Chapter 2 the harvey family
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- Navigate this page:
- ANOTHER CAR
- TRIP TO SCOTLAND
- SURPRISE MEETING!
- "KATAKOMBE"
- NEW YOUTH LEADERS BACKGROUND EXPOSED!
BECKYBecky was smuggled to Europe as a stowaway in her mother's womb. We got her through all the borders from the Port of LeHavre, France to Austria without having to show her birth certificate or passport. Although a glance at Verna's tummy should have convinced the police and customs officers that we were smuggling someone, they didn't seem a bit concerned. After Becky was born, all that indifference suddenly changed. Now that Becky was no longer in hiding, she had to be documented. We had been through the complicated paper work after Richard was born in Vienna and knew what to do. We had to obtain papers from the hospital verifying that Becky had been born and take them to an office in downtown Linz, which would provide us an Austrian birth certificate. We would then have to go to the American Consulate in Vienna and exchange it for an American birth certificate. Finally, I would need to have our daughter's name and photo entered into her mother's passport. The final step was registering Becky with the police. The doctors were very cooperative in giving me the hospital documents, but at the office where they hand out birth certificates, things were not so simple. I had to drive around the block several times before I found a parking place. Another car had just driven away after several futile attempts to fit his car into an empty slot. My VW bus was a larger vehicle, but with only inches to spare on both ends, I managed to get into the space without touching the other cars' bumpers. Once inside the office, I had to wait in line. As stated earlier, public officials in Austria measure their importance by two criteria: 1) The number of rubber stamps on their desks, and 2) the number of people waiting at their office doors. This official was obviously a VIP! When I finally got into the office foyer, a secretary swept up my papers and told me to take a seat in the waiting room. By the time my name was finally called -- or should I say murdered -- I was almost suffocating from the stale air. The official motioned me to a seat across from him and began to leaf casually through my papers. After what seemed like an eternity, he informed me that the registration permit from the police was missing. I explained that I needed a birth certificate before I could register our daughter. He replied that it was OUR registration permit which was missing. He needed proof from the police that the parents actually lived in his district. Realizing there wouldn't be time to get back that day, I asked when his office would open the following day. As an afterthought, I asked if there was anything else I might need. He said that office hours were posted next to the door and negated my second question. I returned to the car and found a parking ticket under the windshield wiper. No, it wasn't for overtime or for parking too close to the next vehicles. It was for parking in a forbidden zone! Other cars had also been ticketed. I had carefully studied the signs before parking there, so I went back to take a second look. There was a "No Parking" sign much further back, but then a second sign which clearly said, "End of No Parking." Certain that I had a good case, I trudged on foot to the nearest police station and explained "their mistake" in as polite a manner as possible. The officer was not impressed and simply told me that I could either pay the fine immediately or take the matter to court. "But," I exclaimed, "There was a sign there which reads 'End of No Parking'." It was clear that the officer was accustomed to such argumentation. With a shrug, he turned towards a door as though he was about to leave and said, Austrian law prohibits parking under any bridge or underpass." I returned to the car in defeat. I looked up and could see the edge of a large suspension bridge which spanned the Danube River at least 100 feet above me. There were signs on either side of the bridge which said “End of No Parking” but they only referred to another law. My car and many others were ticketed for parking under the bridge. The "end of no parking" signs were an unnecessary expense, but a good investment that brought lots of money into the city's treasury. The next morning bright and early, I drove back to the office. I noted that many cars were parked beneath the bridge again. It would be another good day for the police. After several trips around the block, I found a legal parking spot. There was a 90-minute time limit, so I knew that if the line in front of that office was long, another parking ticket would be in the works. Once inside the office, the official again leafed through my papers. Finally, he said that he needed our marriage certificate. I attempted to protest, saying that the hospital officials had already checked this. I had asked the previous