As I fly 30,000 feet above ground on my way home from Pennsylvania, my thoughts turn to the land I just left. I spent five days in Amish country. Even though they live surrounded by my culture, their world is totally different.
They don’t dress like us. The women don’t cut their hair, nor does it hang down their back. It’s fastened securely under a white (or black) mesh cap. They sew their own dresses from material that contains no pattern. I saw shades of blue, green, gray, purple and black. The lady’s dresses reach to the floor and have no buttons or zippers. They use snaps or pins. Men’s trousers have no belts or zipper; therefore, they wear suspenders. The men are clean-shaven until they marry, then they develop long, full beards. But no mustaches.
When they are working outside, they do protect their feet, but from babies to elderly they go barefoot. I saw children walking on hot concrete without even noticing the temperature. Clothes flapped on clotheslines designed with a pulley system that carried the clothes high into the air.
When my daughter and I were there, the temperature hovered in the high 90’s. They have no electricity. We spent evenings sitting outside catching the breeze, while fireflies danced and cicadas sang. We were privileged to be given a ride in one of their horse-drawn buggies; their mode of transportation. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves was very soothing.
They grow their own food. The meals are prepared by the women, starting at a very young age. We partook of several meals; all delicious. The entertainment after the meal was provided by the daughters, playing harmonicas or singing in beautiful harmony.
And the children … oh the children.
They have no screen in front of their face. They draw. They play outside. They laugh together. They take care of each other. In five days, I never heard an argument among them, even though they have large families. They are polite, sitting quietly with us as we visited. They observe when there might be a need, such as bringing another chair for company. They have chores. They know their jobs and do them with no whining or complaining.
They have not been tainted by our culture.
One family we visited had a dairy farm, where we were able to watch the whole process. The eight-year old son knew his part in the milking and worked alongside his dad. Another farm was a foundry where we observed molten metal being poured into molds of various shapes and sizes. Some families grow fruit for canning and selling. Others raise horses.
Church is rotated among the homes and meets in large rooms such as a barn or shed. Benches are loaded on a trailer and moved from home to home. And they take Sunday seriously. Other than chores that must be done, they spend the day attending a three-hour church service (where the men sit on one side and the women on the other) or visiting neighbors and extended family. We joined them in one visit to a relative who had been in the hospital. We were welcomed as a friend.
One very special lady in her 80’s took us under her wing. She was delightful to listen to as she shared of her life in that very area. She rode in our car and pointed out the little schoolhouse she attended as a child. One room. Kindergarten through eighth grade. They do not go any higher than that. Her sister lives in the same area … just past that cornfield. (Every intersection has a cornfield). There were 16 children in their family.
When my daughter was ready to come get me at the airport 30 miles away, she asked the Amish lady if she wanted to ride along. With their horse and buggy transportation, they rarely go more than a 15-mile radius. She immediately asked, “Can my sister Susie come too?” So, two ladies in their 80’s witnessed an airplane landing for the first time in their lives.
As I’ve tried to think how to describe the friends we met, words like peaceful and tranquil bounced around in my head. But then one word stuck. Centered. These people are centered. God is in control, so they have no need for worry. They don’t push their way of life on others but are very sure for themselves. God will take care of them. That came through time and again in our conversations.
As I return to my chaotic, hectic culture, I pray I remember these days. May I become centered in the midst of it.
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It wasn’t that I didn’t desire to decorate for Christmas. The meaning of Christmas is very dear to me. And over the years I’ve been collecting nativities, even buying one in Bethlehem. Yes, the one in Israel. So, I really wanted to be able to see my special decorations. 
This is my fifth Christmas without John. And most of the time I’m doing very well. We never decorated a tree together; that was my thing. And in the past ten years we’ve only put up one tree; our first year in this new home. John declared he wanted it to look like a picture in Better Homes and Gardens. He bought the tree, the decorations, the lights…and did it all himself. 
But in this home, he did help with the decorating; especially putting up the wreath. Today, as I removed it from its packing, I remembered the conversation we had when purchasing it. He had such a dilemma. Just couldn’t decide which one he wanted. I held up wreath after wreath while he studied it. 
Christmas Day is not the hardest day. After the children became adults, the hustle and bustle of gifts and secrets and Christmas cookies and handmade ornaments faded into memories. Wonderful memories. When it was just John and me, that day was very low key. Just quiet time together. Some Christmas music. Some Christmas movies (although he slept through them). Several years our daughter, Lorri, joined us. She was okay with low key. 
