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Life’s Miraculous Journey – Part 1

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The Journey Begins

On a beautiful spring day in the middle of April, I start my journey to the old country. Not accustomed to travelling alone, I feel somewhat lonesome and insecure after saying goodbye to Peter at the Kelowna airport. These feelings intensify in the crowd of strangers at the Vancouver airport terminal. Suddenly, I am embraced from behind. Two excited voices are screaming simultaneously in my ears, “Gertrud, what on earth are you doing here? “

Anita and Gerhard, two old acquaintances we had lost contact with, are bombarding me with questions. Friends of our Bavarian neighbour, they are part of the visiting crowd of seasoned globetrotters whose stories we had previously listened to. And as coincidence wants it, they have seats right beside me on the same flight. Travelling with friends is like having guardian angels accompany you. Engaged in animated conversation, the time passes quickly. Before I know it, we have crossed Greenland, Iceland, the North Atlantic and Scotland. We are preparing for landing.

Since I arrived late at night, my travel agent had arranged for a stay in a hotel in Frankfurt. It is located at the city’s outskirts beside a huge and lifeless computer terminal building heavily fenced in like a prison. On the

other side is an idyllic little park with a fishpond and bird sanctuary. Waking up at dawn, not accustomed to the time difference yet, I can admire the sunrise. The distant city on the horizon is bathed in golden light. I listen to the cheerful chirping of birds greeting the new day and watch two wild rabbits playfully chase each other on the grass strip around the computer terminal. I even venture on an early morning walk to the nearby fishing pond, a quiet green oasis. The bushes and trees are just bursting forth with fresh new leaves. Usually, I am not an early riser. Therefore, it is quite an exciting experience for me to walk before breakfast. The girls at the hotel reception desk, whom I had asked for directions, were relieved to see me come back. They had worried about me walking all alone so early in the morning. They welcome me back with friendly greetings.

Wonders of Travel

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This is a long story which I will spread over several posts. I hope that you will enjoy it.

Traveling with Rob in la Belle France

When we travel, we must expect the unexpected. The most memorable events of our journey are often unplanned. In retrospect, we can laugh about stressful or embarrassing situations. They are the stories we tell your friends. For over 25 years, I hardly had the opportunity to travel far, especially alone, without my husband and family. Our budget was stretched to the limit by the financial demands of raising five sons. However, we had a constant stream of visitors every summer from far and wide, who had interesting stories to tell.

Then came the time when our sons flew out of the nest. One by one they discovered the joy of traveling in the big wide world. Our oldest son, Rob, fell in love with Italy, and our second son, Rick, with France, or rather with a beautiful girl from Paris. To our great surprise, he was the first of the boys to announce wedding plans. The marriage was to take place in a small village close to Paris called Saint–Etienne–Roilaye

This announcement caused great excitement in our quieted-down household. Since our budget would not allow for two tickets to Europe, my husband, Peter, magnanimously decided that I should be the one to go. I was overjoyed. Our oldest son, working in Germany as a civil engineer, supported his father’s decision wholeheartedly. He offered to take me on a short sightseeing trip to the castles of the Loire before escorting me to the wedding.

“You deserve a real holiday Mom,” he declared, “and since you are proficient in French, I feel comfortable traveling to France with you. “

His invitation extremely touched me. It exceeded my wildest dreams. When the boys were still in diapers, I started envisioning all the exciting things we could do together. Traveling was high on that list. Now my dreams were coming true! All the maternal sacrifices of the past were forgotten in an instant. What wonderful prospects lay before me! Since I was far from proficient in the French language, I practiced speaking it from dawn to dusk until my German accent took on French overtones, and strangers asked me if I had recently moved here from eastern Canada.

Kindness of Strangers

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Angels in Disguise

When our second son, Richard, got married in a small village close to Paris, France, my husband Peter could not attend. Our oldest boy, Robert, then worked and lived in Stuttgart, Germany. I was overjoyed when he proposed to accompany me to the wedding and take me on a short sightseeing trip to the famous castles of the Loire before the big event.

My generous husband encouraged me to accept Robert’s proposal. I will write more about our exciting and adventurous sightseeing trip to the Loire valley. Robert had rented a car. We started our journey in Tours. After our circle tour, we planned on taking the train to Paris.

