God is fond of you. If He had a wallet, your photo would be in it. If He had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Face it, friend, He's crazy about you! ~ Max Lucado

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Dear Readers,

Many years ago I shared my story about Susie Stream, whom I had lost to leukemia when we were in our forties. She had given me a great gift because she taught me how to “be a friend, make a friend, and keep a friend.” The post was very popular, and I think it’s because the subject of friendship touches us deeply. Recently I attended a women’s retreat where I was deeply moved by an interview with Judy Wenger and Nancy Harvy, two fun-loving, lifelong friends in their 70’s. I’m so thrilled they’ve agreed to let me share what they’ve learned about friendship over the years!

How did your friendship begin, and what drew you to each other initially?

Judy: I was 34, new to Emerald Bible Fellowship, my mother had recently died from cancer, and my husband was playing golf on Sunday mornings while I went to church. It was a low point in my life, and I really needed some friends. I had seen Nancy with lots of other women around her, and I wanted to be one of those women. At my first women’s retreat, a basket of bookmarks was passed around, and we were to take one from the basket and pray for whoever’s name was on it. Mine said, “Nancy Harvey.”

Nancy: Our friendship began in the late 70s at church, where my hubby was the youth pastor for almost twenty-five years. We saw each other at women’s events, and I was drawn to Judy’s fun personality. We chatted off and on, but our friendship really took off when I asked Judy to help me prepare a skit to announce an upcoming women’s event at a worship service. Since she was a middle school drama and English teacher, I knew she would have great ideas. As we worked on it, we laughed and laughed. It was the beginning of our silly but sweet bonding. When we performed the skit, I was nervous and had lots of adrenaline. I grabbed her cheeks and said, “Judy Judy Judy,” like Humphrey Bogart or whoever that actor was. But the way I yanked her face towards me almost gave her whiplash! Poor thing! She has never been the same since!

Day to day, what helps your friendship stay authentic and honest—and how do you make it safe for each other to share openly?

Nancy: Our friendship has gone through some ups and downs, along with our personal lives. Real life has kept us real—illnesses, cancer, family problems with children, job stress, church splits, and our faith in Jesus. What has kept us authentic is perseverance and loyalty. Listening to each other even when it’s hard to keep your mouth shut is important. At this stage we have seen and heard the good, the bad, and the ugly and have also seen the beauty of Christ in each other. No one makes me laugh as hard as Judy. She can also make me cry with her kindness and generosity. I am often touched and brought to tears by her love and care for me.

I feel safe with Judy because she has demonstrated deep friendship, commitment, wisdom, kindness, and extreme generosity. I know I can trust her with deep, personal things and that she will pray for me. Honesty, patience, and forgiveness are huge. Being able to really listen, without judgment, to what the other is saying helps us be authentic. Both of us can give our opinion readily, but we have learned through mistakes, hurt feelings, and our own pride to do as it says in James 1:19, "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.”

Another thing that helps is that our friendship is not jealous or possessive. Judy has lived in Eugene all her life and has so many different friends. I do as well. We don’t get jealous if we’re not included in each other’s plans with others. Except, maybe I might have a wee bit of FOMO ‘cuz I love hanging out with her so much!

Judy: Communicate every day. Get back to each other if there’s a misunderstanding. Laugh LOTS! Do ALL the emotions together, even the hard ones.

Over the years, how have you figured out when to speak the hard truths, when to just be there for each other, and how to move forward in forgiveness when things get hard?

Judy: We are still figuring that out after 42 years! We express our frustration with one another and about one another. Be a good listener without trying to “fix” the problem. Speaking “hard truth” must go hand in hand with HEARING hard truth even when we don’t want to hear it.

I am often the one who makes a final decision when Nancy is indecisive. Maybe it’s from nearly forty years of teaching middle school, but I like to make plans, hear input, and then finalize things. I still tease Nancy about how she orders food in a restaurant. She often asks the server which is best, this item or that!

Nancy: In our early years we had a few hurtful moments, but thankfully our sense of humor and commitment to Jesus smoothed those rough edges. I, as a nurse, can share my thoughts too quickly in regard to health issues, and I always want to fix things. I have learned to wait to be invited before I give my opinion (most of the time). Although, if I feel Judy is in any medical danger, I will speak up. Judy—as a teacher, amazing drama instructor, and director—likes to lead and direct, which can cause a bit of strain on occasion, more so in the early years.

Through the beauty of a long friendship, we have grown to treasure our God-given strengths and skills despite our differences. I love and appreciate Judy’s leadership, organizational abilities, and her amazing creativity. Judy has also grown to understand my gifts of nurture and mercy and my desire to help (whether she wants assistance or not). Because we have both walked with each other through some very serious medical crises and some hard family situations, we have learned to listen well and try to not take our words the wrong way, knowing we love each other deeply.

Praying together is huge! God breaks down our defenses and pride when we pray together. There have been times we needed to step away briefly from talking to work through any hurt or misunderstanding. But because we love each other, and we miss each other, we are quick to talk it over and reconcile. I think Colossians 3:12-14 is good advice for any friendship. "Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues, put on love which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

How has God grown your faith through friendship, and how do you intentionally keep Him at the center of it?

Nancy: In addition to Judy, I feel so blessed to have some other treasured female friends. Those friends, like Judy, who know and trust the Lord, are my deepest relationships. Friendship is a commitment. Our walk with God is a commitment. Having a friend who is strong in the Lord really helps support my Christian walk. Judy’s example of trusting God through some pretty intense and scary medical situations is a huge testimony of God’s faithfulness and inspires me.

Judy and I have traveled together and have enjoyed so many fun adventures. We talk and laugh like silly teenagers. We often say that no one could keep up or understand when it’s just the two of us because we jump from one topic to the other and still know what the other is saying. Laughter is good medicine, and so that helps keep our friendship healthy. We keep Jesus in the center by reminding each other of his faithfulness and care. Knowing that Judy loves me and prays for me keeps me close to her and to God.

