Renate's Reflections

Christmas tends to be the time when I feel like I miss my father more than Doug. This would be because of the differences between Christmas in Germany as opposed to in Brazil. It was the difference between centuries old traditions handed down from generation to generation and a missionary family in the hot dry climate of northeast Brazil where Christmas was just a day off work. Pine trees were non-existent. Doug's dad would make attempts at a tree without much enthusiasm and come up with something unique. One year it was a broomstick cemented in a pot with a thick wire that started at the top as a small concentric circle and widening as it descended. Such was Christmas in Brazil. Christmas in Germany was vastly different. My father reminisced on going into the woods to find the right tree which was usually a short-needled pine. They would drag it home and set it up in the family room on Christmas Eve, never any sooner. My grandmother would decorate the tree with stars made from...

  The Olympics has been in full swing for a week and my mom and I have been watching as many events as we can. The competition between countries and individuals is intense. Closeups on the athletes’ faces reveal a myriad of emotions. They can be nervous before the event, concentrated during it, with relief and smiles or frowns after. Each athlete has one goal in mind — the gold medal.  They’ve spent years training and competing. Athletes have gotten up at 5am to train before they go to school. Then they’re back to training afterward. They go to competitions and tournaments every chance they get. They suffer injuries and disappointing losses. Yet, they go on because they have their eyes on the prize. It’s what drives them. Everything is done with the end in view. Saturday, I watched the women’s 100-meter final in track and field. As the runners were announced the crowd cheered loudest for the favored Americans. The last to walk into the stadium was a young woman from St. ...

     Recently, I attended a memorial service for a long-time member of my church. I also attended the wedding of a family member. Both events took place the same day which could seem odd as it rarely happens. David left behind a legacy of faithfulness to the Lord and the Gospel. You could say he died with his boots on. Blake and Leah said their vows promising faithfulness to each other. You could say they were putting their boots on. Then, I realized we were celebrating life in both cases. I first heard about David when I was a new attendee at Grace. The congregation was fervently praying for his wife, Debbie, who was battling leukemia. She passed away shortly after. What I didn’t know at the time was David had been suffering from pancreatic cancer for several years. He had defied the odds.  I got to know David better when he became a member of the care group that meets at our house. His compassion for others was clear and he was fiercely independent. When we sta...

          Just a few years ago my high school, John F. Kennedy High School in Taylor Michigan, was closed -- permanently. Last year it was torn down to allow the city to build one central school for the area. I've seen pictures of the rubble and my heart hurts a little bit. A few of my classmates were able to find something in the piles of concrete and bricks to take home with them -- a little reminder of the big memories. Then yesterday I saw the announcement the college I attended, Clarks Summit University (formerly Baptist Bible College), is closing its doors. Jackson Hall with its long, cobbled hallways, worn down by years of foot traffic will gather dust. The bell tower that chimed every quarter hour and played hymns and Christmas carols will be silenced. The rotunda where the choir gathered to sing just before leaving for Spring Tour won't echo voices anymore. And the library which was housed in the monastic chapel in my day, won't amplify the whisp...

        Monday was Memorial Day. Every year, I invite to my house people with whom I have a connection from Brazil. It turned out to be the biggest group ever and figured there were about 52 people here. Half were children. We grilled, enjoyed the dishes everyone brought to share, and sat around and talked. The little ones gave the bounce house a run for its money and the balls from the pit were all in said bounce house at the end of the day. It's always great to be together. It's also a day to remember those who gave their lives for the freedoms we enjoy as citizens of this nation. I come from a multicultural family. My father was from Germany and my mother is American. They met in Germany in the early 60s when my mom was a university student in Marburg, the city where my father had been born and raised.            During World War II, both my grandfathers served in opposing armies. My American grandfather was stationed in I...

       Yesterday, May 21st, Ernie entered the presence of the Lord -- two days before his birthday. He was a man of God who loved the Word of God and to serve God. It's hard to believe Ernie's race is finished and that his family has to continue theirs without him. He had an impact on my life in the brief time that I knew him. My first memory of Ernie is from seven years ago. I had recently moved to Winston Salem and was attending a new church. At the beginning of the service that particular Sunday morning, four men went to the platform and began to sing "All my ways, they are known to You" by City Alight. I had never heard it, but the message of the song came through in clear, four-part harmony. Ernie sang with gusto and joy.  Ernie taught Sunday School series from time to time. One quarter, my mom and I attended his class on church history. He had a depth of knowledge of the subject that would put most scholars to shame. He spent hours every week in prepar...

