"Write down this vision; clearly inscribe it on tablets so one may easily read it." (Hab 2:2)
For whatever reason, there’s only a single picture of Oma Ida and me, a keepsake I’ve cherished throughout my life. She’s the only grandparent I’ve met in person; all others had long passed when I was born. My life with her began on a hot summer day when my mother labored to bring me into … Continue reading Molded after Oma Ida.
When I started this blog a couple of years ago, one of my early posts is called A WOMAN FROM THE EAST. It’s Klara’s story, but also mine. 1945, fleeing the Russian attacks of their hometown near Breslau in the historic region of Silesia, a trek of refugees from the East swept into our village. … Continue reading Fresh tears over a story from the past.
Grandma Ida’s house was not really that large. But too big for a widow living by herself, decided the mayor. “Sorry, Madam, but you must take some of them.” “How many?” she asked, fully knowing there’s nothing much she could do. The ending war just swept a wave of refugees from the East into the … Continue reading A woman from the East
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