Judy: It’s easy with Nancy because she puts God first and prayer is a way of life, not just some activity one does on occasion. We pray together and FOR each other anywhere and anytime. I have learned more about prayer from Nancy than anyone else. You can’t hold another up by wanting to always be “in front.” To hold each other up, one must stand BESIDE the other. Let go of competition.

What advice would you give to women longing for a deeper, more authentic friendship?

Judy: Growing a friendship is a marathon, not a sprint. Be open to what God has in store for you. Be the person you are seeking in others.

Nancy: We are old now. We are the older ladies in the church. We have raised our kids together. Loved our children and now grandchildren. We have watched health events occur for each other and for our husbands. For the younger ladies and those not so young, it is never too late to invest in friendship. “Make new friends and keep the old; one is silver and the other is gold!” True, deep friendships do take time and can be a risk. You need to be willing to be hurt but also be loved richly. My advice is to be kind, listen, and find out special things about each other so you can honor one another.

Celebrate your friends! Find opportunities to honor them. Appreciate them. Write notes of encouragement. And thank them for the little and big ways they bless you. And of course, pray for your friends. Share with them your struggles so they can feel comfortable sharing theirs with you. The Bible has many stories of friendship; the best is that Jesus calls us His friends. Look to his example. The book of Proverbs has many words of wisdom regarding friendship. Here are a few:

"A friend loves at all times” (Proverbs 17:17). (Through the good and bad times!)

“A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (Proverbs 18:24). You may have many people around you, but be the friend that sticks to the other to help and support.

“Wounds from a friend can be trusted” (Proverbs 27:6). Honesty with each other can hurt sometimes, but a true friend can be trusted to give you the words and the help you really need.

“As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17).

We are better together!

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Women need girlfriends! However, friendship can also be an area of frustration. It was for me.

As a young mother I admired several older ladies in my church; they were such a close-knit group. When someone got sick, they brought food; they had fun times on family camping trips; they even canned together. I longed for relationships like that but was uncertain how to go about cultivating them. So I started praying that the Lord would teach me how to be a friend.

And the Lord sent Suzie. Suzie loved people, and everyone seemed to love her. We discovered we both liked running and lived in the same neighborhood. She asked me if I would be her running partner, and we started getting up at 7:00am three mornings a week to pound the pavement.

As I got to know her, I noticed how she did friendship. For one thing, she was always the one initiating with me at first. Hmmm, I thought. She seems to have no fear of calling you, no thought that she might be rejected. She seems to assume that you like her and will want to spend time with her. This was in sharp contrast to how I operated—living in fear of rejection. I decided to adopt Suzie’s attitude instead.

I started calling her sometimes. She always responded with enthusiasm. Then I tried initiating with others. I realized that if people say no, they’re not necessarily rejecting me—most likely they have a very good reason that has nothing to do with me. This “profound lesson” was life-changing.

I could see that Suzie initiated more than her friends. This helped me learn to lower my expectations of others. I stopped getting hung up on how much someone reciprocated. People are busy or they may be preoccupied with problems—it doesn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t enjoy spending time with you if you make the effort. In fact, when you call, you may be the bright spot in their day.

Maybe you’re wondering if my new approach turned me into an obnoxious “friend stalker” who forced herself on people. Sometimes the pendulum swings too far when we’re trying to change! But a certain sensitivity came naturally—if a potential friend made no effort with me over time, I placed them in the “nice acquaintance” category and moved on.

Suzie was gorgeous with forget-me-not blue eyes and dark hair, but that was not her secret. I knew attractive gals with few friends and average-looking ones who shared Suzie’s outgoing qualities. I concluded that having friends was not about being pretty; it was about sincerely reaching out and caring about others.

I also noticed that Suzie had a wide variety of friends. I had always looked for that soulmate-friend and, in so doing, eliminated a lot of people. This was my main problem. Now I came to see that people are like circles overlapping to different degrees. Why not enjoy what I had in common with someone and be willing to try new things? I decided to give up the quest for a “best friend.” Why, this way, almost anyone might turn out to be a potential friend!

Suzie introduced me to other gals who enjoyed jogging as well. Some Saturdays we ran five abreast, clogging our neighborhood streets. Soon we started celebrating birthdays together and escaped on retreats to indulge in serious girlfriend time. The Lord had gradually answered my prayers for friends.

My favorite memory of Suzie is a weekend trip to Black Butte, a mountain retreat in Oregon. We were both busy moms—what a luxury to get away without the kids! The sun shone and the sky sparkled a brilliant blue as we set out in my car, classical music playing. When we arrived, we wasted no time getting to the pool, as Suzie loved tanning. We soaked in the heat and the beauty of snow-capped mountains all around, basking in our freedom from responsibilities. That night we ate dinner at the lodge restaurant, laughing and carrying on. When the waiter learned that we were celebrating our April birthdays, he surprised us with a free dessert (Suzie is the one on the right in the photo).

I’m so thankful for this precious memory. One day Suzie called to say she couldn’t run; she was sick. She canceled our runs for three weeks. When she finally checked herself into the hospital, doctors discovered she had leukemia. She died before the year was out. I was heartbroken to lose this dear friend who’d been such a gift to me—she was only forty-three.

Suzie was a vibrant believer, a shining light to her family, her friends, and her community. How I look forward to seeing her again in heaven! But until that day comes, I will cherish my memories and the invaluable lessons Suzie unknowingly taught me about friendship.

Our East German village had its own “castle,” a small palace where the aristocratic Von Seidlitz family lived. They employed many people who worked and lived on the premises. Their servants maintained the park, managed private forest land, cultivated trees, and fed wild animals (such as deer) in winter. The forest was the family’s private hunting ground where they hunted pheasants or rabbits.

