Sunday, December 11, 2016

Day 15 Cookie Jar Sweet Memories Plus: Christmas!


Day 15

 

 

Miss Heinrich’s pansies at Easter

 

Funny how we can so easily miss the very blatant special “presence” of ordinary events.

Our little community had some most unique characters inhabiting our surroundings.

Some were so obvious that no one could miss the display. Like our resident “hobo”, Oppie Winkle, or the little Irish guy who lived at the edge of town beside the town’s original cemetery site. The “big guys” called him "Firebug” as they laughed at the latest fire in our village as the hapless citizen had acquired a reputation for arson. Fair, or not, I do not know.

One Sunday night as our family returned from the weekly visit to “the farm” where my grandparents lived, the corner of our street intersecting with Main was a bee hive of activity with red lights flashing and the town’s single cop car and one lonely fire engine surrounded by a cadre of civilians. We lived a half block off Main; when Mom and Dad had ushered the three urchins off to beddy-bye, Dad trekked up to the corner to check out the big doings.

The next morning, Mom told us that the “show building” had burn to the ground. Dad mentioned that evening that the rumor was “Firebug” had torched the two story historic property.

The truth of it, I never unraveled; I was only six or seven when the event occurred. Maybe, off somewhere in the deep recesses of my fertile imagination, I actually remember the story of the demise of “Firebug”, still, it could just be that nemesis fantasy-thing of a writer since it makes good copy. Anyway, I “recollect” that the story went around our little “berg” that “Firebug’s” charred remains had been found at the site of an abandoned wooden shed that had burned at the dark of the midnight hour. Again, true or not, I cannot attest. Still, an interesting tale.

And, of course, there were “good and kindly” souls amongst us, too; many of them.

One such was an “old maid” lady who ran a small florist shop at the north end of town. A quiet woman who tended to mind her own business and kept a low profile. She wore bibbed overalls with a “farmer’s” faded blue man’s shirt and work shoes; always, she wore a pleasant smile. I never heard one unkind word about Miss Emma Heinrich in all my born days!

The little country church we attended when our children were young celebrated each Christian holiday with a flair, mostly due to the serious dedication of the minister and his lovely wife/

Next to the Christmas celebration, a real extravaganza displaying the children members varied talents, came the equally spectacular Easter presentation. The highlight of that festivity was “Sunrise service” wherein the congregation paraded silently to the cemetery after dawn services where the minister gave a brief sermon on “Christ’s Resurrection” as the sun pierced the horizon and ascended the morning sky accompanied by a trumpeter “hidden” behind a near-by tree playing taps in an eerie, though, respectfully reverent homage to the Christian event. Bravo!

For many years this “church”, housed in a building constructed of native limestone and sand stone, served a country community with admirable reverence; this “old fashioned” sacred place-of-worship extolled the Christian values which brought the congregation to virtue; just exactly what “religion” is designed to do. The very first time I heard what has become my all time favorite religious hymn, especially when crooned by Mr. Elvis-man, Amazing Grace, was on a warm summer day during the week at some program the children presented; I sat in a pew near an open window. As I gazed across the church yard and out to the neighboring corn field, swaying a green dance rhythm in the warming breeze, the children sang that “slave-ship” tune and the circumstance touched my heart and changed my outlook, somewhat, actually enforcing my understanding for reverence of simple “nature”, which is---God!

Ah! This “traditionalist” laments the loss of real reverence honoring sacred religious worship..

So? The “big deal” concerning Miss Emma? The Sunday School kids each received a complimentary Easter pansy from the Heinrich floral shop. She was a kind, generous woman.

Some thirty years later, Miss Candy and I searched for a church to attend. After five years of visiting every manner of worship effort, we ended up at a little country Protestant church whose minister was the grandson of the man who pastored the “Sunrise” church. Well!

Pastor Matt one day allowed from the pulpit that Miss Emma Heinrich had passed and revealed that he, as a boy, had worked for the lady at her nursery and mentioned the pansy gifts.

 He said that her estate was valued at over three million dollars! Claimed he had never suspected. Me neither! Good for her. She had no children but some thankful relatives; I wasn’t one of them!
 Ah! Glorious Cookie Jar Sweet Memories!
 
Plus:
 
 
 
Christmas Angel!

 

 

Angel-envoy proclaim to shepherd peaceful night

Huddled close in honor of eternal spiritual sight

 

Come Savior-man as midnight-star journey ceased

Christ Jesus virgin-born in yonder holy stable East

 

Winged-messenger heaven-sent trumpeted the Way

To Mary-Joseph lodge where sacred precious baby lay

 

Innkeeper kindly provide poor family shelter sleep

Unknowingly allowed Babe to rustic manger keep

 

Sentinel-guard stood watch ’til hinted morning dawn

As Cherubim and Seraphim harmonized celestial song

 

God’s Son came so man may live forever and a day

Simply emulate Jesus necessary to every evil slay

 

Jesus’ own protector to aid him on the journey far

Just follow God like angel did bring Christmas star

 

So special-blessed the winged-one given to announce His birth

Great day! Indeed! Truly challenge perfect holy humble worth

 

Angel-guardian pray, too, that he will someday be---

Assigned some holy task that is not guarding…”me”!

 

And, when time comes to make a sacred spiritual choice

Pure heart prevail Truth speak with non-pernicious voice

 

Within each gift-event enjoy adventure daily foray

Refuse be serious in awesome childlike fun and play

 

Sands of time seem slow through narrow neck of glass

Surely flow to distant shore white-crest time does pass

 

Expectant wide-eyed innocent wonder seeking just to find

Each sunshine-rise promise “Christmas”-again sublime

Amen!

 

Merry Christmas!
 

 

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