Never without a father
By Eva-Maria Hogrefe
I Grew Up In the Germany of World War II—a war-ravaged country. Insecurity, fear, hunger, and danger were our daily companions. My mother, sisters, brother, and I were living far away from our relatives and from all that was familiar. Away from the big city of Kassel, where we had lived, and where bombing had driven us from our home, we found refuge in an old building in a small village, in some rooms above a stable.
Nearby, on a hill, stood a small stone church. Inside its thick walls, I found such stillness. I just loved the place and the feeling of peace I always found there. On one wall hung a picture of an angel watching over two children who were walking hand-in-hand onto a narrow bridge—a bridge without handrails—that crossed a turbulent river. The children's faces, though, were lifted up, looking away from the raging waters. Listening to the angel—the message from God—they walked without fear. When I gazed at the picture, I could feel that these children were listening to God with deep trust and peace.
Soon after the war ended, we were told that my father was missing. Then we were told that he was dead. My family was devastated. In my confusion, I really didn't know where to turn for help, except to go to my favorite spot, that little church on the hill, to speak to God. And I knew that meantlistening to Him, too.
One day as I sat there listening, a small, calm voice within said, "Children are never without a father." I ran home and told my mother that Daddy was coming home.
"Oh, you little dreamer," was all she could say.
Many months went by, and nothing happened. Doubts came, and I shed tears, but I held tenaciously to the message God had given to me that day. I just knew He couldn't be wrong.
Christmas drew near. By now, because of other things that had happened, I had decided for myself that nothing was impossible to God. So if anyone asked about our family, I would say, "My daddy is coming home at Christmas." But I couldn't really explain why I thought he was coming home then.
December 24 was more than special—full of expectation. On that Christmas Eve, close to midnight, Mother told us to go to bed. I begged her to let us stay up just a little longer.
A short time later, we heard footsteps coming up the wooden stairs. Mother told us to be very quiet because she didn't expect anyone so late at night. There was a knock. And then a voice calling my mother's name. And then another knock. She put her finger on her lips. But I ran to the door and unlocked it, saying, "Daddy!" And opened it wide.
There stood my father. I hardly recognized him—he was so skinny, and his clothes were so shabby. He had escaped from a prisoner-of-war camp in another country and had walked all the way, mostly by night. In the day, he had walked through farms so he would have some food to eat. He told us there were many times when he thought he was at the end of his rope, but the thought that his children couldn't be without a father, and his desire to live, kept him going.
This Christmas memory will always be with me. I love what it tells me about deeply trusting in God's goodness, and about a child's unquestioning certainty.
From the December 24, 2001 issue of the Christian Science Sentinel
Jesus instructed
Whereby to heal.
He knew
The Christ,
God's ideal,
Ruled supreme
In him
And revealed
His forever unity with God—
God and His perfect man
As one in Love sealed!
"My sheep hear my voice,
and I know them,
and they
follow me."
Let us pause—be still—and pray
To hear the Christ
Speak
And feel the mighty strength
Of humility,
The power of kindness
And of constancy,
As a joyous
Gracious heart
Receives
A wholly loving God
And His Christ.
That means
For you and me—
In truth
Ever one with God, living as
His pure, perfect idea—
Healing
And
Peace.
By Eva-Maria Hogrefe
From the July 1996 issue of The Christian Science Journal
