the storyteller


“Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.” 
― L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl

Vienna, Austria. That lovely sweet city where the air is crisp and the sunlight seems more springlike in midsummer. I can only speak of midsummer, of course, because I have only been there at that time of year. Nevertheless, I have more amusing and cheerful memories of a single day in that gentle town than I can record here. Most of them involved a small Danish lady, whose name I can’t recall.

She was a short, jovial woman with pink cheeks and a cotton candy tuft of white hair. She lived in a tall, thin house that was crowded with trinkets on all three creaky floors. On the outside there was a blooming garden with unusually ferocious ants. When we arrived in the evening I am certain we had some kind of treat and tea, but it was then that she began telling us stories in her strongly-Danish German. It was impossible to catch the details, but somehow they were unimportant. She talked for hours and the gist of her stories was that she had many hardships in her long life, but the main point was that her God had been there for her through them all.


We got little sleep that night, and the morning came slowly– full of ridiculous and quirky adventures– some involving our golden friend herself! Yet the memory of her sweet testimony lingered in our hearts and will be there always.

Her example is one that I admire and cherish as I seek to start a home. She had few possessions, but because of her God she had much to share and she shared it willingly and joyfully. Even though the love of her life was long gone and buried, the Lover of her soul filled her with the joy of a bride.



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