My mother was a fantastic cook, and every year when it was time to celebrate my birthday, she asked me what I wanted for my special birthday meal. My favorite was a tangy, lemon-pepper chicken with crispy skin and baked acorn squash with butter and brown sugar that spilled onto the plate. But my absolute favorite part of the meal was my birthday cake. My mother made the best chocolate sheath cake with pecans. It was always moist and straight out of the oven, a true melt-in-your-mouth experience. I loved it, but most of all, I loved being treated like a princess and feeling cherished on my birthday.

   Unfortunately, not everyone experienced happy birthdays as a child. Donilee didn’t. If you’ve followed previous posts, you know that Donilee grew up in an Old Order Amish family. The Amish upheld certain values that downplayed birthdays. They believed that celebrating them was a form of vanity and not considered godly. They also believed that spending money on gifts was wasteful. In Donilee’s house gifts were chosen for their use value. When her birthday arrived, her family did nothing to make it special. Furthermore, she had to share her birthday with her younger brother, Ronnie, who was born on August 16^th, the same day as her. Ronnie received most of the attention.

Photo Courtesy of ©IStockphoto.com/JonathanLesage

   The August days were long, and Donilee’s whole family worked on the farm until dark before coming in for dinner. The typical celebration started after supper, which was often after 8:30. After supper, their parents brought out one birthday cake with both their names on it and gave a gift to each child. Donilee received a hair brush one year. Another year she got a linoleum rug for her bedroom.

   Donilee dreamed of a pair of jeans. If other girls in her classroom were allowed to wear jeans, why couldn’t she? Donilee was required to wear dark, shapeless dresses that her mother made for her. She hated them. They got in the way when she tried to climb fences and more so when she mounted a horse. Amish women were prohibited from showing their ankles, so mounting a horse modestly in a long dress was close to impossible. Donilee made it a mission to change that.

   Early one summer, prior to her twelfth birthday, she read through the Sears catalog, which she LOVED. It opened her eyes to everything imaginable: shovels, hoes, combines, nails, hinges, and other farm implements. It gave her a window to the world outside of the Amish community. Her favorite section of the catalog featured Jeans. She envied the girls who could wear pants, and she always felt that her brothers were lucky to get to wear jeans. She developed a plan to order a pair of jeans, saving her coins from candling and washing eggs.

   Donilee knew that when the new catalog arrived, the old one was relegated to the outhouse as toilet paper. She knew her parents wouldn’t miss an old order form, so she tore it out of the catalog and saved it. After carefully measuring herself for waist, length, and inseam, she addressed a big envelope from her grandfather’s desk and carefully enclosed her coins with the order form and mailed it. She was so excited! She was finally going to own jeans and be able to do the wonderful things the boys could do. She would be able to climb trees and ride the horses without worrying about showing her ankles. She felt powerful.

   Donilee sneaked down the long lane from her house trying not attract the attention of her family while she waited near the mailbox. She stood guard from behind a bush for two weeks because she couldn’t take the chance that someone else would discover her package. The special day arrived. The postman placed the package in the large mail box. As soon as he left, she ran to get her jeans, leaving the rest of the mail in the box. She ran up the lane as fast as she could and entered the large red barn behind the house. She went straight to the straw mound, her secret hiding place in the barn, and opened her package.

   There they were! Her shiny, dark blue jeans arrived, and she couldn’t wait to try them on. This was a new experience for her. She wasn’t expecting them to feel tight or to have to suck in her tummy to zip the fly, but she didn’t care. What mattered was that she had jeans. While she got accustomed to how they felt, a thought occurred to her. Where am I going to wear them? The answer came quickly. The horses wouldn’t know the difference.

   Donilee wore the jeans under her long skirt, hiding them. She rode horses every day in the far back field where no one could see her. After chores and supper were done, she would slip out to the barn, find her burlap bag containing her tightly rolled up jeans in the straw mound, and put them on under her skirt. She had set up hay bales in a line to practice barrel racing, going in and out between the bales in tight figure eights as fast as she could. Riding horses with her jeans gave her great pleasure throughout the summer. In order not to be caught, she avoided dismounting her horse close to the house. But one evening she wasn’t so careful. She was on her horse when she rode past her mother. Her jeans showed clearly against the top of her brogans in the stirrups.

