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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