Generosity and Redemption
Today at our Labor Day picnic, during the short morning program before the meal, Mark Nissley told what he knows of the story of his mother's childhood. She was born in Poland in 1943, and, because her parents were ethnically partly German, they were later forcibly resettled in Germany. Mark did not elaborate on this, but this apparently happened in an effort to leave each of the European countries as homogeneous as possible after the war. The presence of Germans scattered in various other countries was seen as a destabilizing influence, and the Allies wanted to insure that the Germans would not cause unrest. So they sent them "home." Only it wasn't that at all. It was forcing them away from home.
Mark's grandfather (Opa)* had only two hour's notice before his family was to vacate their farm home in Poland. He hitched his two best oxen to a wagon and opened the gates to the livestock pens and the doors to the feed rooms so that the remaining livestock might survive, and his family was off in the wagon. There was a two-week old baby girl in the family, and the food was so scarce and the stress was so great that the baby's mother had no milk for her baby. The baby survived on coffee during the two-week trip. Mark's mother was perhaps four years old.
When the family arrived in Germany, they were among many thousands (millions perhaps) who came at nearly the same time and had no place to go, and no means of supporting themselves. The government in Germany (Allied personnel maybe) requisitioned the property of German citizens to provide homes for the immigrants. It worked something like this: A German landowner who had two houses was ordered to have one of them vacated, and the empty house was then given to an immigrant family. Understandably, the landowner was not pleased with the new arrangement and in Mark's mother's family's case, retaliated by making life miserable for the new family.
The family nearly starved in Germany. The stealing Mark's mother did in order to help her family survive still brings her great shame. At night she sneaked into the farmer's chicken house and took eggs. The farmer, however, had craftily placed fake eggs in some of the nests, and when those disappeared, he became suspicious. The little girl who had crept in through the small door through which the chickens entered and exited the chicken house would take the fake eggs back, but she didn't always remember where she had gotten them, and the farmer noticed that they'd been moved. He put an end to the little girl's egg gathering.
The farmer also lay in wait and pounced on her when she picked cherries from a tree that leaned over the path she took to school every day. In season, she stopped, morning and evening, and ate the few cherries within her reach. That wasn't allowed either.
Her brothers removed a few nuts and bolts from the farm machinery they had access to, and sold it to the man who came by regularly to collect scrap metal. This practice grew until the farmer noticed that too and put a stop to it.
Mark's mother and her sister helped the family another way. They went to the baker in town and asked for bread. He reminded them that they still owed money for bread he had given them earlier. They acknowledged their outstanding debt, and then he added one more loaf to their account and gave them bread. They were so hungry that by the time they arrived home, they had picked off and eaten most of the crust of the loaf.
On several occasions, the farmer violently beat someone in Mark's mother's family. Once it was her mother (Oma), who had severe bruises afterward on her head and her upper body. A brother was caught in a stairwell and had his head banged hard against the wall.
When Mark's mother was about twelve, the family was relocated again--to Espelkamp, to a former army barracks that had been made into apartments for refugees. At Espelkamp, MCC provided relief rations to the refugees, and the family was very grateful.
Eventually Mark's mother came to America and attended Bible school here. Ira, Mark's father, met her there and they were married later. Afterward she returned again to Germany to get her paperwork in order. I didn't understand for sure whether she went there alone or whether the newly married couple went there together. After 13 months, they were together in America again and, to my knowledge, have lived ever since in northern Indiana.
Mark described his mother as being very generous with others who have a need. She loves to provide food for others, and keeps a well-stocked kitchen. He observed that it's almost as if she sees this as a self-appointed redemption--to pay for the times when she stole food. We hear this and feel only sorrow for the child who lived that nightmare, and carries scars from it.
Mark also notes that the baker who never denied those hungry little girls bread in spite of a growing outstanding debt reminds him that all of us have opportunities and obligations to show generosity toward others. All of us are in need of redemption too, and owe a debt we can never repay.
Having these things to think about on Labor Day added value to an informal day of relaxing, playing, and socializing. It was a good "ordinary" celebration.
**********************
Several years ago, Labor Day in our community was a sad day. Seth Miggiani (12) had been killed in an accident the day before, and Cedar Crest canceled their Labor Day festivities. At our before-lunch service at Center, all those near his age gathered at the front of the sanctuary and we prayed for them together.