The thirty-five-room palace included a chapel with an organ, and I attended Bible study there. Lord and Lady Von Seidlitz were very devout Christians. They were kind to their servants and always cared for the villagers, providing the sick with medicine. The family occupied their own private pew in the Rosenbach Lutheran Church and, in 1933, donated its bells.

Today, the estate lies in ruins. In another post I will share what happened to the family after the war ended when the Russians occupied our region.

SCHOOL DURING THE WAR YEARS

War. What a terrible word. It started September 1, 1939. On August 31^st our school took a bus to the Schneekoppe, a nearby butte, and hiked for four hours. From the top, we were able to see Czechoslovakia and saw airplanes already flying overhead. Everyone hoped for a quick end to the conflict. Sadly, it was to be our last field trip.

I was ten years old when the war began. Because of a teacher shortage during the war, several schools in neighboring areas closed, and two merged with Habendorf. At first, religious studies continued, with separate classes for Protestants and Catholics.

Later, the government dropped religion from the curriculum altogether. Instead, we learned about Hitler and politics. When Hitler gave a speech on the radio, our teacher, Herr Hoffman, crammed the whole school into the largest classroom to listen. Of course we didn’t mind—we welcomed any distractions from schoolwork.

I am in the middle row, third from the left.

The government required schools to participate in the war effort. For example, in the spring, we students planted cabbage in the estate fields belonging to Lord and Lady Von Seidlitz because their hired help was away, fighting in the war. We received a small payment and could even earn extra money if we volunteered after school hours. I liked that.

In the fall we helped bring in the potato harvest. It was very important to keep sowing, planting, and harvesting because of the trade embargo against Germany. In the early 1940s, Germany fed and clothed 80 million people and still found the resources to make war.

Before the war, we sang Christmas carols in school, but this practice quickly disappeared. Because Hitler hated all things Jewish—and since Jesus was a Jew—he replaced Christmas with the Festival of Lights, celebrating the winter solstice. We sang songs to the sun, the moon, and the stars like the early Germanic pagans. (You can perhaps understand why America’s politically correct culture and efforts to banish God and Christmas from public life feels strangely familiar to me.)

At home, however, and in our churches, we cheerfully celebrated the holiday as before—with a Christmas tree and the manger.

Hitler upheld our ancestors as models of rugged strength and believed in raising German youths like Spartans—tough as leather, fleet as greyhounds, and hard as iron. Herr Hoffman drilled this phrase into us regularly. Here is what it meant:

Tough as leather: Endure cold, heat, and hunger without complaining—don’t whine at every little thing.

Fleet as greyhounds: Be the swiftest athletes, the quickest learners, and the fastest workers.

Hard as iron: Be tough—especially on yourself. This also included living by a strict moral code. Our elders taught us to always tell the truth and punished liars severely—usually with a beating. We were raised with the saying, Those who lie once will not be believed again, even if they tell the truth.

All children—ten years or older—attended mandatory Hitler Youth meetings. During this one-hour Wednesday afternoon program, we learned something about Hitler’s life, played games or did crafts, and exercised. Hitler wanted to raise a super race, so he emphasized exercise as well as good posture for health reasons.

The longer Hitler ruled, the more we saw propaganda against Jews increase. Teachers indoctrinated their students, saying Jews lied and cheated the German people out of their wealth. Slowly people started believing these kinds of myths.

No Jews lived in Habendorf. We did not know about the concentration camps but heard rumors that the Jews were being dispossessed and evacuated. Rumors floated around that they were being taken to Palestine.

Remember, we lived in a small rural village, and during the war, few people traveled. Only soldiers were allowed to use transportation. Civilians needed a special permit to use the train. Radio was our only connection with the outside world, and we listened to foreign stations at great risk—this was forbidden. We wondered who was telling us the truth.

I was thankful for my good home—my parents stood against Hitler and would not hang his portrait in their house. The authorities questioned them about their genealogy and examined them for Jewish features, looking for a prominent nose or darker complexion. My parents could not understand this demand but were forced to comply.

At home Mother and Father kept saying that Hitler was a little Antichrist. Today I understand this well. As a child, I didn’t. I could not have cared less whether we said “Heil Hitler” or “Good Morning,” for example. But from the perspective of an adult, I see why my parents railed against the arrogance of this required greeting. “Heil Hitler” essentially meant “Hail to King Hitler,” as if he were asking for allegiance close to worship. How easily we mimic expressions as children, unaware of what we’re saying.

During his first six years in power, Hitler created economic prosperity with jobs for everyone—a blue-collar worker could even afford to build a small house. And Hitler built the autobahn. With childish shortsightedness, I sometimes wondered why my parents railed against him—everything seemed to be going so well.

However, lively discussions with Father and Mother protected me from the propaganda at school. Every time my teacher made snide remarks about Jews or Jesus, I always thought, Herr Hoffman is wrong; my parents know better. This is why parents need to cultivate good relationships with their children. Discussing issues helps children think for themselves. I’m so grateful to the Lord for the wise parents and stable home he gave me.

My education ended in eighth grade. Only students with a certain grade point and teacher’s approval were allowed to attend the Gymnasium in Reichenbach. Herr Hoffman recommended me, but my parents refused to let me go. Though I was disappointed in their decision, they had good reasons. Attending Gymnasium would have meant living away from home while completely under the influence of the Nazi Party.

It didn’t matter anyway. Four weeks after I graduated from eighth grade, Mother had a stroke, and my childhood ended abruptly.

SAYINGS DURING WORLD WAR II

I once read a joke that went like this: A gentleman was given a gift of three portraits—of Hitler, Goering and Goebels. “What on earth shall I do with these?” the man asked. Another replied, “That’s easy. Best you just hang all three together.”