day if there was anything else I needed and he had said "no." He simply repeated what he had already said, "I need your marriage certificate." Once more, I asked if there was anything else I needed. He said that was all. It was a 40 minute drive each way through city traffic, but I figured that I could make it back before the office closed. At least there was no parking ticket under the windshield wiper! I soon returned with the marriage certificate in hand, found a parking spot and got into the line. It had become somewhat shorter. The official examined our marriage certificate briefly and said that I needed a State authorized translation of the document. He then gave me the address of a government translation office. An Austrian marriage certificate is an impressive document with ornate script, several important-looking stamps, illegible signatures and a fancy border. Our certificate was a simple typed form which stated, "This is to certify that Ralph VanMeter Harvey and Verna Marie Morse were married this 9th day of March, 1963." Then followed signatures, including our own, the witnesses, the court clerk and the Pastor who married us. The addresses of the Meadville, Pennsylvania courthouse and First Baptist Church completed the document. I argued that there was little to translate. Dates, places, names and addresses could hardly be translated. He insisted that the law requires a translation of any legal document issued in a foreign language. By this time I had had enough. I thanked the official politely, stood up and said that I wouldn't bother him any more. He was obviously not accustomed to that kind of response and asked what I meant by it. I explained that I really didn't need a birth certificate after all. I already had one and anyone could see that our daughter was born. He retorted, "But everyone needs a birth certificate." I asked why and he nearly exploded, "Without a birth certificate, she won't be able to drive a car, get a job, buy a house or even attend school." I simply turned to leave and said, "School is six years down the road; perhaps I will have more time then." He stood up and tried to dissuade me from leaving as though his career was in jeopardy. "No! You need to get the birth certificate so the child can be registered with the police. Don’t you understand?" I looked him in the eyes and said, "Really?" "Yes," he affirmed, "really!" "Oh, in that case, I guess I can wait a few minutes," I said and sat down. He was obviously frustrated and muttered something about a translation. But then he reached for the rubber stamps, stamped my papers and sent me to the receptionist to get the birth certificate. I thanked him cordially and left. It was time for him to close the office and get home to his family. In retrospect and after several similar incidents, I came to realize that the official was simply hoping that I would “grease the gears of bureaucracy” as Austrians say. Because we were American citizens, we still couldn't get Becky registered with the police. Next, we had to drive to Vienna and exchange Becky's Austrian birth certificate for an American one, and have her picture and name included in her mother's passport. Today, every person is required to have his or her own passport, but Becky was born before that requirement. The three-hour trip to Vienna via Autobahn was uneventful, but once we arrived in the city, we had to be very alert and expect the worst. We were familiar with the streets from our time of language study, but our car now had Upper Austrian tags. Because the beginning letter was an "O", the Viennese called us "Potato Austrians." We could expect to be cut off, cursed or ignored as though we didn't exist. I need to briefly describe Vienna before continuing. The "old city" was once surrounded by a wall, but as the city grew, another wall was built farther from the center, called the "Gürtel." The original wall was torn down and replaced by a street, which was named "Ringstrasse" (Ring Street). After the invention of automobiles, airplanes and bombs, streets became more important than walls. Like the original wall, the "Gürtel," which means "Girdle," also became a major traffic artery of Vienna. I tell visitors that Vienna is definitely feminine, and her traffic system reflects her growth. As a child, she was surrounded by a wall of protection, but after she became an attractive young lady, the wall was broken down and Vienna got her "Ring." She then began to spread out and got a "Girdle." In the Middle Ages Vienna gained a reputation for courting and marrying her way to power and wealth. Today she is an old lady plagued with clogged arteries and constipation. Important buildings such as airline offices, central banks and consulates are located in the center of Vienna. Finding a parking space in Vienna is always difficult, and usually a costly experience. Finding a spot within a mile of center city is nothing short of a miracle. We believe in miracles, but not in Vienna. For