These memories make me extra glad for an "ordinary" Labor Day observance.
***********************
*Opa means grandfather and Oma means grandmother.
Mark's grandfather (Opa)* had only two hour's notice before his family was to vacate their farm home in Poland. He hitched his two best oxen to a wagon and opened the gates to the livestock pens and the doors to the feed rooms so that the remaining livestock might survive, and his family was off in the wagon. There was a two-week old baby girl in the family, and the food was so scarce and the stress was so great that the baby's mother had no milk for her baby. The baby survived on coffee during the two-week trip. Mark's mother was perhaps four years old.
When the family arrived in Germany, they were among many thousands (millions perhaps) who came at nearly the same time and had no place to go, and no means of supporting themselves. The government in Germany (Allied personnel maybe) requisitioned the property of German citizens to provide homes for the immigrants. It worked something like this: A German landowner who had two houses was ordered to have one of them vacated, and the empty house was then given to an immigrant family. Understandably, the landowner was not pleased with the new arrangement and in Mark's mother's family's case, retaliated by making life miserable for the new family.
The family nearly starved in Germany. The stealing Mark's mother did in order to help her family survive still brings her great shame. At night she sneaked into the farmer's chicken house and took eggs. The farmer, however, had craftily placed fake eggs in some of the nests, and when those disappeared, he became suspicious. The little girl who had crept in through the small door through which the chickens entered and exited the chicken house would take the fake eggs back, but she didn't always remember where she had gotten them, and the farmer noticed that they'd been moved. He put an end to the little girl's egg gathering.
The farmer also lay in wait and pounced on her when she picked cherries from a tree that leaned over the path she took to school every day. In season, she stopped, morning and evening, and ate the few cherries within her reach. That wasn't allowed either.
Her brothers removed a few nuts and bolts from the farm machinery they had access to, and sold it to the man who came by regularly to collect scrap metal. This practice grew until the farmer noticed that too and put a stop to it.
Mark's mother and her sister helped the family another way. They went to the baker in town and asked for bread. He reminded them that they still owed money for bread he had given them earlier. They acknowledged their outstanding debt, and then he added one more loaf to their account and gave them bread. They were so hungry that by the time they arrived home, they had picked off and eaten most of the crust of the loaf.
On several occasions, the farmer violently beat someone in Mark's mother's family. Once it was her mother (Oma), who had severe bruises afterward on her head and her upper body. A brother was caught in a stairwell and had his head banged hard against the wall.
When Mark's mother was about twelve, the family was relocated again--to Espelkamp, to a former army barracks that had been made into apartments for refugees. At Espelkamp, MCC provided relief rations to the refugees, and the family was very grateful.
Eventually Mark's mother came to America and attended Bible school here. Ira, Mark's father, met her there and they were married later. Afterward she returned again to Germany to get her paperwork in order. I didn't understand for sure whether she went there alone or whether the newly married couple went there together. After 13 months, they were together in America again and, to my knowledge, have lived ever since in northern Indiana.
Mark described his mother as being very generous with others who have a need. She loves to provide food for others, and keeps a well-stocked kitchen. He observed that it's almost as if she sees this as a self-appointed redemption--to pay for the times when she stole food. We hear this and feel only sorrow for the child who lived that nightmare, and carries scars from it.
Mark also notes that the baker who never denied those hungry little girls bread in spite of a growing outstanding debt reminds him that all of us have opportunities and obligations to show generosity toward others. All of us are in need of redemption too, and owe a debt we can never repay.
Having these things to think about on Labor Day added value to an informal day of relaxing, playing, and socializing. It was a good "ordinary" celebration.
**********************
Several years ago, Labor Day in our community was a sad day. Seth Miggiani (12) had been killed in an accident the day before, and Cedar Crest canceled their Labor Day festivities. At our before-lunch service at Center, all those near his age gathered at the front of the sanctuary and we prayed for them together.
These memories make me extra glad for an "ordinary" Labor Day observance.
***********************
*Opa means grandfather and Oma means grandmother.
posted by Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige) at
4:54 PM
1 Comments:
One of my daughter-in-laws calls her grandmother, Oma, as she is a first generation German immigrant. (Her grandfather is a first generation Croatian immigrant.) Both are the only members of their family to come to America.
By
Mary A. Miller, at 9/03/2013
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