An Amish Welcome

The first time I entered an Old Order Amish home several things instantly became a part of who I would be when I wrote.

I hadn't expected it or even thought about it. I was looking for facts.

But like a spring day after a hard winter, the difference was undeniable and very welcome.

We've all experienced the spring days that become a part of us: dancing sunlight, the sound of children's laughter carried on warm breezes, song birds letting us know the long awaited season has begun, a donkey braying . . . wait, that donkey experience is not today's post.

Sunshine streamed abundantly through every window as I walked inside. And the home was so quiet. Immediately I longed for more. But why did the sunlight seem to frame the tone for the whole house?

We moved to the large kitchen table and sat down. Because the head of the household had set his work to the side to talk with me, I wasted no time pulling out my notepad. A breeze played with the edges of the paper and a shadow fell across it. Wanting direct light, I shifted the pad of paper to a different spot on the table.

It was then that I knew why the sunlight that seemed to fill the room as if it owned it was more powerful in this home than in mine. It was the only light used during the day.

The aroma of fresh baked cookies filled the home. Coats and boots were lined up neatly near the back door and there was a mop sink in that area too, where family members could wash up after coming in from a day's work.

While I read over my questions, the soft ticking of the clock that echoed throughout the room etched a quiet rhythm inside me--maybe an Amish rhythm. There was no hum of electronic devices, no whirring of fans, no cartoon or radio in the background. It was a kind of quiet I've only experienced when the electricity went out and storms raged outside.

There was no storm, only an Amish man who shared in honesty the good, the bad, and the grace in which they believed.