The German Bible

It's all because of Martin Luther, the Dreher family, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and C.S. Lewis...not necessarily in that order.  

In 1988, two 12-year-olds scribbled foreign words in notebooks in an attempt to learn another language. Corinne and I were best friends, both only children, both bilingual. My mom was Cuban; her parents were Swiss. We decided to teach each other Spanish and Swiss-German. Those lessons didn't last long, but the informal ones I was exposed to around the Dreher family have lasted my whole life.

I understood about immigration to America, and the community that forms around a language-speaking group. When my mom's family came to the Unites States in the early '60's, my grandparents grew a group of tightly-knit Spanish-speaking friends. Not all were Cuban; back then, anyone who spoke Spanish was a welcome friend for them in this strange land. I grew up around this circle of amigos, loving their culture and community. 

Vreni and Werner Dreher had a similar community of German-speaking friends. I would go to their house and be saturated in the Swiss-German they spoke to Corinne. I picked up some words, and especially felt the love of their culture. I went to their Lutheran church. Once, the entire service was in German! I didn't understand much, but was captivated by the sound and by the worshipers who had grown up speaking this strange language that was becoming familiar. 

Werner worked for a Swiss company. Corinne and I attended the Christmas party and I loved every minute of being around his colleagues and their families. He was an involved member of the Swiss American Society in our town, and in spring, Corinne and I worked at their booth overseeing the sale of desserts at the Spring Fling. I can still smell the meats, and hear the boisterous, cheerful, German music. This was a highlight of spring for us.

Vreni and her friend Rosemarie owned and operated the Deli Korner, a haven of food and products from German-speaking countries. My mouth waters when I think of the Fleischkäse and tea. I loved sitting there and laughing over lunch and conversation with friends like Barbel and Gerd. 

I try not to dwell on the regret I have over thirty years later that I didn't pursue German in school, or take advantage of having the Drehers at my disposal to teach me. Kids don't always appreciate the asset of another language, then as adults, we wish we'd have taken it seriously. I remind my children that now as I teach them Spanish. I'm eternally grateful to have been brought up bilingual, even though as a child I was shy about speaking it around others. I know that if children are exposed, the effort won't return void.

And for me, the German (or Swiss-German) hasn't been entirely lost. It's been there all along, simmering on the back burner of my brain. I've always had an interest in Alpine countries, in the charm of their folklore, in the pep of their people. I love tales of chalets, of animals deep in the forest. I had my own cardboard chalet as a child, that came with a Swiss Miss doll. It was big enough for my friends and me to play in, like an actual club house. I even married into a  Swiss family; my husband's ancestors came from St. Gallen. Corinne and he have said they might even be related, as her people were also from that area!

A pioneer of the faith that I admire greatly is Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was martyred at the end of World War II for preaching Christ in Nazi Germany. I read the same book every Christmas of collections of his sermons and letters, God is in the Manger. Bonhoeffer's books are meaty and taxing to read. He has added to my interest in the German language.

Earlier this month, I read an outstanding book: Becoming Mrs. Lewis by Patti Callahan. This is the story of how Joy Davidman Gresham came to meet and marry C.S. Lewis. I've read many of Lewis's books, but Callahan's depiction of "Jack," as he was known, is captivating. I found myself envious of those who were invited to his lectures, and to talk about literature and life at his home in The Kilns. One tiny mention moved the long-simmering German pot from the back to the front burner for me: One quiet afternoon, Joy saw Jack reading his Bible; she wondered if it was perhaps in Latin, or in German.

I like to read my bilingual Spanish Bible, and I even have a Spanish-Latin book of prayers and Bible readings that I'll take down every now and then. But German! Now, there was an idea! 

Am I weird?, I wondered. Perhaps, but so was Jack Lewis. He and Tolkien made up entire languages, for Pete's sake! I felt like this was yet another way God was drawing me to who He created me to be, the girl who loves languages and learning, and ultimately toward Him, for His glory. I can't say exactly how He is using this, but I know there are probably a thousand reasons that I may never understand. 

