Christel Bresko's Blog

On November 1967, I requested a Visa for the US. It’s a long process but I was sure I would receive my Visa on time.

Because as a 12-year-old child I had tuberculosis, I had to see a special Doctor. I had to go through many tests, like X-rays. I passed all and was cleared for getting a Visa. Now, I just had to wait.

In the meantime, my Sponsor C. Butterfield wanted me to travel with him and his wife to the US. He gave me the date on which I had to be ready to travel. I had to be at the Frankfurt Airport on March 22,1968. I thought that I had a lot of time. I still lived in Hamburg and worked full-time as an intern in one of the largest churches in Germany. But New Year was coming around and there was no sign of my Visa.

I had learned that my sponsor and his wife would travel to Finland, Sweden and Norway for evangelistic meetings, then fly direct from Copenhagen to Frankfurt. February had passed and we already were in the month of March. Still, no sign of my Visa. I was told not to get my one-way ticket until I held my Visa in my hands. I was so sure of God’s plan that I bought my ticket as soon as I had the money.

The wait was over. On the 17th of March 1968, I received a notice from the Hamburg US Embassy that I was to pick up my Visa provided I had my sponsor’s signature. I nearly passed out. “My Sponsor!” I yelled out loud. My sponsor was still in Sweden. The college in the US was not able to send me a signature on time. At that moment, I saw everything I worked for go down the drain. This was Thursday. Friday would be the only time to pick up my ticket.

I still had to travel to my home in Velbert, 300 miles away and pack.

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I went down on my knees and asked the Lord what to do. A prayer meeting in church was scheduled for Thursday evening. People came and I was sitting by the telephone. I did not know why. Now I do.

The phone rang and a voice requested for Christel Decker.

I replied, “I am Christel.”

He continued, “This is you Sponsor Charles Butterfield.”

I quickly asked, “Where are you? I am in your fair City of Hamburg.” I did not have much to say. I just stated that I needed his signature. He gave me the hotel address and asked me to come over and get it.

He told me that when they were waiting in Stockholm for departure,  the pilot came on the intercom and informed the passengers he would not able to fly to Copenhagen because the whole city was enveloped by a thick fog. The plane would be rerouted to Hamburg, Germany instead.

It was a miracle. The Lord moved a jet flight for me to be able to get the signature. I left Hamburg on Saturday. When I got home I packed immediately. By Monday, my Dad drove me to Frankfurt and I was just in time to get on the plane for the USA on Tuesday, with not a day to spare.

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On November 1967, I requested a Visa to go to the USA. It takes time, but I was sure I would get my Visa on time. Having had tuberculosis as a 12-year-old child, I had to see a special doctor and go through many tests like X-rays. I was ready to acquire a Visa. Now I had to wait.

In the meantime, my sponsor, C. Butterfield, wanted me to travel with him and his wife to the US. He gave me the exact date on which I had to be ready to travel with them. On March 22, 1968, I had to be at the Frankfurt Airport, ready to fly. I had a lot of time, I thought. I still lived in Hamburg, working full-time as an intern in one of the largest churches in Germany. When the New Year was coming around, however, there was no sign of my Visa.

I learned that my sponsor and his wife would travel to Finland, Sweden and Norway for evangelistic meetings, then fly directly to Frankfurt from Copenhagen. February had passed, and we were already in the month of March. There was still no sign of my Visa. I was told not to get my one-way ticket until I held my Visa in my hand. I was so sure of God’s plan that I immediately bought my ticket when I had the money.

On the 17th of March 1968, I received a notice from the Hamburg US Embassy to pick up my Visa with my sponsor’s signature. I nearly passed out. “My sponsor is in Sweden!” I yelled out loud. The college in the US was not able to send me a signature in time. And in no time, I saw my plans going down the drain. This was a Thursday. Friday would be the only time to pick up my ticket.

I still had to travel to my home in Velbert, which was 300 miles away, and pack.

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With my RN certificate in my pocket I thought I needed to continue with my studies. I wanted to be a nursing instructor.

A young man from Germany, who was a mission candidate for India and had one more year of internship, had come to my parents and inquired about me and my plans. Africa, but not so much India was on my mind. I also had plans to pursue nursing in Africa with the Royal College of Nursing for four years. When I finally left England to go to India. My mom said, “Christel, those countries are too hot for you.” She was right.

One morning, in my parents’ home I received a telephone call that changed everything.

I entered the German Bible School for one year and left for Hamburg for my internship. A college superintendent C. B. had a revival meeting and invited me to go to the United States of America. He was looking for people who can speak in English and have an RN degree for the mission called Ships of Mercy. I followed him to the USA and ended up in Alaska.

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I needed the English language to go almost anywhere in the world. I just finished my job with Ella, who was mentally disturbed, and her family signed her into a mental institution.

It was right after the Easter holidays in 1957, and I needed to pursue a profession. I fell on my knees and prayed. It felt like a couple of hours just letting Jesus know I would linger on my knees until I had an answer.

The answer came at 1 p.m. that day. Mom handed me an address of a lady who happened to be the wife of an ex English Ambassador to Russia. She needed assistance with her daily routine. She was in a wheelchair.

I needed to be beside her during daytime, and in just three weeks, I was in England. I stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Neil for a year. I taught myself the English language, and with her help, with our daily conversations, I greatly improved my English. My endeavor was answered.

Today, I am still puzzled as to why I pursued the nursing profession with my limited English language knowledge. On September 1958, I became a nursing student and graduated in 1962.

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When the Americans occupied our town, we had a curfew from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. the next day. All the adults had to carry a passport or an ID. The neighborhood had a church meeting and some of the ladies (mom was one of them), walked on the main road to the next town. It was about a one-hour walk.

