On the Wings of the Wind
by Patricia Eytcheson Taylor
and Chaplain James C. Taylor, Th.D.
Smashwords Edition
Copyright @ 2007 Patricia Eytcheson Taylor
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Unless otherwise specified, Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION(r). Copyright (©) 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
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This book is also available in print at www.onthewingsofthewind.com.
Cover Artist and Illustrator: Aundrea Hernandez
Editor: Lillie Ammann
WHAT OTHERS SAY ABOUT ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND
"It is a book many people can relate to about lost love and new love found. It is a story for all on the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives." ~ Libraries Alive: National Church Library Association: Rating: 4 (Highly Recommended)
"Encouraging readers to embrace God and appreciate the joy that goes into their lives, it’s an intriguing and inspiring book. Patricia’s journey will prove moving to many readers, making On the Wings of the Wind high recommended to Christian readers everywhere." ~ The Midwest Book Review (Highly recommended)
"An interesting story, high in Scriptural context, and personal anecdotes." ~ Carolyn Scheidies, Author’s Choice Reviews
DEDICATION
TO
John Franklin Eytcheson and Linda Ann Taylor To whom God has called Home
And
Our brave men and women in the military and their families who have made the supreme sacrifice in defenses of our American Way of Life and the freedoms that we enjoy
Footprints in the Sand
I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord and
Across the sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
One belonged to me and the other to the Lord.
When the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed, that many times along the path of my life,
There was only one set of footprints.
I also noticed that it happened at the very lowest
and saddest times in my life.
This really bothered me and I questioned the Lord about it.
"Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you,
You would walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times
in my life there is only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why in times when I needed you the most,
You should leave me."
The Lord replied, "My precious, precious child,
I love you and I would never, never leave you during
those times of trial and suffering.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you."
—Author Unknown
PREFACE
On the Wings of the Wind is my personal story, but it’s not mine alone. It is the story of the relationship you can have with a loving God who wants to guide your life.
My mother and grandparents introduced me to the Christian faith so young I don’t remember when I first heard the message. As a child I received from my mother God’s gift more precious than gold. A relationship with God is more precious than gold, indeed, but the gift I describe in the chapter "More Precious than Gold" was tangible, physical evidence of the presence of Christ in my life.
I didn’t always apply the principles of my faith, however, so I struggled through rocky times in my life and marriage. It wasn’t until I was in the depths of inexpressible grief after I lost the husband I loved and cherished that I reconnected with a strong faith and again felt the presence of God.
The details of my story are mine, but the truths are universal. You may identify with my grief and shed your own tears as you read of my experiences in coming to know God.
In the depth of my grief, I experienced a tiny measure of the suffering that Christ endured when He felt He had been abandoned on the cross. He cried out to the Lord His God, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" We can never experience the degree of suffering that our Lord did, but we do understand what suffering and death can produce in our own minds and lives.
In the Book of Job in the Old Testament, Job lost everything he loved: his household, his children, and all his earthly possessions. But he remained faithful to the Lord. God then gave him a double blessing, restoring all that has been taken from him.
You will receive an insight into the very heart of God as you see the healing I received from the Lord and learn of my newly found ability to communicate with the Holy Spirit. You will be reassured that God is always present with you, even in the midst of the storms of life.
Jesus calmed the storms, both physical and emotional, of his disciples as they were on the Sea of Galilee. (Luke 8:22-28) You, too, will find your fears calmed and hope ignited by faith.
Even the last enemy—death itself—is no match for our God. I will share with you how to place yourselves into the hands of our faithful and loving God so you can feel the hope and joy I experienced as God deepened my faith and gave me the strength to go on in spite of the struggles I faced.
Learning from my experiences, you can feel God’s presence in your life. Your faith in an all-powerful loving God can become more real than ever before. You can learn how God can come to you through the voice of the Holy Spirit.
As I learned to trust in the faithfulness of the Holy Spirit, I began to see miracles of God’s presence everywhere in my life. You will read of the miracles God has performed in my life, and your faith, hope, and new life in Christ will become more real to you. Yes, there is a God, a God who loves you and wants a personal relationship with Him. You can come to know Him On the Wings of the Wind.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We thank Almighty God who has given us through our lives the insight and knowledge that He loves and lives within us. He has allowed us to find a spiritual intimacy with Him. As coauthors of this book, we express our deepest gratitude and appreciation to each other. It is through our joint support of each other with love and patience that we are able to go from inspirations to the written page.
We thank our children, Jill Oxford, Graylin and Dicie Eytcheson, John and Jennifer (Taylor) Dejohn and Matthew and Amber Taylor and our six grandchildren, Mercedes and Dustin Eytcheson, Jennifer, Jacqueline and Cody Oxford, and Reagan Dejohn, who continue to be inspirations for us.
Our thanks to all who have encouraged us to write down our experiences with the Holy Spirit and who have shared their own life experiences with us. A special thank you to our editor, Lillie Ammann, whose professionalism and invaluable assistance and guidance, with her loving patience and suggestions, made this book a dream come true.
