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Calendar

• Sunday May 13 — Kids’ singing at 4:25.
• May 13-18 — Oldham Woods (Creation & Evolution).
• Tuesday (May 15) — Study on “Fellowship” at 7:00. Ralph Walker’s lessons 2-3.
• Saturday (May 19) — Practice singing (supplemental hymnals), here at 7:00.
• May 20-25 — Kenwood.

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A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.

Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.

In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened.

He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.
 
As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.

He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?'
 
She again smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?'
 
'Yes,' was his incredulous reply.
 
She answered, 'Well, today I didn't do it.'

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It happened in Germany in 1141. Wolf, the duke of Bavaria, sat trapped inside his castle of Weinsberg. Outside lay the army of Frederick, the duke of Swabia, and his brother, the emperor Konrad.

The siege had lasted long, but Wolf knew it was time to surrender. Messengers rode back and forth, terms were proposed, conditions allowed, arrangements made. Wolf and his officers prepared to give themselves to their bitter enemy.

But the wives of Weinsberg were not ready to lose all. They sent a message to Konrad, asking him to promise safe conduct for all the women in the garrison, and that they might leave with as many of their valuables as they could carry.

The request was freely granted, and soon the castle gates opened. Out came the ladies, but not with gold or jewels. Each was bent under the weight of her husband, whom she hoped to save from vengeance.

Konrad was moved to tears by the extraordinary display. He assured the women of their husbands’ safety, and hosted a banquet at which a favorable peace was made.

The castle mount was afterwards known as the Hill of Weibertreue, or “woman’s fidelity.”

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A man sat by the coffin of the one who had been nearest to him, in black and bitter care. And as he sat, he saw passing beyond the coffin a troop of bright and lovely shapes, with clear eyes and faces full of rosy light.

“Who are you, fair creatures?” asked the man.

And they answered: “We are the words you might have spoken to her.”

“Oh, stay with me!” cried the man. “Your sweet looks are a knife in my heart, yet still I would keep you, for she is cold and deaf, and I am alone.”

But they answered: “Nay; we cannot stay, for we have no being, but are only a light that never shone.” And they passed on and were gone.

And still the man sat in black and bitter care.

And as he sat he saw rising up between him and the coffin a band of pale and terrible forms, with bloodless lips and hollow eyes of fire.

The man shuddered.

“What are you, dreadful shapes?” he asked. And they answered: “We are the words she heard from you.”

Then the man cried aloud in anguish: “Depart from me, and leave me with my dead! Better solitude than such company.”

But they, sitting down in silence, fixed their eyes upon him, and they stayed with him forever.

From The Moral Compass,
Edited by William J Bennett

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