cared for their sick, we attended their funerals, and we even broke bread with them. But then when the English—the
Long Knives
, the Kiowas called them—began to come into the valley in greater numbers, the Indians slowly left, going west. And our forefathers regretted it. They felt that they had lost people that belonged in the valley, even though they regarded them as heathens. You see, Yancy, the Amish never judge others who are not of the People. We believe we should always show them God’s love. So whatever you do, Yancy, we will love you. Always.”
Yancy climbed up on the buggy, sitting beside Daniel on the driver’s bench.
Zemira sat on one of the benches in the back.
“Can I drive, Father?”
“Sure, Yancy. You’re a good hand with a buggy, just like you are at riding.”
“We’re going to the Keims’ house, is that right?”
“That’s right. That’s where church this Sunday will be.”
The Amish had church services every other Sunday. Each Sunday, services were at a different home in the community, for the Amish didn’t believe in building church buildings. They took this from the verse Acts 17:24, “God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands.”
Each congregation of the church owned community property in the form of tables, chairs, benches, and wagons to transport them from farm to farm as the services were held in each home. The men from the congregation moved them every other Sunday for services.
Yancy spoke to the mare, and she started out with a sassy little toss of her head. He liked the look of her and the way she high-stepped. She had spirit, so he had to keep her on a tight rein, but for Yancy that only made the driving better. He had no use for a plodding, slow-moving horse and kept the mare at a fast trot.
“Good mare,” Daniel commented. “Now who is she?”
Yancy took care of the farm horses. “This is Fancy,” Yancy answered. “I named her that ‘cause there’s nothing else around here that is,” he added mischievously. “She’s the one that has that fine little foal, Midnight. He’s young, but I’ve already started training him. Grandmother says he’s a showy horse, too showy for the Amish.”
“Guess that’s true,” Daniel agreed. “The Amish have a simple life.”
Yancy shook his head. “Their church services sure aren’t. First a short sermon, then singing, then prayers, then a long sermon, then a longer sermon, then more singing, then the longest sermon. Last week over at the Beilers’ house it lasted for over four hours. How are you supposed to stay awake for all that?”
Daniel said regretfully, “I had the same problem, son, when I was your age. Guess the sermons do get a little long-winded, and those benches are downright uncomfortable. The Methodists have seats with backs on them instead of those backless ones that the People like. For the life of me, I can’t see that a comfortable seat would be a sin.”
“I was just saying stuff like that to Grandmother, Father,” Yancy said soberly. “Like, why can’t I wear my own clothes to church? I hate these stupid breeches. They’re itchy and too short. And these shoes are like wood blocks on your feet. They hurt.”
“It’s a matter of respect, Yancy. The Amish wear simple clothes. You notice all the men dress alike, and so do the women, pretty much. And we let you wear your clothes all the time, except for church.”
After a rather awkward silence, Yancy said, “Yeah, I know. Grandmother told me about rumspringa today. You’re letting me off easy for now.”
Daniel studied his son’s face. In profile, he strongly showed his mother’s heritage. He had a thin nose, very high cheekbones, the slight copper tint of the Cheyenne. His eyes were dark and penetrating. Even at thirteen, he was beginning to lose his childish awkwardness and fill out, lean and muscled. His hair was glossy black, and he
Long Knives
, the Kiowas called them—began to come into the valley in greater numbers, the Indians slowly left, going west. And our forefathers regretted it. They felt that they had lost people that belonged in the valley, even though they regarded them as heathens. You see, Yancy, the Amish never judge others who are not of the People. We believe we should always show them God’s love. So whatever you do, Yancy, we will love you. Always.”
Yancy climbed up on the buggy, sitting beside Daniel on the driver’s bench.
Zemira sat on one of the benches in the back.
“Can I drive, Father?”
“Sure, Yancy. You’re a good hand with a buggy, just like you are at riding.”
“We’re going to the Keims’ house, is that right?”
“That’s right. That’s where church this Sunday will be.”
The Amish had church services every other Sunday. Each Sunday, services were at a different home in the community, for the Amish didn’t believe in building church buildings. They took this from the verse Acts 17:24, “God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands.”
Each congregation of the church owned community property in the form of tables, chairs, benches, and wagons to transport them from farm to farm as the services were held in each home. The men from the congregation moved them every other Sunday for services.
Yancy spoke to the mare, and she started out with a sassy little toss of her head. He liked the look of her and the way she high-stepped. She had spirit, so he had to keep her on a tight rein, but for Yancy that only made the driving better. He had no use for a plodding, slow-moving horse and kept the mare at a fast trot.
“Good mare,” Daniel commented. “Now who is she?”
Yancy took care of the farm horses. “This is Fancy,” Yancy answered. “I named her that ‘cause there’s nothing else around here that is,” he added mischievously. “She’s the one that has that fine little foal, Midnight. He’s young, but I’ve already started training him. Grandmother says he’s a showy horse, too showy for the Amish.”
“Guess that’s true,” Daniel agreed. “The Amish have a simple life.”
Yancy shook his head. “Their church services sure aren’t. First a short sermon, then singing, then prayers, then a long sermon, then a longer sermon, then more singing, then the longest sermon. Last week over at the Beilers’ house it lasted for over four hours. How are you supposed to stay awake for all that?”
Daniel said regretfully, “I had the same problem, son, when I was your age. Guess the sermons do get a little long-winded, and those benches are downright uncomfortable. The Methodists have seats with backs on them instead of those backless ones that the People like. For the life of me, I can’t see that a comfortable seat would be a sin.”
“I was just saying stuff like that to Grandmother, Father,” Yancy said soberly. “Like, why can’t I wear my own clothes to church? I hate these stupid breeches. They’re itchy and too short. And these shoes are like wood blocks on your feet. They hurt.”
“It’s a matter of respect, Yancy. The Amish wear simple clothes. You notice all the men dress alike, and so do the women, pretty much. And we let you wear your clothes all the time, except for church.”
After a rather awkward silence, Yancy said, “Yeah, I know. Grandmother told me about rumspringa today. You’re letting me off easy for now.”
Daniel studied his son’s face. In profile, he strongly showed his mother’s heritage. He had a thin nose, very high cheekbones, the slight copper tint of the Cheyenne. His eyes were dark and penetrating. Even at thirteen, he was beginning to lose his childish awkwardness and fill out, lean and muscled. His hair was glossy black, and he
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