Thank you to Aundrea Hermandez for her excellent work on the book’s cover and her insightful illustrations. Also, thanks to Lois Qualben at LangMarc Publishing for continuing to believe in our manuscript.
God has truly blessed us and surrounded us with marvelous friends and family to support us in our journey.
CHAPTER 1
CALIFORNIA BEACH GIRL
One summer, after years of being away, I returned to the beach that I loved. I was raised on the never-ending beaches of California where the mountains became part of the Pacific. In the summertime, I loved to begin my day on the beach, taking an early morning stroll and playing tag with the incoming waves. Usually I ended my walk with a swim in the sea. The refreshing dip made my whole body tingle and come alive.
It was on a California beach that I met John, my first love.
Now I was recapturing the memories of my youth. High on the rugged cliffs of California overlooking the Pacific Ocean, an old white stucco beach house still stood. The wooden porch was badly in need of paint and repair, but odd shapes and sizes of clay pots disguised the deteriorating porch with spectacular colors of petunias, marigolds, geraniums, and California poppies. A huge overgrown fuchsia bougainvillea vine wrapped itself around the front of the old porch, creating a picturesque sight for viewers from the beach. The faded linen drapes were drawn back to catch the early morning sunrise through the big bay windows. A rickety winding staircase led to the white sandy beaches below. This aging, fading beach house was where I had once lived.
This beach was where I first experienced love. As I strolled along the beach on that long-ago morning, the fog began to lift. I noticed someone else walking on the beach. The stranger came closer, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off of him. His slow measured pace brought him closer and closer to me. I couldn’t fail to notice he was handsome: tall, with sandy blond hair, and eyes as blue as the ocean, but there was something else. I felt an instant of mutual attraction as our eyes met. A warm and compassionate feeling came over me, and I felt drawn to him as he looked me over.
Suddenly, he stopped and spoke. "Good morning. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?"
I couldn’t resist looking directly at him and answering, "Good morning." We kept looking into each other’s eyes. My heart beat faster, and I wondered if this was love at first sight.
I introduced myself. "I’m Pat. I’ve never seen you on the beach before, and I live on it. Or I should say, I almost live on it. That’s my house up there on the cliff looking out over the ocean."
"Hi! I’m John. I’m in the Navy and stationed near here. I’ll be getting out shortly and wanted to enjoy the beauty of the West Coast before I return to my home in the Midwest."
"Would you like to walk with me this morning?" I asked.
"Why yes, I could use the company," he answered. The day was ours. We chatted and laughed as we continued down the beach together. John stopped now and then to pick up seashells for me.
"I bet you know every seashell on the beach," he said.
"Oh, some I like and some I don’t. Often they’re broken, and I like to have whole shells for my collection. It takes a long time, so I hunt every day for a perfect seashell to wash up on the beach."
Much later, John told me that when he saw me for the first time, he thought an angel from heaven had landed on the beach. He said he had never seen anyone so beautiful. He was captivated by my pale blond hair. Moistened by the ocean mist, it formed tiny ringlets that captured the rays of the sunlight and created a halo around my face. He was amazed at how free and content I seemed on the sandy beach all alone. John had been lonely, and he yearned to meet the right girl with whom to settle down. When he first saw me, he wondered if I were that right girl.
But he didn’t tell me all that then. Instead, he told me about himself. He was a country boy who had spent his childhood in the farmlands of Indiana. He grew up surrounded by the hard-working Amish people, and their values and cultures influenced his thinking and impacted his life. He began to work at a very early age, helping his family until he enlisted in the Navy. His last Navy assignment had brought him to California and led to our meeting on the beach that day.
Now as I remembered the day we fell in love, streaks of heavenly golden sunlight filtered through the dense early morning fog as it gently lifted itself off the California coastline. As I continued down the beach, I realized that the spectacular scenery was the same as it had been in my early years in southern California. The crying seagulls, breaking waves, and young children playing and swimming were the same. People still came to the ocean to have their lunch and enjoy the sun.
Yet it looked different. Big, expensive homes now hugged the cliffs above the ocean.
I remembered my morning walks, days of dancing and playing in the waves. Now and then I would pause, touching the tips of my tinted toes in the water, leaving only my footprints in the sand for incoming waves to wash away.
I loved to listen to the roar of the waves as they came upon the beach and quickly fell back into the sea. Delighting in the music they made, I would listen to the crescendo of the waves rushing in and out again and again. I danced along the water’s edge to the calls of the seabirds and a mental concert of Claude Debussy’s music "La Mer" (The Sea).
"Sing to the LORD a new song." (Psalm 96:1)
"Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music; make music to the LORD with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing ... Let the sea resound, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it." (Psalm 98:4, 5, 7)
On a clear day, the sunrise, with its brilliant fireball of shades of oranges and tints of red, brought the glorious colors of a new day.
