Spending days from last March 19th to September 8th at our small Minnesota farm avoiding COVID-19 at my sons’ request changed things for me—as it did most of us. Life moved at a far slower pace than spring and summer months in suburban Minneapolis. But even on our farm where the nearest town two miles away has under 3,000 people, life is slowing down further.
Amish families are buying surrounding farms and homes. One family is three doors down and another one-fourth mile away. I enjoy seeing Amish buggies pulled by one or more horses with dancing hooves at a speed faster than I can photograph, though if I listen, their jingling harness tells me they are coming. Male drivers usually lift a hand and wave, realizing now I’m a neighbor. The ladies don’t acknowledge yet, busy keeping both hands on the reins.
Horses are powerful. I was very sad to learn the family at the corner faced tragedy last winter when their spooked horse kicked and killed one young son and injured another. Their pasture has no horses now, except one or two tired old ones near the house to pull their buggy. Instead, seventy wooly sheep are a safe trade off.
I learn about their lives from the colors and cut of clothes on their clotheslines, thriving gardens and neatly edged flowerbeds with riots of color. They make it look easy but I know hard work is involved. I visited an Amish store with jams, jellies, pickles, spices, baked goods, and more. I considered buying one son a well-made straw hat for $12. Purchases are entered by adding machine with a handwritten receipt.
The other day an Amish mother rolled past driving her open buggy pulled by one steady horse. She held the reins confidently, a conservative bonnet on her head. Next to her, her 8 or 9 year-old daughter sat with a larger pastel bonnet. There wasn’t time to snap my iPhone by the time I glimpsed cart clip-clopping by, but their picture stays in my heart.
One Sunday morning I snapped three Amish girls in their late teens swinging down our country road going to a house meeting church. My picture isn’t near or clear, but you can sense their hopeful energy enjoying fresh air in open spaces. When I next spend time at our farm, I hope to see more of these people. I appreciate their slower pace (although I haven’t learned it) and the serenity they bring.
Wherever we are, it’s important to know our neighbors, be aware of their lives, and help when needed. Society may not return to the way it was, but things will stabilize, seasons turn, plants grow, children mature, and tests AND blessings continue—one day at a time.
Please comment on your greatest recent blessing. What is your greatest challenge?
I love reading about your neighbors!