Berlin, March 1947
Berlin, March 1947The small, relatively new and plain church had weathered the war without much damage, except for the broken stained glass windows that had been replaced with simple transparent ones. The outside had been painted in hundreds of hours of work with white color during the last year, and it shone in the spring sun.
Ursula grabbed the hand of Anna, her bridesmaid, as she knocked on the door of the attached rectory and waited for the priest to open it. Pfarrer Bernau wasn’t any more, but his successor was progressive enough to marry a Catholic woman to an Anglican man. It wasn’t officially condoned by the Vatican, but the pope was far away.
She fondly thought about Pfarrer Bernau, who’d helped her through difficult times of inner torment when she hadn’t kno