Our exciting, adventurous trip in the most beautiful early spring weather ended far too early. Full of fantastic impressions and memories, we arrived in Tours again to return the rented car and board the train to Paris.

Entering the vast central station in mid-morning, we were puzzled. There were no people and also no wickets open. We wondered what was going on. Maybe a significant holiday? That did not make sense. Or the trains don’t run until later in the day? That was equally senseless. Before we came up with more stupid explanations, a policeman informed us that there was a strike which could last who knows how long.

Needless to say, we were shocked and at a loss for what to do. We took our suitcases and decided to go to town for a coffee to devise a plan for solving our predicament. We had hardly walked a few steps when a taxi stopped at the curb, opening the door to invite us in. After a short hesitation, we let him drive us to a cafe. When he heard our story, he got very agitated. He explained that these frequent strikes hurt the local population, inconvenienced the tourists, and ultimately were bad for the economy. Looking at us with genuine pity, he proposed to take us to a small train station on the outskirts of Tours for local transit. Once a day, a train to Paris will come through, and if you are lucky, you will get on and arrive in Paris tonight he told us.

Full of hope we had a pleasant conversation with our friendly taxi driver in broken French and English. At the station, he insisted on carrying my suitcase to the platform where a vast crowd of people anxiously waited, almost like in war times. I wanted to pay our driver and award him a massive tip for his helpful kindness. But he refused, adamantly saying he would be insulted if we persisted. We will never forget your kindness, I told him in parting. He left with a smile. I had tears in my eyes.

We did get on the train despite the huge crowd. Contrary to my fears that people would try to storm into the wagons everyone boarded the train calmly and orderly. There were friendly smiles and joyful chatter of relieved people happy to be on board. I will never forget the kindness and generosity of the taxi driver in Tours, France, an angel in disguise.

Human Spirit

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Last week, Peter and I drove through dense fog to the hot springs up in the mountains to fight the winter blues. We both felt a bit depressed by the long, dark winter.
Entering the pool area after changing, I scanned the steaming water to find Peter in the rising mist.

Suddenly, I noticed a good-looking man with an athletic body sitting at the edge of the hot half of the round pool. He looked at me with a bright, expectant smile. Coming closer, on the verge of asking if we knew each other,  I suddenly remembered,  “Danny, Daniel’.

He was one of the first students Peter taught at the Fauquier School. He came from a family of four brothers and sisters. Shortly before we arrived in Fauquier, they had tragically lost their mother in a car accident at the dangerous S curve close to the ferry landing on Highway 6 to Vernon.

“ Oh, Danny,” I smiled, “ so good to see you after so many years. You have changed so much,” I laughed. I hadn’t seen him since he left high school. “You haven’t changed at all, Mrs. Klopp,” he laughed back, “that’s why I recognized you.”
I suddenly noticed a wheelchair close by at the edge of the pool. Seeing my questioning glance, Danny told me his story. After graduation, he worked in construction, building motels and hotels throughout the province.  After he married and had a little daughter, he had a devastating accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. For many years, he stayed like a hermit at home, depressed and grieving his loss.
One day, he decided to embrace life again. He learned to drive his truck, getting in and out without assistance. He started working and founded a taxi company in Kelowna. He learned new life skills to cope and overcome his handicap. This is his story in a nutshell.

When I later met his lovely wife, I could see that she and his daughter must have played a major role in his recovery back to life. Daniel had the brightest, happiest, contagious smile, radiating joy and love. I took pictures of him and his beautiful partner before they had to leave. Two friends expertly lifted Danny out of the water into the wheelchair, and we waved goodbye.
This encounter raised my spirits. There is always hope in the worst situations of life. Some people like Danny learn to cope and overcome unimaginable hardships and injuries.  Their resilient spirit inspires us to never succumb to depression but to embrace life and find the joy of living again.

Peter and I were so touched by our encounter with Danny and his inspiring story.  Thank you, Danny!  Your happy smiles are like sunshine. You chased our winter blues away.

Guardian Angels

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This post continues the previous post on When Prayers Get Answered.

After the injections prescribed by the specialist, our little son started to sleep peacefully. No more convulsions or other scary symptoms. Peter was suddenly by my side, and feeling incredibly sorry that he had not realized the gravity of the situation. He stayed with me by our son’s bedside until the early morning. That’s when Robert was taken by ambulance over prairie winter roads to the Edmonton Hospital 300 km from the little town of Consort to be checked out by specialists. 