Many Germans weren’t Hitler-friendly, and when such jokes went around, you had to be careful to whom you repeated them so that they weren’t heard by the “wrong” ears; otherwise, you could get arrested.

Another popular saying went like this: “Enjoy the war. Peacetime will be gruesome.” We experienced this—literally. During the war, we in East Germany enjoyed relative calm, while in West Germany people suffered and died under constant air raids. After the war ended, our “peacetime” turned into a nightmare under the Russian/Polish occupation.

“Under His Wings” are excerpts from Hannchen Gantenbein’s autobiography as told to Ruth Wood, her daughter. The account highlights God’s protection and guidance as she grew up in Nazi Germany, lived through World War II, and immigrated to the United States. Watch for monthly posts on the 20th!

Under His Wings/Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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When Herod heard John, he was greatly puzzled; yet he liked to listen to him (Mark 6:20). The king enjoyed hearing John the Baptist but did not obey his message. Truth becomes mere entertainment when we don’t take it to heart.

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He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth. ~ Isaiah 53:7

Jesus was outspoken—unafraid to confront the elite crowd, unafraid to speak truth to power. Why then was He silent at his trial?

Our natural response as humans is to defend ourselves, to prove our innocence, to argue passionately for our cause. Jesus’ silence surprised, baffled, and frustrated His enemies because He did not react like most other defendants they’d prosecuted.

The Wisdom of Silence

The wisdom of Jesus’ comportment becomes clear as we consider the psychological ramifications of such a response. Silence shifts the burden of communication. Research shows that liars tend to "fill the silence," which can lead to over-explaining or mentioning inconsistent details.

This happened during the trial. The Jewish leaders produced witnesses that contradicted each other, which undermined their case. Frustrated, the high priest asked Jesus to defend himself, but “Jesus held his peace, and answered nothing” (Mark 14:60-61), placing the “burden of proof” on them, forcing them to face their own consciences and the evidence of his innocence. As a result, they were unable to convict him of a sham crime.

The Perception of Silence

Both silence and defensive outbursts can be misconstrued by observers as admissions of guilt. Research has found that trying too hard to persuade someone of your innocence can make you come off looking guiltier. Jesus’ silence was a dignified response that allowed him to remain in control.

Interestingly, silence can be a protective or reflective state, a boundary useful in dealing with toxic people. It protects against manipulation, particularly when interacting with personality-disordered individuals who try to provoke a reaction. Since the false charges against Jesus were politically motivated, a defense was pointless. “If you’re being persecuted for speaking nothing but truth, the Word of God, how could speaking more truth ever aid in your defense?” a Reddit user commented.

Jesus’ Sovereign Control

By remaining silent during his trial, Jesus fulfilled the Messianic prophecy of Isaiah 53:7, embracing his purpose to die for humanity’s sins as the Lamb of God. Completely surrendered to His Father’s will, he did not need to defend himself—he trusted his Father’s heart, mind, and purpose.

Ecclesiastes 3:7 says there is “a time to be silent and a time to speak.” I have trouble knowing when to talk and when to be quiet, but Jesus modeled perfect discernment during his trial. Even though He maintained a silent comportment overall, He spoke at key points, and His own words sent Him to the cross, not the manipulations of His enemies, because He uttered the only legitimate reason for which He was willing to die—His identity as the Son of God, “I Am.”

The Passover Lamb

As the Passover Lamb, Jesus was “like a sheep that before its shearers is silent . . .” (Isaiah 53:7). And yet, what did the crowd unknowingly behold as they gazed upon the silent form hanging on the cross? Here hung 'The Word'—the very voice that spoke creation into existence and upholds the universe (Hebrews 1:3). Here hung the Bridegroom dying for His Bride, the Lion of Judah stifling His roar, and the King of kings permitting His own subjects to put Him to death.

How beautiful that The Good Shepherd became the Lamb of God to atone for his sheep—you and me!—and lead us home. To paraphrase Charles Haddan Spurgeon, “He became like one of us in order that we might become like him.”

The Glorified Lamb

Though Jesus “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death” (Philippians 2:8), someday He will roar as the glorified Lamb of God. Joel 3:16 states, “The LORD will roar from Zion and raise His voice from Jerusalem; heaven and earth will tremble . . .” In that day, Jesus, who is called Faithful and True and whose name is the Word of God, will speak “with a sharp sword coming from his mouth that will strike down the nations” as “He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty” (Revelation 19:15-16). Praise God that someday the Lamb who was slain will judge evil and bring peace to the world.

And yet, our powerful, commanding Rescuer will also reign as the gentle Lamb. Revelation 7:17 states: “For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; ‘he will lead them to springs of living water.’ And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

Doesn’t such a bright future inspire you to worship?

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 
All praise, honor, and glory 
be unto the Lamb of God, 
be unto the Word of God, 
be unto the King of Kings,
the Alpha and the Omega, 
the First and the Last, 
Beginning and End.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 

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ERNST WILHELM ARTHUR HAASE (November 11, 1891 — May 29, 1945)

Father was a wild character. Once, in the military, just to show off, he lifted a full bucket of milk with his teeth. He had very strong teeth and died at age fifty-two with only one filling. Surprisingly, he never brushed them and didn’t even own a toothbrush. Even more surprisingly, he didn’t have bad breath.

Military order and discipline ruled our lives. At 5:00 a.m. sharp, Father leaped out of bed, flying with both legs into his long underwear. Then he was off, banging on all doors, shouting, “Time to get up!” His first business was to feed the horses—his pride and joy—before he brushed and curried them. On weekends the horses got their rest, and Father only used them for light work—to pull the carriage to church or to take us on a Sunday drive occasionally.

