Good morning, Pastor, I said, the pieces of the puzzle falling together in my mind. Can we help you? I looked at the watch he had brought in for repair. It required a very hard-to-find spare part. But for you, Pastor, we will do our very best. And now I have something to confess. The pastors eyes clouded. Confess? I drew him out the back door of the shop and up the stairs to the dining room. I confess that I too am searching for something. The pastors face was now wrinkled with a frown. Would you be willing to take a Jewish mother and her baby into your home? They will almost certainly be arrested otherwise. Color drained from the mans face. He took a step back from me. Miss Ten Boom! I do hope youre not involved with any of the this illegal concealment and undercover business. Its just not safe! Think of your father! And your sister--shes never been strong! On impulse I told the pastor to wait and ran upstairs. Betsie had put the newcomers in Willems old room, the farthest from windows on the street. I asked the mothers permission to borrow the infant: the little thing weighed hardly anything in my arms. Back in the dining room I pulled back the coverlet from the babys face. There was a long silence. The man bent forward, his hand in spite of himself reaching for the tiny first curled round the blanket. For a moment I saw compassion and fear struggle in his face. Then he straightened. No. Definitely not. We could lose our lives for that Jewish child! Unseen by either of us, my father had appeared in the doorway. Give the child to me, Corrie, he said. Father held the baby close, his white beard brushing its cheek, looking into the little face with eyes as blue and innocent as the babys own. At last he looked up at the pastor. You say we could lose our lives for this child. I would consider that the greatest honor that could come to my family. By: Corrie Ten Boom, The Hiding Place
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 15:39:48 +0000
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