The Greatest Skill

Among the treasures Oma kept and passed on was a collection of articles, poems and handwritten letters gathered or written by her grandmother and my great-grandmother, Helena Lohrenz Toews (1868-1967), who was married to Jacob F. Toews. I am sure that these items are of inestimable value and that they convey much wisdom. However, most of the value and wisdom is hidden to us, because Great-grandma Toews considered German to be God’s language and therefore almost always communicated in German rather than English! So to mine the riches of these literary pieces, a person either needs to learn German well or else depend on the questionable accuracy of programs like Google Translate.

I never learned German well. In fact, I never learned it at all–except for singing Stille Nacht with Aunt Cindy in our one-room-schoolhouse Christmas program one year, and also the German lessons Oma and Aunt Jeanne gave at the family reunion. So I find myself uncomfortably dependent on Google Translate and trying to make up for its deficiencies by doing a little online research myself.

Among the poems saved by Great-grandma Toews and then Oma is the one pictured below. Once I entered the text into Google Translate, the poem caught my attention because of its subject matter: the increasing infirmities and limitations of age. There is a reason for the saying, “Growing old is not for wimps,” and the accuracy of that saying becomes more apparent with every passing year.

Both Opa and Oma were often frustrated in their old age by what they could no longer do. They were not alone, as borne out by the fact that Oma’s grandmother selected and kept this poem. The poem makes a great point: make the most of what one can do for the glory of God–even if that is accepting our limitations with a humble, submissive attitude in acknowledgement of God’s inscrutably-wise sovereignty.

Here is a picture of the poem saved by Great-grandma Toews and then by Oma.

Since a couple of words are illegible, I did a search online for the poem and found it on a number of German websites. What I could not discover was who wrote the poem and when it was written. However, here are the German words as copied from the web.

Was ist die größte Kunst auf Erden?
Mit frohem Herzen alt zu werden –
zu ruhen, wo man schaffen möchte,
zu schweigen, wo man ist im Rechte.

Gehorsam still sein Kreuz lernt tragen,
zu hoffen, wo man am Verzagen
und neidlos andere zu sehn,
die rüstig Gottes Wege gehn.

Die Hände in den Schoß zu legen
und sich in Ruhe lassen pflegen
und wo man sonst gern hilfreich war,
sich nun die Demut machen klar.

Ein letzter Schliff für’s alte Herz,
zu lösen sich von allem Schmerz
und von den Banden dieser Welt,
die einen fest umfangen hält.

Die Kunst lernt keiner völlig aus,
drum gibt’s auch manchen harten Strauß
in alten Tagen durchzukämpfen,
bis wir des Herzens Unruh dämpfen.

Und willig uns ergeben drein,
in stiller Demut nichts zu sein.
Dann hat uns Gott nach Gnadenart,
die beste Arbeit aufgespart.

Kannst du nicht regen mehr die Hände,
kannst du sie falten ohne Ende;
herabziehn lauter Himmelssegen,
auf all die harten Lebenswege.

Und ist die Arbeit dann getan
und naht die letzte Stund heran,
von oben eine Stimme spricht:
“Komm, du bist mein, ich lass dich nicht!”

Because I could not find an English translation of the poem, the translation by Google Translate follows, with the change of just a few words where I knew Google Translate was inaccurate. There is much more improvement needed to make the poem more understandable and impressive for us–especially that very last line! So if you know someone who has mastered German and would like to work on this, please recruit him/her! However, I think enough of the idea is clear in the poem as it stands to lead us to be compassionate with the elderly when we are young and to move us to embrace the weaknesses and boundaries that we experience when we are older.

The Greatest Skill

 What is the greatest skill on earth?

 To grow old with a happy heart –

 To rest where one would like to create,

 To be silent where one is in the right.

 Obedience quietly learns to bear his cross,

 To hope where one despairs

 And to see others without envy

 Who boldly walk in God’s ways.

 To put your hands on your lap

 And let yourself be cared for

 And where else one was happy to be helpful,

 Now make the humility clear.

 A final touch for the old heart

 To break away from all pain

 And from the bonds of this world,

 Holding you tight.

 Nobody fully learns the art

 That’s why there are also some hard bouquets

 To struggle through in olden days

 Until we calm the heart’s unrest.

 And we willingly surrender

 To be nothing in quiet humility.

 Then God graciously gave us

 The best work saved.

 Can’t you move your hands anymore,

 You can fold them endlessly;

 Pull down sheer blessings from heaven,

 On all the hard roads of life.

 And then the work is done

 And the last hour draws near

 A voice speaks from above:

 “Come on, you are mine, I won’t let you!”