Emma Gingerich, Runaway Amish Girl

I (Dave) was once accused of being Amish. (Not that it would be a bad thing, but I was a youngster, and it was spoken in a derogatory manner.) It was a couple months after our family had moved to Wayne County, Ohio, from Elida, Ohio. I was a painfully shy twelve-year-old who had been transplanted to a new community, a new church, and a new school. Moves like this don’t go well for shy people. The adjustment was difficult enough without having to face all the kids at a new public school. The only school I had known was a small one owned by our church, and each grade averaged about eight people if I remember correctly. We went to church with them, and to school with them. Those were our people seven days a week, and many of them were our cousins.

It was really difficult to mount the steps of the public school bus the first time, and find a seat among strangers. No sooner had I sat down then a rude voice behind me spoke loudly, “You’re Amish!” I looked around to see who he was talking to. He was looking directly at me, and repeated the words. I managed to squeak out three little words of response. “No I’m not.” 
The young man insisted. “Yes you are! I saw your Mom!”
It was true that Mom wore a long dress and head covering.
My face was burning as I spoke again. “We’re Mennonites.” I didn’t want to continue the conversation. It seemed as if every eye was looking accusingly at me, and I felt sick. I just wanted off the bus, but it wasn’t possible.

That was more than fifty years ago, and I have come to treasure my Mennonite heritage. I am very thankful for parents who raised me in the Anabaptist tradition, and I remain there, most likely for life. Our brand of Mennonites no longer dresses conservatively. It’s a good denomination - not without problems, but a group of people who love to serve the Lord through missions, and efforts towards peace and justice.

I enjoy having Amish friends who are also part of the Anabaptist tradition. In my late teen years, I worked with Amish young men and became good friends with them. When they needed a car ride, I drove. When I wanted a buggy ride, they were more than happy to take me along. Now, after spending most of my working years around Amish, I still love and respect them.

So many people admire the Amish way of life, and I do too. Much of my story-writing includes observations and anecdotes about them, and conversations with them. It’s a way of life that is so reminiscent of the lives our grandparents lived. When I see the Amish working with horses, I see my Grandfather, my uncles, and my Dad in his early years while his family still farmed with horses.

There is a dark side though, mostly among the strictest sect - the Swartzentrubers. It has been exceptionally sad to recently learn about cases of rape and incest in our community. Two local Swartzentruber Amish men are now in custody for sexually abusing members of their own households. Other abuses occur as well. We may often put the Amish on a pedestal, (and truly, most of the Old and New Order Amish live exemplary and Godly lives), but the Swartzentrubers practice a very strict and controlling form of religion that many consider a cult. I’ve been aware for a long time that they have problems, and am making an effort to become friends with some who are my neighbors. It’s slow going. It takes quite a while to build trust. I will keep trying.

This week my wife and I read a book written by one of their own (the Swartzentruber Amish) who ran away from her family and began a new life. It is a story of courage and strength in the midst of great struggle. If you haven’t yet read, “Run Away Amish Girl: The Great Escape,” by Emma Gingerich, please do. The book is written as a memoir, and describes her life and feelings in a very transparent and vulnerable way. She writes without bitterness, and her story is truly authentic. We read the Kindle edition of the book (purchased from Amazon) and came away with a much deeper understanding of that particular sect, and learned more about some of their odd beliefs and practices. But most especially, we were impressed by the difficulty and strength it took for Emma to break away, and how she has successfully adapted to a happy new life with many possibilities in her future. She has come to true faith in Jesus Christ. A second book will be coming out soon.

Just to whet your appetites, I am including several interesting excerpts from the book.

“I remember outsiders and other modern Amish groups making fun of us, making me feel insecure; I reacted by pretending I was someone else and by becoming rebellious. The strict rules left me no room to breathe."

“When I asked about the rules, Datt would tell me that the church followed demands written in the Bible. But why couldn’t we have a flush toilet? Why couldn’t we have electricity? Why couldn’t we hire a driver to take us to town to run errands? Why did the walls in the house always have to be white? Why was it forbidden to get any education past eighth grade? Why was a hand water pump installed by the sink where the men washed their hands, but there could not be one at the sink where the women washed the dishes? I gave up hope that my questions would ever be answered. The only response I ever got was, “This is the way it has always been, and God will punish us if we do otherwise.”

