That Dirty Thing

For my final Amish post and my first Roma post I would like to overlap the two. You might think that to be quite a stretch. But trust me, they have more in common than one might imagine. Especially as it pertains to the Papal State.

The Amish

Church is quickly approaching. Not our Sunday, but the day when the Amish will celebrate church at Melvin and Rachel's. It is a very big deal. Everyone from their district will be coming to their home. (Recall church is not a building to them. As many times as I have stated it I hope we all know, you can't go to church 'cos the church is you!) To avoid the confusion, they do not build structures for church. They celebrate Sabbath within their district at homes. And this is no small gathering. There are likely to be 80-120 people including children. (The children sit with their parents for three hours of service. While the young ones, under three, may walk back and forth once or twice between parents, they are silent. Miraculous!) Every thing must be shipshape for church though. A thorough spring cleaning of sorts, no matter what the season. Neighbors will come by to help clean; ceilings washed, every stitch of laundry must be done, floor scrubbed, cobwebs removed... etc. And I am not just talking about the house. Barns too must be spit polished. The men will greet one another with a Holy Kiss just outside the barns, and horses must be unhitched from buggies and tied in the barns. Melvin is an even more meticulous "housekeeper" than Rachel, so he gives me "Webster" and tells me I should get the cobwebs out of the barn in my free moments. I have not seen one of those since I arrived. Most of us have not grown up on a farm, but I will tell you his request seemed unattainable and I would have been incredulous had anyone but Melvin ask. But...I began to de-web the barn. There were webs in the rafters, webs on the beams, webs in the mangers, and webs in the seems, webs in the grain bins, webs with the cows, webs in the buckets and webs in their chow. Okay, I am done rhyming.  A 10X10 area takes me one hour. I begin to calculate. The barn is 40 by 70. That is 2800 square feet and there were two floors, which equals  5600 Sq. Divided by 100 equals...I will be webbing until Jesus returns. I am singing my own working song under my breath and the words were not happy! I am relieved when Melvin comes in and says he has another job for me that is higher priority. Now we were talking. I will be moving out of the Web Department (not an IT reference) into bigger and better things; stuff more consonant with my character, more structured to my station.

"Keith, I need you to power wash the milking house."

Imagine a place where cows enter each day and splatter the walls with unmentionable things. It's walls are caked with manure. The pipes are crusted with crud. But power wash I will. Inch by inch, section by section. I learn one valuable lesson in the process. You know that thing so many of us do when we stick your tongue out while we are concentrating on a task? Do not do this while power washing a barn full of cow manure. Just sayin'. By the time I am done the place is immaculate.

Then 4:40 comes. The cows are lining up for milking.

Don't miss this! My first thought is, "You are not going to bring those filthy cows in my clean barn!"

The Vatican

Thick walls surround the 110 acres of Vatican City. It is the home of the Pope and it is the smallest independent state. Yes, it is a nation unto itself. Don't get me wrong, I will comment on many wonders and wanders of this place, but the first thing that struck me as we come to this place is that it is a fortress against all things external. It takes a ticket, or an audience to get in. 

The Church

I don't know what you were like before you came to understand the forgiveness that Jesus bought with His Blood on the Cross, But I think Romans 3:23 sums it up. We all come in the same way; filthy, hard core sinners. If you don't believe that, if you think maybe you were not so bad, than maybe you have not yet truly embraced your nature.

But here is the irony. As soon as we come into our relationship with Christ we start to attend church. We "clean up" our act. We cut out the language, the habits, the activities and often times even the people of our past. The manure so to speak. We enter a church building and we start cleaning up the place too; pretty carpet, comfortable seating, clean nurseries, and people just like us - forgiven, but cleaned up. We suddenly forget why it is we exist. We, the redeemed, exist for the filthy not for the clean. We exist to dirty the place up again with sinners who use language foreign to us now, to smells on clothing we have purged, to lifestyles unrepentant and unredeemed. Instead we build fortresses. The church is not ours, it is theirs. It is built to bring Good News to lost people. So why do we ignore them, shun them, buttress our lives against them? 

