Perspective

Last Tuesday, I had the opportunity to hear a Holocaust survivor share his story during my lunch hour at work. I've heard another survivor speak while I was in high school but, even if I listened to 2,000 different stories from 2,000 different survivors, I don't think I could ever grasp even half of the anguish represented by the words.

Every time I hear about what happened in Europe in the 1930's and 40's (Only 70 short years ago? Really?), it's hard to believe that any of it happened, from the small indignities to the giant atrocities. What's even harder to believe is that some people actively choose not to believe it.

One human characteristic that is most admirable to me personally is grace. The grace that this 86 year-old man, Mr. Knoblauch, possesses was literally breathtaking. I cannot think of a man with more reason to be hateful or bitter after what life has thrown his way. Because of this, the emotional maturity and just plain grace of this man was even more remarkable. How difficult to be gracious and kind under such circumstances! I have trouble maintaining composure during a traffic jam or when a rude customer snaps at me.

This amazing survivor told us a story. I have promised myself that I will recall it whenever I am in need of perspective. I want to share it with you:

His mother lived in a concentration camp for years. This was after years of living under persecution in both Germany and Poland and then under supremely harsh conditions in a Polish ghetto. To give you an idea of how much the term survivor applies to her, I'll tell you that her own son didn't recognize her after two years of separation; she was that emaciated and broken down. When she and her fellow surviving women were walking back to Poland from the concentration camp, they had very little in the way of food, and their bodies were in terrible condition. As these women and girls walked out of Germany and toward Poland, a group of Germans were returning from Poland to Germany. The German children were hungry and crying, and Mr. Knoblauch's mother grabbed two loaves of bread and gave them to the other group, explaining that it was for the children. Some in her group protested, probably wondering "how could you give so much of what little we have to those who have taken so much from us?" His mother simply said that the children were not to blame.

That is the definition of grace. 

Mr. Knoblauch wrote a book called "A Boy's Story- A Man's Memory: Surviving the Holocaust 1933-1945". Here is a link to his website.  

Can I just tell you how grateful I feel right now? To Mr. Knoblauch for sharing his inspirational story and attitude and to my employer for giving me the opportunity to witness something so special, I am incredibly appreciative.