I kept thinking about the Millers in their big wooden frame house in the 100-degree heat we were having, and I wondered if there was anything I could do for them.

They often suffer; they embrace suffering since Jesus suffered so much and see it as a way to heaven.

But still, I was sure that this kind of heat was challenging for people to wear in such heat, especially for the women in their bonnets and heavy skirts.

I decided to try and buy some hand fans – nothing electric or battery powered – that they could use to cool down, especially at night or in bed.

As is always the case with the Amish, there was much to consider.

Was it too colorful? Too showy? Was it not traditional?  Too frivolous?

I thought it might work and found 14 Japanese hand fans online that were decorative but not conspicuous. I decided to go for it. They cost $7 for all 14.

I showed them to Delilah (the daughter), who ran out to greet me, and she was delighted. We met in front of the food stand.

Wow, she said, these will be great.

She thanked me and offered me money for them.

I refused the money, and she ran to show them to her mother and sisters.

Two came out to wave at me, and I knew the fans would stay.

I felt good about it, Delilah came running back for another thumb wrestling match, and a toddler, the newest grandchild, was running around in her Amish dress yelling, “it’s Jon Katz, it’s Jon Katz,” as if the Pope had arrived.

As I left, they offered me some vegetables. I bought some tomatoes and cucumbers.

This all felt good. These people were my friends, and I was glad about it. It wasn’t simple.

The fans came yesterday, and I rushed them over to the farm this morning (another heat wave is on the way)

In some ways, my friendship with Moise and his family has become a social drama, a story about friendship, men, family, and what friendship means.

Many people have been interested in it because I have written much about it. And because it is interesting.

As was evident, I loved writing about Moise and the Amish and was grateful for the chance.

In most ways, I am the worst possible friend for a conservative Amish Bishop like Moise. In some ways, our friendship is natural and meaningful.

Being a writer and photographer with a friend who thinks photographs are evil and hates to be written about was a challenge.

To continue our friendship, I had to be someone else.

I decided to pull back around December when I realized I didn’t have a good grasp on the boundaries or could reasonably be around a relationship like ours.

I didn’t want to make Moise uneasy around me or come to mistrust me,  and I wasn’t going to give up who I was and needed to be.

Was there any path to the middle? I thought there might be.

As a Bishop in the church, Moise was obligated to follow and defend the rules and practices of the church. No English friend was going to get in the way of that.

I had done my homework and learned that privacy is a matter of faith and safety for the conservative Amish, and photographs signify vanity and selfishness.

I don’t need to accept or like their traditions, but I need to respect them.

And if anyone is going to be my friend, they need to get that pictures and words are my life, and no one will take that from me.

The solution is in the middle, and we found it. I let go of some things and hung on to others. Moise is a good and honest person. I listened to him.

Friendship with Moise was an ambitious and fragile enterprise from the first.

I was concerned I might soon be making people I cared about uncomfortable in ways that were part of my nature and work.

Moise noticed my withdrawal – I spoke of it –  and came over to the farmhouse with his wife Barbara to sit and signal me – without discussing what happened – that I was important to them and our friendship meant a lot to him.

Conflict in the Amish world is resolved not by argument but by showing affection and respect while rarely talking about differences.

They hate confrontation. Moise was very eloquent without words, and so was his family.

I got that. I decided then and there to help put the friendship back together in a way that was nourishing.

We didn’t ever have a no-holds-barred talk about it.

The Amish don’t work that way, but I’ve had a dozen or more conversations and many encounters with Moise since then, and I am happy to say we have come to an understanding that seems to work for both of us.

We communicate very well with each other.

I am a close friend of the family and the children, and Moise and I have worked it out. I can’t speak for him only for myself when it comes to how.

He is a Bishop, a big deal in his patriarchal world.

He believes in his faith very much, and I want and need to honor that without surrendering my identity. A high wire act, at best.

Here is where we landed. I could see it today.

I decided that I didn’t feel comfortable taking more photos of any Amish people – him, his family, friends, and visitors. No people.

Moise had never complained about the pictures before, but I’m sure he was uneasy, and I know some Amish visitors were uneasy.

I could sense that the photos could become problematic if they weren’t already.

I was comfortable letting go of that. I have plenty of things to take photos of, much as I enjoyed those.

There was no problem with my photos of the farm food shed, Amish horses in carriages, or horses who came to the farm. And, of course, Tina.

I would write what I wished when I wished.

I needed no permission and wouldn’t ask for any, nor would I accept anyone telling me what I could do on my property or anywhere else on public property.

Moise never demanded anything like that, nor did I volunteer it. We seemed to grasp what our boundaries of each other were.  We didn’t need to belabor it.

There were no demands, ultimatums, threats, or commands. No promises,made or sought.

I also decided at the same time that I wasn’t meant to be a taxi driver, online shopper, or ticket-buyer; plenty of people are eager to do that work.

I wanted to help this family and ended up doing too much, a habit of mine.

I am relieved not to be doing that anymore; it tired me out and made me feel like a servant, not a friend.

That was not Moise’s fault, the Amish do what they need to do to survive, and those things are rightful tasks they need help with. Their way of life is difficult in this age.

I had never been this close to an Amish family before and had a lot to learn and understand.

Over the weeks since my withdrawal, the distance and uncertainty eased like a cloud moving through the sky.

I see Moise several times weekly; we enjoy seeing and speaking with one another. He is busy and preoccupied with his life; I am active and preoccupied with mine.

I bring flowers every week. The Amish love flowers but don’t grow them – too frivolous.

I love seeing the family children and their dog Tina come running  (I keep Tina in gourmet food) when I show up, which is often. The girls come to the farm when Maria needs help, and I make sure they have potato chips and soda.

When I see a chance to help the family – the fans are a good example – I’m happy to do it. They don’t often ask for help, but they appreciate it.

I’m not making them uneasy, and they welcome me onto their farm and home.

I miss driving around with Moise and our many good conversations, and when I see those kids up on the hill watering and caring for all those plants, I wish I could take a picture.

I have learned friendship is not one thing but many things, not one thing. It is not a simple Hollywood thing.

Friendship asks us to listen and yield, to change and learn. If you care about someone, you give up what you can and keep what you need.

That’s how it turned out, and I’m content with it, and so, I see, is Moise.

I can only say we both got where we needed to be and wanted to be. And we remain friends. The friendship was saved.

There is not much room for outside western-style friendships beyond the casual in the Amish world. There is a saying about the Amish: “always friendly, but never friends.” I haven’t found that to be true.

They are just different kinds of friends that we are used to.

Moise and his family are busy every minute of every day, and when they have spare time, they spend it with family, fellow church members, and friends.

I am delighted that they live so close to me. It’s wonderful seeing what they have done to revive their dying farm.

They are soon putting up a “Food Stand Ahead” sign on our property. They are not afraid to ask me for help; I am not reluctant to ask them.

Three or four times a week, I stop by to buy vegetables and fruit and thumb wrestle every child in sight.

They are solid and crafty, but I am holding my own.

When I win, I yell “one more for the old man,” and everybody laughs.