The Amish

The first cow waddles down the chute, her udders are full. It is milking time. And I realize this place is hers not mine. My work was preparation for her, not a cloister against her.

Matthew 9:37-38

New International Version (NIV)

³⁷ Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. ³⁸ Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers (ME)into his harvest field.”

Get To

From Keith,
To the Congregation.
Mark 6:31 “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”


We have come to the end of our Amish Homestay. It is  Sunday morning. Chores are finished. I am standing at the gate looking at the empty horse stalls. One thought flashes through my mind and it becomes a hinge of the early days of the sabbatical. As I am standing there, the thought comes to my mind; "In just a few minutes I get to feed the horses, then hitch them to the buggy to go to church." I realize I used the word "get to" in my thoughts and I realize it has more to do with horses than it has to do with the time of worship in which I will participate. It is a journey into some soul searching that I know I will not enjoy, but I realize it is part of sabbatical.

Part one:
I tend to turn everything I do into work. Everything becomes a "have to." This permeates every part of my life. I work at my work. I work at my hobbies. I work at my relationships. I work at parenting. I work at my exercise. I work at my worship.... I turn it all into "have to." I have to tell you. I don't know how to "get to", but I know it is something I want to learn. In fact it is something I believe God is asking me to learn. I am only at the beginning of this. I am a child in it. I would even entertain your insights. I know some of you who seemingly know how to do this.

Part two:
I used "get to" about horses and not about worship. When I realized what I had just done, a song rushed into my mind. Read these words as you listen to the tune and renew your heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeAwBmb_x28

Meal Time

Mealtime....

As for me and my house....We will serve the Lord.      Joshua 24:15

Most Amish families are large, and our Amish family was no exception.  Rachel and Melvin have been married 22 years and have 8 children, 3 girls and 5 boys.  Their firstborn daughter, Eva is 21, and still lives at home only on the weekends. The next two children are boys, ages 20 and 19.  They both have jobs away from the farm, so their time at home is limited.  They have paid their dues at this working farm, and now are busy starting their lives out from under Mom and Dad.

We became close to the younger 5 children.  Their ages were 15, 13, 11, 9 and 6.  Rachel called them her second family, because of the 4 year gap between her 3rd and 4th child.  

All 8 children were born at home, with a midwife present for 5, the other 3 were delivered by their father.  The youngest weighed 11 pounds.  I told her she was "the woman!".

As a mother of 4, I could only imagine what meal time must be like for this large family.  I was quite interested in seeing how this all worked for them.
Upon entering Rachel's beautiful, newly remodeled kitchen, (of course, Amish custom built) it was quite evident this room was the hub of the house. I didn't know how  primitive the kitchen would be,  however to my pleasant surprise, there was running hot and cold water, a propane powered refrigerator, and a gas range.  A large modern island sat 3 feet away from the kitchen sink.  The cabinets were beautiful oak, and enough counter space to have 3 working stations.
It didn't take me very long to realize the kitchen was the place where Mom heard about the day at school, looked at school papers, served a snack, or placed a bandage on a sore foot or toe.  (Remember Amish children generally don't wear shoes.  They only wear them in the winter and to church on Sunday. Bandages are a regular part of the daily routine.) 

On the other side of the island was a very long dining room table that could easily sit 16 people. With the three additional leaves it would seat 24.  It was covered with a blue and white gingham tablecloth.  This would be where we would spend some of the most valuable family time.

Each child had a chore to help Mom get breakfast on the table.  Setting the table with dishes, and silverware, cups (placed upside down), a pitcher of cold water, and fresh, organic, whole milk was always on the table first.  Food was placed, and everyone took their seat, Dad at the head of the table, Mom to his right, boys to the left side of the table, and girls on the right next to Mom. No one started dipping food early, it was very important that each family member wait for our Scripture and devotion time.  Everyone in the house at that time was present.  Keith and I followed suit.