   “Get off that horse now,” her mother directed. “What is it that you’re wearing, Donilee?”

   “Nothing, Ma’am,” Donilee replied. “I was just exercising the horse, Mother.”

   “Don’t ever lie to me, Donilee,” her mother said sternly. “Put that horse away and come into the house. And bring that garment with you. Your father must be told about this.” Her mother turned and stormed toward the house. Donilee returned the horse to the barn, took off her jeans, and entered the house.

   “Sit here, Donilee,” her mother said, pointing to a wooden stool in the corner. “You will wait until your father returns.” When her father finally arrived, her mother flew into him.

   “Your daughter has been wearing pants. Boys’ pants! Under her skirts. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I just don’t understand her queer ways. I think she is queer now with those jeans. I’ve tried to rear her right and show her how to dress and behave, yet she mocks me. What if someone saw her?! I can’t take any more of this.” Her mother ran out of breath and stood staring at her father. Her father approached Donilee and took the jeans and held them up.

   “What is this, Donilee? Where did you get these? Who gave them to you?” her father asked.

   “I bought them with my own money from the Sears catalog,” Donilee said, almost defiantly. While her father examined the jeans, she grew angry. “It’s not fair! My brothers get to wear pants. They can ride and climb and do their chores much easier than I can. Skirts get in the way. They are heavy and they get dirty…” She would have continued, but her father interrupted her.

   “Where were you hiding the jeans? When were you wearing them?” he asked angrily. Donilee told him everything.

   “I cannot stand this child any longer,” her mother began. “Her behavior is unacceptable. How can I hold up my head in public? What if the neighbors had seen her?”

   “It will be all right, LoisAnn. I will take care of it,” he said as he put his arm around her shoulders. “Donilee, go to your room.”

   Donilee tried to take her jeans as she left for her room, but her father grabbed them. A few minutes later, she heard her father’s footsteps as he neared her room. As soon as he walked in, he took off his belt. He grabbed her shoulder and held her tightly so she couldn’t move. “Whap!” She felt the sting of his belt across her back. He kept whaling away with the belt while tears streamed down her face. Donilee stayed strong on the inside. She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of making her cry. Finally it was over. Her father quietly put his belt on. “You are shunned,” he said.

   When August 16th arrived, four weeks later – the birthday she shared with her brother – the family ate together, but did not include Donilee in their conversation. When her mother brought out the birthday cake, Ronnie’s was the only name on it. She was crushed. No one spoke to her, nor did they give her a gift. She was non-existent to her family.

   Donilee’s intense pain has not lessened over the years. She hated birthday cake from that day forward. She was so hurt by her family that she has refused to celebrate her birthday with cake for the last 50 years – until this year.

   Donilee became a Christian on April 7^th, which is when she chose to be adopted and join the family of God. She has experienced His love and acceptance like she’s never experienced before. God has been transforming her heart and has helped her to be more open about her story. She now shares her past without feeling shame. Instead, she experiences healing because she is surrounded by her loving Christian family who pours out their love for her.

   Today is Donilee’s birthday. Upon her request, she is letting me celebrate with her favorite birthday cake, a chocolate mayonnaise cake! She agreed to let me take her to lunch and bring her the birthday cake. She didn’t know I was planning a surprise birthday party with the women from our Sunday School class.

   Twenty three ladies showed up for Donilee’s surprise birthday party. We wanted her to experience an outpouring of our love for her within her new family of God. We wanted her to know what it was like to be treated like a princess. We prayed that the Holy Spirit would prepare her heart for all of the love she was going to receive because we knew it might overwhelm her. She has never asked for attention, so we prayed that the Lord would help her to receive our love and affection for her. After all, she is our sister! We committed to create a happy memory with her favorite cake with people who love, respect, and adore her on her first birthday as a Christian. We desire to be the healthy family she’s always wanted. Praise God that He has brought healing in her heart to be open to this! Donilee found the “Happy” in Happy Birthday: 

Donilee’s Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake

From the Rinehart family to the ROYAL family

 Happy Birthday, Donilee! You are LOVED, Sister!

This post was written with the permission and blessing of Donilee.

Blessings,

Lee Ann