Renate's Reflections

                       My father would have turned 84 today. He was born in late spring 1940 in the old university town of Marburg/Lahn in Germany. At the time, World War II was gaining traction in Europe. It was a precarious time in history.                   The citizens of Marburg were subjected to nightly bombing raids by allied aircraft and one of Papa’s earliest memories was of running with his mother and sister to the bomb shelter several blocks down the street. It was in that shelter where my father met his best friend — a friendship born in uncertainty, but one that would last a lifetime.           During the nightly air strikes, the allies destroyed the train station but were careful to steer clear of ancient landmarks such as the Schloss (castle) on the hill and the Elizabeth church. Both buildings were well over 700 years old.                   Papa was 5 years old when the war ended and his father came home from fighting the Russians in the east. My grandmother introduc

  This story has been running through my mind a lot lately. It's one of the funnier things that happened during our thirty-year marriage. Doug was . . . let's just say a bit overreactive at times. It seems to be a trait handed down by the Reiner men from generation to generation. All the Reiner women reading this will nod their heads in agreement. The Reiner men will snort and say, "Not me!" And then the Reiner women will remind the men of a particular instance . . . Well, you get the idea. It was Alex's senior year of high school and we were headed out to Fortaleza after a break. The trip was long and we had our Akita, Zeus, with us so we decided to split the trip into two days. To save a little money, and to have a place for the dog, we made arrangements to spend the night at the Iguatu camp which was right on the way.  Night had fallen by the time we arrived at the camp and there were only a few lights on. We were essentially unloading in the dark. The fi

          Yesterday, May 2, 2024, marked the 7th anniversary of Doug's entering the presence of the Lord. Seven years. It seems like it was just the other day and so long ago at the same time. I think of him every day. My thoughts can be memories of our life and ministry in Brazil or of the time we were in Cleveland during treatment. Most often, I remember those last few days in the ICU of the hospital. The pain hits with that sweet tightness in my chest. It's familiar now and doesn't catch me by surprise. The tears still pool in my eyes at random thoughts and remembrance. They roll down my cheeks as I share them with the grief support group. Someone hands me a tissue from the ever-present box on the little round table in the middle of the circle. The others look at me nodding their heads in understanding. Some are teary as well. I feel arms embrace me from behind whispering, "I'm praying for you," in my ear. "Thank you," I say. We all sit there in