handbag and looking at me with an intensity that was surprising.
I put my head down on the steering wheel...frustrated with him and myself for letting things get to this state, and begin to think, life just has to be easier than this...when the elderly woman walks up to my car... She was not someone I knew, but she peers her head in and asks in a heavy german accent, " Are you ok dear? At first i'm startled...but then I assure her i'm fine. She smiles this "knowing" sort of smile and says this..."In the end, it's always their hearts" I was confused and asked "their hearts? She smiled again and then..without invitation sits down in the passenger seat of my car. There we were..her and I...I wasnt sure now what to say, but she gets this faraway look and begins this tale.
"It was during the war in Dresden, he was a fine boy, tall handsome, like yours. He had been injured on the Russian front and so was sent back to me, broken, but I was a good mother, and did my best to make him well. Everday I walked 40 minutes across the city to give my blood, my blood and his forever mixed and at this a tear silently tracks down her cheek. For a long moment she is silent at the memory....then goes on in a voice that is now a whisper...."It was then the bombing started, and the city was on fire", at that moment I became aware of the deep scars on the back of her hands and wrists . She continued "but still I walked, her voice now powerful and strong...but in the end it was his heart......it's always their hearts " ...the silence that followed that moment was still as a prayer, ...I was humbled at this mother's sacrifice and loss and suddenly keenly aware of my own impatience and lack of gratitude. Both of my son's were surviving, one from a two year battle with stage 4b cancer in both lungs, and the other in spite of his recent risky behaviors, and there I was feeling sorry. She looked at me, with those intense knowing eyes of hers and gave me a gentle smile. A look of remorse must have crossed my face because she reached out and squeezed my hands in hers, and then without another word got out of my car and left.
I've never forgotten this moment...and for years after I looked for her in our small town, asking friends if they had ever seen or heard of a small german woman, who'd lived thru the fire bombing of Dresden, but no one could recall such an individual.
Though the years after this time have brought there fair share of challenges, I've never forgotten her advice to me and i'm profoundly grateful for experience.
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