Before every meal we had devotions.  Except at lunch time....then it was silent prayers.  We were asked by Melvin to kneel on the floor next to our chairs or bench to hear the reading of scriptures in High German.  We ended our scripture time with the Lord's Prayer in English.  This was in favor for their English guests.  The language spoken in their home is Pennsylvania Dutch, which is a combination of German and Dutch.  Every child and adult spoke English fluently.  Sometimes they would confuse a German word for an English word, and family members would giggle. But, the minute Keith started his visit, English was spoken instead of the German/Dutch language, out of respect for their guest.

After kneeling for devotions, everyone took their seats, and we had another moment of silence, asking for Blessings for our meal.  Not a word was spoken. No "Amen" was uttered.  But, we all knew when the prayer time was over.  Movement began.
Breakfast was quieter than dinner or lunch time.  Five o' clock am is pretty early, and sleepy eyes were still heavy. 

Each morning we had homemade granola, fresh whole unpasteurized milk, Keith's cinnamon rolls, and coffee.  Everyone from 6 years to 55 years would drink the steaming cups of coffee, with real cream and sugar.

Dad and Mom would talk about the upcoming day.  What work had to be done, and what time lunch would be due to the schedule.  The children would add their comments.  At the end of the meal, we lowered our heads for a silent prayer, giving thanks for the meal, and asked blessings for the day. 

The children grabbed their headlights. Jacob, the 15 year old, grabbed his boots, and headed for the barn.  His 13 year old sister Roseanne would follow, only in barefeet.  Their jobs were to milk the cows that were patiently waiting.  Udders full, the Mamma cows would follow the routine and file into  the milking room.  The job would take around 1 hour.  This happened two times a day....5:00am, and 5:00 pm.
On school days 4 of the 5 children would hurry up to their rooms after their chores were done in the early morning. They would clean up and put their school clothes on.  The 6 year old didn't have chore time yet.  His age would graduate him to his own chores the coming year.  He is Rachel and Melvin's last child at home for another year.  His day consists of hanging with Dad, and under Mom's foot.  The farm is his playground, and he knows every crook and cranny.   

Dinnertime was about the same......kneeling, devotions, scripture reading, silent prayer, and then eating.  However, the noise level was much different.  This was time to talk about the day, and the activities.  Nothing was off limits, and each child contributed in the conversation.
Each evening I was there we stayed at the table an extra long time to just talk.  The kids never fussed to leave the table, they all participated in the conversation.  Laughter, joking, and teasing were a big part of this time.  Keith told his "hippo" story one of the nights before I got there.  They all laughed and teased about it.  Rachel was afraid she would have the younger two boys up in the middle of the night with nightmares.

On Friday evening we had a "campfire" behind the barn at their summer cabin.  It was a room that had been taken off the back of the house for the remodeling to be done.  Melvin and the boys had been working to make it a place for the kids to go and "camp" out.  It could also serve as a summer kitchen.
Rachel built a fire in their homemade fire pit, and we all settled around the warmth of the fire, eating hamburgers, chips, and s'mores.  Melvin told his stories that night.  The children would cheer him on, remembering stories that Dad had told in the past.  They wanted us to hear them as well.  It was a glimpse into a warm and loving family.  I almost felt like I was invading in this personal time with all of them.  But, that soon left with the laughter.

The first night I joined them around the dinner table,the meal consisted of Amish Swiss Cheese, Homemade Deer Summer Sausage, Crackers, Fruit Slushie (home grown peaches in sugar and cinnamon, frozen),and home grown jalapeno peppers, stuffed with a cream cheese mixture, rolled in cracker crumbs and baked.
Another evening we had left overs from two big lunches.  Fried potato patties, fried chicken, green beans, fresh corn, and homemade bread.  By the way....we never had chicken on the day of the "chicken kill".  But, that is another post......

