The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first

ministry, to reopen a church in urban Brooklyn, arrived in early October

excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was

very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything

done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.

They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc. and

on Dec. 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished. On Dec 19 a

terrible tempest – a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two

days. On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.

His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large

area of plaster about 6 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the

sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high. The pastor

cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but

postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home. On the way he noticed

that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so

he stopped in.

One of the items was a beautiful, hand-made, ivory colored,

crocheted table cloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a

cross embroidered right in the center. It was just the right

size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and

headed back to the church. By this time it had started to snow.

An older woman running from the opposite

direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor

invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes

later. She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got

ladder, hangers etc. to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry.

The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered

up the entire problem area.

Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was

like a sheet. Pastor, she asked, Where did you get that tablecloth?

The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right

corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They

were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this

tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria. The woman could hardly believe

it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the tablecloth. The woman

explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people

in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband

was going to follow her the next week. She was captured, sent to prison

and never saw her husband or her home again.

The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor

keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home, that

was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island

and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was

almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the

service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many

said that they would return.

One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood,

continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered

why he wasn’t leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on

the front wall because it was identical to the one that his wife had

made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could

there be two tablecloths so much alike?

He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee

for her safety, and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested

and put in a concentration camp. He never saw his wife or his home again

for all the 35 years in between.

The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little

ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the

pastor had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb

the three flights of stairs to the woman’s apartment, knocked on the

door, and saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.

True Story-submitted by Pastor Rob Reid