Bicycle Thief

This past weekend I had the opportunity to lead a drama workshop at a church I had served about 8 years ago. Small village in Schleswig-Holstein, about a half-hour southwest of Lübeck. The minute I drove up, I knew I had been there before. Memories swarm in in their way.

My daughter was 5 when we were there. We had been on tour for a few months. Earlier that tour, we had been staying in a small town in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, out in the middle of nowhere. My daughter had the chance to ride her bike (small enough to fit in our van) along the empty roads and around the village green with the duckpond. We were staying with a lovely family, and leaving the next morning. Because we were leaving so early, we still needed to pack a few things into the van. We left the bike out for the packing in the morning, and in the morning, it was gone.

There is no one to tell. You do not wake up friendly people to tell them that someone in their village stole a 5-year-old’s bike. Knowing that it was probably drunken youth does not make the loss easier, or easier to explain to your little girl. We carried on, kept her distracted with promises, packed the van, left with the sunrise.

Some little girls do not stay distracted. During the weekend we were working with these confirmation students, helping them to build their own plays and training them in drama, my little girl had a slow walk with the Pastorin where all was revealed about the stolen bike.

Pastorin Martina took an offering for my daughter’s bike in the service. 23€ came in, as well as two offers of a used bike. We took one of the bikes with us, used the 23€ to fix it up with paint and brakes and a bell. My daughter had a new bike to replace the loss.

Being back at this same church last weekend was an oddity. My daughter is now the same age as the confirmation students we were teaching. She is happy in school, and the missing bike is well buried under more recent memories. But the kindness of that weekend was still a blessing to me this weekend.