This woodcarving hangs above the hallway in our home. Quite often, guests inquire about what it means. Rather than directly translate, I tell them the painful but sweet short story behind it.
My wife’s maternal great-grandparents, the Hellings, lived in Germany. Opa Helling was a baker there. After having new mechanized equipment installed in the bakery, presumably an automated dough mixing machine, he called for his wife to come in to watch the new process.
As the machinery began, his wife bent over to get a closer look. As she did, her long hair fell down into the gears. Before anything could be done, horribly the machine pulled a large section of her scalp away. One can only imagine the horror of the joy and pride of that moment turning so quickly to pain and suffering.
Making matters worse, Oma Helling was a diabetic. Her wound never healed. For the rest of her life, she had a metal plate that covered the wound. In a family picture we have of her, she reminds us so much of Miriam’s grandmother and mom. She is looking down as she busily works with her […]