At times, it was a scary time.When the Americans occupied our town, we had a curfew from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. the next day.  All the adults had to carry a passport or an ID. The neighborhood had a church meeting and some of the ladies (mom was one of them), walked on the main road to the next town. It was about a one-hour walk.

At times, it was a scary time.

On the way home, the ladies tried to stay close to the side of the road, and they heard a car coming. Three or four soldiers stepped out of their jeep and circled around the ladies. They wanted to see the passport or any ID. My mom was the only one who had left her ID at home. The soldiers spoke only English, but somehow they communicated.

Mom had a choice to pay either a $100 fine (which she did not have), or do community service. Mom had to go to the City Hall. We children did not want her to work in the field to make hay for the towns bulls and clean their stable. We told her that we would not eat and for her to pay the fine instead.

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We had a lovely garden. What I liked best was the creek which run through. In the summer time, we spent many days in our hide away. Just a little up the hill, we had our own tree house. We fixed it up, it became our doll house. We pretended to cook and make bread. My sister, brother and I had our own place in a shady tree.

Mom had some help to construct a little shed. It was a place out of the hot sun. Mom created her own victory garden. I remember the corner with the most beautiful dahlias. She had a way of bringing joy to old people, some who lived alone and others who were sick. We kids were able to play hide and seek amongst the bean poles.

It was on one of those hot days when a stranger appeared and waved to me to come closer. He handed me a big bag of all kinds of candies and the very next moment he was gone. We had Christmas in July.

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We had Polish Prisoners in our town but they walked freely around. They were very kind, and very talented. People could order things from them including toys which were made from wood. I remember they make the most realistic wooden guns, trucks, planes, and all of these are beautifully painted. They made these in exchange for food. My brother even ended up with a nice wooden gun one time.

One man came up to our living room and mom asked him about soldering one of the bowls she washed the dishes in. It had a hole. They communicated using their hands and feet. Our metal night potty also had a hole in it and I thought it’s now or never. We better get it fixed or we had to go down to the outside toilet in the winter. Mother was embarrassed, but the man just motioned that he also had little children. Well, it did not take long and he returned with the bowl and the night chamber potty. I do not know what favor mom gave him; I think she gave him a pair of socks from my dad.

We also had other visitors who had other motives in their mind (I did not know at the time). 3 men came into our bedroom at 4 am. Mom had me and my siblings with her in bed when they came, so we all drew very close to her. One man said, “Passport!!” And mom just said, “NO passport in bed.” Mom made me get up and she told me to get the ID they were after. Mom kept a little wooden box (which I still have) in our closet. I handed the passport to one of the men, and they looked at it. Soon they handed the passport back to me and they turned and left. There were Angels at work.

One evening, my cousin Otto came to visit mother. He was about 10 years older than I am. While we were playing, we heard a big noise coming from our home. We rushed there to find my cousin Otto rolling down the stairs. My mother must have had a good reason to throw him down. I think he learned a lesson that day.

Photo from Wikimedia commons

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It was a very lovely summer evening, and American soldiers were all around. Mom and some other ladies wanted to attend a revival meeting in another town. While they were on their way home, a car with soldier stopped them. All they wanted was a passport and my mom had forgotten hers. It was mandatory for all adults to carry a passport.

There were the obvious language difficulties but mom was told to pay a 100 dollar (mark) fine, or do community service. We told mom we would not eat and to just pay the fine, but mom opted otherwise. She was told to make hay for the town’s bulls which were kept in a bull stable. Mom was never very strong, but she was also told to help other farmers harvest their crops.

During the winter, the city clerk would tell the people in town when and where they could get the wood, which was usually one cord. Mom was given a map and our landlord was kind enough to look for it in the forest. Mom needed a driver who had a horse and a carriage to transport the wood. She also needed 15 Marks to pay the driver, money that she did not have.

Mom could pray. She walked behind the cart and on the forest road way. On time, mom found a roll of money lying on the ground and when she unrolled it, there were 15 Marks. Oh my, in the middle of the deep woods. Mom had her money. Glory to God in the highest!

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Confusion was everywhere. My mom announced that the War was finally over. It was May 1945. I was 7 years old. The question on my mind was what now? Who has taken our land, the English, the Russians or the Americans? Our landlady was hiding her 2 daughters because the rumor was the Russians would rape the young girls, while my mom hanged out a white bed sheet as a sign of surrender. We were all looking out the windows, when the tanks and trucks appeared up the road. We can see many soldiers walking.

Mom had put a fist through a picture we had hanging in our living room; it was a Portray of Hitler. She quickly collected stuff from my dad. We went to an old cemetery nearby, and with a spade and a shovel we helped mom dig a big hole to bury dad’s brown shirts, and other things like cameras, a monocular, jewelry and money. I was nerve wracking. Somehow my mom hid dad’s leather boots.

The next day we must have counted 10-15 different soldiers searching our home. Mom went with every one of them. We had a picture of my dad in uniform and it was tipped over. What were they looking for? I think German soldiers. They went from the attic to the basement, and with guns drawn. This went on for days.

Our landlady had a good idea. Aunt Luise had a sign showing the Huff and Mouth disease and a poster of Diphtheria. She placed it on the outside fence and suddenly the traffic came to a still stand. No one else came to our house. Glory be!

Mom told us one afternoon that we should go to the garden. She said whatever we find will be our supper. We saw a man on the side of the garden, he waved at me to come and mom told me to go ahead. I did get close and he gave me a 5 pound bag with candy.

Photo taken from Wikimedia Commons

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