It was an indescribable pain. I had known them for years and had been on this journey with them. They had come to our country as refugees under the most difficult conditions. Now, completely unexpectedly, her father had died in her home country. They couldn't believe it. The next day, I visited them. Together with friends, we endured the unbelievable with them and tried to offer a little comfort. The funeral was already scheduled for the following day in their Muslim home country. Her father had loved her more than anything. Now she couldn't come to his funeral. I had the idea of holding a memorial service here at the same time as his funeral. She agreed. I invited her to throw individual grains of resin onto a glowing coal in an incense burner and to share her memories of her father. She gladly did so. I reacted with what my heart told me and also threw a grain of incense onto the coal. All these memories became prayers and rose up. We talked for a long time. Space and time lost their meaning. A connection with heaven was tangible – a living presence, transcending all borders. When I took her home, she said, ‘I lost one father, but another has been given to me here in Germany.’
