A View from the Buggy (16 page)

We realized the situation was much more complex than we had first thought. Our home bishop lived close by, so the sheriff allowed me to ride with him to the bishop's home for advice. After talking things over, we agreed to not sign any papers before getting more opinions from community leaders. So the sheriff left the scene.

After a day or two of recollections, a witness came forward who had seen not only the usual cattle dealer's truck and trailer going in our son's driveway, but also the truck and trailer of another cattle hauler. This was a young man, one who had for some time been on the milk hauling route and was acquainted with every driveway and barn among the community. He had lately taken up a job of hauling livestock. He also was always short on money. And this young man knew of the upcoming funeral and had even made inquiries as to who would be in attendance.

With great relief we now discarded the thought of our usual cattle dealer being at fault. We also traveled to the auction barn where the cows had been sold and personally spoke with the sales manager. He repeated his story, “I'd love to tell you where your cows went, but I can't. Just tell the sheriff, and we will gladly work with him.”

But the elders of the church had agreed in the meantime that no one would sign any papers to regain stolen property or to prosecute an enemy.

In the meantime the young cattle hauler showed up at an Amish
farmer's place and paid his considerable debt. So he must have been both brazen and honest. After that, we never saw the young cattle hauler again. We hope he may have repented of his ways.

We did find out that two Amish men from a neighboring district had been at the auction barn the day my son's cows were stolen and had purchased three cows that matched the descriptions. They sent word to my son that he could buy them back, which he did at a reasonable price. He also bought a few more cows from a local dairy with money loaned to him by his grandfather. The church also helped, which was greatly appreciated. Gradually my son regained what had been lost.

With God's help we tried to make the best choices, and trust we handled the situation in the proper way.

Special Days in My Life

Lori Miller

And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them (Matthew 18:2).

E
VERY YEAR MY AUNTS AND COUSINS COME TOGETHER FOR A DAY OF
playing games and doing fun things together. This one day we went to my Aunt Joanna's place. She has five children, our cousins.

On our way there we had stopped at the public library and a few other stores for some shopping. When we arrived, Joanna and her children had set up games for us to play. We lined up in two rows with the youngest first and the oldest last. The youngest person had to get one thing out of a bag, put it on, and then quickly pull it off again. The second person had to put on two things and pull them off again. And so it went, until the team who finished first won the race.

When lunchtime came, the aunts had prepared a delicious meal of chicken sandwiches, French fries, and drinks. We ate outside under the trees where there was a nice picnic area with a table and a little playhouse.

After lunch we had a scavenger hunt with two teams. We had to go find things like a leaf or some other interesting object. We followed that up with placing tables together and putting bowls on top of the table with something under them. Then everyone had to name what was under them. The one with most correct guesses won.

Later we played a game where we hung a blanket between two trees with a team on each side. We stood in a row and as soon as the blanket was let down, the one in the front of the line had to say the name of the person facing them. Whoever said the name first won and the loser had to join the other team.

At the end of the day we played tug-of-war, where even the big people helped. Later some of us schoolchildren played our own kind
of tug-of-war. Two people stood on a five gallon pail. Then we pulled, and the person left standing on the pail won.

Finally our day drew to a close. We went home loaded with candy and happy memories. Even though this happens only once a year, that doesn't mean we don't get together at other times too. Sometimes we come together for workdays at the homes of different people who need help with a project like cleaning their home or making carpet rugs.

We once went to my Aunt Julia's house to help them get ready for the next Sunday church services. Usually that means cleaning the whole house, plus work outside on the flowerbeds and the lawn.

On another Sunday evening we all got together for a birthday party. It was for my aunt's fiftieth birthday. When we arrived at the place, my aunt wasn't there. This had been planned, as my aunt knew there was going to be a party, but she didn't know the whole family would be there.

When my aunt was due to arrive, we hid behind the building where she couldn't see us. We waited until she was in the yard before we surprised her. That was a lot of fun. And we had plenty to eat afterward. Later, we played outside games with our cousins.

Thanksgiving a year ago was at my grandpa and grandma's home. My cousins who don't live around here were also there. After the Thanksgiving meal we played Dictionary and Catch-a-phrase. All afternoon there were delicious snacks spread on the kitchen table.

We live on a farm, and that day Dad offered to return home to do the chores while we stayed. I appreciated that. As night fell we played Gray Wolf outside, which is also lots of fun.

Another fun day I had was when some of the people from the community got together for a farewell party. We rented a cabin not too far away. It was located beside a pond so we could go swimming and boating. That evening we cooked supper over an open fire. Afterward we played volleyball and sat talking around the campfire. Some people slept in the cabins but most of us slept outside under the stars.

The next morning we cooked our breakfast over the fire again. We eventually had to leave and life began again. I like it when everyone gets together and does their part so we can have a good time.

Outreach

Louie Weaver

But ye, brethren, be not weary in well doing (2 Thessalonians 3:13).

I
SLEEPILY WALKED DOWN THE CREAKING STEPS OF OUR OLD
farmhouse. It just didn't seem like it was already time to get up. Not this early on a Saturday morning. I felt my way through the darkened kitchen to light the gas lamps.

After washing my face and combing my hair, I checked to see if my little brother Paul was up yet. He wasn't, so I shook him awake. We couldn't sleep in on this brisk fall morning, not with one of the neighbors needing help with the remodel on his house. And Paul would be disappointed if he couldn't go along.