the above reasons, we normally park on the periphery and take public transportation to our destination. We have done business with the American Consulate or Embassy on a number of occasions. Some of the lower employees we dealt with were Austrians but the main officials were Americans. We soon learned that one should never attempt to speak German to an Austrian employee. It is smarter to speak English and express surprise if they reveal their national identity. Our business was pleasant and there were no waiting times. In short order, we had Becky's US birth certificate and her baby photo was pasted into Verna's passport. We were soon on our way back to Linz. The next stop would be registration with the police. In America, millions of illegal aliens live, work, drive, vote and collect government handouts, with no requirement of registration or identification papers. Instead, they are given special privileges and exempted from certain obligations. In Austria, foreigners have many extra obligations but no special privileges. Every person must be registered with the police. Without a registration, one cannot rent housing, own a car or send children to school. They can open a bank account, but I will explain that later. When we moved from Ampflwang, we had to unregister every member of the family in Ampflwang and re-register in Enns while living temporarily with the Wiebes. Then we went through this process again when we found an apartment in Ansfelden. Becky was a vivacious baby and a bundle of perpetual motion. If she wasn't running, jumping or bouncing, she was rocking and rolling. That could probably be attributed to the turbulence she experienced while in her mother's womb. She traveled from the Northwoods of Michigan to Pennsylvania and New Jersey, rocked and rolled with us across the stormy Atlantic and rode 650 miles from Bremen to Ampflwang in a Volkswagen bus. She endured all the stress of her parent's uncertain future from September through February, moving seven times before finally settling in our little apartment in March, 1969. And there was "Sorry Verna Bridge.“ This was a small bridge on the road leading from our apartment to Linz, which had quite a hump. If you drove over the bridge too fast, the VW bus would momentarily lose contact with mother earth and belly-flop back onto the asphalt. This would cause nausea for any healthy person, but consider what that was like for a woman who was 7-9 months pregnant! Each time I drove too fast, I apologized to Verna and promised never to do it again. Peter (more about him later) was riding with us once and gave the bridge it's name. To this day, he and we still talk about "Sorry Verna Bridge." Even after Becky was born, the turbulence continued. When she was only 3 months old, we traveled 3,000 miles from Austria to Scotland and back, and she was struck by a car when only five. Those stories are coming too! ANOTHER CARDuring our furlough in 1968, my brother, Bob, loaned us his economical new Renault R-10 for the trip to the Northwoods of Michigan. We fell in love with the little French car and told the Lord that it would be nice to have a car like that someday. In July, 1969, we decided to sell our VW van and get a more economical vehicle. Two of the youth had gone together to purchase a van, so there was no longer a need for us to have one. I asked the owner of a service station if he would allow me to put our van on his parking lot with a "For Sale" sign in the window. He agreed. The following day, there was a nearly new Renault R-10 sitting next to it. It had less than 12,000 miles on the tachometer - but had been sideswiped. I asked about it and the garage owner said he was going to fix it up to sell. I expressed an interest and he named an unbelievably low price! The contract was soon signed and within a week we were the proud owners of our dream car. After selling the van, we even had money left over! TRIP TO SCOTLANDIn August, 1969, Becky was three months old. Experience had taught us that babies are less trouble traveling than older children, so we decided to visit our friends, Ken and Kathy Bender, in Scotland. We met Ken and Kathy Bender while students at Bob Jones University. Our friendship grew as God began to burden them and us for Europe. After graduation, we headed for Austria and they went to Scotland. Soon after their arrival, it was discovered that Ken had muscular dystrophy, but Ken and Kathy remained faithful to their calling for many years. We packed our little Renault and drove more than 2,000 kilometers to Eyemouth, Scotland, where the Benders had established a small church. We also looked forward to visiting our only other friends in England, Len and Sylvia Muggeridge. Len was the son of the late Malcolm Muggeridge, a well-known British foreign correspondent, author and television personality. Len was converted as a youth and much to the chagrin of his famous father, enrolled in London Bible College. After graduation, he became a German