While the English world turned round and round dealing with the virus of this unforgettable year, the Amish themselves, while also having the same tribulation, have faced a fair share of trials this year of their own. In short, it’s not been a good year for the Amish either. The waters have been rough all around. Lives have been lost. Times changed. Good has arisen from the evil. Yet, evil has had its fair share of time. There are times where I suppose both English and Amish alike wish they could just turn the clock back. Wish that somehow there was a way to go back before it all. Everyone had it so good, and it was taken for granted. I guess for myself, the thought had always been lingering in the back of my head that it could all fall apart. I knew history all too well. I knew it was possible.

       Between the Spring time and summer, the Amish world faced three particular trials that I want to note here. Undoubtedly, and even to my knowledge, other things have occurred. All of these three, with perhaps the exception of one (it really cannot be known), have no relation to the whole epidemic. That’s the thing, regular problems continue right along with no care of such an event. But, even on top of that, there seems like, and it could all be due to the gloom already in the air, that even so this year has been bad with so many other unfortunate events. Not to mention that new problems have been created. That’s the way it works, though. One challenge leads to many other challenges. Everything accumulates, and when one tries to consider everything in one setting, it is overwhelming.

       With the news chaotic with stressful events, it was in May of this year that I made a short little trip up to Holmes County here in Ohio. I needed to get away from it all for a short time. The nature of my regular job at the time just made it ever so necessary. And so it was. I found myself up in Amish country at a local bike shop out in the middle of nowhere renting a bike. There my beautiful, pristinely washed Mustang sat out in front of the shop (not a horse; the car), not being used for a while. Later when I pulled out onto the roadway, the young Amish kids (playing baseball I think) would ogle over it. They liked it, and I guess they weren’t used to seeing supped up cars (at least in appearance). The car is quite good looking, I must admit. I’ve had it over 10 years.



       Standing there in the shop, I rented the bike from the owner’s daughter (I would learn later). She couldn’t of been more than 15 or 16. It was a nice bike, you know, a 24 speed if I remember correctly. Something like that. Had a flat area behind the seat where there was a small black bag strapped on. Good enough to fit a bottle of water, can of pop, my smartphone and wallet. I hadn’t been on a serious bike ride in probably some 15 years, and yet that was what I was about to do. Eight miles around. I know; serious for me. The last ride I’d been on down in Florida probably six months before this had only been, let’s say, maybe three miles roundtrip. Something like that. Though that ride was pretty flat. The case up in Holmes County would be a different beast altogether.

       I was probably only on my ride let’s say two miles before I realized I had my work cut-out for me. Yeah, there were hills. Slowly up one and slowly down another. I thought I had plotted out a route that wasn’t that hilly. Well, turns out that in comparison it wasn’t. There were much more challenging options. But, man, to my legs this choice was hilly. The burning set in after that point—the two miles. I made it out onto a major highway that I had to go a short distance. Not that bad, though, traffic wise. People were relatively courteous, however, I wasn’t on it that long. Guess they are used to the slow traffic, right?

       Then came the big hill. It was up that one which would take me to my halfway point, roughly speaking, and the point where I would stop at a bakery to rest (Amish of course). This had been planned. Exhaustion came over me. So shot in fact I couldn’t touch a piece of pie or a doughnut. Just wasn’t happening. Instead, I rested outside at a table googling how to more effectively ride a heavily-speeded bike. I ended up on YouTube where I found a couple good videos on the subject. And learn I did in that short amount of time there. Here’s a young guy who just can’t enjoy the country—has to be on his smartphone—the guys in the passing-by pickup truck had to be thinking.

       Jumping back on the bike, I took it over now with particularly accurate shifts, at just the right times, and was cruising away more like a pro. Up the hill to the stop-sign. Then down the hill back to the highway. Slowly past one of my favorite restaurants onto a small side-street which actually led out into the countryside. The narrow road looked like it wouldn’t go anywhere, but I knew it did from my previous map planning. More hills came. Small one after small one. Fences lined the sides from time to time. Farm after farm. Clothes line after clothes line. Man, the Amish women like to hang their clothes to dry. And a lot of clothes. Big families, you know. I took it all in.

       At the corner of one of the fences, a horse who was poised there was staring right at me. A picturesque scene. I stopped in front of the white fence. Wanted to get a picture of the horse. And really, I needed to rest for a moment.



The horse looked contented, as you can see. A beautiful dark chocolate. Chocolate—like at the chocolate shop earlier. But that was the last thing on my mind at this point.

       Straightway I continued on that road until it came to a dead-end. Making a left, I headed north, back toward the bike shop. Struggling was my condition at this point. Some Amish guy, probably ten years older than me, passed me on his bike racing down the road like it was nobodies business. And, from what I could tell, it wasn’t an electric bike. That was the most encouraging thing to have happen at this moment. Nonetheless, I wobbled my way all the way back to the shop, with the kids playing baseball in the distance, probably wondering what this amateur English guy with the cool car was doing.



       Standing in the shop, I was now talking with the owner. An Amish guy—probably about 50 years old. Short, bearded, rotund fellow. Nice guy. I told him the nature of my job back in Columbus. Didn’t seemed to be phased by it, though it is heavy involved in the technology world. Thought he might be, but he wasn’t. Of course, we discussed the virus. He said that they even had it up here, and that there was a no escaping it for them. Back to church, though, he confirmed. I was surprised. I figured they had disbanded the church gatherings every other Sunday. Guess not. Anyway, I payed the man and wished him and his church well.