                       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 bui...

  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...

            As I sit at my desk which faces the window to my front yard, I notice the grass needs cutting. Maybe I should call Daniel. Maybe I should just get the John Deere riding mower out and do it myself. I enjoy the alone time while I'm mowing so I'll do it later, in the afternoon. That little tractor reminds me of all the mowing I did when we were in Western New York. Doug's Dad owned five acres of land that had a tiny house and a big pond. He named it Woodpecker Hill and there was a large white sign at the road with that moniker and the name Reiner.  Many in the Reiner family called it home over the years. Those of us missionaries lived there during furloughs. Others stayed there when they were in transition from one home to another. Nobody ever paid rent, but we were expected to pay the utilities and care for the property.  Care of the property meant shoveling snow in winter and mowing the grass in summer. Summers were great. W...

            When driving the two-lane highways of northeast Brazil, it's not uncommon to see roadkill. A variety of animals lie on the side or in the middle of the road that range in size from cattle any time of the year to tarantulas after a heavy rain. The roads are unlit at night and if you find yourself driving during that time an animal can appear seemingly out of nowhere. Any dead animal on the road seems to send out a radio signal advertising fresh meat to all the vultures in the county. I've seen as many as ten feasting on a horse. The vultures pose as much a threat to your car as the other wildlife. The ugly, black carrion fowl are reluctant to leave the main course for the day as the car drives by. The gluttons want to tear off every last bit of flesh they can. When they're finished, a pristine skeleton remains. And yep, it's gross. Did I mention they're protected by law? It's illegal to kill the vultures because they're the garbage colle...

          The First Baptist Church of Hamburg, New York has a long history and heritage. Founded in 1810, the church has been a presence in the community for more than 200 years. It began with a small group of German believers and experienced consistent growth throughout the 19th century.            This growth resulted in the founding of three other churches in the area, all of which are still in existence. The First Baptist Churches of Eden and East Aurora are worshiping and impacting their communities in the village centers. Armor Baptist Church was established in a small community at a crossroad. It has since changed its name to Armor Bible Church. The 20th century brought about a burden for missions and several families called First Baptist their commissioning church. The Harold (Doug's father) Reiner family was commissioned and left for the field of Brazil in 1948. About 10 years later, Harold's brother, Ray also w...

       The sun had not yet risen on that first day of the week. It had been three days since they laid Jesus in the tomb. The women had prepared the necessary spices for the Lord's body. The spices would cover the odor that would surely be coming from the dark hole carved from the rock. After all, it had been three days. But when the women arrived at the Lord's burial site the stone had been rolled aside. What was going on? Mary Magdalene poked her head inside the tomb and saw two men in glowing garments and they asked her, "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen." (Luke 24:5-6) At first, Mary thought Jesus' body had been stolen. Things still weren't clicking. It took several conversations and appearances for all the disciples to believe Jesus had indeed risen from the dead--just as he said he would. (Matthew 28:6) The crucifixion was an excruciatingly painful day for those who believed Jesus was the Messiah, the Savior of...

  There have been many dark days throughout the course of human history. Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD and wiped out an entire city. The black plague took a toll on the human population from 1346 to 1353 and touched every family in some way. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor devastated the US Navy and turned the harbor into a tomb. More recently, 9/11 sent close to three thousand people into eternity and has affected the health of first responders in the years since. And even more recently, COVID-19 became the worst pandemic since the black plague. Today, Good Friday, is without a doubt, a remembrance of the darkest day in history. The Lord Jesus had been arrested the previous evening. He was then subjected to accusations, beatings, mockery and was passed back and forth between Pontius Pilate and Herod. Neither of these men wanted to be the one responsible for Jesus' execution because it could mean political suicide. In the end Pilate caved and handed the Lord over to the p...

