December 2005 The Megaphone Page 8
The Cardinal
by Craig Toensing
I keep three bird feeders going year round at my house. This allows me to observe not only the locals but also the migrators. The state D.E.P. advises to shut feeders down from March 1 to November 30 to discourage visits from black bear looking for a snack.
A couple of years ago a 400 pounder was starting to take down my pole feeder. I asked him what he thought he was doing and that had no effect. After some vigorous hand clapping on my part he walked off into the woods sparing the feeder.
My efforts also keep a group of gray squirrels happy. I don’t mind as I figure we all have to eat. Gray squirrels are about the size of the fox squirrels that live in Indiana. What I do mind are the little aggressive red squirrels. Those wise guys try to chew into my garage to get at the sunflower seed supply. I trap them in a Havahart trap and release them across the river in the next town. I do check my rearview mirror on the way home to make sure they aren’t running after me.
A couple of afternoons ago an American kestrel swooped by the feeders. The feeding songbirds scattered in panic. A couple of them hit our storm windows. I looked out of one and saw a brilliant red male cardinal lying on the snow. I was concerned that he was stunned and the cold snow might not to be a good place to recover. I also didn’t want the hawk to get an easy meal as the cardinal lay there. I went out and picked him up in my hand encircling him with my fingers. I brought him into the warmth of the house to recover. He was moving around a bit and then with his eyes closed he opened his beak and squawked three times and went totally limp. I placed him on the hearth and I think he was dead. I gently carried him outside and put him on top of a brush pile at the edge of the woods.
The next morning returning from the road with the morning papers I walked past the brush pile and he was gone. I choose to think he woke and flew away to brighten another day. If something else happened, that’s all right too.
Craig Toensing ‘55
The Tablecloth
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first
ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited about their opportunities.
When they saw their church,
it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything
done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing
pews, plastering walls, painting, etc., and on December 18 were ahead of
schedule and just about finished.
On December 19, a terrible
tempest - a driving rainstorm - hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went
over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that
the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to
fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning
about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the
mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas
Eve service, headed home. On the way he noticed that a local business was having
a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a
beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work,
fine colors and a Cross embroidered right in the center. It was just the right
size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the
church.
By this time it had started
to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch
the bus. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for
the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no
attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the
tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it
looked and it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman
walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet. "Pastor,"
she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor
explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the
initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials
of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before in Austria.
The woman could hardly
believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman
explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow
her the next week. She was captured, sent to prison and never saw her
husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her
the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor
insisted on driving her home, that was the least he could do. She lived on the
other side of Staten Island
and was only in Brooklyn
for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they
had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were
great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at
the door and many said that they would return.
One older man, whom the
pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and
stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn’t leaving.
The man asked him where he
got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his
wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike.
He told the pastor how the
Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety, and he was supposed
to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison. He never saw his
wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he
would allow him to take him for a little ride. They
drove to Staten Island
and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb the
three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment knocked on the door and he saw
the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
True Story - submitted by
Pastor Rob Reid, who says God does not work in mysterious ways.
Submitted by . . .
Carol (Kochman) Lewellen '73
Elwood, IN