Now, years later, how good it felt to be back at the seashore where the rippling tide never ceased, with time to feel free, without a care in the world. The seagulls cried out as they circled above my head, looking for a crumb or scraps anyone might have left on the beach. I felt as if I had been gone forever, but I still enjoyed relaxing with a good book or searching for shells washed upon the beach.
I watched the tiny sandpipers run swiftly down to the water’s edge on pencil-thin legs, searching for bits of seafood. The incoming waves never seemed to be able to catch them.
As I danced and played along the coast, memories of my past began to emerge slowly from the hidden recesses of my mind. My years had been truly blessed with an incredible love. Had this love been meant to be? Was it part of God’s plan for me?
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)
I lost my mother when I was young, but she left me with the greatest gift in life: a remarkable story and proof that there is a God. "Just believe and have faith in the Almighty," she told me.
As I grew older and experienced life, I began to see miracle after miracle through truly believing and having the faith that had been instilled in me.
Looking back, I was a young, vivacious girl when John and I met on that beautiful sandy beach. Throughout the days and nights, our love for each other continued to grow and blossom. The old song, "Moonlight and Roses" seemed to be made for us. The weeks were filled with fun and laughter on the beaches and everywhere we ventured. Some weekends, John and I went dancing to the music of Lawrence Welk’s band at Venice Pier.
Other times, we danced at Balboa Shores to the music of Les Brown and his Band of Renown. Many of the famous spots along the California shore became special to us.
One magical evening while dancing to the music of the Big Bands, John asked if I would do him the honor of becoming his wife.
"The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." (Genesis 2:18)
I immediately accepted. We were married in a private ceremony in Bell Flower, and our reception was held in a charming restaurant among the oil wells on Signal Hill overlooking Long Beach.
John and I loved to spend the sunny days and moonlight nights on the beaches. California was a wonderful place for romance, and the beach had become special to us. The continuous sunshine, the gentle breezes, the sounds of the waves rolling in from the ocean, and the seagulls crying high in the sky gave us a sense of peace.
One special day, we ran through the ocean tide, laughing and playing until the warm sun began to sink in the west. As we watched, a fiery orange ball touched the water and produced a flash of green light that is rarely seen, even in a lifetime of living on the beach. The descending sun cast shades of red and pink into the surrounding clouds, turning the whole sky into the brilliant colors of the rainbow. This beautiful display of God’s wondrous creation symbolized our love for each other.
That evening, John and I ventured to a faraway cove down the coast. After visiting it several times, we felt it belonged to us. It was so well hidden from view that no one knew it was there, creating an enchanted, private world for young lovers. I felt safe in the coves along the coastline that had been carved out of the cliffs by the pounding ocean waves and tides through the centuries. There was no doubt in either of our minds that we were meant for each other and would be together forever. The magic of the nights lingered on as the moon rose higher and higher over the ocean.
Each morning the sunrise began with a blaze of glory as the light pushed back the darkness. The rose-colored sky indicated the sun would soon be visible. Glorious and wonderful times on the beach sparked our special relationship. Our love and happiness grew deeper as the days went by.
Shortly after our marriage, my mother died. I was now in John’s hands for better or worse until "death do us part."
I met John while my mother was critically ill. At that time, I had not known which of many roads to follow in life. Did he come along at the right time as part of a plan? Only God knows the answer, but I believe that God’s incredible love was the driving force in our love.
My mother was gone, but now John was presenting me with a future.
Unknown to him, however, he was also presenting me with a past. I soon learned that I was descended from the Pennsylvania Dutch (Amish) people who had settled in the Indiana’s heartland. After we married, we would return to John’s home and to my ancestry in Indiana. That would be a completely different world for me than the home I knew in sunny California.
I would be returning to my heritage. I had no idea what life would hold for me. Only God, who works mysteriously in and through people’s lives, knew. Without my mother to rely on, I knew God would be guiding my life.
"... the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. "(Joshua 1:9)
I had known John for only a short time before our marriage, but the affection and caring shown to me during the last few weeks affirmed a real love for me. I ached for him when he wasn’t with me. John had been lonely and ready for the right girl to come along. He had been away from family and friends for several years, serving in Guam before California. His time in the Navy was almost up, and he was ready to return to the heartland.
Although I was still young—only 19, I knew I was ready to settle down and start a family. John’s love was for me and me alone. I felt wonderful and very comfortable with him.
The time had come to make the big decision. Leaving the beach and the West Coast would be extremely hard to do. I had grown up here, and what was left of my family was still in California, the land of milk and honey where flowers bloomed year round and plants grew in abundance throughout the state.
Tears moistened my eyes at the thought of leaving. This had always been my home, and there was no other place like it on earth. Here the mountains met the ocean, and the weather was ideal all year. Just like thousands of other people, my parents had come here for a wonderful life.
But John and I were husband and wife, bound by an intense love like no other love we had ever known. John was not only my husband; he was also the man of my dreams. In my heart I knew that it was right for us to go back to Northern Indiana. I would no longer be a California beach girl. I would become a Midwest housewife.