With both of us awake we started getting ready for the day. We ate a simple breakfast of fried eggs and toast, and as we buttoned on our plain black suspenders, I checked the lunch Mom had packed for us the night before.

Our destination was another Amish community some 20 miles away that our church had helped start. Five families from our community had chosen to move there. They were now busy getting their newly purchased property and houses ready for Amish living. All of them had remodeling projects in progress, such as installing gas lights and anything else that goes with moving into a formerly
English
home.

This was a community effort and we had volunteered to help. Even though neither Paul nor I were experienced carpenters, we could still lend our hands. Since 20 miles was too far to drive our faithful horse and buggy, we planned to ride this morning with an Amish neighbor who had hired a driver.

That van soon pulled in our driveway and we grabbed our hats, tools, and lunches and bounded out the door. We found the van nearly filled
with other eager workers and the things they had brought along. All of us were from our close-knit community. The 20-minute ride was quiet, save for a few comments as everyone enjoyed the peaceful countryside passing outside the van windows. This early in the morning the land was still wrapped in fog and looked like it was awakening slowly.

We soon arrived and very quickly the sounds of busy workmen filled the air. There would be no idle hands today. The house was old and hadn't been lived in for some time, so considerable work needed to be done before the family could move in. Our main job for the day was knocking out walls to turn several small rooms into a larger dining and living room. I was glad the job didn't require skills from me above the ability to beat down the right walls and haul trash to the dumpster parked outside the house.

As we worked, we chatted above the sound of hammers and saws. All of us were glad for the opportunity to spend time with one another and catch up on community news. Occasional snatches of tunes could be heard as someone raised their voice in joyful song. But for the most part, our efforts focused on the job at hand.

It seemed as if only a moment had passed before lunchtime was announced. Our tools fell silent as we eagerly washed our hands and grabbed our lunches. We sat outside on the grass to soak up the beautiful fall sunshine. After a silent prayer we got busy eating. Our brisk exercise had made me hungrier than I had realized. The sandwich and homemade pie Mom had packed for lunch was the very thing I needed to hush the growling in my stomach. And to our added delight, one of the crew had brought along a tube of trail bologna. This was now generously passed around the circle of men so each could have a taste.

After lunch we relaxed and chatted for a few more minutes before we headed back to work. The job progressed rapidly all afternoon as we dug back into our respective tasks and tried to finish all the work we could before dark.

At the end of the day we piled back into the van and headed for home with tired but satisfied feelings that come from helping someone in need. I was glad I had been a part of something bigger than myself, and that I knew our work made a difference in someone's life.

Pinecraft Excursion

Norman Miller

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven (Ecclesiastes 3:1).

I
T WAS UNUSUALLY WARM FOR
J
ANUARY IN OUR WESTERN
N
EW
Y
ORK
State community. The temperature that day reached a warm 68 degrees. Not bad, considering that normally at that time of year we'd be floundering through snowdrifts and trying in vain to keep the driveway plowed.

This warm weather was great—except for one thing that weighed on our mind. We had JetBlue tickets stashed in our kitchen drawer ready to whisk my wife, Marlena, and myself along with our two children, Janelle and Jayden, to warm, sunny Florida the very next morning.

Of course as every northerner knows, half the joy of going to Florida is to leave in the dead of winter and get away from the freezing temperatures and the blinding, blowing snow. It may come as a surprise to many, though, that Florida—actually the tiny village of Pinecraft—is the choice winter destination for hundreds, probably thousands of Amish and Mennonite folk from the North.

While my family doesn't make it a habit to vacation in Florida every winter, as many Amish do—especially the older generation—we had an excellent reason for going this year. We wanted to assist in the convalescence of Marlena's father who had just undergone spinal surgery at the world renowned Laser Spine Institute.

Back surgery is always a serious matter, so this weighed on our mind until the report came back that the surgery was a major success. Now that the outcome of the surgery was no longer pressing on our minds, we could look forward to enjoying our stay in Pinecraft to the fullest. The children were really excited—especially at the thought of flying.

On Sunday, the day before we were to leave, we hosted church services at our house, as is common for many Amish. All the families in our district arrived at our house with their horse and buggies, some on bicycles, and others on foot. It was a busy day with so many people in the house from 8:30 in the morning until around 2:00 in the afternoon. So the upcoming reprieve from our hectic schedule and a chance to relax were something we were looking forward to.

Monday morning finally rolled around and it was cold and crisp, way down in the 30s. A much better temperature to head south than 68 degrees. Marlena and I scrambled out of our warm, cozy bed extra early so we could wash all the clothes before leaving and perform whatever other chores needed doing.

After the children were up and breakfast was out of the way we hurried to finish all the last-minute details needing attention. I had to make a final round through the offices and the print shop to make sure the employees were settled in and all was under control.

I returned from my brief trip to the office next door and we hunkered down to wait for our ride to the airport. When he drove up, we all piled in the good neighbor's car and made the 50-minute trip to Buffalo uneventfully.

We picked a super time to fly because there was hardly anybody around. We cruised through security and located our gate, and then that's when, for me, the wonder of our vacation began. We had plenty of time to stroll over to my favorite spot in the Buffalo International Airport—the Villa Italian Kitchen in the food court. They make the most delicious breakfast strombolis I have ever tasted. And Marlena agrees. Though it was only 10:00 in the morning and we already had eaten breakfast, I wondered aloud as casually as I could if maybe Villa's would still be making those breakfast strombolis we so love at this time of the day. I held my breath. My wife looked at me dubiously and with a bit of concern. I knew what she was thinking.