Friday night I had dinner at the Federal American Grill (FAG) at 510 Shepherd. I sat at the table with Dorothy, my brother, Gary, Helen Mahnke, my graphic artist, and her mother, Marjorie. Suddenly, I was eight years old. It was 1956.
The FAG was transformed into KEA Printing, previously owned by my father. The L shaped building was once again buzzing with activity. The restaurant’s warm wood paneling dissolved. Dismantled rooms were reconstructed. The air smelled of ink, paper, and oil lubricating the presses, not sizzling steaks in the kitchen.
In my mind I was in the front office. Helen Manning, the receptionist, sat at the Remington typewriter.
Walking past Helen, Dad was in his office to the left. He was drinking coffee with his fishing buddies, Norman Bussey, Ray Fiveashe, and Bubba Silver. They were telling tall fishing tales. In the office to the right Dad’s business partner, Lake Alexander, sat reviewing the company books.
Instead of listening to our exceptional waiter, Taylor Moses, reviewing the items on the menu, I heard the gears and rollers of printing presses. Bud Farley was composing and hand setting lead letters of the alphabet and numbers in the Linotype department. Soon the assembled block of words was placed on the Kluge Press to print an advertisement for Foley’s.
Joe Matula, the shop foreman, was cutting paper for the next job. Oscar Ochoa was running the AB Dick printing press. Uncle Robert was walking from each workstation to check on the status of each job.
On the way to the bathroom, I passed the FAG’s bar. The bar stools and the patrons sipping Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Whiskeys became invisible. In their places I saw the long butcher paper-covered table used by KEA’s bindery ladies. One of them, Stella Mische, was seated at the table.
To me she was Aunt Stella. She always made me feel like a celebrity. She gave me the usual hug. She told me stories of Holland, her birth country. Windmills spinning. Flour being milled. Tulips colorfully emerging from the earth to shine their beauty on passersby.
I was most fascinated by her stories about wooden shoes being made and worn in Holland. When I was eight Aunt Stella gave me this wooden shoe (pictured here). I asked her, “Is this shoe from Holland?’ “Yes,” she replied. That was a true statement. It was made in Holland, Michigan.
The wooden shoe was a piggy bank. She placed a dollar bill in it. Aunt Stella asked me to use the shoe to save money. She said saving money was important. More important was the love she gave me. The love she extended to everyone at the printing plant in good times and bad. Her love opened a window for me to see a side of my dad I had never seen.
One day Aunt Stella said she walked by Dad’s office. He was crying. Stella asked, “What’s wrong, Jack.’’ He replied, “ Bubba is very sick. I am afraid he is going to die.” Stella embraced him. Dad received the same thing she gave me. Love.
Aunt Stella died years ago. Yet the wooden shoe she gave me still lives. It sits on my home office shelf. I have taken the wooden shoe to every place I have resided. Just as I have taken the love Aunt Stella gave me to every place I have gone in my walk of faith.
The bottom of a wooden shoe is hard. My walk of faith with polio has been hard too. Since the 13th Century wooden shoes have protected the feet of farmers, fishermen, factory workers, and artisans from sharp tools and fishing hooks. Aunt Stella’s love, as embodied in the wooden shoe, has been worn to guide and protect me in my walk of faith too.
Stella believed in saving money. But to her, love was a much different thing. Her love for me and others was to be given away. It was not to be saved. To her, love was not to be hoarded or consumed for one’s own sake. Love is a treasure from God. It must be shared.
Love, if not given away, is lost. Love given away to others is received and returned to the giver. Love is God’s perpetual grace in motion. It is and will always be self-creating, self-sustaining, and everlasting.
Aunt Stella, I do not know exactly where you are in Heaven. I do know the riches I have reaped in my walk of faith in the wooden shoe you gave me. I thank you for giving me so much when I was so little. Aunt Stella may your love continue to shine in me.
God has spoken in scripture on the importance of love.
1 Corinthians 16:14
Let all that you do be done in love.
Let us pray.
Dear God, in my walk of faith please help me to call on You for wisdom, guidance, and support.
God, I know I am never lost or alone because of Your presence and unfailing love.
God, I thank You for loving me. I know, if I give and receive love to others, that my walk of faith will end with You, in You, and with all the company in Heaven. Amen
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If you think Jack’s prayer helps you or will help someone you know, please forward it to them. Jack may never make millions selling books or writing prayers, but spreading God’s good news to others is reward enough for him.
Ann Boland, Jack’s Publicist
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