The Benefits of a Barbara Twig
by Mary Jo Rabe
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
December 4th, and the header on Annegret’s inbox flickered as the e-mails from Frau Grob and Herr Hollenbeck slowly loaded, forwarded without commentary by Bernhard Schlossberg, Annegret Gumpert’s helpless and hapless boss.
The two heads of the Personnel and Finance departments announced reduction in financial support for the library. That was the thanks Annegret got for all the years of making this library her life.
Her gray hair, now styled in a no-nonsense, short, bob cut, hadn’t come from pushing book carts; it had come from struggles against stupidity and duplicity. In a bureaucratic organization, evil often rose to the top and stayed there.
After reading the e-mails, Annegret felt an almost overpowering desire to toss her computer monitor onto the floor and pound it into shards of metal, plastic, and glass with her heavy office chair.
She didn’t. The gray, cathode-ray monitor was old and heavy — it would make a satisfactory thump when it landed on the solid, stone floor — but the latest malevolent e-mails from the Personnel and Finance departments weren’t its fault. Besides, Annegret’s back complained for days whenever she made the mistake of lifting heavy objects.
Frau Grob and Herr Hollenbeck were the cause of Annegret’s rage and fury. They were trying to eliminate her library from the Chancery office again, claiming it would save money. Unfortunately, she couldn’t deal with them the same way she felt like treating her computer monitor.
The problem was that she couldn’t deal with them at all. She was too far down in the hierarchy and had to go through the Dienstweg, the proper, official channels — in this case, her inept boss — to get anything done or prevent terrible decisions from being implemented.
Her boss was not a librarian, just another German bureaucrat with a doctorate; his, in Cultural Anthropology. Tradition demanded that anyone with any doctorate be automatically placed into a leadership position rather than the people who actually knew what they were doing.
The telephone on her desk shook and rang. Annegret answered it without hopes for anything good to come from whatever conversation ensued.
“Are you there?” a quavering, reedy voice demanded rather than asked. Father Tauber, head of the Records Department, was coming over. His office was just two doors down the hall. Annegret could expect him to show up within the next few minutes.
Father Tauber was unpredictable. That was why she liked him. She wasn’t sure whether she should be happy or apprehensive about his sudden visit, but decided that she welcomed any distraction.
Annegret sighed and gazed grimly at her crowded work area consisting of one aged, gray metal desk, two no longer legal, four-wheeled, black office chairs that tipped over if she sat down on them wrong, and a dented, white storage cabinet.
This was her “office,” a sad collection of used office furniture hastily dumped at one end of the library stack room. Herr Hollenbeck had proclaimed years ago that the Chancery office didn’t need to waste money on library equipment.
She looked away from her monitor and at her reassuringly cluttered desk. Creative people needed stacks of things to do, and she had just the right amount.
This sight made her happy even though the first-generation laser printer next to her desk continued to exude a somewhat alarming and pungent fragrance of burnt plastic and ozone.
A loud knock on the door, and Father Tauber stomped into the room. He carried a small, chipped white bud vase with a stick in it. This was new. Father Tauber never brought her anything.
The ancient-looking priest had been in the Chancery office long before Annegret came. A short, chubby man with his sparse white hair ridiculously combed over the top of his balding head, he barely reached up to Annegret’s shoulders, and she wasn’t that tall.
Annegret had learned to ignore his occasionally discourteous behavior and his ludicrous, too youthful attire. Despite his clerical status, the man refused to wear a Roman collar and always looked like he was dressed for a high-school dance back in his day, complete with bow tie and baggy pants.
Annegret knew that Father Tauber had access to all the secrets of the Chancery office. Every now and then, he even let her in on some of them.
“Hello, Father Tauber,” she said without getting up. “Please take a seat, but be careful. That chair tips over easily.”
Annegret wiped the sweat off her not so gracefully aging face. It was cold outside, and the thick stone walls turned the building into a perfect refrigerator in the winter, but the radiator in her library had a direct connection to Hell. Her only alternatives were leaving it turned off and freezing or turning the dial counterclockwise as slightly as possible and enduring blistering heat.
