My husband emigrated from Germany when he was 20 years and I have a dozen diaries about his adventures in the new world. Later, he taped his diaries in English, and they are a hoot, alive with the guy Sig was. My son enjoyed them much and last spring told me he’d pay whatever it cost to get the diaries translated. While I searched the web to find translators, I thought of Bernd Rogat, a man who attended our church during the winters when he was in town. I knew that he had come from the same area of Germany as my husband and thought he’d be a good contact, but I hadn’t seen him in church and since the winter season was nearly over, I assumed Bernd, who camped in the shade of a Palo Verde tree, had already escaped the heat.
But he hadn’t. The next Sunday, there he was. At the post-church coffee gathering I told him I had a job for him. He said he’d be glad to give it a try. He did some of the translation and he also did some painting and maintenance jobs for me. I paid him by the hour, but it wasn’t long before he had earned enough money to get out of the heat, so he left for San Diego.
In the meantime, my daughter had been dealing with some mysterious health problems. In June, an emergency room visit led to a long hospital stay and many tests, but no definitive results. They needed to do a pet scan which could not be done while she was in hospital, so I took her home. Home care would provide a hospital bed, but to make room, I had to get the bedroom cleared out. I was about to call for help when the phone rang.
It was Bernd. “Mrs. Schingnitz, I did a stupid thing. I came back to Yuma - in July. I cannot believe it. How stupid. I simply have to get out of this heat.” When he left I had told him that I had more jobs for him if he ever wandered this way again. He hoped he could do those jobs now and earn enough to get him back to San Diego. I picked him up from his camping spot and he helped me clear out the room, and in the process, tenderly attended to my daughter who was dehydrated and couldn’t keep anything in her stomach. He gently cleaned her up, replenished her ice water, brought her damp cloths to clean her face and cool her and pillows to rest her head. He seemed to anticipate, better than I, what she needed.
I told him that I had an extra room and asked him if he would stay to help me out. He did. It was a grueling time, and Bernd knew how to be helpful in every way. My daughter had suffered a traumatic brain injury 25 years before and most people could not see beyond her slurred speech and ungainly movements. Bernd recognize her value and respected her intelligence. He talked her through a lot of pain and made her laugh. One time he said, “Here comes your medication flying in on the wings of an eagle named Bernd Rogat.” I thought, “No, on the wings of an angel,” and that he was.
They read the Bible and discussed philosophy. He transported her beyond the pain by reading “Dead Souls” to her. It sounds gruesome, but that Bernd’s interpretation managed to capture the author’s unique sense of humor, much to Lynne’s delight.
In July we finally got a diagnosis, internal melanoma, an aggressive incurable form of cancer. She did qualify for clinical trials at the cancer center in Tucson, but by the time we got it arranged she had had two more trips to the emergency room and the disease was way out of control. The doctors agreed that she might have 3 weeks to live and recommended that we spend the time to her delight. She decided on Hawaii, much to Bernd’s delight because his son lived there.
We soon, learned, however, that a trip by airplane was out of the questions, so we opted to spend some time on the San Diego beach instead. Bernd was terribly disappointed, but I had paid him well, so he had enough money for a plane trip for himself. I later contacted his sister in New York, but she hadn’t heard from him. She didn’t think he made it because his son had been in contact with her and hadn’t mentioned it.
Yesterday I leaned that he had indeed made it to Hawaii. I wept tears of joy. He must have followed his own advice. “One must be shod with the gospel of peace and wear the helmet of salvation, the breast plate of righteousness, the belt of truth, the shield of faith, and the sword of the Word of God.”
I know that he has searched for peace for many years. I pray that he found it.
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