One of the many things I love about my friendship with the Amish is that it takes me places I’ve never gone before, taught me things I didn’t know.

Many of these things are surprisingly complex, often controversial for some people (I do love to stir the pot), and challenge me to learn and open my mind to different ways of doing things.

The Amish are known for living plain lives, but living plain lives is not simple, especially not in America, the capitalist center of the earth.

I find this work to be among the healthiest and most intellectually challenging experiences I’ve had in my life. And I’m even luckier that I get to write about it all to an interested and open-minded audience (mostly.)

My new incarnation is as the Amish Boot Man.

A month ago, I noticed that my friend Moise had a big hole in his black, lightweight rubber boot. He laughed about it and said he’d had the boot for 15 years.

He told me one of his favorite jokes: “holes in a boot are the way you get inside them.”

We ended up having a theological discussion about Jesus and suffering. The Amish consider suffering to be Holy. Jesus suffered, and they worship Jesus and his teachings. It’s inevitable and appropriate and sometimes desirable to suffer.

The Amish are patient. They will never rush out to get something; they can wait years for something the rest of us need right now.

In our culture, suffering is terrible, and nobody wants to do it. In the Amish world, it’s different.

A significant part of their lives are built around the idea of suffering. Some Jews and many Catholics are taught to suffer; this is often connected to faith.

Hardship is not always something to reject or conquer; it is often the pathway to humility and sanctity.

Moise eventually agreed to a new boot; he said it was getting more difficult and uncomfortable to use the old one. And he has a new house to build over the winter. He is up to his knees in mud that will soon be ice.

But there are the usual restrictions on what they can or cannot buy or wear.

The boots must be black, no-frills, buttons, colors of any kind. They must be lightweight, made of durable rubber. There are no steel toes, furry inserts, special grip soles,  colorful stencils, or colored strips along the bottom.

And they must come from the same company that made them for their fathers and grandfathers.

The first two boots I got Moise didn’t cut it. Neither did the first boot I reached for his son Joe, or his daughter, Little Sarah. I had to do my homework.

It’s important to point out that the Amish have the money to buy boots; the struggle comes from figuring out how to do it when there are no farm boots stores for miles, and nobody drives or uses the Internet.

Their idea is to wait until they bump into someone who sells the boots they want. I told Moise that could be a very long wait in Washington County, New York.

Finding the shoes they want and need must be thoughtful and precise  – it takes some time and Internet trawling skills. These boots are not sold near any shoe stores that sell the boots they want, and they can’t browse the Internet the way I can and do.

My work with the Army Of Good – trawling for clothes, puzzles, shoes for the Mansion residents and the refugee students in Albany – has turned me into an Internet Shopping Warrior.

“Is it possible to find these boots on the Internet,” Moise asked me at one point, incredulous?” Just watch me,” I said.

I should also say that money is not a problem.

They don’t need or accept donations of cash or clothing (or boots.) Please don’t try to send yours.

They all got their shoes from the same store in Ohio many years ago. I tracked it down, but it was not simple. Their boots have changed a bit, but they are still in business.

Boots have been coming and going into the farm for days. A lot have been returned; they didn’t cut it.

But I’m zeroing in on what to buy.

I got Moise one pair as a gift, but any others will be paid for, they insist upon it, and I have no trouble agreeing.

Then what happened is that several other Amish families learned from the Miller that I could find and purchase the boots all families use; they all wear the same ones.

They almost all have big holes in them because they haven’t figured out where to get new ones. With winter approaching, the boots are taking on new meaning.

Today, I went to get some cookies at Jacob’s house for the podiatric nurses who love them (he is Moise’s brother-in-law) and the entire family came out to ask me if I could get boots for them. It was as if they were waiting for me.

They heard I was getting some for the Miller family and were very eager to get some.

They were preparing a list of sizes for me, and about seven children were standing around me. Their boots were worn and stretched, and many had holes in them. They seemed read to stop their feet from suffering in upstate New York winters.

Later in the day, a horse and wagon pulled into the driveway with an Amish father I hadn’t met; his name was Nathan, he lives just outside of a nearby town. He came into our town to do some shopping.

He asked if he could get three boots for his family. The pipeline was buzzing about boots.

I am happy to do this; in fact, I love doing it. It makes me feel useful, and it is part of my determination to do good.

The Amish project an image of sylvan purity and simplicity, but it is tough to live their way in a world that has rushed past them in the opposite direction. We live in an Amazon world when almost anything we want is a tap away.

They live in a different world. They would prefer to suffer and go without than to be like us.

This started as a gift to a friend but has become something else, assisting several families and lots of children and hard-working parents. Amish boots are tested every day. How often do I get to help that many people so simply and quickly and at once?

Buying shoes is a simple thing for me; I go online or to a shoe store; there are several nearby. It’s not so simple for them. Everything they wear or do must meet the clear criterion of their faith – it must be simple, familiar, and the same.

Their customs and traits go back a long way; the company that made Moise’s show was founded in 1896, not long after the Amish first came to America. They won’t want to wear any other boots.

And unlike people who live in the English world, they are prepared to suffer for every one of their beliefs. Sometimes they make exceptions; sometimes, they change. But that is rare; most often, there is no choice.

So I’m the local go-to Amish Boot Man at the moment, and if it ends up that every Amish mother, father, and child in and around our town has a good boot by December, I’ll be happy. It is a gift to be able to do things for other people. They work so hard; they deserve good boots.

I stretch the boundaries of Amish life sometimes, but I never cross over them. I’ll push a bit for them to have warm and dry feet. But I won’t push for them to have anything but what they want and believe in.

So I’m happy to be their Boot Man. I’ve got four boots to deliver now and six on the way, and more to order tomorrow. I think the total will be around 20 boots.

I have the Amish cash in hand to buy all of them; they pay very promptly and in advance if they can. I’m also becoming good at printing and saving receipts.

I see the need is great, and I can deal with it simply and quickly. That is selfish for me; it feels good and nourishing and uplifting, especially in the sulfurous air around us all.