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Chapter 29
BIBLE
WOMAN IN THE U.S.A.
When Armenians moved
en masse to America at the end of World War I, they had no church. Many of
them had been converted to Christ during the massacres and had entered into
a close relationship with the Lord. Initially they spent some time in
Aleppo and those who were able to do so, moved on to the U.S.A. Here they
found full freedom and opportunity to start their own fellowships. These
came to be known as Armenian Brotherhood churches. The brothers really ran
the affairs of the church; sisters were seen to have another role, mostly in
the family and church activities which men couldn’t manage. After her
mother-in-law died, Aneta was invited to visit California by her husband’s
young associate in evangelism, Isaac Paronakian. He had first come to
Philadelphia and then moved out to California, like most Armenians did. At
that time, Aneta’s health was rather weak, so she couldn’t accept the offer.
Her heavenly Father had a different plan for her.
Former minister of
Caesarea Mazaca (Kayseri), the Reverend Vahram Tahmizian, about whom mention
has already been made, moved to Fresno, California, where he started
evangelizing his own Armenian people. The result of his earnest efforts was
a Holy Spirit-inspired awakening. During this revival a large number of
Armenians were converted to Jesus Christ, some from among the old settlers
and many from the new. The result of this awakening was the establishment
of the Fresno Brotherhood Church, which was led by Vahram Tahmizian and his
able wife, Kalliopi. They also invited Aneta to California. She knew them
well and longed to be with them.
Now was the time to
visit the Golden State. Right at that time two young Armenian brothers were
traveling from California to Detroit to buy new cars and then visit Boston
to find their future wives from among their own people. To the delight of
the older one, he found a wife right away. But they had to wait until Labor
Day for the wedding, so his parents could come in from California to join
the party. They were a wealthy family, involved in rug-cleaning business in
Los Angeles. The parents arrived and the wedding duly took place on Labor
Day weekend, which coincided with the Armenian Brotherhood Bible
conference. After the wedding, they all drove to New York and from there to
Philadelphia. There they left the younger brother to look for his own
bride. Just before parting, the younger brother took Aneta’s hand in his
and said, “Sister Aneta, as you were at the wedding of my brother, I want
you also to be present at mine.” She promised him that she would be there.
So in the new car Aneta joined the just-married couple on their westward
trip. They made stops in Pittsburg and Akron, and finally arrived in
Chicago. Aneta told them that she wanted to stay on in Chicago and attend
Moody Bible Institute. She was accepted as a visiting foreign student, and
rented a small room in close proximity to the school. During her three
months’ residence in Chicago she attended every possible course, plus
evening school. She especially enjoyed long hours in the library and in the
bookstore. She often related that her time at Moody was one of the most
enriching exposures to Christian education.
There was a couple
in Waukegan, just north of Chicago, both converts of Haralambos. He was
from Adana and she from Tarsus. At seeing Aneta after so many years, they
were thrilled. They drove her around to visit their many Armenian friends in
the area and in Racine, Wisconsin. It was a useful time of evangelizing and
renewing old friendships. When the time of her stay in Chicago was drawing
to a close, a letter came from the younger Californian brother in
Philadelphia. In the meantime, he had found a lovely wife for himself and
they were soon to be married. They had decided to pass through Chicago so
they could take Aneta along with them to southern California. It was late
December when they started their journey on the historic Highway 66,
arriving in Los Angeles in early January, 1938. In those days when
journeying across the continent by car was a novelty, the colorful trip
impressed Aneta beyond measure, as it would any first-time traveler, even to
this day.
That was the
beginning of a two-year stay and ministry among Armenians in California.
She felt pretty much at home with friends who had known her husband and were
grateful for the couple’s ministry in Anatolia. Invitations poured in, so
many that she couldn’t accept them all. Sometimes, her stay in a given home
extended to many days where her loving hosts couldn’t bear to have her
leave. Aneta related a time of fellowship she had with Mrs. Charles Cowman,
writer of ‘Streams in the Desert.’ Aneta had already read her books,
in which she had found great comfort in her times of grief. When she
arrived in California, health-wise Aneta was weak. But she found relief and
restoration with all the love, hospitality and the wonderful climate.