An important thing to know about Father—he loved cigars. He smoked cheap ones on workdays and an expensive brand on Sundays and holidays. With a good cigar, you could bribe him.

My brother, Kurt, was seventeen when the war started, and he and Father often discussed world events heatedly. The generation gap between the experienced soldier of World War I and the young man who eagerly followed the news was bound to create conflict.

Father often said, “Your generation will be lucky if you finish the war as well as we did in 1918, when no enemy set foot on German soil.”

Kurt was of another opinion. “But see how far our troops have advanced.”

Father would counter, “You will amass victories to the death! Hitler is crazy to advance so far into enemy territory. This means reinforcements and supplies always get farther behind. And what will they do when the Russian winter comes?”

Father ended up being right about everything, and after Kurt saw war up close, they got along much better again.

Father also would say, “Germany can never win because we are persecuting the Jews—woe to those who touch the apple of God’s eye.”

Because of his outspokenness against the regime, people warned Father that he needed to watch what he said or he could be reported. The Nazis in town left him alone, though, mainly because they needed him. Even though he was not a Nazi Party member, the mayor appointed Father to be the agricultural leader of Habendorf. During the war, only old men and boys under age 16 remained in the village.

OTTILIE AGNES HAASE (November 13, 1887 — April 11, 1945).

Mother often sang as she worked. I have memories of lying in bed upstairs, listening to her beautiful, clear soprano voice coming from the kitchen.

Wait, my soul, wait on the Lord;
For when your world is broken, He will not forsake you.
Surely your need is not greater than your Helper.
In all storms, in all distress, your great God is your protector.

How often I thought of this song throughout my life. The Lord has truly been my Helper in every situation.

But when Mother sang about dying and the afterlife, I would clap my hands over my ears. She said she looked forward to heaven, but I didn’t want to think about losing her. As a child I saw that my parents’ health was not good and that they would probably not live long. Once I said, "Oh, Mama, I will be so young someday and without parents. What then?”

She answered, “The One who guides the clouds and the wind will also make a way for you.”

I had the best mother, one who prayed with me and for me. She also didn’t hesitate to drive nonsense out of my head with a few firm whacks now and then. I would always be so ashamed that I had irritated her so much. I didn’t want to cause my dear Mama distress. I constantly lived in fear that one day she would die before I’d have a chance to say goodbye.

KURT GUENTER HAASE (May 8, 1922 — December 29, 1943)

Kurt was the oldest sibling, seven years older than me. He was an excellent marksman. When he was fourteen, Father gave him his old hunting gun, which responded with a hefty kick when fired. Father figured this would cure his son’s interest in firearms. But he was wrong.

Kurt picked up the rifle, aimed at a pigeon on the roof—and bang. Bull’s-eye, first shot. His face was white from the gun’s kick and flushed with the excitement of his success. Father was speechless. So he bought his son a special gun for target practice, which Kurt quickly mastered. He could hit anything, even with a pistol. He had a steady hand and excellent eyesight and was not easily ruffled. We sisters admired him greatly. Later, during military target practices, Kurt would shoot a perfect round and then get time off while the others continued to train.

The Hitler Youth met on Sunday mornings, but Kurt attended church instead. Once, as he walked through the village carrying his hymnbook, several ruffians surrounded him and threatened to beat him up. He looked at them disdainfully and said, “You are cowards—there’s only one of me and so many of you. But just go ahead and try it!” He was strong and knew it. They decided to let him go and warned that if he continued to attend church, they’d come after him again.

This incident upset Mother terribly, but Kurt said, “I couldn’t care less. I’m not going to let them bully me. Now I’m even more determined to not attend those Hitler Youth meetings.”

And he didn’t. The boys who threatened him had Communist parents who had turned Nazi, but they left him alone after this.

When Hitler invaded Poland in 1939, Kurt was seventeen. We weren’t too worried because this blitz was over quickly, and besides, Kurt was too young to be drafted. Unfortunately, the war dragged on, and one day, Kurt was also called up.

After boot camp and a short stint on the Russian front, Kurt was eventually transferred to the “Regiment Grossdeutschland” (comparable to U.S. Special Forces), which sought tall, handsome men without physical flaws and with high integrity. This was not the German SS (my mother was so relieved about this) but a highly modernized division sent in when the war front bogged down. Many royals served in this regiment. I was very proud of my big brother.

KAETE ANNELIESE (HAASE) STEPIEN (June 27, 1923 —December 27, 1999).

Kaete (on the left; I am on the right) was thirteen months younger than Kurt and six years older than me. She and I shared a bedroom. But because I was so much younger, my siblings tended to play with each other and leave me behind.

Kaete was very frugal. Not only with clothing but also with treats. For Christmas we usually received several bars of chocolate. Kurt and I would enjoy ours over the holidays. Kaete, however, would hide her stash and save it until Easter. Then she would pull it out, and we would beg her to give us a few pieces. Always, to our disappointment, the chocolate proved stale. Mother and Father held up our sister as the model of self-restraint, but Kurt and I never repented—we preferred our chocolate fresh!

Father expected his children to be more productive and work harder than the hired help. Kaete was a good worker and very industrious—nothing seemed too much for her—but Father’s demands could become ridiculously unreasonable. One day during haying season, Kaete raked behind the hay wagons, but because of the heat, she began having trouble keeping up. Father became irritable and started yelling. She could not work any faster, and the situation became impossible. Finally, Tante Ida, working beside her, quietly suggested, “Just fall down—pretend to faint.” Kaete took her advice and sank to the ground.

Father leaped from the wagon in alarm. “She’s overheated!” He ran for water and cooled her off until she “came to.” From that time on, he worked at a more reasonable pace.

