Amish to English

I think a book about my Faja would be quite impressive. A book to encompass everything (maybe not EVERYthing) in his life. He's gone from Amish to English, and that's what I'd call the book. I think he'd enjoy it very much, but he would never write it himself because he's just too humble. He deserves a book, I think. After all, if he hadn't left the Amish, I wouldn't be a Christian, let alone be at all. I wouldn't have my mom, brother, sisters, etc. My life would be a complete waste compared to how I know I can use it now through God, that's worth a book to me. My only dilemma would be whether to make it in his perspective or mine, both are valid and interesting, but I think one might be easier and more fun to read. I think it would be his perspective, and I think this is how I would start it.




The whole reason I realized I was going to be a pastor was back in my childhood. I think I started out pretty standardly - Well, maybe not. I started out Amish, from that statement, obviously I ended up not. I had a fun start, though. My early life had a lot of work, too, living on a farm, but with 10 brothers and sisters, how can't you have fun? I had a lot of pets, some more like farm animals. I love working with animals. They were like my pets. I took care of them. My family, obviously, did a lot too.

Every morning I would get up earlier than God himself to go and do my morning farm chores before school. Amish school houses were just one room and taught more than any secular, public school ever could in their craziest dreams, in a shorter time. I only went to eighth grade with school, since that was where it ended for all Amish boys. School wasn't bad at all, but then I went home to do some more work, and that took time. After I would do my afternoon farm work I'd do my homework and then it was bedtime. This didn't bother me any though, I'd always enjoyed a full day's work, makes you feel like you got somethin' done over all that time your given each day.

I got to play, too, though. My brothers were always rambunctious, couldn't learn to follow rules for the longest time. My younger brother (the only YOUNGER one), Denny, knows about that. One day, we decided we wanted to be a little goofy, and even though we'd been warned about our barn being weak on the second level, we went up anyway. We thought it was just our Father being over protective, like he sometimes is. The only way this story ends is badly, Denny fell right out of that barn and crashed on the ground, broken bones galore. It was funny until we heard about the bones. My Father was right, I guess.

My Father was right about a lot of things, though, I would say. He was rash, too, if you want that part. I love him dearly, he gave me my spirit of don't-give-up-ishness (I've learned to make up words over the years I went from speaking German to speaking English, if people understand me, I'm fine.). My Dad decided that he would never get old until he died, and he'd die feeling, if that's not the same as being, young. Even at his old ages he was a hard worker. He would do outdoor chores, which on a farm is no small potato, don't you know.

The sad part about us both not being give-uppers is that it caused us not to speak for years. I left the Amish, following a brother of mines footsteps, in a way. This brother's old enough to be my Father, he's the oldest of the Stoltzfoos(bet you can't spell it without looking) group and I'm the second youngest. I look up to him in almost a fatherly way, too. He was involved in church planting and preaching about the same as I was. He lives far, but he's a great guy to have around when you can. I wish George (that's his name) was closer sometimes.

When I left the Amish, I searched for a way to fix whatever was wrong in my head, visiting churches, being completely unknowing, just trying to be "me". It was a great thing to go through, though, it's helped me know that I'm in the right place, and in that way, I have the leg up on some folks. It's a powerful thing, to know where you are, and what you're doing is the right thing to do. God has assured me enough times.

So far, I forgot to tell you what in my childhood made me who I am, why I'm a pastor. It was a dream. A vision. Something that is more powerful than anything, just you and God, Him telling you all you need to know for your life's future route. A vision of myself preaching is as ridiculous as it sounds. I didn't believe it for one second, at least not more than that one second. This vibrant picture painted was insanity to think about. My life could be great.

For the most part, I think it has been. I have a beautiful family, thanks to my gorgeous wife, if she didn't keep me in check I might have broken more rules than I do already. I just try to be truthful, though. Just follow the bible, no one can stop me as long as I follow his word, his voice, and his call. In no way am I saying that's the only thing I've ever followed, I don't hold myself in such high regards, in fact much lower. I'm a mess, and I hope my children learn from my mistakes. I don't even know where the quote comes from, but I hope I don't botch this, "A fool learns from his own mistakes, a wise man learns from others'", I try not to raise my children like fools, but I want them to rise up as the highest of the wise men, Frankincense, gold, and myrrh should all be under their arms as they walk(symbolically, of course, that could get heavy). My children are the fruit that I bear, the fruit that rises past my accomplishments, and as their children build on everything they have done, a pattern that makes God's name great, fantastic, and almighty, not that it isn't already. My children shouldn't only be influencing their children, however, and neither should I. I want my children and I to reach for the people hurting around us, help a hurting kid cry out their pain and then help them find the way to beat it for good. That's what I want.




That's a start, right? This could be a serious book to write, I think. tell me what you think.