This family was special.  They all loved each other very much.  They worked and laughed together.  Their meal time felt like a sitcom around the 1950's.  Sort of made me sad that most families don't make that special time anymore.
I have always loved family around the dinner table.  When our kids were younger we made sure that was an important part of our day.  No Television, No radio, and limited phone calls.  I grew up in a household the same way.  Those are some of my fondest memories with my brothers and my parents.

It was an honor to be a part of this special time with this family. They made us feel so welcome.
It felt a little bit like home, their mealtimes were much more than just eating......

Delaine       

    

   

His hands on the Reins

From Keith,
To the Congregation.
Mark 6:31 “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

I am driving a team of horses. This is the high point of the week for me.

Melvin ask me yesterday if I wanted to drive. "Definitely yes," I did not hesitate. Today King is acting up in the hitch. He throws his head, scoots sideways, rears up. Cars are so much more predictable. The events with David grind the uncertainty of working with horses into my mind. I am about to reevaluate my choice when Melvin tells me I can drive Doc and Jake. This is the hitch his Father is driving. They are as mellow as you can get. I breath a sigh of relief. He gives me a crash course in driving a two horse hitch. I will be  pulling the rake for turning the hay into windows for baling. The most harrowing moment is as we approach the end of the row. You drive the horses right up to the four strand barbwire fence then guide them left with word and rein commands. They are neither used to my voice or my hands on the reins. Melvin's hands are flawless. His voice is so calming yet firm. Horses can sense the nervousness in the reins and voice. Cars are so much less finicky.

Melvin hops off at the turn. I take the reins.

I saw the reins back and forth at first; turn right, turn left. Doc is steady, but Jake is getting frustrated.  "Make up your mind. left or right!" I begin to settle in and just ride. I watch the hooves kick the hay along the row. The leather creaks and the chains jingle. There is a song in the rhythm. The Amish sing working songs from the moment they enter the barn throughout the day. Sometimes they are sung in full voice, sometimes just underneath their breath. Of course they sing in Pennsylvania Dutch, but I find myself singing. Then crying.

Driving the hitch has a deeper meaning than just horses and hay for me.

Growing up, Dad would talk about Sally and Jack. They were a pair of mules he drove on their farm. He would regale us with stories of their antics. Stories of super horse pulling abilities and quirky personality traits. He would raise up his hands, mock holding the reins of the ancient stories. I sat enraptured at the tales.

I look down at my own hands holding the reins of my team. They are wrinkled, weathered, aging hands. I have my father's hands.

He passed three years ago. He guided more than horses through life; his voice reassuring, his hands firm and sure. Never a perfect man, but still a hero.

Running Late

Running Late?

September 13, 2012
From: Delaine

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  Phillipians 4:6

It was 11:00 am.  I was suppose to be on the road at 10:00am heading to Napanee, Indiana to meet Keith at the Amish family's home that he was staying with .  He had been there for 2 days, and was expecting me at 1:00pm.  It was a good 3 hour drive. I really don't like to be late, in fact, I despise being late.  But, the older I get, it seems the word "tardy" is a common word in my vocabulary.