Her time in
California was spent between the L.A. area and Fresno. She stayed seven
months in Fresno where she had an abundance of ministry opportunities. Aneta
became a widely sought speaker to women and young people. When she had left
Aintab with her mother-in-law she felt as if she were a forsaken young widow
tramping through difficult places, unsure of where she would ultimately
land. But how favorably things had changed in the meantime! God gave her
special strength to cheer and comfort many people who needed her loving
support. What she had received from Christians in the past, she was now
liberally giving to others. People would always tell her about the uplift
they had received from her husband’s books. What he had freely sown, she
was now reaping in abundance. As Christ said, “There were many widows in
Israel, but Elijah was sent to the one in Zarephath” (cf. Luke 4:26).
In California many friendships were established which continued till the end
of her life. Her husband’s love for young people and his ministry to them
had been abruptly cut off. Now Aneta had the opportunity to work among many
Armenian young people in California. They were especially excited to listen
to her first-hand experiences in their ancestral land. She had a good impact
on these first-generation Armenian-Americans who were living as Americans
and yet were very much Armenian in their culture and mindset.
Aneta’s two years in
California sped by like the fast-moving Santa-Fe train. She resolved to go
back East where people were asking her to return. Once again she stopped in
Chicago on her return trip, where she attended a six-week summer school
course at Moody Bible Institute. Eventually, she was back among friends in
Boston. One Sunday at church a man approached her, saying, “I am a new
creation in Christ Jesus. Your husband’s heroic testimony was a catalyst in
my life to receive Jesus.” He had been a missionary in Marash, nevertheless
lacking a personal encounter with the Savior. The sad events in that city
stirred him deeply, and brought him to consider the necessity of having a
personal relationship with Jesus. When all missionaries were compelled to
leave the country he returned to the United States. Now as a retired person
he was rejoicing in his concrete relationship to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Aneta related
another experience she had at a Bible conference in New York in 1940. A
stranger approached her and asked, “Are you Sister Aneta?” The Lord led
this Armenian woman to ask Aneta for counseling. She longed to be
reconciled to her daughter who didn’t even wish to hear her mother’s name.
Behind this agony was a distressing story. The family was extremely poor
upon their arrival in America. When the daughter was born as the fifth
child the mother was deathly sick. She had an aunt, a wealthy woman, who
had come to America earlier. She had no children of her own so she asked the
mother if she could adopt the little daughter. The parents consented, and
the girl officially became their child. In accordance with Anatolian
tradition, such dealings are kept secret from the child involved. Members
of the wider family are more-or-less sworn to secrecy. Of course, once in a
while, someone discloses this suppressed information and then a great crisis
ensues. The new parents assumed the role of real mother and father, and the
matter remained a classified item as far as the child was concerned. But
then the thing they all feared fell upon them. A certain relative who had a
fall-out with the parents took little Rose aside and divulged to her that
she was an adopted child and that her mom and dad in actuality were not her
real parents. Her birth mother had given her away because of poverty and her
being a girl!
The disclosure
plunged the eight-year old child into deep despair. She did not want to see
her real parents again, whom until then she had loved as aunt and uncle. The
damage was severe. It created havoc in the wider family circle. In the
meantime, the adoptive parents both died, one after the other. Rose was left
alone at sixteen. An Armenian priest had compassion on this little orphan
girl and introduced her to a wealthy family in Boston. They were his
friends from Anatolia. These people visited Rose. They liked her and
within a short time arranged a marriage with their son. But in spite of her
new-found happiness, the wounds of the past did not heal. One day her
mother-in-law confided to Aneta that all efforts to reconcile her to her own
parents had failed. She was hoping that Aneta could help. Rose, her
husband and family were residents of Watertown, Massachusetts, and
communicants of the Armenian Gregorian Church. At the suggestion of her
mother-in-law, Aneta went to visit Rose one day. She introduced herself and
said she was dropping by as a Bible woman. Surprisingly, Rose was very
pleased. As Aneta was leaving, she invited her to come again. The
encouragement was more than Aneta had anticipated.