teacher in the public school system. In order to keep his German polished, he came to Austria and helped with youth and children's camps. After his marriage to Silvia, both of them came to help. Shortly before our trip to Scotland, Malcolm Muggeridge startled the British nation with the announcement of his conversion to Christ! He was the keynote speaker at the Edinburgh Festival and gave a clear testimony of his faith, blasting the rampant immorality in Great Britain. We heard the speech on our car radio and were eager to discover what Len would have to say about his father's conversion (Malcolm Muggeridge wrote several books after his conversion, including, Jesus Rediscovered, Christ and the Media, Something Beautiful for God and his multi-volume autobiography, Chronicles of Wasted Time). After crossing the English Channel and arriving in Dover, we realized with dismay, that we had not brought Len and Sylvia's address with us. We couldn't even recall the name of their town, so planned to call missionary colleagues in Austria to get the information. We could still visit them on the return trip. We had a lovely time with the Benders and rejoiced to see first hand, how God was working in their young church. They showed us around where they lived, viewing the spiritual decay in a region which had once experienced great revivals. Large stone churches with ornate stained-glass windows had been converted into truck garages and chicken coops. It was a sad sight to behold, and it encouraged us to pray even more for Scotland. We also visited the Edinburgh zoo, where we had a memorable experience. A workman was attaching a sign to the bars of the monkey cage which read, "Keep your Distance!" While the worker was thus occupied, a monkey sneaked up and stole his eyeglasses! It quickly climbed to the top of the cage and began taunting the workman! For nearly half an hour, hundreds of exuberant spectators alternately cheered the monkey and then the keeper until the worker finally retrieved his undamaged eyeglasses. We visited the Scottish Highlands, Edinburgh Castle and watched colorful fishing boats dock in the harbor to auction off their day's catch. We even witnessed a storm on the North Sea, which whipped up gigantic waves like nothing I had ever seen on the Atlantic coast of New Jersey. The Benders told us that this area had experienced a great revival many years before. For centuries before the revival meetings, fishermen had always lowered their nets on the left side of the ships. After reading John 21, where Jesus told the disciples to lower their nets on the right side, they decided to do the same. Few fishermen darken the door of a church today, but their boats have biblical names and they still lower their nets on the right side! SURPRISE MEETING!When Sunday came, we attended the morning worship service in Benders' church. They had not yet begun evening services in Eyemouth, so they took us to a church about twenty miles distant. Ken introduced us to the Pastor, who greeted us from the pulpit. Following the service, a young man and woman walked up behind us and tapped us on the shoulder; I turned and could scarcely believe my eyes! There stood Len and Sylvia! "What on earth are you doing here?" we exclaimed in unison. We told them about the purpose of our trip and how we forgot their address. They would not have been home if we had stopped to see them on the trip north or the return trip. Len and Silvia explained that they had seen much of Europe, but had never been to Scotland. With no definite plans or reservations, they found someone to care for their children and simply drove until they were tired. They found a bed & breakfast and decided to take an evening stroll through the town looking for a church. They saw a lady carrying a Bible and followed her to the church. The big surprise came when the pastor introduced special guests from Austria! Before we parted company, Len and Silvia insisted that we stay in their apartment on the return trip to save motel costs. They gave us the keys and told us where to find clean bed-sheets! We could give the keys to their neighbor when we left. "KATAKOMBE"We were privileged to have a part in what a German reporter for Trans World Radio described as "the most exciting and spiritually fruitful youth center in German-speaking Europe." The "Katakombe" (Catacomb) Youth Center, as we named it, was opened in April, 1971. The Linz Baptist Church dedicated its new church on March 30, 1969 and offered us the use of a large room located next to the kitchen and rest rooms in the basement. There was even a separate entrance to the room by way of a spiral staircase. Church members and young people alike, spent many hours helping to build furniture and decorate the youth center. An interior decorator who belonged to the church offered to paint the walls and another member, who was a professional artist added murals copied from wall drawings found in Egyptian pyramids. They depicted slave laborers