Maybe someday, I thought, John would bring me back to California.
But no one knows his or her own destiny. The future is known only to God.
"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." (Psalm 119:105)
CHAPTER 2
LIVING AMONG THE AMISH
John and I left the sunny shores of California and headed out to the Midwest. California had been a new location for our family, and living there had been refreshing compared to living in an old rural section of Indiana. John took me to a very small town where buggies pulled by horses rattled up and down the roads, carrying people in dark clothes: men in black and women in little white caps and subdued clothes. The women had beautiful flawless skin, though they wore no makeup. Once the men married, they grew a beard forever.
I had no idea of what I had gotten into. This was a new beginning in my life with John. As this was my destiny, I began to look into my past heritage. I knew God worked mysteriously in other people’s lives. Now, I felt God was laying out a pattern for me, and I could see how blessed I was to have a new beginning in life with my young husband. John was taking me back in time. I could now participate in life in the place of my own family’s roots.
John had brought me back into an era that I had never known existed when I was growing up in southern California. The first time I saw one of the Amish men with his stern look and long flowing beard driving a buggy into town, I was scared witless. I ran all the way back to the house.
With my fair skin and naturally rosy cheeks, I had the same facial features as the Amish women, but my long golden hair flowed freely in the wind. The clothing I had brought with me had been appropriate for life in California but here my clothes marked me as an outsider.
When we arrived at the rural community in which John had grown up, we stayed with his widowed mother. We ventured out to find jobs and discovered that work was scarce for John. However, I immediately went to work in the office of a garment factory in town.
On the first day of my new job, I had to cross a railroad track. As the train in the distance blew its whistle, I fell down. After that, hearing the whistle blow in the morning as I crossed the tracks in this small town became another scary event for me to tackle. John went to another state to learn to become a butcher for a large meat-packing company. I was really on my own much of the time, and being timid didn’t help matters.
Seeing people riding in horse-drawn buggies and dressed in very plain clothes in purple, black, blues, and natural colors frightened me. Carrying on a conversation with them was difficult because they often spoke Pennsylvania Dutch. They kept to themselves and hurried past on the town’s main street.
The buggies were always parked in the back of the stores and kept off the main street except to pass through the towns. Being a horse lover, I wanted to pat their horses whenever I got a chance. I wanted to take pictures, but the Amish did not like to have their pictures taken at anytime.
Before John went off to meat-cutting school, we enjoyed traveling around to other little towns. When we returned in the evenings, we came upon the black buggies moving slowly toward home. We were always careful to watch for the buggies with large orange triangle markers across the back, which made it easier to see the black buggies on the dark roads. I loved to watch the horses’ legs keep in step and to hear them clip-clop down the roads. The father would drive with his oldest son beside him, his wife turned sideways on the front seat, and the rest of the family in the rear seats. The men and boys wore white shirts, black pants with suspenders, and straw hats. At first their clothes seemed like Hollywood costumes to me.
On Saturdays, which were market days, John and I hurried to reach the market early to see everything before it was picked over. The Amish families came from the east, west, north, and south to attend these days in Shipshewana, Indiana. The roads were clogged with buggies from all directions.
The markets drew not only the Amish people but also people from all over the county, even other parts of the country. They came to buy the handmade crafts, quilts, blankets, baby clothes, and furniture. The markets also carried fresh, home-grown vegetables and flowers, cakes and pies, homemade noodles, and canned goods. Auctions continued throughout the day, and I made it a point to see the Amish auction livestock. I was fascinated to hear them call the livestock and quickly rattle off the bidding price for each animal being auctioned.
On the way to and from the market, the Amish pulled small carts behind their buggies to carry chickens and pigs for the auctions. This was the time for families, aunts, uncles, and cousins to distribute their goods and visit with each other for the whole day. There was too much to be done at home on the farms to do much visiting during the week. Market days and Sundays were their days for getting together.
Even though I didn’t sew, I was always on the lookout for brightly colored cloth. Most of the material carried by the little country store was in the solid colors the Amish used to sew their own clothing. They did use brightly patterned fabric for quilts and pillows.
Market days were opportunities for John and me to sample some of the wonderful home-cooked foods the Amish restaurants served. Their specialties included shoofly pie, peanut butter cream pie, German chocolate cake, all types of fruit pies, and pastries. Standing in line with dozens of outsiders waiting patiently for the best meals in Amish country was an experience to remember.
Living in the vicinity of these Amish farms gave us also a sense of harmony and inner peace. The land they worked kept them close to God, and they sensed it in everything they did. They lived according to their religious beliefs, which deeply influenced their lives.
I admired the Amish work ethic, and I learned to work at a similar style. They worked from sunrise to sunset. They had a sense of commitment to the family and would do anything for their people. They kept to themselves for the most part but came together for worship. Their Sunday service was held at a different house every Sunday, and their Sabbath lasted all day.
"Remember the Sabbath Day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work..." (Exodus 20:8-10)
If a newly married man needed a barn built or if one of their barns or houses were destroyed by wind, water, or fire, the Amish had a house raising or a barn building. All of the community joined together and worked until the house or barn was finished.
