Amish Summer Harvest

It seems impossible to get enough of the beauty around us - particularly the Amish way of life in our area. You'd think we would get used to it, and barely notice it anymore, but that's not the case. Perhaps my early years on the farm along Hog Creek marked me permanently with a love for noticing the crops, and appreciating those who carve out an existence from the soil. And on top of that, a lifelong enjoyment of doing things the "hard" way - like our Grandparents did it. Perhaps it fills a need to connect with our history.

I know for a fact that when I walk the roads around here and view the beauty of God's earth, it brings health for today and hope for tomorrow. On the days when I don't walk, there is something missing, and it seems like I've cheated myself. When the news is discouraging, it is time for a walk - a time to reflect on what is good about life - and a time to be thankful. We are blessed more than we deserve.

Check out the photos. There will be some comments with each one.

Wheat shocks adorn the field in front of an Amish homestead.

Bringing a load of shocks to the barn for threshing to separate the grain from the stalks.

A nice Amish family leaves a plate of pastries on the cans full of milk.  Lucky milk hauler.

This is a field of spelt shocks.

An evening sun glows on a field of wheat shocks.   The windmill is a promise of water for the thirsty, and the shocks are a promise of food for the hungry.  God provides.

From the lovely town of Kidron, Ohio, wishing you a wonderful weekend! So long.

Amish Crist Hershberger and the Bus Station

Got a call this week from Crist Hershberger, a Swartzentruber Amishman.  He’s a brother to Jacob and Sam, and he lives in Southern Ohio, near Peebles.  That’s where Jacob and his family moved to a few months ago.  Crist and his wife Mary needed a ride from the Canton, Ohio Bus Station to Brewster, Ohio.  They were coming north to attend the funeral of a dear old neighbor.  I mentioned to Crist that I’m not a regular driver for the Amish.  He knew that, but said he was running out of people to call. It didn’t suit anyone else to drive for them, and he remembered that I had taken Jacob’s family to Peebles when they moved.  He thought maybe we could help them out.  

So I said, “Sure, it works for me, I’ll pick you up.”  

“The bus will come in at 7:35 on Friday evening,” he explained.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

I had met Crist once before, and liked him immediately.  He’s outgoing and friendly, and his English is almost without a dutch accent.  A good storyteller too.  I guess that goes well with the fact that he is also an Amish preacher.

We decided to make an evening of it, and Juanita went along for the ride.  Our first stop was Papa Gyros for a Greek meal of salad, lamb, rice, and fresh, warm, chewy pita bread.  The plates were piled high and it was all delicious!  We could have gotten by with one meal.  The prices were really good too.  If you like that kind of food, you won’t be disappointed with Papa Gyros.

From there we headed to downtown Canton where the bus station is located.  It was easy to find, but it was our first time ever to go there.  We expected to see a parking lot, and thought we had found it.  Just as we pulled in, a glaring policeman began walking rapidly our direction, gesturing dramatically to get out of there!  We rolled down the window and asked where we can park.  He must have met other ignorant people like us quite a few times before.  His patience was pretty thin.  He told us in no uncertain terms that this was where the buses come in to load and unload, and if we didn’t get out of there immediately, we’d be fined two-hundred dollars.  Then he pointed across the railroad tracks to a small gravel lot that was full of potholes and puddles.

“Park there,” he said.

The bus station is on the intersection of Tuscarawas and Cherry, and is close to the red-light area of Canton.  As we sat in the gravel lot waiting, a few folks of unknown intentions walked down the street, and this small-town fellow felt really out of place.  I would not want to sit there after dark.  I told Mrs. Ross that I wanted to go into the station and find out if the bus is on time.  The lady behind the window wouldn’t look up to answer me.  When I asked, she confirmed that the bus was due to arrive, and would pull along the building on Cherry Street. This just wasn’t a very friendly place, it seemed.  So I hustled back to the car, pulled onto Cherry and found a parking spot along the street.  This was much better.  And there came the bus.  Two friendly faces smiled widely at us as they disembarked.  Crist and Mary seemed just as happy to see us as we were to see them.  And what a merry conversation we had as we drove them to their destination.   It seemed as if we had known them for some time.