The car was packed, and I needed to stop by the hospital to visit my Aunt Betty after her knee replacement surgery from the day before.  I needed to fill my car with gas, and I couldn't find my Indiana map.  I know, I know......I have a "smart phone" with a GPS, but I am a little old fashioned, I still like to have a map in hand.
By the way...did you know that most gas stations no longer carry state maps?  While getting gas I inquired, only to be told that our local drugstore, and the Welcome Center 6 miles away carried  them.  I had to figure another way..... for my "smart phone" wouldn't connect.
I borrowed my parents GPS device, set the destination, and headed on my way at 11:30am.
I settled in , listening to the radio, making phone calls to our kids, and started thinking about the Amish.  I began to feel anxious for my tardiness, and  I didn't know what to expect when I arrived.  Doubt and anxiousness were plaguing my mind.  I turned to prayer, and asked God to keep me on track, allowing me to enjoy every minute, and not be anxious for anything.
My prayers helped me focus as I drove, or should I say, zoomed down the interstate.
As I got past Fort Wayne, I began to see signs that identified roads that I knew would get me close to Shipshewana, and I knew that Napanee was about an hour west.  I began to doubt the GPS.  I wondered why this little device, with it's voice that reminded of "Agent 99" on the old sitcom "Get Smart" from my childhood, was taking me to roads I wasn't familiar with.  I had been to Napanee before and I didn't remember the route Agent 99 was guiding me to.  I fiddled with the device until I found the route marked with words instead of  map form.  "Take Hwy. 30 West to 19 North.  Turn right onto 19 North".  Gee, I wish I had my map in hand.  But, I will trust this little device.  When I came to road # 19, I became anxious again.  19 was a 2 lane country road that curved, and wound around through the country.  Surely this can't be right, I thought.  Great!  Now I am late, and lost!  Not a good thing for a first impression.  How do I explain to an Amish family that my "GPS" didn't take me to the right road?  My palms were sweaty, my stomach was churning, AND I had no clue where I was.  Again, I began to pray...."Lord, help me not be anxious, help me to get there".
The road began to change in its form, there was  extra paving and a large graveled area on the side of the road.  Then I saw a horse and  buggy cross in front of me. There were bicycles carrying young Amish men and women.  I realized I was right in the middle of the Amish community.  Pristine farms, with beautiful gardens. Flowers lining driveways,and sidewalks. Barns with buggies, and hitching posts.  I saw horses and cattle munching on green grass in the pasture.  Farmers in the field bailing hay on wagons pulled by 4 abreast work horses.  Then I saw children.  Precious children dressed in their bonnets, aprons, pants with no zippers, and Amish haircuts.
I took a deep breath, slowed the car down, and thanked God for my fortune.  Isn't this the purpose?  To get off the "grid" and enjoy a simpler life?  Agent 99 had taken me right down the middle of Amish Farmland.  I would find out later from Rachel the family matriarch and wife, that I started at the south end of the Amish district and drove all the way to the north end.  It was the long way, but the best way to see some of the local farms.  I thought about the Robert Frost poem, .............Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by.  And that has made all the difference.
Soon I heard Agent 99 say, "Beech Road......turn right onto Beech Road, your destination is on the right".

I saw the 276 on the mailbox by the road and turned down a long driveway bordered by a beautiful vegetable garden with flowers, and green pepper plants heavy with fruit the size of large oranges.  Tomatoes hanging from the cages, Indian corn standing tall waiting for it's ears to dry, and the largest cabbage heads I had ever seen.  On my right was the pasture with large work horses, and buggy horses meandering next to the fence, noticing this strange car pulling up next to them.
I looked ahead to see my husband with a big smile on his face.  Late or not, he was waiting for me.  The lines on his face had softened in the past 2 days, and the tears that brimmed my eyes began to spill over.  This was exactly what I had hoped "our Amish farm" would look like.
The anxiousness was gone, I was just in the driveway, and already enjoying it.

Community

From Keith,
To the Congregation.
Mark 6:31 “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

No one knows what quite happened. David was in the field by himself cutting the hay. He was late returning. Then the horses came back to the barn, but David was not with them. Deep gashes in the chest and on the withers of the horses foreshadowed the news. David's wife went across the road where David had been working the team and found him. He lay motionless in the new-mown bloodstained hay. Deep gashes were on his neck just missing the carotid. His head was misshapen. She knelt beside him, cradled him not knowing if he was alive or dead. When she saw his chest heave she ran for the house. With no phone at her place she ran to Melvin's to the shack outside the house where a community phone was housed and made the call.  The ambulance arrived in minutes, and soon thereafter chopper blades thundered just above the tree line. Samaritan, the lifeline helicopter from Fort Wayne picked him up in the field he had been working. Working with horses is inherently dangerous.

