I didn\u2019t know what to say when my literary agent called that summer day a few years ago. It certainly was an interesting proposition. But it didn\u2019t sound like something I could actually pull off.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re looking for someone to write an Amish romance set in Ohio,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
I lived in Ohio, 30 minutes away from a small Amish community. That hardly made me an expert. If anything, the Amish confused me.<\/p>\n
Just the other day, I\u2019d seen a horse and buggy pulling out of the parking lot at Walmart. There was a Jeff Gordon bumper sticker on the back of the buggy. Here was this young Amish guy moving down the road at a sedate 10 miles per hour. In his heart, though, he was a NASCAR racer!<\/p>\n
I could relate to wanting a simpler, more faithful way of life. After all, I was the wife of a minister and lived on a farm in Minford\u2013population 693.<\/p>\n
But I couldn\u2019t see the harm in going to the beauty salon or having a cell phone. Weren\u2019t the Amish taking it too far? Surely it was possible to connect to God without being stuck in the 1800s.<\/p>\n
Still, I couldn\u2019t pass up the opportunity. I\u2019d waited till my sons were grown to pursue my dream of being a novelist. I\u2019d written three books\u2013none published. Was I really meant to be a writer? What was the point if no one could read my books?<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll do it,\u201d I told my agent, eager to prove myself.<\/p>\n
I settled on the real-life town of Sugarcreek as the setting for the novel. Not only was the name evocative, but it was at the center of the largest Old Order Amish community in the world. I\u2019d need to connect with real Amish folks, get the inside scoop.<\/p>\n
So I booked a weeklong stay at a bed-and-breakfast, wrote a long list of questions in my notebook and tried not to freak out. From what I could tell, the Amish were a severe, closed-off people. Would they even talk to an \u201cEnglisch\u201d outsider like me?<\/p>\n
Arriving in Sugarcreek was like stepping into an episode of Little House on the Prairie. <\/em>Rolling green hills. Fat cows. Old-fashioned farm wagons, tepee-shaped corn shocks and children running through the grass barefoot. I could feel it right away\u2013a sense of abundance. Life was full here.<\/p>\n I checked into my room at Oak Haven Bed & Breakfast and chatted with the owners, Joyanne and Clay. Not Amish, they were originally from Texas and had transformed the 127-year-old farmhouse into a charming B and B.<\/p>\n Like everything I\u2019d seen in Sugarcreek so far, the property was tidy and meticulously kept. Intentionally removed from the outside world. No TVs, phones or\u2013heaven forbid!\u2013Wi-Fi.<\/p>\n Clay had started praying for me the moment I booked my stay. He did that for every guest, and his prayer list was updated daily. On the wall near the kitchen was a wooden plaque with Hebrews 13:2 on it: \u201cBe not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.\u201d<\/p>\n I scribbled the verse in my notebook\u2013something for my novel, perhaps.<\/p>\n On the side, Joyanne and Clay also \u201chauled the Amish,\u201d driving them on errands, shopping trips and doctor\u2019s appointments in their two 15-passenger vans. They knew the community well.<\/p>\n I was thrilled when Joyanne invited me to dinner with Naomi and Luke, an Amish couple she\u2019d befriended, and their family.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll get permission for you to attend,\u201d she said. \u201cYou can ask questions.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019d be great!\u201d I said, thankful for the \u201cin\u201d to the Amish world.<\/p>\n Until then, I took in the sights and sounds and tastes of Sugarcreek. Many of the original Amish and Mennonite settlers had German and Swiss roots. That influence was everywhere, from the street names\u2013like Edelweiss and Basel\u2013to the chalet-style architecture.<\/p>\n There was even a giant cuckoo clock at the center of town. Every half hour, little mechanical wooden men with instruments popped out. I stopped for lunch at Beachy\u2019s Country Chalet.<\/p>\n The Amish certainly didn\u2019t cut corners. Everything was made by hand, even the wooden booths and the colorful quilts that lined the walls. And the food. Piecrust, thick and flaky. Slow-cooked beef. Creamy mashed potatoes. Gooey apple dumplings. I could actually smell the fresh-churned butter.<\/p>\n I was enjoying myself. But I hadn\u2019t made any progress connecting with the Amish folk in town. At one point, I spotted a little boy manning a produce stand with his father. \u201cHow old are you?\u201d I asked, crouching down so I was at his eye level. He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n His father whispered something to him in Pennsylvania German, then turned to me. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t speak English,\u201d he explained. \u201cNot yet.\u201d Like many of the Amish I\u2019d met so far, he was polite, but reserved. I imagined he got a lot of questions from the thousands of tourists who visited Sugarcreek every year.<\/p>\n I hoped my dinner with Joyanne at Naomi and Luke\u2019s house would go better. It was my only chance to sit down and talk with a real Old Order Amish family.<\/p>\n Dinner was set up outside on the lawn, since the house had no air-conditioning and would be too stuffy. All the guests were dressed formally in plain suits and dresses. I felt out of place in my blue jeans\u2026and also a little envious.<\/p>\n The women around the table were so lovely even without makeup. Plus they could whip up a dress in one evening. I could barely sew on buttons.<\/p>\n We all bowed our heads and prayed silently. That was new. I was so used to praising God for all to hear. The food was, of course, delicious\u2013I\u2019d really have to get a cow for our farm in Minford, for the fresh milk and cream\u2013and conversation flowed easily.<\/p>\n No picky eaters. The kids cleaned their plates. Best of all, there were no distractions. How long had it been since I\u2019d sat down to dinner without someone\u2019s cell phone buzzing?<\/p>\n After dinner, the adults sat in lawn chairs and watched the kids play volleyball. It was surreal. The girls in simple pastel dresses with their hair pinned up in kerchiefs, the boys with cloth suspenders, all of them running around the backyard and spiking the ball.<\/p>\n Aside from the clothes, something else was odd\u2013the kids were content. No complaints or eye-rolling, not even from the teenagers.<\/p>\n I was so caught up in the game that I hadn\u2019t realized Luke was staring at me. Had I done something wrong?<\/p>\n \u201cJoyanne tells me you are writing a book on the Amish,\u201d he said. His smile put me at ease. \u201cAsk me anything. Nothing is forbidden.\u201d<\/p>\n So I did. We covered the spiritual stuff and the everyday stuff too. The group talked about how Amish dress united the community. How parents measured everything, especially technology, against how it would affect the family.<\/p>\n And how shunning\u2013banishment of members from the Amish community\u2013was actually extremely rare. By question 50 or 60, everyone was starting to get a little goofy.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I have trouble getting to sleep, I don\u2019t bother to count sheep,\u201d one of the older men at the table said. \u201cI just try to remember the names of all my seventy-three grandchildren!\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed. The Amish in Sugarcreek weren\u2019t at all what I\u2019d expected. They were warm, welcoming, kind and funny. Reserved, sure, but relaxed and confident in their way of life.<\/p>\n It was almost as if they\u2019d stumbled upon the secret to happiness a long time ago and would do anything to protect it. But they also had to live out their faith in the real world, just as I did.<\/p>\n And their concerns were no different from mine. They too worried about their kids, whether they\u2019d find the paths God meant for them. I could relate.<\/p>\n I went home to Minford changed, somehow. That\u2019s not to say I was going to give up my car for a horse and buggy. But I found myself enjoying quiet time with God more. Taking that extra hour to make piecrust from scratch\u2013and keeping my cell phone turned off while I did it.<\/p>\n