The sparkle in a grandmother’s eyes
the first time she sees and holds
her first and only grandchild.
He is nine years old now and
the sparkle is still there in her eyes
when he visits her in the nursing
home.
The Parkinson’s has her confined her
to a wheelchair now but it cannot take
away the joy she feels every time she sees
the little boy she had once held in her arms,
silently thanking and praising God
for blessing her with a grandchild.
It was Saturday morning and Andrea was at the nursing home visiting Mrs. Alvarez, dear woman whom she met through her grandmother. After her grandmother passed away, Andrea continued to visit Mrs. Alvarez who was always delighted to see her. She was in a wheelchair and although she was ninety years old, her mind was a sharp as ever. She reminisced a lot about her life in Buenos Aires and was always telling Andrea, to “go and visit. You will fall in love with it.”
Mrs. Alvarez moved with her family to Canada when she was a teenager. She went to University of Toronto where she met her future husband, Miguel. Miguel was from Madrid. After dating for six months, they got married. A year later, they had Mateo and then, three years later, Isabella. Isabella now lived in New York with her husband and their three children while Mateo was here in Toronto. He was still single.
It was four years ago when Andrea met Mateo the first time. She and her grandmother were in the courtyard enjoying the lovely weather when Mrs. Alvarez joined them. Mateo was pushing her wheelchair. Mrs. Alvarez introduced him to them, her face beaming. Andrea smiled at him and when he reached over and shook her hand, they eyes met and held for several minutes. He didn’t say much but was very pleasant and Andrea warmed to him immediately.
Since that first meeting, they had been seeing each other at the nursing home. Sometimes she would still be there when he visited and she would observe him with his mother. His attentiveness toward the elderly woman was so endearing. He was a bit reserved, not much of a conversationalist but he was very knowledgeable and she found herself enthralled any time he said something. His mother doted on him. They were very close.
“Mateo will be stopping by this afternoon as usual,” Mrs. Alvarez said now, interrupting her reverie. “I will be sure to give him the slice of this lovely cake you baked.” She was still eating her slice, clearly enjoying every morsel. The crumbs fell on the napkin spread neatly in her lap. “I used to love baking. Miguel was always complimenting me on my baking. He particularly loved my lemon squares. And Mateo, he loved my banana cake. Sometimes, I baked Argentine sweets and desserts like Arroz con leche which is a rice pudding and Cubanitos which were chocolate covered biscuit rolls. Yes, the kitchen always smelled of baking.”
Andrea smiled. Mrs. Alvarez was always going off on a tangent. She had grown to love this dear lady and cherished their time together.
“My son loves you, Andrea,” she said suddenly, startling her. “Yes, I can tell just from the way he looks at you.”
Andrea sighed. “Then why has his behavior toward me changed?” Lately, he seemed distant with her and whenever he showed up and his mother was not in the room, he would make some excuse and leave. It was as if he didn’t want to be alone with her. Once when they were alone, she reached out and touched his arm, he pulled it away as if she had burned him, his expression darkening. He mumbled something and left the room, leaving her standing there, hurt and bewildered. The next time she visited his mother, she told her about it and the old lady didn’t seem at all surprised.
“He thinks you’re too young for him,” she said now.
Andrea looked at her in frustration. “I’m not that much younger than him,” she protested. “I love him, Mrs. Alvarez. I want to be with him.”
Mrs. Alvarez smiled. “I know, Querida. Don’t give up. When two people are meant for each other, things will work out.”
Andrea stood up. “I have to go now,” she said reluctantly. “I am sorry that I didn’t get to see Mateo this time. I was in the area and thought I would visit you earlier than usual. Please say hello to him for me.” She pulled on her jacket and her satchel. She went over to Mrs. Alvarez who had by now finished her slice of cake and took up the napkin which she tossed in the garbage bin. Then, she hugged the woman and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll come by again during the week. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
Mrs. Alvarez patted her on the shoulder. “You too, Querida.”
Andrea left the room and the nursing home. She walked out to the bus-stop and waited for the bus to take her to the subway station. As she sat on the bus, all she could think about was Mateo and how much she wished he would stop running away from his feelings. She had half a mind to go over to his place now and confront him. She glanced at her watch. It was twelve-thirty. He usually visited his mother around four. She would be at his condo in about half-hour. Yes, she made up her mind to go there and face him. Her heart somersaulted at the thought.
