Plain Wisdom (3 page)

Growing up in Maryland, I’d had an Amish Mennonite best friend, and our adventures—along with the reservations our parents had concerning our friendship—had sparked my desire to write about the joys and difficulties of relationships, both within the Amish community and with outsiders. But as with many writers, I didn’t actually begin to put those stories on paper until decades later. Long before I sat down to write, my family had moved away, and my Amish Mennonite friend and I had lost all contact.

But in 2001, Linda, a friend who had worked at an Amish birthing center and as an EMT among the Amish, knew of Miriam and had connected the two of us. This connection began the long-distance relationship. More than a year into this relationship, Miriam invited me to visit her place.

This was the first of what has become at least a yearly visit. I’ve been greatly blessed by the friendship with Miriam and her family. She and I marvel that forging a friendship was easier than either of us expected. It took us one evening, really, and a plate full of salad dressing.

T
HE
R
HYTHM OF
L
IFE

O
n my first visit to Miriam’s, our mutual friend, Linda, picked Tyler and me up in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, near the train station. We headed west, out of the busyness of the city, and before long we were traveling down winding roads that carried us to more sparsely populated areas.

Sunlight splashed across the mountains and valleys like a spotlight revealing props on a stage. The fields were lush with half-grown hay that swayed in the breeze. As we drew closer to Miriam’s home, Linda pointed out the fenced areas that belonged to the Flaud family. Cows stood in wide pastures, horses grazed in a small field near the barn, and rows of clothing hung on lines, snapping in the wind as they soaked up the fresh scent of spring air.

Linda pulled onto the dirt-and-gravel driveway and parked. When we got out of the car, the heat smacked us with mid-June temperatures in the nineties. The double-wide wooden doors to the red and white barn stood open, and a quick glance revealed empty milking stalls. A silo attached to the barn towered higher than the trees surrounding the two-century-old brick farmhouse. A large garden in her backyard was lined with rows of vegetables.

Linda, Tyler, and I walked up a concrete sidewalk. Miriam and her husband, Daniel, greeted us at the door before we had a chance to knock.
Their friendly smiles were more beautiful in person than I’d imagined during the months of speaking to them on the phone.

I stepped into their Old Order Amish home, noticing half a dozen things all at once. The mud sink that sat mere feet from the front door. Straw hats hanging on a hatrack. Boots and waders, obviously used for milking cows, lined up neatly along the wall. A family-sized thermos on the kitchen counter with rows of glasses nearby. (I later learned this is Miriam’s way of providing her children with plenty of cold water on hot days without their needing to constantly open her gas-powered refrigerator.)

Without electricity the rich beauty of sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees brought a soft green glow to the rooms, and a breeze cooled the house in spite of the sweltering temperature outside. The mouth-watering aroma of freshly made desserts and percolated coffee filled the air.

While growing up in Maryland, I’d been in Plain homes but never in an Old Order Amish home. I’d like to share with you some of what I’ve learned, but at times you may wonder why I’m not going into more detail. The Old Order Amish are very private people, and true friends would never share anything publicly that would make each other uncomfortable. This book offers an invitation into an Amish home. That’s a cherished invite, and as a guest we’ll enjoy the warmth, honesty, good food, and insights while minding our manners by not asking for more. I hope that’s where our heart is whenever we enter anyone’s home. Come. Let’s enjoy our visit.

An Old Order Amish community is usually made up of homes scattered throughout the hillsides of a farming country. Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Indiana have the highest population of Old Order Amish, but they live in other states too, including Maine, Missouri, Kentucky, Minnesota, and Colorado.

An Amish district has approximately twenty-five families, and each
district has three preachers and a deacon. When a district has more than thirty to thirty-five families—most often due to children becoming adults, getting married, and forming their own homes—the church leaders will begin a new district. Keeping the number of households limited in each district is necessary when you consider that church is held in someone’s home every other Sunday, a family-style meal is served afterward, and during the school year, one teacher works with students in all eight grades.

Today most Amish children attend classes in a one- or two-room schoolhouse. Generally they are taught by a young Amish woman; although men can teach, few choose to do so. Just as I cannot opt for my children to attend school outside of our district, the Amish cannot opt to attend a church or school outside the district in which they live. However, if a new district has not yet established an Amish school, the children may attend the closest Amish or Mennonite school. In some areas Amish children attend public school because their community is unable to build their own school. The Amish receive no government support for their schools, so the costs of constructing a building, supplying it with desks, books, and equipment, and paying a teacher’s salary can be too much.

Although the Old Order Amish may take advantage of some modern conveniences, like hiring a driver to take them to a job site or a doctor’s appointment or a local Wal-Mart, those things are done sparingly, and they are not necessary to sustaining their way of life. Because the Amish community has farmers, builders, craftsmen, blacksmiths, church leaders, midwives, and teachers, they are fairly self-sufficient. Most Amish people are either self-employed or work for Amish relatives, with many young men carrying on the work of their forefathers.

When a young man turns fifteen, he begins an apprenticeship as a craftsman or farmer, often under his father or an uncle. The girls
apprentice under their mothers, learning about sewing, gardening, canning, and tending to little ones. The girls also work at local grocery stores, markets, restaurants, and bakeries.

When an Amish man owns a business, it’s his responsibility to hire as many Amish men as he can; this tradition keeps the Amish from losing its young people to the outside world and helps promote unity and a sense of community. It also helps sustain the independence of the community. If a man’s business is successful enough, he may find a facet of that trade that can be turned into a separate business for another family to start.

In addition to similar interests, skills, locality, culture, and heritage, the Amish have also preserved their sense of community by having their own language. They speak what is commonly referred to as Pennsylvania Dutch, although the word
Dutch
in this phrase has nothing to do with the Netherlands. The original word was
Deutsch
, which means “German.” The Amish speak some High German (in church services) and Pennsylvania German (Pennsylvania Dutch), and after a certain age the children are taught English. This causes the children to feel closely connected to their community. When a non-Amish person speaks to young Amish children in English, the language may not make sense to them.

I enjoy spending time with Miriam’s grandchildren. Since I don’t have any of my own, I soak in their cuteness like a dry sponge in a bucket of water. But sometimes they look at me funny when I talk to them because they don’t understand what I’m saying, and when I try to speak in Pennsylvania Dutch, I fail miserably. But one of Miriam’s sons has become adept at listening to how I mispronounce their words, and he can usually help me. He always relates the correct pronunciation to a familiar English word so I know how the word should sound. Even my Southern accent doesn’t thwart him, although it does make him laugh.

The Old Order Amish lifestyle is much more than what’s easily
seen—how they dress, travel by horse and buggy, and live without electricity. The true sense of living Old Order Amish is found in the close-knit lives of those who make up the Amish community.

This recipe is often brought to our many large gatherings. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love it.