I got online and found a Luther Bible. My girls and I had read in a school book that Luther had translated the Bible so that all Germans could understand God's Word, even before our King James was published. I read in the reviews that someone else had purchased a copy for the same reason, and that it had helped him immensely, not only to learn German, but to grow in God's Word.

I've started a special time that I look forward to every afternoon. God and I take this Bible and sit either at my desk with a candle, or outside on my bench. We first read the English, then the German. I pull out my translator and closely examine the words. We read over it another time or two. Then comes the really fun part: I listen to the audio on the Bible app! Boy, does that rattle off those words fast! As he speaks, I follow along in the Bible, enjoying the cadence of the speech. I ask God to help me understand! Sometimes I repeat phrases aloud. By the end of this time, my brain has fed on serious protein, and I've had a good mind workout! 

Thank you, my friend Jack Lewis: 

(There may be a German Bible on this desk!)

Thank you, brave Martin Luther: 

Thank you, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, for spurring me on in the cost of discipleship: 

And to Vreni, Corinne, and Werner, and their Swiss and German-speaking community, Danke vielmals! Gott liebt euch alle. 

(Vreni, Corinne, and Werner with Rosemarie Schwendeler [bottom center], and Corinne's aunt and uncle [from Switzerland]). 

 
Memories of what started it all: 

Werner played Santa (he sounded like St. Nikolaus!) at his work Christmas party, counting on Corinne and me to act as elves and hand out candy. (1990)

Corinne's confirmation, St. John's Lutheran Church, Spartanburg, SC, 1991. I was trying hard to be cool, surrounded by Corinne's family: Werner's sister, Rosemarie in background, Grossmami, Corinne, Vreni, me, and Vreni's brother. Werner must've taken the photo. 

With dear Werner, 1994. 

Just two weeks ago, sweet Vreni went to be with the Lord. She and Werner, who passed away in 2010, both knew Christ as their Savior. I wish I could practice my German with them, and hear Werner's booming voice correcting my pronunciation. He'd probably laugh at the "old-sounding" 1500's German I'm learning, as one who might learn English from the KJV. I liked to make him laugh!

Dank dir Jesus ❤️

To all the wonderful people in the Swiss and German-speaking community: Please excuse the use of "German" when the idea might be Swiss. It's kind of like in the Spanish-speaking community, when referring to the "Spanish" language while someone is from the Caribbean, or South America. Now we have the word "latino" to help us express anyone from any Spanish-speaking area. I wasn't sure how to get around this with my Swiss or German-speaking friends, and hope not to offend. I appreciate all of you, and your countries and culture!

--JBW

Parents Always Homeschooled; Now It's Official

Look at this guy! We have a few white squirrels who live in our yard. I take the time to notice them lest they become "ordinary." They're not quite common in our area, but not entirely unusual. 

Jesus said, "Do not worry about your life...look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?...But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things." (Matthew 6:25-26, 33-34).

I loved seeing him leaping this morning. He had no idea I was watching. He was going about his business, doing what God has put in him to do, under the watchful eye of the Almighty.

Parents have always been "home-schoolers," as it's always been the job of a parent to train up children. You are doing this all the time: in teaching habits (or not), in modeling behavior (whether good or bad), in how you respond to situations, and in daily life (how you manage your home, or not). All parents have abruptly been put into the role of what our culture calls "homeschoolers," or people who teach their children "academics" at home. Please quote me on this: Homeschooling is not super-human; it's supernatural. That's right; apart from God's help, you can't do it. I've been doing this seven years, and this is how I answer anyone over the years who has told me, "Well, I could never do that," as if I have some magic powers.

To this I say, "You're right! You can't do it. God can, and if you ask Him, He shows you the way." Frankly, it's ridiculous and insulting for anyone to insinuate that homeschoolers have been sprinkled with some special dust that enables us to do this thing that God actually commands all of us to do: "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." One thing that makes me cringe is hearing parents act like they can't stand being around their kids. A gentle reminder: God gave you specifically those specific kids. He didn't haphazardly throw you together. There's a reason you're you, and that you ended up with those particular little humans. You took care of them in-utero, brought them home from the hospital, kept them alive through the helpless baby years, potty trained and clothed them. You made it through all those long nights of crying, feeding, and the like.