This family of Hershbergers, (Crist, Henry, Sam, Jacob, and their other siblings) are exceptionally nice people in my opinion.  Every one of them that I know, has followed in their parents footsteps as genuinely good people.  Their parents, Crist Sr. and Lovina, have always had a good reputation in this area, and have always been respected.  Crist Sr. died quite a few years ago, but Lovina still lives on the home farm with Sam’s family.  She’s in her eighties.  One thing I’ve noticed in particular about the Hershberger men.  They treat their wives lovingly and respectfully.  That is not the case in all Swartzentruber Amish homes.  In some, the men really rule the roost.  It is always expected that the men will be the head of the home, but some take it too far.  I guess it’s that way with some English families too.   

Ah well, that’s enough for this week.  It’s been a good one.  We received the rain that was badly needed.  The crops are perking up and looking nice again.  I’m adding some photos of neighboring farmers working in their fields.

Making hay.  Even the little boys help by following and picking up loose pieces.

Trying to load heifers into the wagon

Cultivating the corn.

From Kidron, Ohio. So long.

Song 606 In the Mennonite Hymnal

We went for a drive earlier this week (my wife and I), and enjoyed some territory that we don’t often see.  Our route meandered on small roads south of Kidron, heading into Holmes County, before swinging through Millersburg and then losing ourselves again on tiny roads through idyllic hills and Amish farms on our way back north.  

One road in particular caught my attention, and it was suddenly necessary to burst into song.  Juanita, dear wife that she is - a gem who is rarely surprised at my moments of unpredictability and spontaneity - she looked at me quizzically as if I was falling off my rocker.  I don’t blame her.  She just wasn’t making the connection.  I pointed out the road sign - number 606 - and then she knew why I was singing.

For many of you, that number is meaningless, but if you’re a Mennonite, it’s a number of special significance.  Really, it is.  Number 606 in “The Mennonite Hymnal,” is a song titled  “Praise God From Whom.”  That particular hymnal was published in 1969, and that particular song very soon became a great favorite, sung with gusto and joy in acappella four-part harmony.  Many years ago it earned the label, “The Mennonite Anthem.”  Don’t let the title fool you.  This is not the regular doxology by the same name.  This one always makes the hairs stand up on my arms when singing it while being surrounded by many other people lifting their voices together in praise.

A later hymnal, now more commonly used in Mennonite Congregations, “Hymnal, A Worship Book,” also includes the song, but now it is number 118.  But make no mistake, for Mennonites of my generation, it will ALWAYS be 606.

I’d love to think that many of you will take the opportunity to listen to the song on the following link.  Garrison Keillor and Prairie Home Companion visited Goshen College a little over a year ago, and this song was part of his program - sung by the Goshen College Chamber Choir and the audience.  Really, if you’re interested in learning about something the Mennonites love, listen to the song, and while you’re at it, get a nice cool glass of tea, and listen to about fifteen minutes of the show.  After the song, Garrison sings a humorous (but true) song of his own writing about the Mennonites, followed by a short segment on the history of the Mennonites in his own humorous and inimitable style.  Please have a listen.  You won’t be sorry.  (And if you’re a Mennonite, or from Mennonite roots, it will not surprise me to learn that you had to hum along - perhaps even sang along with great enthusiasm.)  After clicking on the link, turn your volume up, click on the little black arrow, and enjoy!

http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/listen/?date=2015/05/02&identifier=apm_audio:/phc/segments/2015/05/02/phc_segment_02_20150502_128.mp3

From Kidron, Ohio, where the dad's are homely but loving; where the mom’s are pleasant and beautiful; and where the children love to spend time playing ball with Dad, and eating Mom’s fine cooking!  Kidron is  a wonderful place to live and raise a family, and a great place to visit.  Come and see us sometime.) :)