that some believe were Jews. A Christian electrician mounted indirect lighting to show off the murals and a welder made rustic light fixtures out of metal. He burned unevenly-shaped holes in the shades with a torch and glued pieces of colored glass over the holes. To suspend the lamps from rustic wood beams on the ceiling, he even fabricated original metal chains. The effect of the lighting, with multi-colored spots reflecting off the walls, was very pleasing to the eyes. We also made a dozen tables and two dozen benches. I drove to a sawmill and bought a large log, which was cut up into sections for the bases of the tables. We then found wide boards in the basement of an old house for the table tops. They were full of worms, but we treated them to kill the creatures and then hand-planed the boards. After staining and varnishing, the worm holes actually enhanced the rustic appearance of the tables. I designed the benches and cut out the curved pieces on a bandsaw in Salzburg. The benches were sanded by hand and stained dark brown to match the tables. The youth helped to peg and glue the benches together in our garage. All helpers were members of the church with the exception of a still unsaved young man who carved a sign for the entrance. Girls and women of the church helped by making curtains, painting, cleaning and getting things for the kitchen. They drove to the world-famous Gmunden Ceramic Factory and purchased bright cherry-red and green ceramic plates, tea cups, saucers, pitchers, creamers and sugar bowls. They were all seconds, but no one ever noticed! From the same old house where we got the wood for the tables, we also received some throw rugs, an antique sofa, a china closet and an ancient encyclopedia set. The son of a Lutheran minister donated an inherited rectangular piano that must have been 200 years old! We provided a stereo tape recorder and several reels of tapes with good background music. Soon after the grand opening, word began to spread to churches and youth groups all over Austria about the "Katakombe" Youth Center in Linz. Our center was soon the most used room in the church; social functions, pastors’ conferences, ladies' and senior citizens' meetings, deacons' meetings and anything else took place in our cozy youth center. The "Katakombe" was often copied, but never quite equaled. NEW YOUTH LEADER'S BACKGROUND EXPOSED!One evening, a couple of the young people came into the youth center with a copy of the local daily newspaper. "Didn't you say that you are from New Jersey?" they asked. I nodded affirmatively. "There is a map of New Jersey in today's paper; could you point to the place where you lived?" Obligingly and without bothering to look at the accompanying article, I pointed to my hometown. Spontaneously all began to laugh. Then they let me read the article, which described the New Jersey Pine Barrens. My home town was well within a shaded area representing the Pine Barrens. The article was entitled "Backwoods Area Between Super Cities." The first paragraph read: "Nestled between a string of super cities that stretches from Boston to Washington, DC, lie 600,000,000 acres of wooded land known as the "New Jersey Pine Barrens." This sparsely populated tract of woodland seems to have been forgotten by the 20th century. The few people who live here, far from civilization and progress, subsist mainly from berry picking and poaching wild animals. Some of them are descendants of pirates, smugglers and fugitives who sought refuge here. In the shaded area of the above map, live the "backwoods people of the USA," with whom time stands still." The article was based upon facts gleaned from older sources and the shaded area representing the pine barrens was a bit exaggerated. The reader was led to believe that there were no civilized communities whatsoever in this area! In actuality, there are many modern towns and cities in this region which have hospitals, schools and businesses similar to those in other parts of America. Even America’s first mall, the modern "Cherry Hill Mall," was well within the shaded area. FRANZFranz was born and reared in Ampflwang, but followed us to Linz. Our first meeting with Franz two years earlier was not very promising to say the least. His father was a heavy drinker who worked in the coal mines. There were ten children in the family, all of whom were notorious for their misbehavior. One snowy morning, Franz's mother knocked on our door and wanted to know if we had given her son money to shovel snow. I simply pointed at our yet unshoveled driveway. She explained that Franz suddenly had spending money and claimed to have earned it shoveling our driveway. She was missing money from her purse and Franz was going to get the licking of his life! I tried to calm the irate woman and asked to speak with Franz first. He looked scared when he showed up at our door a few minutes later, apologizing for causing us trouble. I handed him a shovel and said that he could make his lie