We could not accompany him in the ambulance. After a short rest and sleep of exhaustion, I went by Greyhound bus to the capital city I had never visited before. Peter would pick us up as soon as our son would be released from the hospital.

I slept most of the long bus ride over the dreary prairie roads. A January Chinook brought in dark clouds. Raindrops like tears were streaming down the windshield. It was already getting dark when the friendly bus driver dropped me off at a motel within walking distance of coffee shops and the huge General Hospital. 

After checking in at the hotel, I went to see our Robert. The hospital looked intimidating, like an enormous prison. When I was finally led by a friendly nurse’s aid to the pediatric ward, I could already distinguish Robert’s loud, crying voice from the wails of the other little patients. Hearing his anguished cries reassured me that he was getting stronger. I never forget the disbelief in his swollen eyes and his outstretched arms when he saw me. He almost flew over the railing of the crib into my arms. I stayed with him until later that night, when he finally fell asleep peacefully in my arms.

The nurses connected me by intercom with the head doctor, who assured me that Robert checked out fine and could go home the next day.

In the meantime, Peter got our car ready to drive to Edmonton in the morning. The car was a gift from Peter’s principal at the German Saturday school. It was a second-hand Pontiac still in good condition but too old to be traded in. Mr K. liked Peter as a colleague and friend. He felt sorry for us, just starting as new immigrants in a foreign country without poper transportation.

Peter arrived early, and finally, we had our little Robert back to drive home. In those days, seatbelts were not mandatory, and children did not need car seats. Bundled up cozily, reassured by our presence, Robert slept like an angel in my arms in the front seat . On his early morning drive to Edmonton, the roads were only wet, but a sudden drop in temperature below freezing had turned them into skating rings. Out of the city, on the highway, we would see jackknifed semi-trucks and other vehicles left and right in the ditches. It looked like in a horror movie. 

Peter stayed calm and focused. I kept my eyes on the bundle of joy sleeping in my arms. It felt like we were gliding on eagle wings over the icy highway, not slipping once. To this day, we marvel at this miraculous drive home on Eagle Wings.

A Prayer Answered

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A cold, dark New Year’s Eve on the prairie many years ago. The first snowflakes are swirling from the dark sky when I close the door behind our neighbors. They had planned on taking us to a year-end dance in the arena of our small ranching community. We had to decline because the only babysitter that night phoned in sick.

Although I love dancing I was not too disappointed because I did not want to leave our little son, our pride and joy for a long night out.

Peter and I decided to to prepare for a cozy evening with games and music instead

Suddenly, I heard a terrible retching sound from the living room and saw our little boy throwing up violently. Our little whirlwind had been unusually quiet during the neighbors’s visit, and now I realize why. When after a few hours, the violent vomiting and diarrhea did not stop; panic gripped me. This was not a mild stomach flu that little children survived quickly.

I convinced Peter to drive us to the local hospital for help. Our sick son was immediately admitted by the perceptive head nurse to be put on intravenous to replenish his body fluids. 

“Now he is in the best hands,” Peter told me, “and we can still go to the dance”.

I was in disbelief. The thought of going home never entered my mind. I would stay with our little boy. 

Disappointed and telling me that I was an overly protective mother, Peter left for home.

I watched the nurses trying to find a vein for the intravenous needle in our son’s head after they administered medice to stop the vomiting and diraiah and to calm him down.

I sat by his crib, gently stroking his body, watching him breathe, and occasionally stirring in his sleep.  Time ticked away. It felt such a relief to see him sleep.

After a few hours, a nurse came to change his intravenous drip. While she was working on the apparatus, I saw our little son suddenly turn blue. Unaware of what was happening, I asked the nurse if this was normal. She had not looked at him while installing the drip fluid bag. One glance and she stormed out of the room, returning in an instant with an oxygen tank. By that time, our little boy was in convulsions. She immediately pumped his heart to revive his breathing. After what seemed an eternity, she succeeded and immediately put him on oxygen.

I watched it tomorrow. She called another nurse and phoned the only doctor attending the dance.

Dr. Knight arrived in his finery, annoyed to be called away from the festivities. He told me to leave the room to call my husband, saying, ” I think we are fighting a losing battle.” I was numb with anguish and terror and sank down beside the wall, praying with incoherent words, beseeching God to save our little boy. I felt like in a nightmare.