He lies comatose in the hospital 60 miles away. It is a distance prohibitive to travel by horse. A driver takes her to the hospital that evening. She doesn't know what will happen back home, but she trusts her faith community. Within moments after the helicopter leaves, her 5 children are divvied up to homes and loved on as they sit in shock. Cows are milked and chores done for the evening. All is done in prayerful silence. Words or working songs are out of place today. I ache for this family. I am first reminded of Andrea Voss and that late night phone call after the State Fair tragedy just over a year ago. And then I think of Ovid's  own Jeff Dowers whose heart surgery had gone amiss the other day. He is comatose at St. John's Hospital. I ponder my feelings of helplessness from the distance. In the throws of tragedy our tendency is to move into action and that is good, but as the dust settles in the Amish community they turn to prayer; fervent prayer. I began to to pray for Jeff. It is and will be the greatest thing I can do in the moment. (James 5:16) 

In this Amish community there are some added ingredients of support. David owns 40+ head of cattle. Neighbors buy his cattle giving his wife some needed cash with which to work. They promise to return them if or when he gets out of the hospital. I stand on a ridge and watch as six teams of horses rake his hay. Men from all over the district come. It is the very field he was working when he was injured. No one calls to set it all up. People just come after their own chores are done to do his. It turnes out there are 24 horses, twelve men, six wagons, and and countless kids who were helping. Women bring food and others drop by cash. There is no health insurance for the Amish so at church David's name is read and his bills are shared. Each house church is expected to give. The church we are a part of, (Oakwood District) with just over 75 adults, is asked to contribute $50,000. No offering will be taken. The money will be hand delivered to the family, no questions asked as to whether it will be used appropriately. 

I am reminded of another church that responded in similar fashion. 

Acts 2:43-45

Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles.All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need.

When the church acts like The Church, it is so attractive. If we would own again the responsibilities given us as the Bride of Christ and lay aside the encumbrances that so easily consume our finances and energy, I believe the entitlement programs of our nation would shrink naturally and the church would be attractive and attracting in it's community. Instead we build elaborate church buildings become indebted to our secular banking institutions and then we cannot act like the body is called to act. I am so proud of Ovid for retiring it's debt. I pray one year from now we will look more like the bride than we ever have.

I lay my head back on a bale of hay and watch The Church in prayer and action.. 

NO Zippers

From Keith,
To the Congregation.
Mark 6:31 “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

The wind-up alarm clock announces the morning. It is 5 am and I am still the last one in the kitchen. Rachel has been up since 4 because one of her older children must be at work at 5 am. He is 19 and has rejected the Amish way during his Rumspringa. Breaking Amish suddenly moves from entertainment to an intensely personal feeling. She speaks of his choices and some decisions that have cut them like a knife. Now I am face to face with a parent  who is caught between love and religion. "I will never shun my child," she chokes out. We gather our composure as others come close.

We are called to the table with hot coffee that everyone from 5 to 57 drinks. We use whole, unpasteurized milk as creamer. Melvin's is a totally organic farm. There is so much milk fat in the milk it nearly chunks itself into the cup. Melvin calls the family to order with the words, "Let us say the blessing." We bow in silence. I bow my head and come up after a few words of blessing over the food, but the others are still praying. I bow again and bless it some more praying. Thinking of the milk I begin to pray about the family heart disease now. As I conclude this time, I am a bit less obvious. I look up out the corner of my eye. They are still bowed. After a third blessing on my part I hear a coffee cup move and I come up. Cereal is passed in silence, not for religious reasons, but because few of them are morning people. Rachel fills the silence with further introductions of children and the ways of the Amish. Melvin then reads scripture. and the devotional in High German. Then we kneel at our chairs and we recite the Lord's Prayer. They accommodate me by doing it in English.  A final silent prayer of thanks is given. (Blessings are offered before and thanks after the meal.) I have learned to stay down longer. The meal and prayers finished, the day begins.



A third grade boy,and a fifth grade girl head to the barn to do the milking. Both are barefoot and  dressed in the traditional Amish dress. 
They slide in the manure that squeezes between their toes and they are oblivious to my shock.

