Although the world is very full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
- Helen Keller
In the early 1940s, bombs rained down regularly on Essen, a city in northern Germany. Air-raid sirens screamed of impending disaster without regard for time of day, sending hordes of citizens scrambling to the nearest bomb shelter. After the all-clear signal blew, people emerged, hoping that the very place from which they fled would still be standing. Sometimes, the shells hit one of the multiple munitions factories scattered throughout the city, but often bombs destroyed homes, schools and businesses. Between battles of global dominance, the residents of Essen carried on the ordinary tasks of life. Children played among the ruins, young couples fell in love, and families ate dinners concocted from rationed ingredients.
Perhaps it was because my mother grew up in Germany during unpredictable times that she became a risk-taker. After being raised in an atmosphere of uncertainty, she could easily justify a fear of risk. Instead, my mom lived by the motto that even a small step, taken with courage, is far better than being paralyzed by fear.
Over the years, I wondered about the source of my mother’s fearless nature, until one day when I had a crisis of courage. As usual, I picked up the phone to call for advice. After listening to my list of complaints and worries, my mother drew a deep breath, then began to tell me an “Oma and Opa” story. (Oma and Opa mean “grand-mother” and “grandfather” in German.)
I’d heard plenty of “Oma and Opa” stories before and knew my grandparents owned a shoe store in Essen during World War II. Stray bombs and collateral debris had damaged the business many times. As a child, I loved hearing how Opa responded to the destruction by asking his family, “Do you have your arms? Your legs?” After hearing that everyone was well, he declared, “Then we will be fine,” and began gathering an armload of bricks for rebuilding. In total, Oma and Opa rebuilt the shoe store seven different times.
With this in mind, I prepared myself for another bomb story. Instead, my mother talked of shoes.
“One morning, after a holiday, Oma and Opa opened the store to discover that every pair of shoes had been stolen. To add insult to injury, the thief turned out to be their business partner, who’d left them with nothing but unpaid bills and left-footed sample shoes...”
As my mother spoke, I pictured my grandparents, standing in an empty storeroom, faced with the challenge of feeding their family in the middle of a war-torn city with no merchandise to sell - nothing but a pile of left shoes. Where would the money come from to pay the invoices and replace the stolen inventory? This was not as simple as picking up bricks and reconstructing a crumbled wall. This was a task that required rebuilding a broken spirit.
She continued her story, “Oma and Opa didn’t allow their anger to stop them. Instead, they took the sample shoes and created a beautiful display in the front window. That day, they opened for business as usual. Customers came in, attracted by the handsome window presentation, and asked to see certain styles. Oma and Opa greeted each person warmly, took foot measurements and walked back to the cleaned-out storeroom. Once out of sight, they stood calmly and counted to a hundred. Moments later, they returned to the front of the store and announced to the customer that they didn’t have the shoe, but would gladly order it. It wasn’t a lie. They didn’t have that shoe - or any others - but because they held themselves confidently and kept calm, the customers placed orders. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for merchandise to be scarce.
As my mother finished, I began to understand that this story was not about shoes.
“Before long, the inventory was replaced with all the money from the orders brought in by the beautiful display. Oma and Opa could’ve given in to their fears and closed the store. Instead, they opened their hearts to forgiveness. They moved forward and presented what they had - a bunch of left shoes and, most important, a belief in themselves.”
I often marveled at my grandparents’ courage to immigrate to America long after the war ended and retirement beckoned. Though they brought precious little with them, I realize that they brought all they ever needed - a generous spirit and a deep faith that, when you put your best foot forward, the rest of the world follows suit.
That day, after I got off the phone with my mother, I took a giant step forward - using my left foot... of course!
- Terri Goggin-Roberts