Thirty five minutes later she stood outside of his door, nervous but determined. Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell, praying that he was home. A sense of relief washed over her when she heard the lock slide back and the door opened. Mateo stood there. A tentative smile touched her lips and then it faded when she saw the expression on his face. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“May I come in?” She didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway.
He moved aside to let her go in. After closing the door and locking it, he turned to her, his eyes wary as they met hers. “Why did you come?”
“I needed to see you,” she said. “Why are you so cold towards me, Mateo?”
He muttered something in Spanish and raked his fingers through his hair. “Cold towards you?” he exclaimed, his expression darkening. “When it comes to my feelings for you, cold isn’t the word I would use.”
“You’ve been distant with me lately and avoiding me. I want to know why.”
“You want to know why I’m acting the way I am. It’s simple. You’re twenty-eight and I’m forty-three.”
“What does age have to do with anything?”
“For me it has to do with everything.”
“So, you are saying that you would rather see me with someone closer to my age?”
He closed his eyes then and a pained expression came over his face. “It would kill me to see you with someone else,” he muttered tightly.
She took a step toward him. “Mateo, I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want to be with you because I love you.”
He opened his eyes, raw with the unbridled passion that shone in them. Reaching for her, he pulled her roughly against him, making her gasp. “Yo también te amo! I love you too,” he groaned before he bent his head and kissed her. She dropped her bag and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him back wildly.
For a long time, they stood there, exchanging passionate kisses until he raised his head and whispered, “Spend the rest of the afternoon with me. I’ll call Mother and let her know that I will stop by and see her tomorrow. I don’t think she would mind when I tell her that you’re here.”
Andrea smiled. “I think you’re right.”
Sources: Wikipedia; Spanish Dict
A grainy photo of a child,
a beloved grandmother.
Survivor of the Holocaust.
Deceased. God spared her
from witnessing the hatred
that has gripped the nation–
the country that she had
called home for so many
years.
It was the same kind of hate
which had invaded, occupied
her country and imprisoned
her and over 400,000 Jews
in the Warsaw Ghetto. Taken
from their homes, they were
forced to live in an area cut
off from the world, topped
with barbed wire. It was soon
decimated by outbreaks of
infectious diseases, mass hunger
and regular executions.
Then in the summer of 1942,
she and her family were among
the 254,000 residents of the Ghetto
who were sent to the Treblinka
Extermination Camp.
Tears spilled down her cheeks
as she remembered the horrors
her grandmother described to
her when she was in the camp.
She and her father were together.
Men were told to go to the right
and the women to the left. She
never saw her parents or little
brother again. They were
taken straight to the gas chamber.
Today, the same hate that had
driven Hitler and those who
shared his ideology has reared
its ugly head and was revealed
to the entire world in the VICE
video of the rally in Charlottes-
ville, Virginia. The sight of
the burning torches and the
“Jews will not replace us”
and “Blood and soil” chants
filled her with disgust. And
the president’s failure to
lead was dangerous and
may lead to disastrous
consequences of the United
States and the world at large.
It was her hope and prayer
that the people of America
would do something about the
great racial divide before things
escalate even further.
As she drank her tea, she thought of her grandmother.
Grams would have turned 90 today. How she missed her.
It was Grams who got her into the habit of drinking tea
in the afternoons. She thought of the times when she
used to walk over to Grams’ house after school and sit
at the table and watched as she poured the hot tea into
two large cups.
Earl Grey was Gram’s favorite. She had her reasons why.
And she loved to list them. “It has many benefits, Steffi,” she
would say. “It calms your nerves, improves your immune
system, helps your digestion, keeps you alert, which is good
for people my age,” she paused to chuckle at that remark
before she continued, “It boosts your metabolism, improves
your heart health, prevents cancer, keeps you hydrated and
protects your teeth. And it tastes good.”
Stephanie had to agree. Earl Grey had a fruity flavor and
didn’t taste as bitter or strong as the other types of black
tea. So, it was over a cup of Earl Grey tea that she was
remembering her grandmother who passed away from
natural causes two years ago.
It was during those afternoon visits that Grams would
talk to her about the Bible. The book of Proverbs was
her favorite. “It has lots of good advice for all of us,
especially for young people.” And she would read
to her.