It is still dark when Melvin tells me we need to move the water barrel to a new field for the cattle. We rotate them from field to field much like Dave Chambers does. He has hose and underground lines that allows him to tap into the water throughout his property. I get a small cart and load the hose and barrel to walk the 1/2 mile to the field. When I get there I see two fences that I need to cross. I toss the barrel over the fence and crawl under the first barb wire on my belly. The ground is soaked with dew and now I am soaked as well. There has got to be a better way to get beyond the second fence without traipsing the half mile back to the gate. 

I come to the second fence which is just a drooping single strand of electric fence. I toss the barrel and hose over and survey the fence. I see one section droops pretty low. I walk over and swing my leg over the wire. There are moments in time that are seared there by the enormity of the situation. In this case it will be seared on my mind for a long time, but for a completely different reason. It becomes apparent to me quite quickly that I have misjudged the height of the of the wire or the length of my legs. I come down straddle the electric fence with wet pants. 

Can I take a moment to share with you the technology of the electric fence. The surge of electricity is between 6,000 and 10,000 volts and fires for 3 milliseconds about every half a second. The reaction time of a person is about the same 3 ms. However, as you get beyond the age of 50 reaction time deteriorates. It nearly doubles. I can attest to the truth of this diminished reaction time. 

I estimate I was on the electric fence for about 12 seconds. At least that is what I felt like. Plus my clothing was wet,  which makes an excellent conductor so the pain was not localized, but permeated every pore of my body. I began to dance a jig that has not been witnessed among the Amish since a  squirrel  got loose during a worship service. I also realized something else. The Amish are very wise folks. They only use buttons and clasps. They do not wear zippers. The English...not so smart. That electricity traveled all the way up my zipper and singed my belly button. Rolling to the ground I lay there for a few moments in recovery. 

Jacob wrestled with God. Because of this conflict he walked with a limp. I was dragging a leg that day. My limp is just as real, but it's origin is far less religious.

It is nearly 8 o'clock. No time to heal, we need to gather the 150 chickens from the yard for butchering. Our goal is to have them done by noon.

Amish Introductions

Oh, how I wish I had pictures to illustrate all that I long to show and tell you about our time in the Amish family. Recall the Amish believe taking pictures of them is sacrilege. It is in their estimation a graven image. I will use some pictures from the Internet as representations of what we saw. We never took out a camera. We did this so as to both be respectful of their beliefs and to show that we did not see this as a vacation photo op. We truly wanted to immerse ourselves in their family and culture. We believe our actions spoke volumes to our hosts. I will try to paint with words our experience.

My car awkwardly approaches the lane to the house. I am, in so many ways, driving back into a period of time predating my car. I turn up the lane alone. Delaine will join me in a few days. I had been nervous the last few days. As outgoing as I may appear, I am as nervous as the next person when I am approaching the unfamiliar.

A tiny ancient woman straightens herself in the garden she is working. She braces a peck basket on her hip that is mounded with green peppers. A smile broadens her face and she turns toward the house. A team of horses, pulling a hay rake, makes the turn beside the barn. Melvin, our Amish host, bobs comfortably on the iron springed "chariot cart" seat. Rachel, Melvin's wife, steps hastily from the 1912 slate roofed farm house with the youngest of eight children in tow, two steps behind. She is a sturdy woman. She is not the picture of  Kelly McGinnis from The Witness film. Rachel has given birth to eight children before 38 years of age, all born at home with a  midwife. It has left a touch of gray at her temples.

She is the first to make it to the car and I immediately know I won't have to worry about conversation. She starts talking. She won't stop for five days. When Delaine arrives, Melvin and I would stand at the gate at the horse barn and watch the two of them talk. He is a quiet man of few words. I comment he only has about a thousand words to use in a day, but the two of them have 50,000 each. He smiles and says "Two hands and one mouth I only wish Rachel could work both at once. But yours is a much better way to say she talks a lot." He claims copy-write on my phrase quickly.

