I am working to understand my rich and meaningful connection to the Amish family that moved just up the hill and have been writing about for months.

More and more, Moise feels like a kind of brother to me and me to him. This is a shocking and remarkable thing.

This is Day Three of the Barn Raising. Moise has between 15 and 15 Amish men working with him; they are close to finishing three of the barn’s concrete foundations and walls.

The barn will house horses, goats and sheep, and some farm equipment and will be about 20 years from his planned home just at the top of the hill.

They are still focusing on pouring concrete into the forms.

Mosie has invited me to the final “raising” of the barn roof.

It will take place on July 28; there will be between 75 and 100 Amish men from all over the East and their wives working.

The men will build the roof and finish the windows; the women will join together to make some quilts commemorating the raising.

Clearly, this is something the Amish love doing, Moise, who doesn’t often smile, beams when he talks about it. “Come early to the raising, Johnie,” he said, “you are very welcome.”

No one in my whole life ever called me Johnny except my grandmother.

More and more, I see that for the Amish, work and joy are the same things. Hard work is never a chore, always a tribute to God, a gift.

That explains why I always laugh and smile when I show up, even when I see their shirts soaked in rain and sweat.

Nobody ever seems to tire.

Today, my friendship with Moise seemed to deepen again.

He is feeling more and more like a brother to me, there is nothing I would not do for him if asked, and he has reminded me several times that he and his family will come in a flash if there is any trouble – animals, plumbing, snow, firewood stacking, the roof, falling limbs.

This morning, I dropped off his tool belt. It cost $29. I returned the one I first bought, which cost $128. It was more than he needed; the simpler belt was just right.

Barbara said he loved it; it was just right for him.

I was surprised that he had never had a tool belt; he spends half of his life reaching up and down for nails and screws.

When I came for the second visit to his raising today, these things happened:

(Just after sunrise, we heard the sound of a horse and buggy riding by on the way to the Miller Fark. It had about a dozen young men inside, and they were singing as they passed by. It was an Amish hymn, and the sound bounced off the hill and the marsh around the farm. What an exquisite way to start the day.)

The Amish love working hard, and they love offering mutual aid to one another.

-I went to the farm to pick up my donuts for the Mansion around 9 a.m.  I also came bearing ice cubes, something they really seem to appreciate. Fanny, the birthday girl,  came over to thank me for the ice cream sundae; she said they had a great time.

Every one of the children came over to let me know what their favorite ice cream was, just in case I do it again. I wrote the flavors down.

-I saw him on top of the scaffolding wearing the belt.

-Little Sarah came running up the hill to greet me and challenge me to a thumb wrestling bout. “Good morning, Jon,” she shouted as she ran towards me. She is solid, and we tied one each for two games.

The Amish kids love to thumb wrestle.

-As I walked down the hill, Mosie’s son Jo came running down the rocky mountain and challenged me to a thumb wrestling match. This one was intense, but we split 50-50.

I held back and stayed up the hill. Tina, their dog,  spotted me on the farthest pasture on the farm and came running up to me for a scratch and a hug. I do love this dog.

-I came to look at the raising three times today – it’s a rare opportunity for me to see this develop. Mosie put his tools down each time and walked up the hill to give me a detailed work accounting.

Moise still doesn’t quite grasp that I rarely know what he is talking about regarding technical carpentry and soil analysis, but I am learning to piece it all together.

He says they don’t do wood pegs anymore for the frames, and I can’t recall what he is doing, but I will need to work harder to understand what they do now. Fortunately, he is a patient man and doesn’t mind repeating things to me.

Moise hates to stop working, but I appreciated that he really wants me to understand what is happening.  He is very proud of it.

Maria came once; it was a jaw-dropping sight to see how these people moved wheelbarrows full of concrete up and down thin pine boards.

It was starting to get late, and as I turned to leave, Moise turned to me and said, “Johnnie, could you get over to Stewart’s and buy three-quart boxes of cherry ice cream? I want to give these boys a treat before they go home.”

Moise is always a bit shy about asking me for things. But we trust each other like brothers, I just realized. I would do anything he asked, and I believe he would do anything I asked.

I’ve had that feeling with Maria, but never with any other human being. I said I would be happy to do it. I rushed home to change out of my clogs for the drive into town.

“Do you really want to do this? Maria asked, “you look tired this afternoon.”

I nodded. “I am tired,” I said, “but I’d be happy to do it for Mosie.”

I went back to Stewart’s and found the last three cheery ice-cream boxes and drove back to Moise’s farm and up the hill.

Little Sarah was waiting to pick up the ice cream and rush it down to the work crew. The plan was for them to eat it at sunset.

I heard somebody yell from the rock pile, where the kerosene-powered concrete mixer was perched, “Hey Grandpa! isn’t this kind of late for you to be out wandering around alone?”

I heard Mosie belly-laughing from somewhere down below. Everyone was smiling and pointing towards me. I bowed. “I have until dark,” I said, “then I will turn into an Amish pumpkin if I’m not inside.”

I think the taunt came from John, Moise’s oldest sun. I was pleased he felt comfortable enough to do that; he almost jumped out of his socks when I first met him; he was so shy; he was riding in the first horse and buggies cart that Mosie ever drove into our backyard.

He never said a word.

I have to say; I like being called Grandpop. All I can say is that I don’t quite understand the connections here, but I loved the feeling of being loved; I love the feeling of being known.

This is unexpected for me, this sense of family and of being loved. That whole hill seemed to love me; everyone made sure I knew the kind of ice cream they liked; they were bracing for the future. I felt welcome, wanted.

When we lost our two babies at the onset of our marriage, I thought that dream of a family might be over. Then we had Emma, and the dream

returned. When she left high school, Paula and I began to drift apart; when I moved up to a farm in a remote hamlet in upstate New York, I left my family behind while not acknowledging or admitting it.

Then, my life turned upside down, and the family and I moved farther apart. It hurt my daughter more than I knew. But the move upstate and my friendship with Maria changed everything.

We are family to one another and lovers as well. She is the foundation of my new life.

Emma and I have worked our way back, and I have a granddaughter now. But I never imagined I would be drawing closer to a different family, let alone one so different from my experience.

I can imagine my grandmother’s head spinning at my deepening friendship with fundamentalist Christians.

I h ae a brother, but we rarely speak. We just could never figure out a way to be brothers.

As I head into my 70’s, I just thought I was set; I could put all that behind me and look ahead. Then this family moved into my life, and here I was, watching an Amish barn-raising with fascination.

Earlier in the day, I had a log talk with my therapist. She said she thought the relationship developing between Moise and me and his family was beautiful and nourishing.  The boundaries are strong and built-in.

Don’t run away from it; she said it is perfect for you and them.

When I came home, Maria and I sat for an hour, and she told me this was something I always wanted but was taken away from me.

I listened. “It feels like I have a brother now,” I said. “Can you believe that?”  Maria and I have a great and deepening love. Around us, there is growth and learning.

Friends are entering into her life that she feels the same way about. We are happy we have come so far and from such a deep and dark place. Wasn’t this the point?

Ten years ago, she could not have made friends she has now, and I would not be rushing off to Stewart’s to buy ice cream for Moise and his fellow barn raisers. Life is full of crisis and mystery.

I said I was grateful that Moise could ask me to pick up some ice cream for the crew. I was quite free to say no and very pleased to say yes.

As I pulled away from the darkening sky, I thought I heard the sound of some hymn coming out of the fertile valley behind me.

How sweet the sound…