My Amish Childhood: A True Story of Faith, Family, and the Simple Life
Jerry S. Eicher
Language: English
Pages: 256
ISBN: 0736950060
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Bestselling fiction author Jerry S. Eicher (nearly half a million books sold) turns his pen to a moving memoir of his life growing up Amish.
Jerry’s mother was nineteen years old and nine months married when he was born. She had received Grandfather Stoll’s permission for the wedding because she agreed to help out on the farm the following year. However, with Jerry on the way, those plans failed.
Jerry recounts his first two years of school in the Amish community of Aylmer, Ontario and his parents’ decision to move to Honduras. Life in that beautiful Central American country is seen through an Amish boy’s eyes―and then the dark days when the community failed and the family returned to America, much to young Jerry’s regret. Jerry also tells of his struggle as a stutterer and his eventual conversion to Christ and the reasons for his departure from the childhood faith he knew.
Here is a must-read for not just Jerry’s fiction fans, but also for readers curious about Amish life.
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wasn’t wanted. In Neil’s eyes, nothing fit the bill for a new start quite like taking up with an Amish family. We were gringos in the eyes of all the locals, and we were rich beyond most of their wildest imaginations. We lived a way of life they could only dream of. Neil was no doubt attracted by the lifestyle, but he also loved Grandfather’s kindness, something he had known little of. Grandfather Stoll wasn’t totally into Neil staying long-term, so repeated efforts were made to take him back
way of hers, as if to deflect some incoming missile. She would marry one of the Stoll cousins, a man who stuttered as I did, although not as severely. Perhaps she had her own sorrows from which her heart reached out to a fellow sufferer. Aunt Martha was the jolly one, always smiling and happy. I never saw her that she wasn’t bubbling with joy. She was also a diabetic from early childhood. I remember she gave herself insulin shots in the leg and allowed us children to watch. I knew nothing then
Amish men thought, the Honduran culture could stand the enlightenment. A search was made, and the only auctioneer in the country engaged. At least he claimed he was the only auctioneer. The date was set months in advance, and fliers were distributed. I believe even radio announcements from the big stations in Tegucigalpa were used—though, of course, none of the Amish listened to radio unless they were rebellious teenagers. On the day of the auction, a crowd showed up, mostly white gringos
was kept for breeding purposes, and he was about as big a failure as the rest of the Belgian project was. For the most part, the stallion refused to mate with any Belgian mares. There was nothing wrong with his prowess. He loved the local mares, but his use as a stud was impractical at best since the larger colts he sired risked killing the females when they delivered. Potatoes were the real cash crop, and Dad was now able to give farming his full attention. True to his nature, he either
next few weeks were spent in frequent trips to medical facilities. Honduras had no chiropractors that I knew of—that staple in every Amish community. All of us older children had to visit the chiropractor where our necks and various others parts of the body were given the wrench and the push. On the top of the list though, was Mom and Dad’s concern for my continued stammering. Apparently they’d begun to lose faith in the basic assurance everyone gave them—that children grow out of such things.