The 5 year old boy's name is Nathan. They will call him my "pet" after the week. He takes it upon himself to be my tutor in Amish ways. I am still not certain he was the best mentor, but he was never more than a step away from me. Nathan's first language is Pennsylvania Dutch. it is not Dutch at all but rather a western Germanic dialect. He speaks English, Pennsylvania Dutch and understands High German which they use in church. He and all the other children have been told that for the duration of the time with the "English" (This is the terminology they use to define non-Amish.) they should speak only in English.

There is little time for introductions. There is hay to be baled. Melvin shows me how to hitch a four horse  team to the baler and we hitch a wagon behind this. (Their harness and collar is already on. That tangle of leather will be for another day.) It is likely with a full wagon and baler they will be hauling 6-7 tons. A five year old holds the reins of three tons of horse power and steadies the steeds.

I climb on the lip of the wagon and my feet dangle. They begin a childish sway involuntarily. In my minds eye my hair is not gray, but blond and I am 16. Melvin mounts the cart and takes the reins. "Gee", he commands. Massive hooves and 1500 lb Belgians gingerly side step to the left. It is an unnatural step, hoof crossing hoof. Doc, is the lead horse. He is 16 years old. Jake, King, and Katie round out the hitch. Katie is two and she is tethered to Doc with a training pole. It persuades her to go whereever he goes. She is young and unsteady but he is a rock and patient with her. Nathan jumps off the moving cart and hops aboard the wagon beside me. Leather harness groans, chains clank and the baler speaks its rhythmic mechanical language as it begins to belch bales.

I grab the first one and head back to the rear of the wagon. One! I don't have my wagon legs yet and I stumble along to the front looking a bit awkward. Melvin smiles. The second bale lands on the wagon deck before I get back. I grab it and realize the learning curve has to be short. It's not long before I have the first row stacked  seven feet high and woven together so the stack wont tumble. 110 ten bales later, we head to the barn to off load them into the hay mound. Its five o'clock. Time to milk the cows, feed the chickens, unharness the horses and feed them and get them to the field.We will go in the house at 9:00 pm to eat dinner. Nathan tells me tomorrow is Hinkel dot (chicken kill) I am so glad he is teaching me Pennsylvania Dutch.

No Coincidence

From Keith,
To the Congregation.
Mark 6:31 “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

Coincidence, I don't think so. The week we are to live with the Amish, TLC releases a new series called Breaking Amish. It follows the lives of four Amish teens on Rumspringa. It is the time just before baptism where Amish kids are allowed to "sow" their oats in the world among the"English". Do you think D and I are going to believe this is all just coincidence or is this a twisted attempt to lower our self esteem. A whole community and lifestyle that have practiced their faith since 1476 abandons their way of life just because we are coming.

Okay, perhaps it is mere coincidence.


This past week has been filled with painting and minor repairs. I am about 3/4ths finished with the house. "Amish Keith"has been hard at work. "Amish Keith" is my version of "Flat Chuck" made famous by Chuck Lofton and the NBC Olympics. (Flat Chuck was featured in pictures all around the Olympics village with athletes and gold medals.) Don't worry, as we go on the trip there will be more exciting pictures and videos,but this little fellow will follow us all the way. I also took off about 30 lbs of honey today. I love working with bees and honestly have been so negligent in the past two summers. I lost two hives over the summer to bee moths. That is just neglect. I was so frustrated. A silly side benefit of the sabbatical has been working with my bees. The honey was mostly  Locust honey which is a nearly clear and light tasting.






Tomorrow morning I leave to go north to be joined by Delaine on Thursday. It is oddly humorous, we are more nervous about this homestay than we are about taking off to follow Paul's footsteps.

Without waxing too introspective let me share a couple of observations. Being out of contact with you all and still in the community is very hard. We went to another church yesterday and I had many conflicting thoughts. I have not moved out of the evaluation role. The message was very good but I still evaluated it from the perspective of a pastor and not a worship participant.