She tried to close her eyes quickly enough but didn’t succeed. The stubborn flow of sweat ran down her forehead too rapidly and then, of course, straight into her eyes, temporarily blinding her. Something about the contours of her chubby, no longer middle-aged face facilitated such occurrences.
“Your boss still hasn’t gotten you decent furniture for the library,” Father Tauber said dryly. “You need to assert yourself.” He sat down carefully on the only other chair as he put the bud vase, filled with water and a twig, on Annegret’s desk.
Annegret looked at him. “Thank you,” she said. “What is that, and what’s the occasion?”
Father Tauber feigned shock. “You young kids don’t know anything anymore about sacred traditions,” he said.
Annegret was pushing fifty, but, to be fair, although no one knew his age, Father Tauber looked twice as old as she did.
“Today is December 4th,” he said patiently. “The Feast of Saint Barbara. This is your Barbara twig from a cherry tree in the archbishop’s backyard. The archbishop’s housekeeper distributes them to all the heads of departments every year.”
“They say,” he continued. “If you keep it in water, it will blossom by Christmas and help you. People also say that the twig does well with a lot of attention.”
“Right,” Annegret said. “Now I remember the legend: Saint Barbara kept a twig while she was imprisoned in some tower, and it bloomed. But they executed her anyway. So the twig didn’t save her.”
“The Barbara twig is more than just a sacred tradition,” Father Tauber said indignantly. “People find its presence reassuring. In the dark and anxious season of Advent, it is said to keep your spirits up until Christmas, gives you something to look forward to.”
“To be fair, mine have never done anything for me,” Father Tauber continued. “But I’ve never been able to connect with plants. Others tell me that a Barbara twig is often empowering. You can’t tell me you don’t need something to cheer you up. I know everything about the meeting your boss has scheduled with Frau Grob and Herr Hollenbeck. When I looked at this year’s twig, I just got the feeling that you could benefit more from it than I could.”
“Hmm,” Annegret said, voicing curiosity.
“The Barbara twig is a recognized devotion,” Father Tauber continued. “You should give it a chance. Many people find watching the emergence of the blossoms helps them get through their stress. They also recommend talking to the twig.”
“All right,” Annegret said skeptically, “but to what do I owe this unexpected, yet specific gift?”
Father Tauber stood up, walked to the window, opened it, placed the bud vase on the windowsill, and looked out at the view of the archbishop’s backyard. “You never decorate your office sufficiently for the season of Advent,” he said. “Others have a wreath on their desks with four candles. They light a candle for each week of Advent.”
“Lighted candles?” Annegret asked, barely managing not to laugh out loud. “An open fire in a library? Where I have nothing but inflammable materials: books, magazines, document collections? I don’t think so. I always hang a wreath without candles on the outside of the door. Isn’t that enough?”
“Some employees have both,” Father Tauber said.
“Why do I have the feeling that you’re still not telling me something?” Annegret asked.
Father Tauber actually looked slightly ashamed and sat down again, this time not carefully enough, and the chair threw him to the floor when it tipped over.
Instinctively, Annegret jumped up and moved to catch Father Tauber before he hit the stone floor. Despite her puffy face, the rest of her was relatively fit and almost trim due to all the running around she did, only occasionally slowed down by swollen ankles and stiff knees.
“Very impressive reflexes,” Father Tauber mumbled as he regained his balance, pulled the chair upright, and sat down, this time carefully. “Thank you.”
“Library work in this place isn’t a sedentary activity,” Annegret said and sat back down, just as carefully. “I never leave work with my step counter showing fewer than 15,000 steps.”
Father Tauber didn’t meet her gaze. “Still,” he said. “You shouldn’t do everything yourself. You need help.”
