Now its time again
It was October 25, 1985. At half past two my parents took me to the Mainz central railway station. I would travel on the next train to Brussels, after which I would fly with Peoples Express for $149 to New Jersey. The yellow light of the street lamps shone through the opaque windows of our car. Before we got out, my mother said a sentence which I can still hear 29 years later. “Rudi, could you pray?” We closed our eyes and my father spoke one of his inimitable blessing prayers. For 18 months, I was going to study at several universities in the United States. Would we see each other again? “Amen,” came the deep voice of my father. Now the journey could begin to the new world. Less than 20 minutes later, the train rattled through the darkness towards Belgium.
It must have been the 7th or 8th of August, 2010. My daughter Natalie and I sat in the car in front of a high school in Leesburg, Florida. We had just arrived with our rental car and in a few minutes, the launch was to begin. Natalie, just 15 years old, was a little unconfident looking towards the coming 11 months. “Papa, can you pray for me?” asked my daughter in a low voice. This invitation was not necessary. Even without this question I would have entrusted our daughter in God’s care through prayer. The next day I drove away; now Natalie had to rely on herself.
In the spring of 1944, when my father was 19 years old and drafted to the front lines, my grandpa in Silesia also gave a prayer of blessing. With care and a heavy voice. And in 20 years when our children take our grandchildren to the station, they will surely do the same. None of us knows what the future will bring. We leave ourselves and the people we love in God’s care.
Tonight begins our daughters year of voluntary work at an orphanage in South Africa. Before we leave the parking lot at the Frankfurt airport, I will say a prayer. Not as a chore or out of habit, but from the depths of my heart. /KDJ