As Grams sipped her tea, Stephanie would talk to
her about school, growing up and boys. She told her
about the annoying boy in school who was always pulling her
hair and doing things to upset her. When Grams told her
that he did these silly things because he liked her,
she was shocked but Grams was right. She was
always right. She had so much wisdom.
“I get it from reading God’s Word,” she
said and “I ask Him for it too.”
Grams was the first one in her family
to meet the man she ended up marrying.
He was that same annoying boy from school.
Grams was the first to hold their newborn
baby. Sometimes she suspected that her
mother was a little jealous of the closeness
she had with her grandmother but Grams
never judged her or made her feel bad when
she made bad decisions but was always there
to encourage her. It was Grams who had
faith in her when no one else did, including
herself. And it was Grams who led her to
Jesus.
Their afternoon tea tradition lasted
through high school, college and even
after she got married.
She smiled as she sipped her tea. Yes, she
missed her grandmother but she knew
she would see her again on the blessed
day when Jesus comes again. Until then,
she would continue to enjoy a cup of
Earl Grey tea in the afternoons and
remember her beloved Grams.
Source: Your Tea Headquarters
This is the latest Persecution and Prayer alert from The Voice of the Martyrs Canada. Sadly, a grandmother and two of her grandchildren were among those who lost their lives. Please read this story and then visit the Prayer Wall and pray for her surviving granddaughter and the other survivors who have lost their loved ones. Jesus warned that in the last days, there will be persecution (Luke 21:16-18). As His disciples, we will be persecuted just as He was (John 15:20). The Bible says, “Yes, and all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution” (2 Timothy 3:12). Lift up our persecuted brothers and sisters in Christ in prayer. We are encouraged to, “Remember the prisoners as if chained with them—those who are mistreated—since you yourselves are in the body also” (Hebrews 13:3). But, we have a hope that no one can take away. “For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Is it not even you in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at His coming?” (1 Thessalonians 2:19). May these words bring joy and comfort to our hearts and the hearts of those who are going through much tribulation.
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NIGERIA: Villagers Fatally Wounded by Gunmen Sources: Morning Star News, Release International
Last month, Fulani herdsmen attacked two homes in the predominantly Christian village of Hwak Kwata-Zawan, located near the city of Jos. The militants also raided a nearby compound consisting of Nigerians who had been initially displaced by violence elsewhere in the country’s Plateau state. The total number of fatalities resulting from the raids has reached 15, leaving many more in the community grief-stricken and emotionally wounded. In one of the village homes, 57-year-old Rose Monday was killed while trying to protect her three young grandchildren from the gunmen. Two of the three children had unfortunately succumbed to their injuries. Their elder sister, five-year-old Anna, who miraculously survived, is receiving treatment in hospital for gunshot wounds. Rose’s daughter (the children’s aunt) added that their remaining relatives are consoled to know that one day they will all be reunited as a family with the Lord Jesus Christ. The other Christian home that was attacked belonged to Gyang Christopher Choji who managed to escape the raid uninjured. The 58-year-old believer explains that his family members had retired to their rooms when they suddenly heard gunshots at about 8:30 p.m. “When the shooting became intense, and we were under siege, I advised my family that we run out to save our lives,” he further testifies. “I was able to escape, but five members of my family were brutally killed by these gunmen.” The seven other victims that were killed during the raids were from the nearby compound housing. The gunmen had apparently visited the area earlier that day to survey the village while most of the residents were at church. The militants even had the audacity to ask local children for water while planning their vicious attacks. The resulting raids have left an entire village in a terrible state of shock and greatly traumatized. Church leaders say the attacks of the Fulani herdsmen on their communities constitute a war “by Islam to eliminate Christianity” in Nigeria. Additional reports and informative video documentaries are available at the Nigeria Country Report. In an area of Nigeria that has experienced so much chaos and pain, may the comforting presence of the Holy Spirit bring the surviving villagers and family members greatly needed peace, healing and hope — along with the assurance that the martyred Christians so dear to them have merely been transported spiritually to their true home in heaven where they are now enjoying the glorious presence of our Lord Jesus in all fullness (2 Cor. 5:8; Luke 23:43). May this truth be especially real for little Anna, as she recovers not only from the physical wounds she sustained as a result of the attacks but, even more importantly, from the emotional and spiritual trauma of witnessing the horrific loss of her loving grandmother and young siblings. Also pray that the calloused hearts of the Fulani herdsmen be radically transformed by the power of the Living God, helping them to realize the seriousness of their crimes against His beloved people prior to that time of reckoning — when they must stand face-to-face before Him on Judgement Day. To post a prayer on behalf of Christians who are suffering terrible abuses and injustices for their faith, visit our prayer wall. |
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When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up – Psalm 27:10
Daya was like an orphan even though her parents were not dead. They abandoned her and if it weren’t for her grandmother, she would have been completely alone. Family life was terrible for her. Her father beat her mother and then abandoned them both. Her mother deserted her. Neither parent showed her any love. There is nothing worse than a child not receiving parental love.