On his way out, the doctor asked what I was doing, seeing me on my knees with folded hands. My heart was crying out to God to save our child. I repeated over and over the Prayer like a mantra;

Suddenly the doctor muttered, “I will try to phone a specialist in Edmonton. Pray that I can reach him.” (This happened before mobile phones.)

The prayer was answered. The specialist advised the doctor to give a calcium injection to stop the convulsions. Young children lose electrolytes faster than adults. Until that night, the country doctor did not know children needed different procedures.

These calcium injections not only saved the life of our son but many small children from that day on. As the nurses told me later, many small children in the past had died of similar conditions because the doctor lacked that knowledge.

On New Year’s Day, our little boy was transported by ambulance 300 km over icy roads to Edmonton Hospital to be tested for brain damage due to the convulsions.

I am happy to say that he survived the ordeal without any damage and grew up to be a healthy, strong, intelligent and loving man.

I never forget that fateful night. It taught me to believe in God and the power of prayers to bring about miracles.

Memories of Miracles

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“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” Albert Einstein

Miracles happen all the time. We are often unaware of them when they happen and only recognize them in retrospect. Sometimes, we fail to notice them all together.

In crisis situations, we hope and pray fervently for miracles to happen instantly. But we are not in contol. They often happen when we least expect them.

The greatest miracle of my life was that I was born into this world with my twin brother. My mother had been told by many doctors that she would be unable to conceive children after the birth of my half-sister, twenty years older.

My mom was orphaned when she was twelve years old. Her mother died giving birth to her fifth child. A few months later, her father died from a broken heart, leaving his young children under the care of an aunt.

My mom was raised in a convent school by nuns. As a young woman, she worked as a receptionist and photo model for a photographer in a small town in the Rhineland of Germany.  She was very beautiful and intelligent. Her kind and cheerful personality attracted people like a magnet.

Unfortunately, there are gaps in her life story. I never knew until I left home to live with Peter in Canada that my sister was only a half-sister. My father had adopted her when he married my mother.

My mother never revealed the name of my sister’s biological father. She only told me that he was engaged to her and died in a motorcycle accident before my sister was born. 

My father loved my sister like his own child. Doctors had told my parents that my mom would be unable to conceive any more children. So they lived happily as a threesome for twenty years, traveling every summer by canoe on all the scenic rivers in Germany. Luckily my father was a terrific photographer, and his beautiful photos survived.

And then the miracle happened. When my mother thought she was in her menopause, she conceived us. On a beautiful Sunday at the end of October, my twin brother and I were born into this miraculous world under a full moon. 

My parents

No other YOU

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Today, myriads of snowflakes are dancing down from the dark winter sky. Not one of these intricate hexagonal crystals is the same. Although all have multiple similar features, they are all unique and beautiful.

The innumerable stars in the brilliant night sky are all unique, and so are all living beings. You and I are like snowflakes or stars. We have similarities, but we are all different and beautiful in our own way. Even identical twins have their unique identity.

There is an ancient Greek myth many modern people still believe in. The Greek philosopher Plato wrote that humans once had four arms, four legs and two faces. He explained that Zeus split us in half to punish our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half. 

It seems that people still believe in the soulmate myth. In current usage, soulmate usually refers to a romantic or platonic partner, with the implication of an exclusive lifelong bond. It commonly holds the connotation of being the strongest bond with another person that one can achieve

I have to confess that I am one of the believers in soulmates. Finding your soulmate is one of the greatest miracles of life.

No other you

Introduction to Bumble Bee.

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Every ray of light is a miracle. Every drop of water is a miracle; every flower is a miracle. Every thought or dream is a miracle. Every word is a miracle. Every smile is a miracle. Every breath is a miracle; every heartbeat is a miracle. There are countless miracles, as there are stars in the night sky. But the greatest miracle is Love. 

Dear friends, I ask you to be patient. In time, you will get to know me through the miraculous story of my life. Every human being has a unique life story.

You will find out that I live in many worlds. All are all real to me because “It’s hard to tell that the world we live in is either a reality or a dream.“

I believed in wonders, miracles, fairy tales, and happy endings from early childhood. But be forewarned. I have not been spared from hardship, disappointments, significant challenges, loss, pain, and sadness like every human being in our miraculous world. In the end, the light always conquered the darkness.

Every Sunrise is a Miracle

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