This week, a box of old Amish school books arrived from California, sent by a teacher named Lisa Gruerena from Temecula.

I can’t quite remember, but I believe she messaged me to say they were coming and might be useful for Moise’s very wonderful children and grandchildren.

I came into their kitchen on this warm afternoon – always bubbling and boiling with pies, buns, cookies – and showed the books to Barbara, who I am getting to know well, or as well as an outsider gets to know an Amish mother.

I came up to the farm to drop off the donut boxes I had ordered from a restaurant supplier in Maryland. I had scored another no-shipping victory and got 250 paper boxes with windows for $68. The Amish are teaching me how to shop.

The girls gathered around me, as always, and especially when I come in bringing books and pictures.  Tina the dog had rushed up to greet me at the door. Moise was off plowing.

“Barbara,” I said, showing her the textbooks, “if you don’t mind, one of these books is full of great poems, and I’d love to read some to your children.”

I hesitated. Who am I to read poems to children who live in so different a culture than me? Was it presumptuous or invasive in some way?

Barbara said ‘”sure,” she seemed grateful to me.

I had barely spoken when the children had gathered around me in a circle, close enough to see the words I was reading on the pages. They always want to see the words on the page.

There were toddlers and teenagers in the group. They were eager, no one had to be shushed or distracted or entertained.

I felt the strangeness of it, all of them in their straw hats and bonnets and special clothes. Maria says I dress just like them in my own blue uniform.

When I saw the books, I just had an impulse to read them to these kids. They were appropriate for Amish children and I love reading to children. This idea just popped into my head: I wanted to read these poems to them.

I had just read them to Maria at lunch and she cried once or twice. I was close myself.

Maria says it’s clear I love children and don’t get to see many now where we live.

My daughter lives in New York City and I don’t get to see her often. My granddaughter reads books every day, she doesn’t need me to read to her. And she doesn’t sit still for long, she has an Ipad chock full of movies and games.

I do remember taking Emma to a bookstore every Saturday and sitting in a huge rocking chair with her in my lap listening while I read to her.

These Amish children and I have a powerful connection to one another, it’s a kind of love I haven’t felt for some time. I don’t quite understand it, but then again, do I really need to?

The gleam in their eyes as they settled down to be read to was a precious gift to me, it reached deep into my heart. For a moment I feared I would cry before I could read these poems, but that was about me, not them.

I took a deep breath and settled. I did not cry, I have done too many readings to lose it in front of a group of children.

Something inside of me is broken, as I know and have written,  and something about this was profoundly healing.

Help Others

The first poem was called Help Others, the author was unknown. Delilah said she had heard it once before, it was perfect for Amish children:

“If any little word of mine May makes life the brighter.

If any little song of mine May make a heart the lighter,

God help me speak that little word

And take my bit of singing, And Drop it in some lonely vale,

to set the echoes ringing.

If any little care of mine, May make a friend’s the fleeter,

If any life of one may ease the burden of another,

God give me love and care and strength to help my tolling brother.”

-Author Unknown

This is a cornerstone belief among the Amish, the idea of helping a tolling brother or anyone in need is a Biblical idea. Jesus talked about it in his Sermon On The Mount, a core teaching of the Amish.

This was not a new idea to the children, but an affirmation, something to recognize, even cheer, although they don’t to cheering, they applaud quietly with their eyes and smiles.

Speaking that soft and little word to set the echoes running is something these children are taught from birth. It seems to have taken.

The kitchen was filled with strong and appealing odors, I could see the horses through the window sitting down in the pasture in the shade of some big trees. The room was full of rich odors and steam.

I never once got the feeling I was doing something these children were enduring, I got the feeling they were listening to me, deeply and fully, and that was a powerful thing to me, especially an old man and an “English” outsider.

And I have begun to understand what it is the Amish are fighting so hard to preserve.

 

The second poem I read was written by Emily Dickinson:

Not In Vain:

“If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain.

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or Cool One Pain,

Or help one fainting Robin,

Into his next again,

I shall not live in vain.”

-Emily Dickinson

I thought I saw some tears forming in several of the children’s eyes, they were transfixed. I didn’t expect to see a poem by Emily Dickinson in an Amish textbook, but knowing this family, it makes sense to me.

To stop one heart from breaking as a fulfillment of life’s promise is a beautiful idea, and it seems to be sorely lacking in our civic lives and in the corporate rush to destroy our planet, our work, our peace of mind.

Watching these children’s faces,  and their nodding heads – a few were just three and four years old — I see this is not a strange idea to them.

I was reading to them in a way that affirmed what they already believe, not what someone is trying to lecture them about and persuade them to believe.

I’ve read to children many times, but always understand their distraction, their restlessness, their desire to be entertained rather than taught. Sincerity is not in fashion in our time.

My memories of these readings are of teachers apologizing for the children’s behavior and threatening them if they didn’t sit still and be courteous.

I never expected them to listen to me carefully and quietly. And they rarely did. I do love children and accept their right to teach themselves, they don’t need to bow to me.

I wonder if this wasn’t a reminder of another time when children did not have such amazing toys to amuse and occupy them, and they actually listened to people teaching them how to live and what truth and morality meant.

I dislike old fartism, I never say the old days were better than the current ones, but the Amish children have shaken my fixed ideas about that.

It was something new to me to see these children listened to me so closely, and so gratefully. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. So I just accepted it.

It made me feel worthwhile, that my life is meaningful, that I know some things worthy of being passed on. That seems arrogant to me.

But….The English children I know seem overwhelmed to me, they are so busy playing and clicking that they sometimes don’t know how to think.

The Amish are humble people, they never like to be praised or singled out. It feels arrogant to them and unnecessary. So I didn’t need to thank them or praise them.

 

The third poem I read was called I Would Be True. The author is unknown.

 

I Would Be True

“I would be true, for there are those who  trust me,

I would be pure,

for there are those that care,

I would be strong,

For I know my weakness,

I would be brave,

For the is much to dare.

I would be a friend of all.

The foe, the friendless;

I would be giving,

And forget the gift,

I would be humble, 

For I know my weakness, 

I would look up,

and laugh, and love and live.”

Barbara kept nodding, she said she loves these poems, everyone.

I had to stop reading after that, I think I would have started crying if I stayed, and yet I can’t really say why.

I called Maria right away and told her what a beautiful experience this had been for me.

I am broken in some ways, and my heart is broken in some ways, for all of my good fortune, and wonderful life.

I needed to see this and vibrant love and hopefulness, it lives in all of us, and somehow it was installed in these children, who were eager and grateful to have an old man – who most children don’t even see – come and read to them on a hot May day while pots boiled and the oven heated, and pies were taking shape in aluminum pans.

What an extraordinary thing, I will be thinking about it for a long time.

I left while the going was good, grateful for one of the sweetest and warmest, and most meaningful moments I can recall.

“I’ll be happy to come and read to you anytime,” I said, something I would really love to do.

It was not for the children to answer me, but Barbara spoke right up:

“That would be wonderful, Jon, come anytime. And perhaps you might help us find some books on mathematics. We are starting a school for Amish children in the fall.”

Next week I’ll come back with some more poems an Amish child might like, and some flashcards and books on math for children.

I’m not sure what this is all about, but I open my heart to it.