After coming home for her brother’s wedding, Emma writes the following:

“I was now all alone in my parent’s house, just what I needed. I went to the room that used to be mine before I left home, and lay on the bed. It brought back so many memories I started to cry. I realized I missed my family more than I could have ever imagined, but my life was different now, and I would not surrender. My heart and soul longed for my parents love and acceptance, but I was not born to remain Amish, and I knew the Good Man (God) had plans for me in the outside world.”

We're going to leave the story right there, and sign off for today. Again, I recommend the book, and am certain it will be an eye-opener for many people.

From Kidron, Ohio, So long.

Mike the Amish Dog

A few days after the election, my almost-daily walk on Zuercher Road brought me once again past the Hershberger farm.  The evening sun cast its warm glow on the fields, and the cooler air carried with it the scent of fall.  Mike-the-dog caught sight of the vagabond on the road, and came running with greetings.  His happiness knows no bounds.  He nearly turns inside-out with joy as he dances around my legs and smiles as wide as his toothy mouth allows.  And I think to myself; if only we could be like dogs.  Mike doesn’t care that I’m English.  He doesn’t care how I voted, or if I voted at all.  He doesn’t even care that we just had an election that leaves half of our nation’s people rejoicing, while the other half is unhappy, and many are fearful.  He doesn’t know that there are demonstrations in the streets.  He’s a dog who lives one day at a time, enjoying life on an Amish farm, following the action in the fields, and bringing happiness to those who pause to speak with him.  I love Mike-the-dog, along with many others of his species.  They hold a special place in my heart, and teach me about unconditional love.  

Johnny and Mike the dog.

As Mike and I exchanged pleasantries, Johnny pulled his team of horses out the barn with a load of manure piled high on the spreader.  Out across the field they went, and Mike left me standing by the road with a smile on my face, as he raced to catch up.  This.  This is the type of scene that can bring a sense of calmness to minds that are churning with current events -- minds that wonder what our world will be like for our children and grandchildren.  It’s a blessing to live here -- to be reminded that life in the country has many rewards -- to see the beauty of a setting sun, to enjoy the satisfaction of growing our own food in the garden, feed for livestock in the fields, and the sweet rest that follows a day of hard work.

I wish those who are so upset with the results of the election could spend some time here to decompress and view these quiet folks working in their fields.  Even more, I wish they could rise early in the morning to milk the cows by hand with them, then work side-by-side with their new friends, spending a full day in the fields before returning to the cows for the evening milking.   Maybe they could rest then, (surely they would need it) and consider the meaning of life lived close to the earth.  Maybe later, they could listen in to the talk about milk prices, corn prices, the weather, and who will be marrying who.  They may also hear talk about an auction the men will attend -- just as much to visit with friends as to buy another plow.  Perhaps there will be talk about the team of Belgians that will sell at the auction, and the desire to purchase them if the price doesn’t go too high.

Johnny’s load of manure becomes a metaphor in my mind as I walk.  There is a lot of “stuff” built up in the barn, and it needs to be cleaned out occasionally.   Not that it is all bad.  In fact, it feeds the fields, and becomes part of next year’s crops.  It’s a cycle that has been repeated over and over and over.  It’s a necessary action.  Our minds can also get cluttered with “stuff” -- especially in times like we’ve had for the past year, having to listen to the daily news feed, and political rhetoric.  It’s not all bad.  It becomes part of our life’s experience, but we need to keep things in perspective.  We need to let the “stuff” teach us, so we can learn from it, and so we can be a good example for the next generation.

So here’s a plan for when anxiety or anger want to take over our thoughts: Let’s consciously pause and take a few deep, cleansing breaths.  Think about good things like the joyful times we’ve had with family and friends, and the plans for more of those times this week.  Let's be thankful for all the people in our lives, all the material blessings we enjoy, and the gift of life.   Let’s not worry about tomorrow, but be happy with today.  Thankfulness is one of the keys to happiness, and directing those words and thoughts of thanksgiving to God-the-giver brings peace and hope for the future.

Oh, one more small thought.  God gave us dogs to teach us how to live.  Let’s try to be like Mike.

From Kidron, OH, have a wonderful weekend, and try not to complain about the snow.  It’s been a long and pleasant fall.  This was bound to happen.  So long.