Things didn’t improve for Daya. With no income, she and her grandmother were forced to beg at bus stops, train stations and shops. It’s heartbreaking to see an elderly woman, with her grandchild in her arms, begging for something to eat. The cook for a Gospel for Asia Bridge of Hope centre had to be cautious. He knew that there were beggars who carried small children in order to get larger handouts and they pocketed most of the money for themselves. He couldn’t tell if this beggar was on the level. He asked her a question and demanded an answer. Her response was to break down in tears and pour her heart out.
He learned that the woman was the child’s grandmother and that Daya had once been a happy child until strife tore her family apart. Realizing that this woman was telling the truth and moved with compassion, the cook invited her to enroll Daya in the Bridge of Hope centre where he would cook the young girl meals.
Daya joined the Bridge of Hope centre lodged between a railway station and a slum. Unfortunately, she stood out from the rest of the children. She was the poorest of the poor and living in the slums for much of her life, she didn’t know much about hygiene. She went to class each day in the same dirty clothes. She rarely had a bath and when she did, she didn’t use soap.
It was not long before some of the parents began to complain about Daya and they pressured the Bridge of Hope staff to drop her from the program. They didn’t want this dirty child to be around their children. They threatened to remove their children from the centre if she didn’t leave.
Daya’s future was in jeopardy. If she was dropped from the program, she would return to the streets as one of the 300,000 child beggars in India. Somewhere down the road, she would be among the 20 to 30 million boys and girls who are exploited as child laborers. If it weren’t for her grandmother’s protection, Daya was at risk of becoming one of the 1.2 million Indian children abused as prostitutes. And worse yet for Daya if her grandmother were to die. She would be lost and her future would be hopeless. She wouldn’ stand a chance in a society where evil men preyed on the innocent…
Behold, God is my helper; The Lord is with those who uphold my life – Psalm 54:4
The Bridge of Hope staff remained committed to helping Daya because they knew that God had brought her to them. They decided to keep her in the program and undertook her hygiene problem. They scrubbed the 8 year old and gave her new clothes. By the time they were finished with Daya, you could hardly recognize her. They continued to teach her and her classmates proper hygiene and other practical life skills. These wonderful people of God didn’t cave into the demands of those parents who wanted them to expel Daya from the centre. They followed the example of the apostles Peter and John in Acts 5:29 who, when the council demanded to know why they were continuing to preach in Jesus’ name after being commanded not to, replied, “We ought to obey God rather than men.” They had to do whatever was necessary to protect the welfare of this child whom God had rescued from a life on the streets.
I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly – John 10:10
Over six years have passed since Daya joined the Bridge of Hope centre. Instead of dirty rags, she is wearing beautiful dresses given as her uniforms. She had gone from being a beggar to being blessed. She had gone from the streets to a sanctuary where she receives an education. She is not in bonded labor or in a brothel. She is enjoying liberty in Jesus. She can realize her dream to be a teacher. Daya, now 15 years old, has a relationship with a Father who loves her and a Savior who has given her hope and set her free from the social evils which plague young girls like her in South Asia.
Daya’s grandmother has witnessed first hand the love of God as shown through the kindness of the Bridge of Hope staff. And she too is experiencing that love.
God is using Bridge of Hope to change communities. More than 60,000 children are finding hope in Jesus through the centres but there are millions of children like Daya out there who are still living in despair. You can reach out to them by sponsoring a child. Find out what every Bridge of Hope child receives.
