From November 1987 to April 1988, I was assigned to work in Pforzheim, Germany, as a missionary. During the first few months, from November 1987 to February 1988, we lived in Kornwestheim while searching for an apartment in Pforzheim. I had two missionary companions during this time, Elder Perez and Elder Guymon. Pforzheim did not have a local congregation, so we attended church in the Stuttgart II Gemeinde (Ward).
Two widowed sisters lived in Pforzheim, and we tried to visit them at least once a week. One of those visits became a cherished routine: a weekly "Essen Termin" (meal appointment) with Schwester Baumann every Tuesday.
Her lunches were always hearty and generous, and they were our biggest meal of the day. We often ate Schnitzel, Bratwurst, or Cordon Bleu, usually paired with Spätzle. We typically drank Johannisbeersaft (red currant juice) mixed with mineral water, a common German table drink, or sometimes Apfelsaft (apple juice) or herbal tea.
Schwester Baumann rarely sat to eat with us. She would start us off with soup or bread and then move back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table, delivering trays of food and chatting the whole time.
I have two vivid memories of meals with her that still make me smile.
One afternoon, she served what appeared to be Apfelsaft. My companion and I both noticed the juice had a sour, tangy taste. I asked her about it, and she went to the kitchen to investigate. When she returned, she apologized with a chuckle. The juice had fermented. She had opened it a few weeks earlier and left it on the shelf.
On another occasion, as we arrived, she mentioned she had forgotten to buy napkins at the market. She solved the problem in her own way by stopping into a local restaurant while walking home and collecting a few cloth napkins from their empty tables. The gesture was humorous enough, but the real surprise came when I opened my napkin and realized it had already been used. My companion seemed to notice the same. We exchanged glances, quietly refolded the napkins to hide the evidence, and carried on with the meal.
These moments with Schwester Baumann were more than just funny stories. Her kindness and creativity in welcoming two young missionaries into her home each week gave us a sense of stability, comfort, and connection. Those Tuesday lunches reminded us that service and generosity often show up in small, unpolished ways, and they left a lasting impression on my heart.
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