Both grandmothers were raised Amish. One grandmother stayed Amish, but not the "horse and buggy" kind. The other one left the Amish and joined the Mennonite church along with Grandpa, because he was being "shunned" according to the Amish custom. My parents were Mennonites, first in Oregon, where I was born in 1946, and then in Pennsylvania when they moved back when I was one year old.
Thanksgiving was a big deal with my Mennonite grandma. All the cousins, aunts and uncles (some were still Amish) got together under one roof of love and sat around a long kitchen table laden with Lydia's oyster stew, plates of sliced ham, turkey, fresh vegetables, cheese and crackers and bread. There was dessert of course -- usually pie. Grandpa Sam had bowls of cheese curls and other goodies sitting on the coffee table in their large living room for us kids. There was also a table set up in front of the fireplace in a different section of the living room; we cousins usually ate there. Christmas was also a big deal at their home, with gifts after the meal, lots of fun and laughter. She was always doing good deeds, giving and sharing with her neighbors. Even with Grandma Lydia's stuttering speech and crooked hip, she always had a smile and made her spacious, old Victorian style home a place to be treasured.
My Amish grandmother, Olive, made Christmas a very big deal. She wanted us cousins to put on skits about Joseph and Mary and the shepherds, and recite our Christmas poems or verses from our church programs. I remember I was in charge, since I was the oldest grandchild. I wrote the Christmas plays and assigned parts weeks in advance. On THE day, I helped my cousins dress up in bath towels and a sash for head gear, bathrobes, etc. Grandpa Claude tacked a bed sheet across the archway between the kitchen and large dining room. The adults, seated around the dining room table, were our audience. We were as nervous as anyone in a play on Broadway! :) Afterwards, everyone applauded; very liberal for an Amish family, don't you think? Afterwards, plates of candy, nuts, and cookies were set on the dining table. Grandpa Claude gave opportunity for anyone to share anything that was on their heart; then we'd have gifts.
Speaking of a grandmother's prayers, Grandma Ollie, as we called her, made a special impact on me. My Amish grandparents lived in a new "dawdi" house (grandfather's house) up the lane from the old farmhouse on Claude's farm where we lived. My dad worked the farm. He rented farm land in neighboring communities in order to have hay and other crops to sell. Several times when my dad and brothers were on the highway coming home on tractors with loads of hay and a severe thunderstorm came up, Ollie walked down to our house, and asked me to kneel in prayer with her as we prayed to God for their safety. They always arrived home safely. But they could tell you a few harrowing stories.
Since we lived on the farm with them, I naturally had more interaction with my Amish grandmother. Grandma Ollie was the one who first noticed that I had given my life to Jesus. I was eleven years old. I hadn't told anyone what had happened a few weeks earlier. I had been listening to "Radio Kids Bible Class" with J.C. Brumfield on a Sunday morning while the rest were still getting ready for church. I responded to Brumfield's invitation to receive the salvation Jesus offered, but didn't tell anyone. Grandma Ollie was the one who asked me, "You've become a Christian, haven't you?" I was so surprised. "Yes," I said, "it's true; how did you know?" She replied, "I could just tell," and smiled at me. She never judged me for dressing differently from her, but always gave me unconditional love. Grandma Ollie gave out tracts and wrote to the lonely and sick.
"Thank You, God, for Grandma Lydia and Grandma Ollie. Jesus, would you please say 'Hello' to them in Heaven for me and tell them I miss and love them? Amen".
Copyright © 2011 Elaine Beachy
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