|
What
Operation Manna Meant For Me
Betty Van Deemter, Holland
Christian Homes, Brampton, ON
Barely nine years old, I
accompanied my Dad to “het Bosplan” near Amsterdam,
where he knew we would find food. To me that sounded like
a daring goings-on and without giving it a second thought
I went with him, on foot. After all, hunger had been a
daily dilemma for some time in our family, and I was sick
and tired of sugar beets for breakfast, lunch and supper.
In
the wooded area we could hear the roar of an airplane.
My Dad yelled, “Watch out!” and sure enough,
there came the “manna from heaven.” I remember
it being in enclosures, some of which broke open on impact.
I could see boxes with names on them and those alone made
my mouth water. Yum, yum. Ready for a nice portion.
My
Dad warned me not to lay a hand on anything. “You
have to take it along first and share it with others,” he
explained. This did not make sense. Had he forgotten how
he went to Friesland on a fruitless cycling-tour, by means
of a bike with worthless tires, just to obtain food?
But
when my Dad gave orders, you knew better than to argue.
Trying to get out of “het Bosplan” with my
assortment of goodies, I remember being met by villagers
who carried the distributions the rest of the way for me.
Dad sent me home so I could tell the family a “Banquet” was
coming.
At first they thought that I had lost my marbles,
but when our father came home, we were ready for a meal.
Poor
Mother. To this day I can still hear her frantic wailing, “Take
it easy, children. You are going to be sick if you keep
this up. Start slowly, p-l-e-a-s-e!”
Nowadays, I
can remember sampling a piece of bread from Sweden, which
came later. The reading of “A Bad Penny Always Comes
Back” in January, 2007 at Holland Christian Homes,
brought back memories of days gone by. The experience IS
forever etched in my mind. Manna did come from heaven and
got eaten here on earth…
<Back
|