My husband John had grown up with the Amish people, and occasionally he was allowed to interact with them. They were always congenial and helpful.
I lived with John’s mother while he was away in Ohio. John was in school for six months and came home every weekend. In southern California schools I hadn’t learned much about the Amish or their history. I loved to ask questions about the Amish and hoped to get some answers while living with my mother-in-law. John’s mother was very close-lipped, however, and I soon realized I would have to learn on my own.
One day I went to the library in town and found some books about the Amish. I read that they had left the shores of Europe in 1737, sailing on a ship called the Charming Nancy. They searched hard and long for a place where they could live in peace and worship their God with religious freedom and tolerance. On their first journey, a long and tragic voyage, many children and adults died from bad food and lack of water. They suffered dearly to cross the ocean to come to the United States to practice their faith, and they never returned to their original homeland of Germany. The Amish first settled in Pennsylvania and then expanded into the Midwest. I learned they are located primarily in Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri. The Amish speak Pennsylvania Dutch, a German dialect, in their homes and use High German in their churches.
When I read this, my ears perked up. I, too, was from Pennsylvania Dutch heritage. My dad’s parents had migrated from around Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to Indiana. My ancestors came over with William Penn in 1692 and settled in Conestoga, famous for its prairie wagons. I was born in Indianapolis. Soon after my birth, my parents, brother, sister, and I moved to Florida to live. After the Depression, my parents moved from Florida to California, where I grew up. Now I was back home in Indiana where my life had started.
The little town I lived in seemed to be "sleepy hollow" where folks tended to their own business. Yet they lived among the Amish and made it seem as if all of them had become one big community.
When I lived in California, I saw that people had migrated from all the other states and called California the "Land of Milk and Honey." I remembered a Scripture, Exodus 33:3a: "Go up to this land that flows with milk and honey." I repeated again and again the words "the Land of Milk and Honey." This is where I came from, I thought. How strange how history repeats itself. Isn’t that what I’m doing now?
After reading for hours, I grew weary. I said good night to my new mother-in-law and retired early. Now that I was staying in John’s home and had time to spare, I wanted to learn as much as I could about the Amish. Learning all about myself ought to be fun, I decided, so I planned to visit the small town just down the hill from where I now lived.
I knew people were wondering and asking, "Who did John marry and bring home with him? What did she look like? Where did she come from?" Now was as good a time as any to get acquainted with people in the town and at my work.
This could be a new adventure for me, and I could help myself and John by shopping in the town on my own. Yet I wouldn’t venture too far; after all, I still was a stranger to these people and this part of the Midwest.
I asked questions at the library, and the librarian reluctantly told me about the Amish education system. They learned English in their schools since English was important when dealing with strangers and working outside of their farms in the communities. Students in Amish schools were taught by a young teacher who had graduated from eighth grade. She taught reading, writing, and arithmetic along with the Amish religion. The children recited Amish prayers and hymns.
All grades met in one room. The Amish liked to have their older children learning right in the same room as the younger ones. They could watch over the younger ones with a structured learning program supervised by the parents, which included selecting the books to be read and studied. The Amish parents were much more involved in their children’s education than the parents I knew. If a child missed a day of school, the other children were concerned because sickness was the only acceptable excuse.
I learned that their school lessons are taught around life on the farm. The children worked together, and understanding was more important than getting through in a specific time. Many times I saw a little child out in the garden learning to care for the vegetables and flowers.
Amish gardens had a row of flowers between rows of vegetables to attract the bugs and keep them away from the vegetables.
Children learned the Amish culture from their parents. The girls learned by watching their mothers and older sisters in the daily chores of cooking, sewing, washing, and ironing. They also learned to grow vegetables and to hoe the gardens to perfection. They knew when to plant extra crops for a special occasion, such as planting extra celery for their bread stuffing when a wedding was near. The women did the budgeting and managed the household and taught these skills to their daughters.
Boys learned from their fathers to care for the animals, repair the machinery, and work in the fields from sunup to sundown. Some farmers used large Belgium horses to carry the heavy workloads, but no tractors or other mechanical means were used on their farms. The Amish sometimes purchased retired thoroughbred horses off the race tracks to pull their buggies.
One-room schoolhouses served a radius of two miles so the children could walk from the surrounding farms. The one-room schools had large windows that opened for ventilation and light, since they had no electricity. When the bell rang at half past eight, children were expected to hang their coats on pegs and go quickly and quietly to their desks. When a storm blew in, the children carried in wood for the old stoves and took turns cleaning out the ashes to get ready for the next day. To me, it was like going back in time to the early 1930s.
I found out that Amish life was centered around the home, and their work, worship, weddings, and funerals all took place in their houses. They consider children great blessings and refer to them as gifts from God. They believe their responsibility to God means they have large families, and children grow up around all the relatives.