into truth and pay his mother what he owed her. When he finished, I invited him to our boys club. He attended faithfully for a year before we moved to Linz. One day, Franz showed up on our doorstep in Linz. He had become a baker's apprentice, but said that his colleagues were a bad influence on him. Could I help him find a job in Linz where he could attend our youth meetings? He soon became one of our most faithful workers, but his ornery streak didn't vanish overnight! His mind worked overtime thinking of crazy things to do and I couldn't help thinking that I had not been much different. I bought a bike at an auction and gave it to him to ride to work. He kept getting fined for riding the wrong way on one-way streets, on sidewalks and in other forbidden places. The big city was nothing like Ampflwang! I suggested that riding the tram might be cheaper. His first trip proved to be quite expensive! The tram slowed and Franz jumped out before it came to a stop. His 6'2,“ 200 lb frame knocked over a light pole that cost him two month's salary! Once, Franz was stopped by the police at 4:00 AM while riding his bike to work. The officer asked for identification and Franz handed the policeman his baptismal certificate! He studied it for a while, handed it back and said, "Now I've seen it all!" Franz's size and mannerisms impressed young people in Linz and he was always bringing new youth to our meetings. He often rode with me in the van, scanning the streets for youth. When we spotted a group, Franz simply told them to climb aboard and come to the "Katakombe" with him. Often, they thought that one of their friends knew Franz and jumped in. If they asked what the "Katakombe" was, he simply replied, "Come and see for yourselves!" Franz became our cook and head waiter. He did the shopping, organized the kitchen, put others to work and made everyone feel at home. His humor was contagious and when he was around, there was never a dull moment. Once he told me that he was going to serve everyone soup and needed my help. He served me a bowl of soup with a sock in it. I lifted the dripping sock so that everyone could see it and called for Franz. "What is this sock doing in my soup?" I asked. The 40 or 50 guests roared. Franz said, "I've been looking all over for that sock!" As he reached for it, I said, "Hey, not so fast!" I then wrung out the sock with both hands into my bowl. Franz carried his sock back into the kitchen and I finished my soup with obvious relish. Krapfen and Schaumrollen are two popular Austrian pastries. The Krapfen is similar to our cream-filled donut, but filled with apricot jam. Once, Franz brought a hundred of these pastries to give to guests. He made certain that I got one that was filled with mustard! The Schaumrolle is an elongated flaky cream-filled pastry. They are normally about six inches long, but Franz bought a piece of rain gutter and fabricated a special pan to bake a giant Schaumrolle three feet long! His boss in the bakery saw it and demanded that he bake another for the show window. The giant Schaumrolle became a hit in the city with people planning parties, and Franz could hardly keep up with demand. Such pranks were common and the youth loved it. I discovered that kids who were having fun didn't mind listening to the gospel. If it was made interesting and understandable, they actually looked forward to it with anticipation. Later on, this spawned a unique course for the Bible Institute and youth organization which we would help to establish. I will describe this in the appropriate chapters. Franz fell in love with Elsa, one of the girls in our youth group. She came from a fine Christian family and many objected to her friendship with Franz. Even the Pastor tried to persuade her to call off the relationship. An elderly member of the church sized up the situation and said, "They'll make it okay." They celebrated their engagement at our home on April 1. Franz wanted home-made ice cream for the occasion and insisted that he come over early to crank the machine. He wanted several batches of different flavors, and our ice cream maker had no motor. I had all the ice cream finished and in our freezer when Franz arrived. But I had filled the canister with plain water and told him that he could make the last mix. A batch was normally finished after 15-20 minutes of cranking but Franz was still turning the crank an hour later, wondering why it didn't get hard. Most invited guests arrived and Elsa came in and declared that her car wouldn't start. Would the guys please come out and push her car? She had one of few European cars with an automatic transmission, and I nearly told her that pushing would do no good. But then I correctly guessed that she might have meant it as an April Fool joke. I just said that there were enough guys to push her small car. I would stay inside. Franz was still turning the ice machine and started to laugh. I asked him what was so funny. He replied, "Do you know what day today is?" I