Kaete wasn’t too interested in books. Intending to read later, she’d hide a new book to prevent me from reading it first. I would always search until I found it and then read it secretly because reading was my passion. Of course, when I foolishly told her what was in her book, she’d be furious with me.

FAMILY LIFE

I loved warm summer evenings when our family sat outside on the bench in the garden. The nightingale sang, and every so often the cuckoo called. The air was fragrant with the scent of roses, lilacs, and linden trees. In the distance, you could hear the evening church bells tolling and the neighbor’s accordion playing. These warm summer evenings were so beautiful; I wished I could stay up all night.

As we sat in the garden together, Mother liked to sing hymns or folk songs, and Father (when slightly inebriated) belted out old soldiers' tunes. Kurt, Kaete, and I—singing in three-part harmony—crooned: “The stars that shone at home, they shine for me in foreign lands, too.” I never dreamed how true these words would ring for Kaete and me someday.

“Under His Wings” are excerpts from Hannchen Gantenbein’s autobiography as told to Ruth Wood, her daughter. The account highlights God’s protection and guidance as she grew up in Nazi Germany, lived through World War II, and immigrated to the United States. Watch for monthly posts on the 20th!

Under His Wings/Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

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Let us relinquish any claims on either our goodness or our badness, which so easily leads to pride or ungodly self-loathing. Such identities are not based on the blood that Jesus shed on our behalf. Instead, let us simply rejoice that we have gotten Him!

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For if you are trying to make yourselves right with God by keeping the law, you have been cut off from Christ! You have fallen away from God’s grace. ~ Galatians 5:4

Now listen, Enemy, when you tempt me to turn to works—to my own efforts to win the Lord’s approval—I shall proclaim:

Let that raggedy, cobbled-together, soiled, attempt-at-goodness garment fly away in the wind! I happily discard its unwieldy discomfort and secret smelliness—despite the amount of disguising perfume spritzed—a garment so threadbare and full of holes it leaves me pathetically exposed.

Instead, when tempted to go shopping for clothes in the “good works department,” I will look in the mirror of my Lord’s eyes, who sees me radiant in His pure white robe of righteousness. This garment will never tear, soil, or wear out.

All He is—is mine. Therefore, from the standpoint of daily living, I get to wear what He lays out for me. These clothes meet the needs of the moment—His shawl of love, His dress of peace, His vibrantly colored robe of joy . . .

Stripped of the weight of my own efforts—what a carefree, blessed way of living!

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

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I was born on a 300-year-old farm in the village of Habendorf in the province of Silesia, Germany (near the borders of Czechoslovakia and Poland). Earliest records mentioning our village date to the 1200s. Slavic and Germanic tribes settled here and over the centuries, they saw Polish, Bohemian, Austrian, and Prussian rule before Silesia, in 1871, became part of a unified Germany. This volatile history played a significant role in what happened to us after the war when Russia and Poland forced all Germans from the region.

In 1943 the population of my village was officially listed at 927; today it stands at 516. World War II brought great upheaval, changed the borders, and displaced millions of eastern Germans. To find my birthplace on a current map today, you must look for Owiesno, Poland.

THE FARMHOUSE

My great-great-grandfather, Wilhelm Becke, acquired the farm around 1875. This house and the surrounding buildings were very old. The three-foot-thick walls provided ample window shelves—wonderful for displaying plants and flowers.

From the front door we entered a foyer tiled with rough, reddish stone. To the right stood our indoor water pump (the courtyard also had one), and to the left, a staircase led to a large landing from which we accessed four bedrooms.

The small bedroom led to our provisions chamber, a very large room the width of the whole house, which kept cool because it faced north. We had no refrigeration, and so in this room we stored smoked sausages, bacon and ham, canned goods, and dried apples. Dried peppermint and chamomile hung from the ceiling. Antiques filled one corner—a spinning wheel, colorful petroleum lamps in various sizes, my grandfather’s war medals pillow, old photos, and old-fashioned greeting cards, some even written on birch bark.

From the second-story landing, a stairway led to a huge attic where we stored wheat kernels. An old cabinet kept Father’s guns, a saber, a saddle, and other miscellaneous items. From the attic you could lean a ladder against the wall to reach the pigeon loft, where I later hid from the Russians. In the photo, you can see the loft’s small dormer-like windows protruding from the roof. This was a good place to hide from Russian soldiers on the prowl.

We had no running water in the house but filled our containers at the water pump in the foyer. The kitchen was also where we bathed. Every Saturday, Mother first heated hot water in a large basin on the stove. Then she brought in the tin bathtub, filled it with warm water, and bathed us one at a time. The shampoo was an awful concoction that made your hair clump together and created such a mass of tangles, you could barely get a comb through. I remember how good it felt to put on a clean nightgown and go to bed afterwards.

In the summers we ran barefoot and took footbaths daily. Once when I was really little, I liked the footbath so much that I put the rest of myself in the water too—fully clothed!

Along the wall, next to the kitchen stove, stood a low bench where we kept large iron pots and pans. Cooking utensils hung above the bench. A table with a porcelain bowl stood in the corner where we washed our faces and hands. The house did not have a bathroom—we used an outhouse.

Nearby stood a work table where we washed dishes in a wooden bin. Using no dish detergent or soap, we rinsed the dishes first and then washed them in hot water. This method was customary in those days.

Our radio sat on top of a cabinet that stored our dishes, silverware, and staples such as flour and sugar. A lamp hung from the ceiling over the kitchen table, and this cozy corner is where I did my schoolwork. In fact, most of our family life took place here.

The kitchen contains so many memories. One memory involves the radio, the lamp, swaying, and a drunk Polish man trying to kill me with a bayonet. But that story is for another time.

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“Under His Wings” are excerpts from Hannchen Gantenbein’s autobiography as told to Ruth Wood, her daughter. The account highlights God’s protection and guidance as she grew up in Nazi Germany, lived through World War II, and immigrated to the United States. Watch for monthly posts on the 20th!

