Miracle in Munich

Those who know about the last year’s fiasco at St. Brendan’s, will appreciate what I am about to tell you. When we arrived in Munich, we didn’t know how we were going to make it financially through the next couple of weeks. Without being able to go home and not knowing anyone over here, things were looking pretty desperate. The night before we had stayed at Meininger’s, a youth hostel that welcomes families, where we were able to laundry. (Boy, was it good to have clean clothes again!) It was out of the question to stay another night as was camping with the dropping temperature. Larry had an idea and began to drive. I was tired from lack of sleep the night before and had a stomach-ache so didn’t question where we were going. We pulled up to a Catholic church where Larry had practiced the previous month and disappeared for about what seemed like an hour. All I could do was wonder. When Larry came back he explained to me that he had asked the church secretary for a place to stay and she said there wasn’t anything available. At the moment of being turned away, wouldn’t you know it, the pastor of the Catholic church walked through the door. Larry then explained our situation and why we were in Germany. The priest asked, in German of course, what brought us to his church. Larry answered simply, "Gott.". The priest thought for awhile and said "OK". He granted us a stay in the rectory for one week. The four of us soon found ourselves in a bright, cozy little bedroom that included two queen-sized futons, a wardrobe, and a large desk, situated on the third floor, right over the priest’s room. We were very adamant with the kids about not making any noise with their feet or voices. The next day we were shown the kitchen which we were give permission to use. The church secretary, Ingrid, served coffee to me and milk to the kids. We were also given a key to another building so that we could practice...and the room had a PIANO! As the week progressed, Larry and I began to feel a sort of renewal. Our days were spent focusing on the kids’ writing and math skills and the evenings for rehearsing. Part of our rehearsal involved Menotti’s Amahl and the Night Visitors which Larry will perform in Texas next month. No surprise that the kids can both sing the entire role of Amahl. Quintin is determined to perform this role on the professional stage someday soon. Anyways, getting back to my story...the church staff was very friendly and very accommodating to us showing us the laundry facility if we needed it and just making us feel very welcome. Of course, we went to mass that Sunday and a funny thing happened at the very finish of it. The battery in the car had died the day before and we thought we were going to have to wait until Monday to get it going again. The priest, who was also the celebrant for the mass, came running up to Larry with a jumper cable in hand ready to go, still in his vestments! And it was snowing! We were stunned. Later that day, as I was preparing some pasta in the kitchen, the priest peeked in to ask me if the kids had enough food. He then made several trips back to the kitchen, each time bringing items from what I believe was from his own kitchen. Later that evening, the music director invited us back to the church for a concert that he was conducting. The program included Puccini’s Mass and we were impressed that as it turned colder and snowier, the concert was very well-attended. The music was accompanied by a large chorus, two male soloists, full orchestra and organ. The priest took a real liking to the kids and they to him. He sort of reminded us of a naval captain and maybe Santa too. There must have been a reception after the concert because he brought several plates of dessert and food back for the kids. I can tell you this: he is the nicest priest we have ever had the privilege of knowing. As the week went on, we wondered what we could do in exchange but the priest insisted on nothing. Larry and I agree that this whole experience has helped to heal the wounds afflicted about a year ago in the Bronx. My dad had made a comment while he was here about people being the same no matter where you are. I agree. Throughout this trip, I have witnessed great history and art, spectacular architecture and the most beautiful landscapes. But more importantly are the people. Goodness and kindness are everywhere, whether you’re in Germany, Texas, France or New York. Though people may differ in their customs or history, from country to country or continent to continent, it is the human spirit that connects us to each other. When we embrace that part of our selves, the world doesn’t seem such a big and scary place after all.