Another call was
made in due time. Rose then invited her for dinner. Their friendship
developed, with conversations usually moving around personal faith in
Christ. Rose had a lovely baby daughter. During one of Aneta’s visits she
was literally pouring affection on her baby. The time had come to take the
initiative as the wise woman of Tekoa had done (cf. II Samuel 14).
“Rose,” Aneta
asked, “How much do you love your baby daughter?” She readily replied, “The
world on one side, my darling daughter on the other. She means everything to
me.” At this, Aneta proceeded, “Suppose you were very ill and the doctors
prognosticated your death. If I had come to you and promised to take
excellent care of your child would you have given her to me?” It was an
uncivil proposition, but Rose accepted it in a good spirit. “Naturally!” she
replied. Their conversation went on: “Assume you recovered, but the child
continued to stay with me for some reason. Then comes a busybody and tells
her, ‘Do you know that your mother gave you away because you were a girl and
she did not care for you?’ How would you feel?”
“Of course, it
would kill me!” she said. The point was made. “My dear Rose, this is
exactly the situation between you and your mother. I am here at her request
to bring an end to this sad ongoing predicament.” Until then Rose had
thought of Aneta merely as a Bible woman, without realizing her true mission
as conciliator. She broke down in sobs. Her grievance of long years was
overcome at last. The following Saturday, she and her husband drove to New
York City to visit her mother to be reconciled with her. Sometime later,
Rose gave her heart to the Lord. Aneta related that she received a deep
satisfaction from putting into practice the seventh beatitude, “Blessed
are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God” (Matt. 5:9).
Then World War II
broke out. What a disastrous repetition of history! On the eve of World War
I, Aneta was in Zinjidere, just before marrying Haralambos. World War I had
taken a heavy toll on her. In the years between the two wars she was
switching from country to country, finally finding her niche in the U.S.A.
America was now plunged into another quandary. It was to be bloodier than
WWI. Carnage and destruction were ahead.
Having returned to
Boston, Aneta felt a deep urge to serve her adoptive country in some way.
Seeing the great need among wounded soldiers, she volunteered as a nurse’s
aid in the Veterans’ Hospital. This heart-rending service went on for five
years. She witnessed much pain, misery and anguish. Daily she was
confronted with wounded, amputated, maimed, blinded, physically and
psychologically wrecked young men. Who could understand their grief and
sorrow in the prime of their lives? Miseries of the past in another land
were now being re-enacted. One could only cry, “Even so, come, Lord
Jesus!” (Rev. 22:20). The general rule in hospitals was that religion
could not be discussed with the patients. When she tried, she was informed,
“There are chaplains hired for this task.” But this was a difficult
regulation to observe in the midst of agony and grief. How could Aneta
minister to dying men without pointing them to the living Savior? She
longed to communicate the love of Jesus to these young men whose lives were
about to be snuffed out.
A young man with
severe wounds was at death’s door. He insistently asked for the Protestant
chaplain to minister to him, but he was nowhere to be found. The head nurse
was in a difficult situation. She had no choice but to grant Aneta official
authorization to assist him. The young fellow readily responded to the offer
of Christ and with quiet assurance passed into eternity. The head nurse, a
Roman Catholic, followed the whole procedure with deep interest.
When Aneta had made
her escape from Aintab, Turkey, with her mother-in-law on that dreadful
night, she was the young widow of a rejected and hung evangelist. But now in
the U.S.A. she was a much-loved and respected nurses’ aid, ministering to
desperately needy soldiers. She never initiated a conversation on spiritual
matters. However, she often heard the question: “Why are you so different
from the others? Why do you work so hard?” The wordless response was
self-evident. When she entered the ward in the morning soldiers would call
out, “Here comes the sunshine!” She answered them, saying, “I’m not
anything like sunshine, but I have the sunshine of the Lord Jesus Christ in
my heart. I am here to serve you with the love of Christ.” This way she
could leave a transparent witness for her beloved Savior. The pockets of
her uniform were full of Gospel portions and stories of encouragement from
real life. She always considered this service among such needy patients an
exciting experience. Aneta never joined any mission society nor
did she have a regular income. Throughout her stay in the U.S., her needs
were amply met through loving friends. She never made reference to money in
any of her meetings. Her reliance was entirely on her heavenly Father.
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