Under His Wings Table of Contents

Introduction

Live much in the smiles of God. ~ Robert Murray M’Cheyne

(I am my lover’s and my lover is mine . . . Song of Songs 6:3)

When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy (Psalm 94:18-19).

Lord, when I feel myself slipping into old patterns, sins I wish were conquered, but well, they just aren’t, this is my encouragement:

Your love is my support. It braces me when I totter and lose my footing. It lifts me to a place where I can stand again.

I’m glad the Psalmist didn’t say, “When my foot slipped, you gave me a tongue lashing.” No. In just such moments, you offer compassion, not chastisement.

Your correction and tone is gentle as you come alongside, saying things like, “Grab hold of my hand, and let me help you over those sharp rocks. Look, over there is the path that will take you around this treacherous area in the future. Now, let me lift you over that sinkhole.”

Such gentle, supportive instruction, Lord, motivates me to change. And it’s so different from how our transgressions are generally met—with pointing fingers, disapproving glares, and scolding lectures. So, when I’m anxious about my failures, when I’m troubled by my sins, I will confidently turn to you.

For I revel in your consolation. It is as constant as the constellations above. It is as refreshing as a brisk ocean breeze. It is as warm and comforting as a soft throw around my shoulders. You draw me close, wipe away my tears, and then steady me as I struggle to my feet once again.

Over and over you surprise me. I know that you are good, but still, with every failure, your gracious response astounds. Your commitment to love me with such patient kindness touches me deeply, Lord. Please accept my inadequate attempt to express the constant wonder and gratitude you evoke in my heart.

And here’s one more thing I’ve noticed. Leaning on your arm, from that position of safety and strength, your consolation gives me confidence to forcefully remind my accuser: “In my weakness, my God supports me with his love!”

Prayer: Lord, renewed surrender is the only response worthy of you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Quote from “GENTLE AND LOWLY,” by Dane C. Ortlund:

Look to Christ. He deals gently with you. It’s the only way he knows how to be. He is the high priest to end all high priests. As long as you fix your attention on your sin, you will fail to see how you can be safe. But as long as you look to this high priest, you will fail to see how you can be in danger. Looking inside ourselves, we can anticipate only harshness from heaven. Looking out to Christ, we can anticipate only gentleness.

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Dear Readers,

I won 2nd place in a writing contest at Today’s Christian Living with a story about how God brought my mother a husband and gave her the faith and courage to immigrate to the United States. The story was published in their January/February 2026 edition.

So, I think the time is right to publish stories from my mother’s memoirs about growing up in Nazi Germany. Here is the introduction to the series. Dive in, and be sure to subscribe if you haven’t already!

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Under His Wings

My life changed forever when the Russian hordes invaded eastern Germany at the end of World War II. I was only a sixteen-year-old then. Streams of refugees and soldiers passed through our village. We were constantly busy helping those in need.

Along the road lay dead cows, and sometimes refugees arrived with loved ones to bury. Mothers fled with their children in baby carriages. I kept thinking, “I hope I don’t have to flee.” For two years we lived under Russian/Polish occupation, and then the order came that all Germans must be “evacuated.” They did this in stages over a period of several weeks.

The day of the first evacuation, I climbed the hill behind my house and watched people leave with box carts and backpacks, women holding children by the hand, old men, my best friend . . . . Every now and then they stood still and sadly looked back. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Everyone I knew and loved was going away. Would I ever see them again?

When it was my turn, I boarded the cattle train wearing three dresses and a coat, carrying my bedding and a few mementos. I did not know I would not return for forty years.

I lost everything—my country, my community, my family, and my possessions—but I still had God. You see, everything can be taken from you, but if you have the Lord, you have peace and a secure refuge. Truly, I have lived in the shadow of his wings.

Life is unfair. And still it is beautiful, magnificent. You want to take its face in your hands. ~ Peggy Noonan

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Heavenly Father,

You are The Giver sending bouquet after bouquet of goodness to grace our moments, each increment of time. Thank you for every moment you have planned for us this year, Lord. Each one originates from your loving heart; each one, no matter how challenging, is meant for our highest good; each one is meant to make us a little more like you. And so I ask for—

• rest in anxious moments

• clarity in doubting moments

• perspective in despairing moments

• comfort in sorrowful moments

• insight in decision-making moments

• support in weak moments

• healing in pain-filled moments

• peace in stressful moments

• intimacy in lonely moments

And I also ask for many prayer-answering moments! Bring unprecedented breakthroughs this year, Lord! Spread your fragrance to the world through the story you’re writing in us. And let us share it joyously! (II Corinthians 2:14-16)

Finally, I ask for many breathtaking, the-world-is-so-beautiful moments. For in such times, we often encounter you.

Lord, may your fragrant presence permeates every part of our being, every moment of our lives.

In Jesus’ name. Amen.

In this new year, “the Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” (Number 6:24-26)

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I wonder if, like the earth itself, we’re waiting, holding our breath in anticipation, longing to believe that something more is happening, that something more is coming. I wonder if we’re all just waiting for God to show up.” Hannah Anderson

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Dear Friends,

I so appreciate all of you hanging in there with me for another year. Have a most blessed Christmas and New Year!

Longing for peace on earth and good will to men . . . (click to listen to song)!

Ruth

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What author, when writing a book, does not use literary devices such as repetition to help the reader understand what is most important? In the Bible, parallels (a type of repetition) alert us to key theological themes, help us follow God’s covenant promises throughout history, and point to the fulfillment of prophecy. Here are some examples:

• Sin begins with the first Adam but is conquered by Jesus, the last Adam.

• In Genesis, humanity is barred from the Tree of Life; in Revelations, the saints are given access to the Tree of Life.

