'HOME IS NOT A PLACE'

From the first to the last day of my years in school, my family was constantly moving. This included several periods during World War II, when the cities were being bombed and we were evacuated to the countryside. Toward the end of the war, we were forced to flee across Germany, eventually moving in 1952 from East Germany to West Berlin. It was hard for me to make friends, and just as difficult to keep up with what was being taught in the schools I attended in the different German Lander (states) where we lived.

But despite these changes, there was one stable element: home. Although we had lost all our material belongings at the end of the war, my mother knew that the most necessary ingredient for home was love—and more love. Some of the places we called home were poorly furnished or badly heated. At one time, my mother, my sister, and I had to sleep in the same single bed during the winter, just to keep warm. But we were together, and God, whom we'd come to know as Love, surrounded us. So we didn't complain.

Also, my mother showed us, through her example, how to pray. She taught us to pray the way she had learned in her study of Christian Science—with a sure sense of trust and expectation; in the knowledge that God knows and meets our needs even before we ask Him for help.

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