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.