Our culture does parents and children no favors encouraging this mentality that I observe daily, the one of "my children are driving me crazy, and I can't stand being around them." Don't fall into the temptation to go there. You, an adult by age, already went through adolescence, so attitudes like this need to be killed. I'm speaking in firm gentleness and love: if your children drive you crazy, examine why that is. You are the parent. And right now, you have them at home. Let me encourage you that (again, with God's help), you can homeschool them...and love it.

First, what new "homeschoolers" will have to do is allow their minds to be transformed as to what "school" looks like. This forced time at home should do away with the notion that learning must take place in a classroom with desks, in which sit thirty people of the same age for seven hours a day. This occurs nowhere else except in our idea of a "school" setting. It's kind of like when we started going to a church that met in the auditorium of an elementary school. An older person, set in her ways, told me "That's just not church." Frankly, I don't recall reading anywhere in the book of Acts that a church has to be a brick building with pews and a liturgy...but I digress. You get the point.

Next, throw out the idea that "learning" requires textbooks and testing. I understand...it was hard for me, too. The more I've freed myself from all of this, the more freedom there's been. From the methods of Charlotte Mason, I've come to grasp that being educated is about how much one cares. Anybody can memorize facts for a test, pass and seem brilliant, and have no idea what the information means. Let's stop this nonsense.

Did you know that you have everything required for homeschooling? You don't need to rush out and buy expensive curriculum, or worry that your child left his books at school. Here are some simple ideas for your encouragement:

1. Remember our white squirrel? Your own yard is full of the wonders of God's creation. Go outside and observe one or two a week, drawing them in a nature notebook. Surely you have an old spiral notebook lying around, or at least some paper you can staple together. Make notes about the nature you find: rocks, leaves, flowers, grass, birds, animals, trees. If you don't know what they're called, use Google! Type in, "small white flower with pink center," or whatever. For an added bonus, look up the scientific (Latin) name, and make a note of it as well. When this crisis is over, keep up the nature notebook! This isn't a project for the school year; it's meant to last a lifetime.

2. Have a look at those books you own, but are normally too busy to read together. Dust them off, and have some read-aloud time! After a paragraph (or page, or chapter), have your child(ren) narrate what they can remember. Ask them to tell in their own words. Don't interrupt them; let them talk! If they give erroneous information, correct facts after they've finished. I bet you have hundreds of books that you could use. Everyone has at least one book about the United States, or flowers, or the human body. Everyone has a copy of at least one living book: Little Women, Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson. If you have one of your old textbooks from school, maybe you'd have fun using that!

3. Employ the above method, but challenge kids to write instead of telling aloud.  These narrations on paper will be shorter and more difficult to produce than the oral ones, but even if it's a little, be glad for the effort, and build.

4. I'm guessing you have at least one poetry book at home. If not, you have the Internet, so no excuses! Now, don't cringe when you hear "poetry." Remember, we're not under the bondage that our teachers created for us by making us rip it apart and explicate it to shreds. You have permission to just read it. Yes, you heard correctly. READ IT!!! Don't ask what the poet is trying to say, don't make your child write a poem...just read a poem a day, for the sheer enjoyment of it. If you want to get really crazy, pick one poet, and study his or her work every day for a month. I recommend Frost, Longfellow, and Wordsworth.

5. Find a famous artist to study. You may have a book at home, but remember, you also have the Internet! As with poetry, just enjoy the art. Have the kids observe one painting, and narrate it, as with your reading. Tell them to look at it carefully, for details. After a few minutes, hide the painting from view, and have them recount what they remember. You'll be amazed.

6. What about math?! For Pete's sake, here you should feel especially confident about finding a few random problems a day for them to do, just to keep the concepts flowing. No need to do ten pages of fifty problems each. 

7. Pick a composer (Bach, Haydn, Beethoven, Handel, Schubert, etc) and listen to the same piece by him every day for two weeks. Life need not stop as you do this; put the music on from YouTube as you do other things around the house. Soon you will all recognize the works of famous composers! It's fun later to have the kids tell which ones are their favorites.