In the midst of all these close families, I was lonely for my own family and friends, even though I was with John’s family. My brother and sister had both married and stayed with their spouses out West. I made a vow if ever we had children we would stay in the same area since I had never had time to develop lasting relationships. I envied the Amish and the people in John’s community. Their whole lives were spent in one location. Yet I didn’t know that day as I sat in the library reading about the Amish that I would get a world education in my own lifetime.
I looked at the large clock above the librarian’s desk and realized that it was time for me to get back home. I promised myself that, as soon as I could, I would return and learn more. I was so fascinated with my Amish heritage that I took books home and read them in the still of the night.
On the weekends when John was home, we liked to go to Lake Wawasee in the late afternoons. I enjoyed swimming in the warm waters and couldn’t understand why we waited until almost the whole day had been wasted before going to the lake. John explained that we had to wait for the sun to warm the water to swimming temperature. That was very different from southern California where I had gone to the beach at daybreak to swim in the warm water in the ocean.
This new lifestyle was going to take a lot of adjustment on my part before I would consider myself an Indiana Hoosier once again.
One of the main things I really loved about Indiana that was different from southern California was the changing of the seasons. Southern California didn’t have four distinct seasons as there were here.
I grew to love the winter season with its sports and activities, but it required bundling up in warm outerwear to protect myself from the chilling cold winds. I loved bobsledding with John, and sometimes I skated on the lake’s frozen channels while John ice fished. John brought his fishing tackle, an auger to drill through the thick ice, and a saw to cut a hole to fish. Then he would sit quietly on his little stool with his fishing line extended in the lake’s deep water, warmed only by a gasoline lantern sitting nearby.
Finally, John finished meat-cutting school and was offered a job. I’m sure his mother was upset that we would be leaving the town of John’s birth and moving to a much larger city for his new job. But it was great news for me.
Before we left, Thelka, one of the Amish women who worked with me in the garment factory, invited me to their farm to select a quilt. She told me how her family had made the same pattern quilts for generations. They also gathered together to work on other designs. Many of the older grandmothers would work on these quilts while children as young as four years old were nearby. The women visited and caught up on what was happening in the community, but they still continued their work as always.
Thelka showed me a room with many quilts of all patterns to choose from. I couldn’t believe what I saw and wondered how I would ever pick one of these beautiful quilts hanging on hangers lined up in rows. I took my time and went through each and every one of them. When I saw the quilt called "Country Love," I fell in love with it: a beautiful valentine of a flower garden on a white background with flowers appliquéd with tender love by Thelka’s grandmother. The colors were vibrant reds, greens, and pinks. A large bow of streamers surrounded a basket of red hearts and rings made up of spring flowers in the center of the quilt. Hearts were appliquéd around the bottom sides with another smaller basket of flowers on the pillow cases. I knew that we would cherish this forever.
Thelka told me that many times the intricacies included in the quilts were the only expression of creativity that the women were allowed in their homes. The beautiful stitched flower gardens in the quilts expressed the woman’s creativity and sometimes their frustration.
When John and I arrived in Mishawaka, we found a small, two-bedroom apartment upstairs in an old house. It was our first home and our first time to be alone. I loved to decorate and paint the walls with the colors from the quilt. These bright colors reminded me of the beautiful flowers I had grown up with in California and of my grandmother’s garden of lilacs and hollyhocks in Minnesota.
John’s workday schedule mimicked that of the Amish. He left at the crack of dawn and didn’t return until it was almost dark. This left me with a lot of free time on my hands, and I decided to take a job at one of the largest construction companies in South Bend.
On weekends we traveled around the countryside to see the Amish and their children working in the fields, pitching hay into their wagons with pitchforks. The hay had been cut by Belgium horse-pulled scythes.
We enjoyed stopping and buying fresh pies, bread, and homemade noodles from roadside stands and farms. We liked the healthy atmosphere in the communities where there were vegetables, fresh food, and dairy products available anytime.
We visited workshops that carried the most beautiful handcrafted oak furniture and kitchen cabinets that were always in demand. John’s favorite was the shop where the Amish buggies, their only means of transportation, were built.
We lived in Mishawaka but worked in South Bend. They were called the twin cities of Indiana because they were joined together. We had one car, and John had to be at work at five o’clock in the morning. I took him to work, returned home to finish dressing, then drove back to South Bend to my job. Wintertime wasn’t an ideal time to be on the icy roads in Indiana.
That fall, John received an invitation to attend an Amish wedding. The wedding would be held on Thursday; it took a day to prepare and a day to clean up, and the wedding festivities couldn’t interfere with worship on Sundays. Weddings were held in late October after the crops had been harvested and gathered into the barns but before the harsh winter arrived. I was excited, but John’s boss was reluctant to give anyone time off during the week. John was in charge of putting all the meat orders up to go out into the city and nearby areas. It was a lot of responsibility for a young man just getting started with such a large company. I was delighted when his boss relented and excused him from work. Polish and Hungarian weddings lasted for two or three days, but I knew an Amish wedding here in the Midwest was completely different, and I was eager to see one.