       Boy was I ever so glad to see my Mustang sitting there on the rocks. Looked like a roving living room with a recliner at this point. The windows were down. I repositioned the bike back in a better place outside with the rest of them. Turning around, the skies let loose. Rain clouds had been threatening my bike ride the closer I had been getting back to the shop. I quickly moved to the Stang, got in, and powered the windows up. Just in the nick of time. If I’d have taken any longer on my ride, the red leather seats in my car would have been soaked. Can’t have that. God is good to me.

       For a moment, I regretted it—that is, the bike ride—but then at the same time, I didn’t. So tired. So exhausted. So shot. Yet, how would I have known it would have been such a workout. Heck, I was here to get away from it all—not to do more work. And hard work at that. But I digress. At least the ride had been beautiful. But just as the Amish man had noted, there was no getting away from it all. You can run but it will be where you are running. The virus was going everywhere, and nowhere was safe. It was as the rain was coming down, there was no escaping it all.

       This brings to mind the first tragic event in the Amish world I want to note—one that has to do with rain. Lots of it. My understanding is that Northern Kentucky had been inundated with it, and there’s no doubt about that as reported from the New York Times, who covered the story. On day in late April, an Amish woman tried to cross a flooded area of a roadway down there. A normal affair I’m sure. But this day, as she was crossing the water, the rain tipped the buggy which overturned her five children into the rushing waters. She ran for help but it was no use. All five of them perished.

       That was hard, reading that story. Horrible. Here we were in the midst of the outbreak of the virus, and then to hear a story like that, well, to understate it, it simply was disheartening. Half a family gone, just like that (she had more kids who hadn’t been with them). I contemplated on that deeply for a long time. I spent probably the next couple weeks keeping the family in my prayers. I just had to. I couldn’t imagine the horror of it, and what thoughts must have been going through the parents’ heads. And I know my prayers have had a positive effect, even though there is no way for me to ever know for sure, and probably never will, at least in this life.

       And, then, as we all know, it wasn’t long after that, just weeks I think, where the young woman in Lancaster County, PA, just disappeared. Out of nowhere. She was there one day, and gone the next. No one could figure it out. Then it was the bureau, the F.B.I. I believe, who started to crack it. An apparent kidnapping from some random prowler. The details really aren’t known even to this current day. Such an incomprehensible thing. For lack for hope in believing otherwise, she apparently is now in the third realm of existence. At least Heaven is better. The whole thing is just plain sick.

       Through this second tragedy, the Amish certainly showed their diligence. The reports of someone sitting at the telephone shanty everyday, apparently at all times, waiting for a call, well, that shows love in a way few other ways can. Then the diligent searches, that of the Amish, ex-Amish, law enforcement, and simply English. The whole thing was amazing. To say that humans don’t have inherent goodness after watching all of that, well, not sure how one could say that. The image of God is everywhere. People from everywhere wanted to help, wanted to solve the mystery, wanted to give permanent rest.

       I remember on the same trip where I took my bike ride that I visited the Amish & Mennonite Heritage Center, just northeast of Berlin. Always looking for new books, I talked to one of the Amish gentlemen who works there (I’ve talked with him before). Amish theology—that was the question I asked him about. He lead me to a couple of books he recommended. I looked over them. Interesting. Then I walked back up to the counter and asked about learning Pennsylvania Dutch. I don’t know, just wanted to see how hard it would be. The other guy that was there (this guy had given me a tour in the past) pointed out a book about ten feet away. A pile of them there. I recall picking it up and looking over it. There was a CD in the back. Thought seriously for a moment about buying it. Some former Amish girl had written it, and now she was Mennonite, but obviously still knew the language. Decided to pass because it kind of had a hefty price tag, though, I’m sure it was worth it.

       Fast forward about two months later. One day I was just looking over the Amish America website like I do from time to time. Saw an article announcing someone’s death. At first glance, I thought it was that they had found the Lancaster County girl. Once I clicked on the article, and began to read it, I was surprised to find it was the Amish lingo author. It was the girl who had written the Pennsylvania Dutch book. Much in the same way, she had gone for a walk and wouldn’t come back. Then once I realized what had happened, the thoughts of “why?” came into my mind. Why did this have to happen? What happened? “Dang” I thought, “I wished I had purchased the book. Maybe I would have contacted her and thanked her, or even developed a communication.” But that was a stretch. Perhaps I could have helped her. A stretch.

       And all one can do is put his face in his hands. All these tragedies. And tragedies in a year that’s already been so burdensome. When will all the madness end? When will the world be put back to the way it was? When will the world be perfect again? That’s when the sliver of hope comes back into the picture. Because it will. Sure, things will get better in our current world. That’s the way it always has been, and that’s the way it will go. Like the famous Kansas song goes, “Nothin' lasts forever but the earth and sky.” But, then, there is an ‘after that.’ There is a time after the current earth and sky. The place where we are all going—where we are all headed. For those of us who are good, there is hope.

       Deep streams of sadness. Much to pray for. But abundance of hope. Lots to be happy about. So, as we navigate out of this year of turmoil, and hopefully into a better one, let us not forget what we have, no matter who we are. No matter if a person is Amish, English, whatever. Let us not forget that there is a lot of goodness, and bad times cannot last forever. Indeed, they will not. Goodness is around every corner. And while lives are changed on a permanent basis, that doesn’t mean goodness still won’t come. It is our birthright and our inheritance, if that makes any sense at all. We have to be forward looking, and know that even though this world will wrench our hearts at times, there is the One who has overcome the world. When we lean in that truth, we cannot lose.

- Daniel Litton

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