8. Delve into those "classics" that fill you with dread because they weren't made fun for you. You'll see them in a whole new light. Don't be afraid of Shakespeare, or Plutarch, or even Homer. No one is expected to swallow these works in one big gulp. Digest them slowly, over the long haul, which I anticipate this will be.

9. Copy poetry, lines from prose, quotes, Bible verses, or anything at all. This will help with handwriting, grammar, and spelling. 

I hope these suggestions help. Remember that you are a facilitator, while the kids are in charge of learning. Your job is to surround them with ideas, and let them formulate opinions. I believe you will enjoy employing these methods, as they've brought great joy to us.  First thing's first: Don't do anything without praying!! 

Lord, You know all about this situation and these friends of mine who are now all homeschoolers. Give them lots of grace, and show them the way. Let them proceed in freedom, not fear. Let them see the individual parts of their children that make them special, how you created them. Remind these parents that you love them and their kids, and that You are the ultimate Teacher. Thank you that we have freedom through the shed blood of Christ. Amen.

Go teach with confidence! 

Healing a Sick Guinea Pig

Six-year-old Nibbles has always been an eater, ferociously devouring any piece of lettuce, fruit, or hay that lands in her cage. She begs by whistling at the sound of the refrigerator door opening. She's been labeled overweight by the vet. When she stopped pooping, the kids and I knew something was up.

We've been down this road before, and the prescription was watered-down canned pumpkin, which worked like a charm. It wasn't doing the trick this time, and Nibbles was getting bony. I noticed that she stopped drinking from her water bottle, and even eating. 

Did you know it's hard to find a vet that will see a guinea pig? I assumed when we got her that we could just show up at any old vet's office. However, guinea pigs and hamsters are considered "exotic" pets, and most veterinarians aren't experienced in treating them. Fortunately, I had found one who did know about guineas, and felt confident helping them to a point. 

He is a thorough, gentle, kind man, who took a lot of time with Nibbles. He started with her teeth, clipping them, as guinea pigs' teeth grow constantly, and must be worn down. Unfortunately, this didn't help, and by this time I was mashing up her hay pellets and mixing them with water to feed her from a syringe.  Guinea pigs must have hay, and when they refuse to eat, they have to be force fed, or will die. No pressure!  Dr. McKee also advised feeding her first-steps baby food, like green beans or sweet potatoes. 

Nibbles hated this. I'd wrap her up tightly in a towel, burrito style, put her against my knees, and feed her food out of one syringe, and water through another. I'd mix the pureed hay pellets and baby food, and do this four times a day. It became exhausting, and she continued to lose weight instead of improving. Dr. McKee sedated her and filed down her back teeth. I was hopeful, yet we continued with this tiring routine to no avail. After nine days, he referred us to a vet who knew more about complicated guinea pig issues. I was grateful for Dr. McKee and his staff, and that he had been able to rule out the basics.

Evidently, Dr. Bolt is famous in western North Carolina for his work with birds, and his knowledge about exotic pets. I had been unaware of this. In fact, I was fast realizing my ignorance about the intricate workings of guinea pigs, and the problems their teeth can create as they age. Who knew how complicated all of this was going to get?! The Sweeten Creek Animal and Bird Hospital was able to squeeze us in late last Friday, and I was at the end of my rope. I knew I had to do what I needed to do for poor Nibbles, but I was feeling cross-eyed. 

That Friday was cold, and a light snow was even falling when I arrived, tired yet hopeful, at this tiny, unassuming clinic. In the lobby, I overheard the receptionist talking to the owner of a bearded dragon who was dying. I saw a poster covering the intricate systems of "avian anatomy." It seemed this was indeed a hospital for sick animals of all kinds. 

Let me digress a minute to note that during this time, some people who found out about all I was doing to save Nibbles said things like, "You're doing all of this for a guinea pig?" I wondered, what else was I supposed to do? I know fully that humans, not animals, are created in God's image. Our culture seems to think that animals are super-human. I think it's ridiculous when I see "Dog Grandparent" bumper stickers on cars, yet I had no doubt that it was my duty to do all I could for our pet. "He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much," says God's Word in Luke 16:10. I had not felt led to do otherwise, so I would press on in helping this poor, helpless creature. The love of a pet is a gift from God, and I had never bonded with Nibbles as during our feeding times, when I'd rest her under my chin and we'd sit in companionable friendship. Also, my children are always looking to me to model an example of godly living. This just felt right.

