I just returned from a women's conference where the keynote speaker was a published author known for her storytelling style. We heard some wonderful and inspiring stories in the formal sessions of the conference.

I met another lady that week with a story to tell.

Annemarie is a petite white-haired lady who lives in the village near the conference center. She conducted a tour of her local church during our free time one afternoon.

She met us -- seven or eight Americans -- at our hotel, walked us to the church, lit the candles, relayed some town history and encouraged us to sit in the pews and sing hymns in English and German.

It was a gray chilly afternoon, so we were happy when Annemarie suggested a stop at a bakery for a warm drink. We found she had been connected with this yearly conference of American women for a long time, and the two of us sitting on either side of her asked how she came to be the tour guide.

"Oh," she said, peering into my nearly empty cup. "I don't think you've got enough chocolate left to hear that story." We said we could stretch out the remaining sips, so she said, "I'll tell you the short version."

It turned out she, at 80 years old, is the second generation tour guide. She was the friend of the original tour guide, a woman who was employed by Americans in eastern Germany after the second World War. Here is the story in Annemarie's words as nearly as I can recall them:

"After the war, the Americans came to my friend and said 'We're very sorry, but we need your house. You'll have to move out.' Well, she said 'What am I going to do? I have three children to care for,' and her husband had been killed during the war."

"She spoke English, and so the Americans said 'How would you like to work for us?' So she did, and her family lived in the upstairs and the Americans used the downstairs."

"Then when the Russians took over that part of Germany, and the Americans were leaving, they said again 'We're very sorry,' and she said the same thing to them: 'What about me and my children?' and so the Americans said, 'How would you like to live in Bavaria?' and they took her and her family with them."

Later, apparently, the woman lived in Berlin, where she attended American military chapel services and became very involved in the parish and was a faithful choir member there. She kept a place in her heart for the Americans who did not leave her homeless or friendless.

She later settled in the ski village near the conference center where we sat drinking hot chocolate, but she visited Berlin and the chapel occasionally, and the American women from the chapel at some point began coming to her village for their conferences.

On her 70th birthday, she invited her friend, Annemarie, to come to the American chapel with her, where a big celebration was planned for the woman who had been a part of the congregation for so long. A new friendship was born, and when her friend could no longer guide the American women on the tour of the village, Annemarie took over the tradition. Her friend died a few years ago, she said.

"It just shows you" said the young military wife sitting on Annemarie's other side, "how doing something good for someone can reach out and continue to bless more and more people, even years later." 

Our cups were empty, and we began gathering our coats and scarves and reaching in our pockets for Euro.

"Stop counting your money," Annemarie said. "I invited you, so put your money away."

On the way back, we heard more about Annemarie's own life. Originally from Chile, she spoke Spanish, of course, as well as German and English and some French. She had studied to be in hotel management, but she said men at that time would not accept a woman telling them what to do, so she became a secretary instead, working for several large corporations.

She remembered a trip she made to America as a young girl. She and her mother and father traveled over on a cargo ship, arriving in Houston and driving to New York. I suppose she saw more of the United States than many Americans have seen.

When we left Annemarie to hear our final session with the conference speaker, we said goodbye with kisses on each cheek. We knew that meeting Annemarie was a bonus -- another lady with wonderful stories to tell.

On Veterans Day, I thought of Annemarie and her friend, a reminder that U.S. military victories are not always won with weapons.