said, of course; do you?" Franz replied, "Sure, it's April Fool's Day." He continued turning the crank until he saw me laughing at him. He finally opened the canister and saw the half frozen water. He should have suspected something, because a year earlier, I sent him to the hardware store for a left handed monkey wrench. Franz got us good on April 1st after they were married. They had a small apartment in the inner city. We were shopping most of the morning, but around noon I suggested to Verna that we play a trick on them. We would stop by with our three kids and say we had almost forgotten that they had invited us for lunch. Franz came to the door. With a serious face, I made my statement. Instead of acting surprised, Franz simply said, "Come on in; it's almost ready." Then he turned and walked into the kitchen where Elsa was busy preparing a meal. Verna and I looked at each other and asked if they might really have invited us. I went into the kitchen and said that it was just a joke. We needed to get home. Franz and Elsa both gave us a disappointed look and said, "But who will eat all that food we prepared for you?" They pointed to the table which was set for seven persons and a pile of "Wienerschnitzel" on the counter top. I gave Verna another inquisitive look and she just shrugged. We couldn't remember them inviting us, but they seemed so serious and all the evidence was there. I tried once more to excuse ourselves, but they seemed very offended, so we gave in. What we didn't know, was that Elsa's brother and family were coming to visit. While we waited in the living room, Frank quickly peeled more potatoes while Elsa fried another package of "Schnitzel." Everything was ready when the door bell rang. Franz quickly set 5 more places and twelve of us got an excellent meal! I pledged to never try that trick again. Franz and Elsa discovered that they could have no children of their own. After much prayer, they applied for an adoption. When they were finally informed that a newborn baby girl was available, they were overjoyed and named her Regina. It was discovered after several days that the infant was seriously handicapped, both mentally and physically. The adoption agency apologized and said that they could return the baby and be first in line for the next one. Without hesitation, both Franz and Elsa exclaimed, "No! We are keeping Regina. We prayed long for our child and this is God's provision." Forty years later, Regina was still in diapers. She still cannot talk and needs constant care. The love and patience of her "parents" never ceases to amaze doctors, neighbors and even us! After the new church was dedicated, the old church building was renovated and rented to a business. There was an apartment on the upper level, and the first job was remodeling the bathroom. In order to replace the bathroom floor all fixtures were removed and placed in the parking lot. While Verna and I were busy in the youth center, Franz got a couple of the youth to help fasten the bathtub to the roof rack of our Renault. Around 11:00 PM, I went looking for Verna but couldn't find her. One of the youth grinned and asked, "Are you looking for your wife?" I nodded affirmatively. "A bunch of the youth kidnapped her and took her to a restaurant. They said if you want her back, you will have to find her. When I saw the bathtub on our car, I returned and asked several guys to help me unload it. They refused, saying that I would have to drive through the city with the bathtub on top. It was obvious that they would never cooperate, so I just shrugged and left. Linz was a city of over a quarter million people, but I was familiar with all the places our youth went to eat. I suspected that they were in our favorite restaurant, which turned out to be true. But I first drove to Franz and Elsa's apartment. I found some boards and carefully slid the bathtub to the ground and propped it against the entry door. I then drove to the restaurant and found everyone eating ice cream sundaes. It was midnight when we left the restaurant. Franz looked at our car and asked what happened to the bathtub. I said, "I didn't want to drive through the city with a bathtub on top. There is a junkyard on Schubert Street and the fence is just about the height of our car. I had no trouble unloading it." It was all technically true, but intentionally misleading! Franz said, "Oh no! That belonged to the church! I have to get it back!" He drove to the junk yard, climbed over the fence and looked all over, but found nothing. Finally he drove home to find the tub propped against his apartment door. Directory: documents documents -> Concept stage documents -> Concept stage documents -> The great global switch-off documents -> Nonprofit grant application documents -> The Truth about the Rwandan Genocide documents -> Annual InStructional unit plan documents -> Chaos equipment included Download 2.2 Mb. Share with your friends:
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