I couldn’t believe it when I heard that the wedding would begin at 4:00 A.M. after all the cows had been milked and the daily farm chores had been completed. Not being immediate family members, we were expected to arrive around 7:00 A.M. when the bride and groom would meet the guests in the kitchen. Two to four hundred relatives would be arriving for a huge ceremony in the bride’s parents’ home. Everyone was expected to bring a dish for the wedding meal.
I was surprised to see that the bride was dressed in blue. She had made her own dress, which didn’t have the traditional wedding train that I was used to seeing. It was cut plainly with no fancy trim or lace. In my tradition, a wedding dress was only worn once, then put away in a closet or cedar chest. Later I learned that the practical and plain blue dress would serve this bride for more than her wedding day. Her wedding dress would become her Sunday church clothes after she was married, and she would be buried in the same dress in a plain pine coffin when she died.
All the men except the groom had long beards. The groom could not grow a beard until after he was married. The groom and his attendants all wore black suits. I noticed that the coats were fastened with hooks and eyes, not buttons. The men’s white starched shirts gleamed in the morning light. They wore bow ties for the wedding; men did not wear ties at other times. The groom had a black hat with a three-and-a-half-inch rim. These traditions were important requirements to the Amish. There was no best man or maid of honor since in the sight of God all are of equal importance. Other-worldliness, nonconformity based on Biblical teachings prevail the entire life of the Amish.
Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.
For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man’s gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.
"Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."
(Romans 12:1-12)
"Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness? " (2 Corinthians 6:14)
Amish marriages, like everything else in the culture, were very practical. Divorce was unknown and separation rare. The Amish were realistic people. They did not marry for love or romance but out of mutual respect and a need for a partner in the life they were expected to live. The farmer needs a wife, and couples need children. The marriage questioning, which was similar to the vows John and I took, was sacred.
Following the questioning, the minister blessed the couple; then other ordained men and the fathers of the couple each gave a testimony about marriage. A final prayer closed the three-hour ceremony. The minister’s sermon had been long, and I was not used to services of that length.
Wooden tables in a u-shape around the living room held piles of food. Now I realized why Amish homes had such large kitchens and living rooms. The meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, creamed celery, coleslaw, applesauce, cherry pie, donuts, fruit salads, tapioca and other puddings; bread, butter, and jelly seemed to strain the tables. The tables would be set at least twice until everyone had eaten their fill.
The bride sat to the groom’s left in the corner, the same way the couple would sit as man and wife in their buggy. The single women sat on the same side as the bride, and the single men sat on the same side as the groom. The immediate families sat at the long table in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure where I should sit, but I ended up sitting on the left side of John in the same position as the other women sitting at their husbands’ left sides.
Food, food, and more food ... and then games and the matchmaking began. The bride had the privilege to match unmarried boys and girls sixteen years and older for the evening meal. I was exhausted by 10:30 P.M. when John finally said we could leave and go to his mother’s house for the evening, but the day had been a memorable experience.
At that time my job was switchboard operator and mail clerk for a large construction company that was building at Notre Dame University. I enjoyed my work and remained with the company for the next five years until we moved.
Our first child, Graylin, was born in the Amish hospital in Goshen. He was the only boy surrounded by girls in the baby ward. In the hospital, I had an Amish roommate, and we got to know each other quite well. Her husband would be taking her and her fifth child in a buckboard wagon or a small horse and buggy to their farm twenty-two miles away. When John arrived with the family car, I was so thankful I wasn’t Amish. The only time my roommate had been to the hospital was to bare children. Amish women typically had seven or eight children. They took the command of the Lord "Be fruitful and multiply" as seriously as they took every Scripture passage.
After living among the Amish people for five years, we moved to Texas and into a small stone house near my sister. It was such a shock to move to an entirely different land that had been at one time the home of cowboys and Indians riding the range. I missed John’s family and our friends and the beautiful four seasons of Indiana. In my new home, I missed the things that I learned about the land in which I was born.
CHAPTER 3
DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS
Coming to Texas was a complete change for both John and me. We had no idea what it was like. Texas was an unknown land far out from nowhere, at least that was the way I felt. We drove down from Indiana into an environment completely different from what we had known. It was blistering hot once we crossed the state line from Oklahoma into Texas.
The land seemed to be barren at this time of year with mesquite trees, tumbleweeds, and jackrabbits all over the place. The people who just passed through the top of Texas went on to other states. Nothing seemed to draw the people to this land at this time in the history of southern Texas.
When I had lived in California, I knew people traveled from there as far as El Paso, Texas. There seemed to be nothing beyond this last frontier city for them to see of interest. And yet San Antonio was a Shangri-La for the celebrities to come to. This was far from the limelight of Hollywood. They could live here and nobody bothered them. Few people came this far to see what the other side of the world looked like. You could say it was in a world of its own for a long time. These Hollywood stars bought ranches far from the public eye and valued the privacy this land gave them.
