Opa, my grandpa and best friend, had a beautiful O gauge model railroad he built from scratch. It filled the basement of the parsonage in Frankenmuth, Michigan. When we visited, the basement was the first place I headed for. I loved to stand at the controls with Opa and make the trains go. Unfortunately, they didn't always run the way I wanted them to go. I couldn't have been more than five years old and I remember the train wasn't moving, so I decided to push it. Now Opa had told me never to touch the trains. With his back toward me, I pushed it and it went crashing to the cement floor. A whole years work lay there on the floor, broken and bent. Opa turned and I will never forget the look on his face. Without a moment's hesitation I started to cry...."I'm sorry." He put his arms around me and said, "I know. It's OK. I can fix it. I love you." And that was all that was said. That said it all. I never pushed a train again because of that love. And several months later he had a surprise for me - he had repaired that engine and it was running again. It looked like new….and so was our relationship.
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