She was born the fifth of ten children in a log cabin on the edge of a small Indiana town in an section called “can hill”. The “hill” was made by the cans and other things people discarded there. Eventually, the dump was covered with dirt and abandoned, making it cheap land for those who couldn’t afford more appealing real estate.
Eventually, the family was able to move to Inisdale where Lela grew up next to the little white United Brethren church, and even as little as Burl and Addie Hartwell had, Lela would see them take out a loan on their tiny house more than once to keep open the doors of that church. In 1934 it would be in that church she would marry George Gaither.
George and Lela’s 50th Anniversary
Together Lela and George had four children, one of whom would be still born, a heartbreaking event that would forever hollow out a tender space in Lela’s heart for all children.
I came to know her when I fell in love with her oldest son while I was still a college junior. He was teaching English at the Alexandria High School where I was called to substitute for a French teacher who was out for six weeks for cancer surgery; we met in the school hallway. As we began to develop a relationship, Bill invited me to the farmhouse where he grew up and still lived.
I don’t remember exactly what they were doing that Saturday, but Lela welcomed me and insisted I stay for dinner before Bill took me back to the college. I’m pretty sure we had beef roast and the green beans she had canned the summer before, followed by a pie from the cherries she had also “put up” for the winter.
Little did I know then that Lela would become a second mother to me and a grandmother to our three children, the first of whom was born in the little house across the driveway that we rented from George and Lela and where Bill and I began our married life.
That first year I learned that George had a huge garden which produced such a bounty that many a summer day I spent with Lela at the picnic table under the red maples breaking beans, shelling peas, peeling peaches, or pitting cherries for her to can. By summer’s end the shelves in the basement of their house would be filled with Ball jars full of provisions for winter. And all summer Bill and I would “pick our supper” from that amazing garden.
Lela making egg noodles
The second December in our little rented house, Suzanne was born. She immediately became a magnet that drew Bill’s parents and grandparents. George would pop in often to get Suzanne and walk her around the yard or take her for rides on the tractor with him as he worked the field or mowed the grass.
Suzanne was a colicky baby, and I can’t tell you how many times I called Lela at 2:00 am to take a shift rocking her after I had exhausted all the tricks I knew to get her to stop crying. Lela would come across the driveway in the dark, meet me at our kitchen door, and take Suzanne in her soft arms. Ten minutes in the rocker, and Lela would have that baby quieted and fast asleep.
Lela and Amy
Lela was a lover—a lover of children, the cool breeze in the maple trees, and her George. She found joy in “fixin’” a great meal, canning beautiful vegetables and fruits, listening to her three kids sing around the piano, and watching the sun rise over the misty fields and meadows behind their house. She never saw a child she couldn’t love, a bouquet of flowers that wasn’t beautiful, or a neighbor that wasn’t welcome. She gave each of her children a love for music, an appreciation of each day’s blessings, a joy in simple things, and a tender heart.
Lela’s last Christmas
She spent her life “being there”, a gift philosophers tell us is one of the greatest gifts of all. And although at the end, memory loss robbed her of some details of recent events, she was very present that last Christmas Eve. So that we could all come together at George’s and her house as we always had, her granddaughter Becky had learned from her how to make all of her best dishes; we girls decorated her house and Christmas tree the way she always had with multicolored lights and foil icicles. The great-grandbabies Jesse, Will, and Lee were piled on her lap on the couch draped with the soft hand-crocheted throw she loved to cover them with for naptime.
Four generations: Suzanne, Gloria, Amy and Lela with Suzanne’s baby, Will (the first great-grand baby)
We all opened presents, then her Gaither Trio--Bill, Danny, and Mary Ann--gathered around (with her grandson Benjy playing the guitar) to sing all her favorite songs.
By the fire at Thanksgiving
After we all helped clean up the food and gift wrappings, we went to our separate homes, while George helped her into her flannel gown and got her to bed. Little did we know that two days later we would be together again to plan her funeral which would be at the little white United Brethren Church that had been such a part of her life.
Bill would welcome those who also chose to “be there” to celebrate her life. We would all sing “The Unclouded Day” and “Does Jesus Care?”. In their own ways the grandchildren would pay tribute to her for being there for each of them. Her Danny would sing (as only he could) “It Is Well with My Soul.” And Benjy would play and sing “Hold to God’s Unchanging Hand”. We all knew that she was, indeed, doing just that. And that she was the one thanking her Jesus for “being there” all her life long.