  Someone close to my church family recently went through a very harrowing experience. As traumatic as it was for those of us praying constantly for him, it can't compare to what he actually faced. That valley is behind him now, but the memory won't fade any time soon. One statement he made struck me right in the heart and took me back eight years to when Doug and I were awaiting the results of the first scan after the first rounds of chemotherapy. He said, "When you sense that you are not in control, that's when you have an accurate understanding of reality. Thankfully, the gospel introduces us to a caring Father - our loving, benevolent Sovereign. In that, we can rest. God is good." I remember the feeling when I was faced with reality. It was something I had not expected and it shocked me. We were at the Cleveland Clinic cancer treatment center waiting for results of the CT scan. The doctor came flying around the corner, his lab coat fluttering behind him, into ...

     If it weren’t for the heat, humidity and the fact everyone speaks Portuguese, I might believe I’m in an old European town. The cobblestone streets are narrow and winding with little room to maneuver. As I punch a destination in Google Maps, I see our route will take us well around the city with several switchback turns. It’s not until I take the car out that I come to realize the incline on some streets is so steep the front wheel drive car I’ve rented can barely make it to the top. When it rains…forget about it. My rental and I become The Little Engine that Could .      There is a rich history in Ouro Preto (Black Gold) in Minas Gerais. The city was settled in the late 17th century and has always been known for its gem stones. I drove over to the Tiradentes Plaza this morning to do a little souvenir shopping. What I found was an unusual assortment of soapstone items ranging in size from a small box to an entire coffee service. And there were so many j...

           The family I stayed with recently has a dog. He’s a poodle named Scotty and he is the happiest mutt I’ve ever seen. He looks like he has a perpetual smile which is hard to imagine because he’s a dog. But smile he does. Call his name and he’ll come running for a belly rub and a head pat. He’ll take whatever I have to give.         I was scheduled to speak at a women’s conference last weekend and my host family was taking me to the church where it was held. We planned to go to the retreat center afterward to spend the night. It’s a nice relaxing place to spend a few days and not far from the church holding the conference.           There had been discussion for a few days as to whether Scotty should go or not. He often stays with my hostess’ mother and the plan was to drop him there on the way out. Several circumstances prevented that, so Scotty went with us. The f...

          Four little faces are plastered against the picture window as I drive up and park along the curb. The driveway is narrow and at such a slope it’s easier to park on the street and walk across the grass to the door. Of the four faces, three are human. The Hooligans, as I call them, have been impatiently waiting for me to arrive. I usually have something for us to do together, but I never tell them ahead of time. The suspense kills them. The fourth face belongs to Diggory, the family ShiTzu-Poodle mix who is just as happy to see me as the girls. Yes, the Hooligans are sisters; three girls under the age of ten who keep their parents on their toes. Each is mischievous in her own way.           The oldest, M., is the sweet, sensitive one who loves to copy her mom as she sings along during the song service at our church. Under all that sweetness is a little influencer who likes to spin a story to her advantage or who will “f...

            I didn't babysit much as a teenager. There weren't young children on our street so I had little exposure to them. I was also busy with other things. Why? I was a teenager. That should pretty much explain it. Teenagers haven't changed that much over the years. As a grandmother, though, I do a lot of babysitting for church families. I appreciate the opportunities because I can invest in little lives. I call my favorite babysitees The Hooligans. They are three sisters with no end of energy and find mischief in every corner. I love each one of them.  Our church has many families with young children and for those who would like to fellowship and encourage each other outside of regular services, care groups are offered. There are several and they meet in homes of various church members at different times during the month. The leadership wanted to encourage families with children to participate by providing childcare during the Bible stud...

      It's a foregone conclusion that when we go to Walmart, we can expect to experience any number of things. From the woman wearing a bikini and high heels to the girl in pajamas and slippers, we are neither shocked nor surprised by such sightings anymore. My experience the other day was different, but certainly within the realm of possible Walmart encounters. My mom and I went to pick up a few things. These excursions usually begin with me coasting up and down parking lot aisles becoming ever more frustrated as I look for a handicap spot. It can be almost impossible to find one simply because of the general clientele of the superstore chain with discount prices. It would behoove them to add more than the requisite number of parking spaces for those with mobility issues, but that's another subject for another day.  I finally found a non-handicap spot with enough room to squeeze a motorized cart to the passenger door for my mom. I went in through the market ent...