“Herr Schlossberg hasn’t been able to persuade the Personnel Department or the Finance Department to agree to additional positions for the library,” Annegret said sadly. “How do you get student help positions authorized in the Records Department?”
“I don’t waste my time persuading anyone,” Father Tauber said. “I demand. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I’d like to lend you one of my students.”
“How would that work?” Annegret asked. “I don’t have a position for anyone in the library except me.”
“For the bookkeepers, the student I’m thinking of can continue to be a cost position in the Records Department,” Father Tauber said. “However, she would work in the library.”
All kinds of alarms went off in Annegret’s head. “What’s going on?” she asked. “If you want to get rid of this student so badly, why don’t you just fire her?”
“Barbara Seiterich is a kind, cheerful, hard-working human being,” Father Tauber began. “She is also a niece a few generations down of a former Archbishop, one who always treated me well when I was a young priest. She would benefit by getting work experience in a library.”
“Barbara?” Annegret asked. “Is that why you suddenly developed a fondness for celebrating the Feast Day of Saint Barbara?”
“Pure coincidence,” Father Tauber said. “Or maybe not. Who knows? That’s not important. When can she start working for you?”
“Right after you tell me the truth,” Annegret said. “Why are you really trying to get rid of her?”
“She’s a klutz,” Father Tauber admitted. “She’s broken every piece of equipment we have in the Records Department, more than once, often expensive ones. I’m starting to have trouble getting things replaced with devices of equal quality. Even I have occasional budget restrictions. Her clumsiness is getting too expensive.”
“Why shouldn’t I worry about her demolishing equipment in the library?”
“You only have the cheap junk that Herr Hollenbeck has graciously allowed you,” Father Tauber assured her. “You would be better off if you had to replace it all. Besides, she is a good kid. You’ll appreciate her hard work and will eventually enjoy having her around. Trust me on this.”
Annegret suspected Father Tauber still wasn’t telling her everything. However, she trusted his basic good will.
“All right,” Annegret said. “But just so we’re clear on this. I’m doing you a favor and can ask you a favor in return. Please get me all the information you can about what Frau Grob and Herr Hollenbeck are really up to.”
“Certainly,” Father Tauber said. “You and I have often worked together well in the past, and we will again this time. I’ll tell Frau Seiterich that she can start working for you right away. By the way, the conference Herr Schlossberg has with Frau Grob and Herr Hollenbeck will include more powerful people, the Vicar General and the Archbishop themselves.”
That was news to Annegret, and she had an idea why her boss hadn’t told her everything. Apparently, the conference was about the fate of the library, not just administrative details.
Father Tauber left. Annegret sent a short e-mail to Herr Schlossberg, telling him that Father Tauber wanted one of his assistants to get some library experience.
She walked over to the window and swore. But when she looked at the twig in the bud vase, she had to smile. Her problems weren’t its fault. She felt some kind of comfort radiating from the twig even though that, of course, was impossible. Still, the twig looked different, somehow.
“Thank you, little twig,” she said. “Looking at you, I feel better. Let’s hope Father Tauber’s student help will work out.”
Maybe it was her imagination, but she sensed that the twig was quivering slightly with pride. It even seemed to dance a little, or at least that’s what its slight movements looked like to Annegret.
She felt a slight twinge of hope. This wasn’t the first time the Personnel and Finance departments tried to get rid of the library and wouldn’t be the last. So far, they hadn’t been successful. Unfortunately, her boss didn’t want to provide much resistance. His goal was always staying popular with the higher-ups, not supporting his underlings.
She heard a timid knock on the door. “Come in,” Annegret yelled. A tall, slim, young woman with a long, blonde ponytail, stumbled in, crashing into and spilling Annegret’s maxi-sized wastebasket but also immediately kneeling on the floor and scooping the mess back into the container.
She had to be Father Tauber’s clumsy student help. Annegret didn’t have the energy or desire to reflect on what she might have let herself in for. She had other things to worry about. Besides, the damage was negligible so far.
Copyright © 2026 by Mary Jo Rabe