My heart goes out to these children who are robbed of their childhood. They are unloved, abandoned, exploited and abused. I was touched by the story of Lakshmi, a nine year old who works in a factory rolling cigarettes. She is an example of selfless love. She doesn’t care about playing or going to school–all she wants is to bring her sister home from the bonded labor man.
My sister is ten years old. Every morning at seven she goes to the bonded labor man, and every night at nine she comes home. He treats her badly; he hits her if he thinks she is working slowly or if she talks to the other children, he yells at her, he comes looking for her if she is sick and cannot go to work. I feel this is very difficult for her.
It would cost 600 rupees to buy her sister’s freedom but for Lakshmi, there is hopeless. “We don’t have 600 rupees,” she says, “…we will never have 600 rupees.” 600 rupees is only $14.00 US. This is just one story among over 10 million stories of children who are bonded laborers in India. Help Bridge of Hope to bring hope to these children. Pray that God will rescue more of them from the clutches of evil people. Pray that they will discover that there is a loving God who sees their plight and will intervene. Pray that they will come to know Jesus.
Let Your mercy, O LORD, be upon us, Just as we hope in You – Psalm 33:22
Source: Gospel for Asia
I lapsed into silence, I slept a lot and I wasn’t really functioning. Only afterward did I begin to analyze the situation and try to understand the characters of my mother and my grandmother. I only started to learn more about my grandmother at the end. Today I understand that I went through the process step by step, peeling away layer after layer. But in the first months I had no idea what to do.
Imagine how you would feel if you were to find out that Amon Goeth was your grandfather. He was the sadist Nazi Commandant at the Plaszow concentration camp near Krakow from 1943 to 1944 whom Ralph Fiennes portrayed in an Oscar worthy performance. I remember the scene in the movie where he would be on the verandah with his rifle and would randomly shoot people as if it were a sport.
This man murdered prisoners on a daily basis and actually trained his dogs to tear inmates to death. He shot people his office window if they appeared to be moving too slowly or resting in the yard. He even shot to death a Jewish cook because the soup was too hot. He brutally mistreated his two maids, Helen Jonas-Rosenzweig and Helen Hirsch, who, along with the other inmates, lived in constant fear for their lives.
In the movie he was attracted to Helen Hirsch, looking at her and wondering “is this the face of a rat?” At one point in the movie, Helen had resigned herself to idea that Goeth was going to kill her. “He will. I see things. We were on the roof on Monday, young Lisiek and I and we saw the Herr Kommandant come out of the house on the patio right there below us and he drew his gun and shot a woman who was passing by. Just a woman with a bundle, just shot her through the throat. She was just a woman on her way somewhere, she was no faster or slower or fatter or thinner than anyone else and I couldn’t guess what had she done. The more you see of the Herr Kommandant the more you see there are no set rules you can live by, you cannot say to yourself, “If I follow these rules, I will be safe.””
It’s hard to believe that a person could be capable of such horror. And it’s even harder to accept that you are related to such a person. This was the shocking reality for Jennifer Teege, a bi-racial woman who found out quite by accident that Amon Goeth was her grandfather. She plucked a book from a library shelf and recognized photos of her mother and grandmother in the book. It was then that she discovered the horrifying fact that her grandfather was Nazi butcher, Amon Goeth. His daughter, Monika Hertwig was Jennifer’s mother. Monika had met and fallen in love with a Nigerian man. Their relationship didn’t last. Monika’s own experience in dealing with the truth about her father’s role in the Holocaust is showcased in the 2006 documentary film, The Inheritance. In the movie, Monika meets Helen Jonas-Rosenweig at the scene of the former concentration camp, the latter at first unwilling to meet the daughter of the man who terrorized her and so many others.
I am not clear on how Jennifer Teege came to be adopted. Apparently she was close to her grand-mother who committed suicide not long after she did an interview. Jennifer is convinced that had she been around when her grandfather was alive, he would have shot her because she was not a member of the master race–she didn’t have blond hair and blue eyes. Many of us would not have survived. Jennifer shares her story in the book, My Grandfather Would Have Shot Me which she co-wrote with award-winning journalist Nikola Sellmair.
If you are interested in hearing Jennifer’s story, listen here.
Sources: The Current; Jennifer Teege; Jennifer Teege’s Longreads
