Climbing the Mountain page 1 Reminiscences of Margaret Wuerflein Klammer (1891-1985) Written in 1976, her 85th year Go to Beginning Go to Ending Return to Home page

Memories! I remember the days of old. Sitting in a small room in a nursing home, one lives on memories. If God has blessed you with a fairly good mind yet, so you can think back to the time when life was interesting and exciting, you can recall some of the joys and also the trials you have passed along the way. Looking back from the height of 85 years there is much to see. One can compare life like a climb up a mountain. There is first childhood...those carefree years that go by so fast, never to return. No, never! A picture that impressed itself on my mind as a child hung on the living room door at a neigh- bor's house. It depicted the two roads of life. One a broad and smooth highway and many people walking on it going all one way...down to hell. At the end was a sudden drop into a pit with two wicked spirits grabbing each person as he came near. It made us so frightened we shivered: The other road was a narrow path, crooked and rocky, and it led up the steep side of the mountain, and on top was a beautiful castle, the city of God. The road was winding and full of unseen pitfalls around each bend, with many warning signs. People who climb the Alps often come upon small grottos or way stations...a cross...a place to rest on the way up. So it is with the traveler on this road. God has also provided way stations where we can rest. Every Sunday He calls us to come and sit with Him a while and refresh our souls. As we climb upward, sometimes we have to go around an obstruction or pass through a thicket of thorns. Before going further we must remember some happenings from both childhood and youth. Starting with my home in far off Germany where I was born and lived till the age of 14 years. I can picture in my mind to this day my parents house... an old stone house...comfortable as comfort went in those days. I can picture every item in our living room. In fact, it was much like the room we live in now. It was both living and dining, also my parents bed...a big four poster...stood in one corner; a table in the other, with benches going along two sides; a couple of chairs. On the other side a big built- in stove with a bench on two sides. It was so very comfortable sitting or lying there of an evening. The other side was taken up by the big cuckoo clock, then the door, and the far corner was the dish cupboard, also various other items. It was rather large as you can see. It was the center of our lives. Too bad we couldn't enjoy it a little longer. We were not rich, neither did we belong to the very poor. We always were able to pay our way, but children had to learn to work early and as soon as they were old enough, they were hired out to make their way. I was the last of six children ...a late comer, and was not expected nor welcomed, and was treated more as a nuisance. So I turned to the outside world of flowers and the lovely pine forest around us. I can still hear the humming of the wind in the tree tops above me as I picked up the pine cones I had to bring home for a quick fire in the big stove. I loved the woods and missed them terribly