Dr. Bolt did what he could do on a late Friday afternoon, which was to thoroughly examine Nibbles, pronounce that she was indeed thin and needed to gain weight, and decide that a full tooth evaluation was a good place to start. The down side was that this exam had to wait until Tuesday, but the up side was that he produced a bag of Critical Care, a powder when mixed with water, is designed to replenish what sick animals have lost. 

This was a weekend during which we happened to be participating in a tennis tournament in Charlotte, to which I transported Nibbles back and forth. She nestled into a towel in a pink basket, and was a big hit with all the junior players and adults. Every four hours, I'd whip out the critical care, mix it in a little bowl, wrap up the piggy burrito, and squeeze the elixir into her mouth. 

Are we having fun yet?

By the time Monday rolled around, with 13 days of this system, an out-of-town trip, plus the time springing forward, I was really tired and losing hope. I wondered if Nibbles would ever eat on her own again, or if she even remembered that her water bottle was there. My efforts to point her food and drink out to her were futile. Tuesday morning, I arrived early at the animal hospital, dropped Nibbles off, thanked God for the energy to do all we had been able to do so far, and pray for wisdom for Dr. Bolt.

When we went back that afternoon to retrieve her, the vet was full of information. It was hard to keep up, but thankfully my children listen to detail and catch things I miss. Nibbles had a broken tooth that Dr. Bolt had extracted, but as guinea pig teeth are always growing, it would grow back. His instructions were for me to continue with the Critical Care 2-3 times daily, making "the gruel," as he called it, as pasty as it could be and still get through the syringe. I was not to worry about water, as she seemed hydrated again. She needed .4cc of pain medication daily, and a dab of a probiotic gel once a day, to settle her stomach. All of this was a bit much for me to take in, considering we had another tournament coming up, this time four hours away. 

Would Nibbles ever eat on her own again, or was she going to have to be fed via syringe for the rest of her life? That was my main concern. Would she ever remember her water bottle, still in its location, faithfully refilled in hopes that she'd return to it? Would she ever seek out hay or other solids on her own? I confess I was doubtful.  All we could do on Tuesday after her procedure was let her rest, as she was pitifully groggy from sedation.

Wednesday morning, we set some cut up strawberry before her and waited in anticipation. She ate some, all by herself! The girls and I watched enchanted as she took it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Life's simple pleasures! Then, my daughter took a sizable hunk of lettuce and held it out. Nibbles inhaled it, and I couldn't believe how the big piece grew smaller and disappeared into the depths of her mouth, down the hatch! What hope! We continued to give her the critical care, and pray for her to soon return to her own water and her hay. 

This is the adorable mouth into which a syringe has been inserted regularly for over two weeks. She seems to know the drill!

Last night I was minding my own business typing something for my class on the computer, when I looked over at Nibbles in her cage. She was drinking from her water bottle! I called my husband, who came to view, and we hollered for the kids. After 15 straight days of ignoring all food and drink, Nibbles was on the mend! Our persistence and the help of two vets was paying off! 

Nibbles has rediscovered her water!

I went to bed last night with relief and fresh hope. This morning, I waited a while to see the latest developments. My husband had been out early, and reported that she had been drinking her water and....trying to eat her hay! I saw a glimmer of hope when I had been worried about dragging the poor gal to another tournament. With Nibbles attempting food on her own, I feel confident leaving her in the hands of her caregiver when we're out of town, our faithful friend, Burney. He sees to it that Nibbles is spoiled rotten when she goes to stay with him. She still requires Critical Care several times daily until her follow-up with Dr. Bolt next week, but it looks like Nibbles is officially on the mend. 

How grateful I am to God for pouring energy into me when I have no stores of my own. How glad I am for the lessons in perseverance, and for the companionship my children and I have shared with Nibbles and each other throughout this process. I'm glad to share this journey with readers who may end up in the same boat, whether with a guinea pig or any animal. Keep praying and asking God for wisdom. Love your furry friends. There are many ways to repair a wall!