• Abraham prepared to sacrifice his only son on Mount Moriah (Jerusalem Temple Mount). God sacrificed his only son near Mount Moriah (just outside the ancient city walls but still within the same general area).

Since Jesus is the focal point of the Bible, the hero of the story, we find not only Old Testament prophecies about him but also symbolic parallelism within his lifetime. A delightful new discovery for me are the parallels related to his birth and death:

1. Birth: Jesus was born of a virgin (Luke 1:26-33).
   Death: He was buried in a virgin tomb (Luke 23:50-53).

2. Birth: Mary witnessed Jesus’ birth (Luke 2:5-7).
   Death: And she witnessed his death (John 19:25-27).

3. Birth: Some scholars believe that Jesus was born in a cave.*

   Death: He was buried in a tomb, a rock-cut cave.

4. Birth: An honorable man named Joseph provided a place where Mary and her newborn could rest (Luke 2:4-7).
   Death: An honorable man named Joseph (of Arimathea) provided a place where he laid Jesus’ body to rest (Matthew 27:57-60).

5. Birth: Jesus was wrapped in strips of swaddling cloths (Luke 2:5-7).
   Death: He was wrapped in strips of burial cloths (Mark 15:46).

6. Birth: Anointing oils such as frankincense and myrrh were used to worship him (Matthew 2:7-11).
   Death: Anointing oils such as myrrh and aloes were used to honorably bury him (John 19:38-39).

7. Birth: Herod tried to kill Jesus (Matthew 2:16).
   Death: Another Herod did not stop Pilate from killing him (Luke 23:7-12).

8. Birth: Jesus was “born King of the Jews” (Matthew 2:1-2).
   Death: He was crucified as “King of the Jews” (Matthew 27:35-37).

9. Birth: The chief priests and elders advised Rome (Herod) about the prophesied child king (Matthew 2:3-6).
   Death: The chief priests and elders advised Rome (Pilate) to eliminate the grown king (John 19:5-6, Luke 23:13-23, and Matthew 27:20).

10. Birth: Unlikely people—shepherds and wise men from the east—believed in him (Luke 2:15-17; Matthew 2:1-2).
    Death: Unlikely people—the thief on the cross and a Roman centurion and his guards—believed in him (Luke 23:39-43, Matthew 27:54).

Jesus’ mission went beyond the grave—he rose again, conquering sin and Satan and our worst enemy, death. Without Easter we would have no reason to celebrate Christmas! Here is a parallel tying Jesus’ birth to the resurrection:

• Birth: Angels proclaimed the good news of Jesus’ coming to shepherds who were considered a low social class (Luke 2:8-14).
  Resurrection: Angels proclaimed the good news of Jesus’ resurrection to women who were considered second class to men (Luke 24:4-7).

As you reflect on these parallels, what stands out to you? I am astounded by the level of craftsmanship in God’s masterpiece story. The parallel refrains of Jesus’ birth and death seem to be saying over and over, “Look at him, look at him!” And so we do. And we sink to our knees before the manger; we sink to our knees before the cross; we sink to our knees before the empty tomb, overcome with wonder, gratitude, and joyous relief. For Emmanuel, “God With Us,” is risen as King of kings and Lord of lords.

O come let us adore him,
O come let us adore him,
O come let us adore him,
Christ the Lord.

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*Cursory summary:

There is no definitive archaeological evidence or direct biblical account, but early Christian tradition identifies a cave in Bethlehem, now part of the Church of the Nativity, as Jesus’ birthplace. Evidence supporting this tradition comes from early Christian writers like Justin Martyr and Origen, who stated the birth took place in a cave because no lodging was available. The tradition is also supported by the fact that in the first century, many homes in the region were built against hillsides or used caves as stables for livestock.

*Another Interpretation: Born in a Stable, a Cave, or a Tower?

Reference:

https://preacherpollard.com/2012/10/18/parallels-of-christs-birth-and-death/

"There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord, but few of us are willing to do little things." ~ Dwight L. Moody

Listen:

But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me (Micah 7:7).

Reflect:

At first, when I began overseeing my mother’s care, I worried about being able to support her adequately since I live over two hours away. She turned 96 this year, and although she lives independently, she does need help now and then, especially when some unforeseen crisis hits. And this is where I’ve learned many lessons in how God provides.

One day last winter, her pellet stove would not start, a crisis because it’s her main source of heat. She could not get an appointment for service immediately. Even though she explained her situation, the company scheduled her two weeks out. I was distraught. How was she going to keep warm? So we prayed earnestly together. The next morning, a repairman stood at her door. Inexplicably, he “randomly” decided to add her to his schedule. Thank you, thank you, Lord! These kinds of answers have truly increased my faith.

God’s provision for her, however, comes mainly through the people in her church. I cannot say enough about their love and support. They’ve taken her grocery shopping, picked up prescriptions, given her rides when she can’t drive herself, provided in-home blood pressure checks, taken her to the emergency room, repaired her leaking gutter, helped her make difficult phone calls, fixed her broken water line, and included her in a family Thanksgiving dinner when I had to travel out of state one year. They shower her with one kindness after another.

The love and support these dear folks have given our family is something very precious and beautiful. How we thank God for them!

Prayer of Response:

Lord, this month as we focus on thanksgiving, our hearts overflow with gratitude for the people you’ve sent into our lives to help us. Please bless them with abundance, peace, and joy. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Questions to Ponder:

• In what ways has God answered your prayers specifically?

• Where have you seen the hands and feet of Jesus at work in your life?

An earlier version published with Lifesprings International, April 15, 2025.

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"I am not asking whether you know things about Him but do you know God, are you enjoying God, is God the centre of your life, the soul of your being, the source of your greatest joy? He is meant to be." ~ Martyn Lloyd-Jones

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