The southwest desert was filled with rocks, snakes, lizards, and horned toads. We saw longhorn cattle now and then in the distance, along with wooden windmills to pull water out of the parched ground on a windy day.
To some it seemed a God-forsaken land, but God had hidden vast deposits of oil here. Some settlers became rich off the land, while others barely scratched a living from the barren soil.
A profusion of wildflowers blankets the Texas hill country in the springtime. April showers bring a large variety of colorful wildflowers such as bluebonnets, Indian paint brushes, pink evening primrose, black-eyed Susan, daisies, rain lilies, basket flowers, butterfly weed, Mexican gold and red poppies, verbena, winecups, and beautiful Indian fire wheels. You can see that the names are as uncommon as the beauty of these thousands of springtime flowers. It’s breathtaking to see what God has given to the different parts of Texas. This beautiful scenery appears along every highway and country road as these wildflowers bloom just after the rainy season.
Some people raised angora goats on rocky grounds and had to protect the goats from the cold winters as well as from bobcats, cougars, and coyotes that ventured down from the hills from time to time looking for a meal.
We came to San Antonio, Texas to be near my sister. By the time we arrived in Texas, however, she and her husband had decided to return to California. They left John and me alone in Texas with a two-year-old son and another baby on the way. We used the last of our savings from Indiana to bring our furniture here.
I was lonely for the only family I knew, and now my sister had moved away. I had already experienced multiple losses—a "triple whammy." First, my mother died. Then my brother who contracted polio of the throat during the California polo epidemic was placed in an iron lung so that he could breathe. He remained in the iron lung for an extended time, constantly at risk of death.
My father hadn’t known how to handle the grief. He had lost his firstborn son to an accident years ago. Then his beloved wife, my mother, died, and his other son, my young brother, contracted the dreadful disease of polio. My father decided to go back on the road as a traveling salesman to rid his mind of all his troubles. Still a teenager, where was I to go? I had felt lost. I couldn’t live with my sister and her husband, and I couldn’t live with my brother, who might not have long to live.
Then the Lord had brought me a young, loving, and caring husband in my time of grief and depression. The path to happiness, renewed faith, and belief was around the corner at the right time for a young woman to begin her own life down that road of eternity.
Now I had come through those losses and was a happily married woman, but still lonely for my family. Jobs were difficult to find in Texas, and the pay scale was completely different from that of the large established meat-packing company for which John had been working. He couldn’t find a job like he had in the Midwest because there weren’t any meat-packing companies or any industries in the Southwest. San Antonio in the 1960s was an overgrown western town for cowboys to still be cowboys, surrounded by ranches of cattle and horses. The town was so laid back, nothing like I had lived in before. Indiana, where I could discover my past, was much more interesting to me.
When John applied for unemployment, a young girl asked, "How did you arrive in this town where the salaries are at the lowest of all the Southwestern states?"
We knew we couldn’t live off the unemployment payments very long, and the only jobs available to John involved sweat and labor in the hot sun. John had gone from the temperature well below freezing in a meat-packing company to this unbearable heat of Texas, and he couldn’t find a desirable job here in San Antonio.
I thanked God many times that I had the faith and belief in Him that was given to me to carry me through these tough times. The road of trials and tribulations was beginning all over for us again, but this time in a barren land where it seldom rains. When it does rain, the wind comes along and the grueling sun parches the land and everything in it once again. My thoughts kept returning to California, the Land of Milk and Honey.
Traveling to the western section of Texas, we saw tiny towns with only one street with a store or two. Down the road stood a cattle pen where herds of cattle were driven to their destination to be picked up and loaded onto the freight trains going to the Chicago stockyards for slaughtering.
Tumbleweeds flew across the road when the winds blew and covered the little towns in a brown wrapping of dust. The scenes reminded me of old Western movies.
Texas stretches over a thousand miles from one side to the other and from top to bottom. It takes a full day to drive out of it. It was the largest state in the Union until it was surpassed by Alaska.
We had no money left to move back to California or Indiana. We felt stranded here and made the best of it for now. Soon John landed a job as a salesman for Libby Glass, a large company from the Midwest that had a small branch office in town. He sold hurricane lamps and all types of glassware. Everyone could use drinking glasses and household glassware, so we thought it would be a good job. John sold to small hardware and mercantile stores in West Texas. He saw it as a means to feed his family and survive.
John’s easy-going manner and honesty fit in beautifully with the Texas people. But his job required him to leave our house early Sunday mornings to travel out west for a week or more, leaving me with one baby and another on the way, then soon with two young babies to nurture. I said prayers for John’s safety daily and covered him in the armor of God.
"Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil. For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm." (Ephesians 6:10-13)
Putting on the spiritual armor of God prepares us for combat. We must fight the battle daily against those things that would keep us from having a strong marriage. Satan works hard to destroy the marriage bond and break up families. This passage of Ephesians reminded me that we can stand against the attacks and schemes of Satan by taking the whole armor of God as our defense. The armor is made up of truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, faith, salvation, and the sword of the Spirit.