Anna: My 88 year-old neighbor

As most of you know, we moved flats (apartments) this past December.  When we began to get acquainted with our Landlord, he told us of our "neighbors" across the hall.  In order for you to better picture this arrangement, let me do a little picture painting.

Our building is a 5 story building.  Each floor having two flats separated by a main hallway and a winding staircase.  Our flat has been renovated, showing a modern take on the 1900 architecture yet still sporting the 15 feet high ceilings complete with ornate facades and original wood floors that creak every time you tread on them.

However, as our Landlord pointed out, our "neighbors" live in an original, untouched flat.  Nothing has been altered since the original 1900's including the gas and electrical outlets.  They, at ages 94 and 88, have lived in their flat for over 60 years.

We eventually met our elderly "neighbors".  He was engaging and energetic at 94.  His speech had been altered due to a stroke and he used a cane to help him walk but he was a kind man.  We met his Frau (wife), Anna, who was equally precious, friendly and kind.

A few months ago, we found out that the old fellow died.  We had no idea.  We were grieved ... grieved because we kept saying "We should get to know our neighbors.  We should really find out what they need.  We should ......".  We had let an opportunity pass us by.

About three weeks ago in a Bible study with friends, we held each other accountable for something we knew God was telling us to do.  I knew in my heart that the "thing" I was to do was to reach out to Anna.  I began asking God what I should do to show her love ... God's love in a tangible way.  Very quickly He showed me to share of myself by baking something for her.  That's what I did.

The first time I rang her doorbell, I heard shuffling, saw the little peep hole open (just for the record, our little peep hole is an open cut in the very thick, antique doors covered by a metal casing.  There is a little metal door that opens and shuts, allowing you to see, through a metal mesh covering, who stands outside your door.  We respectfully joke around that it is our version of a Catholic confessional booth.)  Anna stares at me through the confessional door (insert a big smile here at my reference to the confessional booth, once again) struggling to identify me.  I reassured that it was just Christina from across the hall.  Ohja ... and she opens her door.  I present her with some homemade scones.  She accepts them and doesn't know why I have given her something. I proceed to tell her that these are just a small gift.  She is obviously touched ("Das ist so lieb") ... this is so kind.  That was the extent of our exchange.

Since then, God has given me ideas of when and what to share with Anna.  This past week I was at the grocery store and wanted to buy flowers.  There were the most beautiful lilies in extravagant colors and I not only took one bunch ... I took two.  In my mind I had already constructed a lovely display for my table.  As I arrived home, carrying my lilies in my hand, I passed Anna's door.  Instantly I knew one of those bunches were for Anna.

If I'm honest, I grumbled a little because being such a nature girl, and not having an avenue to get my hands in the dirt, buying flowers to display is my therapy.  However, I submitted and walked across the hallway to present my sacrifice to Anna ... secretly hoping she wasn't home.

The ritual resumed by the shuffling, the peep hole opening, and then Anna appearing at her door without me having to identify myself.  I presented the flowers and her face lit up.  This time she engaged in longer conversation than we had ever had.  She told me she was sorry that she had nothing to give me and asked me why I had brought these gifts.  She told me she told her only son about me and told him I was an American who can speak German.  She was so puzzled.

I was able to tell her that I have no family here.  I have no mother or grandmother to bring flowers to ... so when my thoughts turned toward them, I could bring them to her.

I know this sounds so ... corny ... but sweet little Anna is my friend.  She hasn't invited me into her flat, she hasn't pushed into less formal communication (she uses the "formal" language when referring to me and I with her) however, there are rays of light shining through ... the peephole!