Runaway Amish Girl

by Emma Gingerich

  RUNAWAY AMISH GIRL:

  The Great Escape

  By

  Emma Gingerich

  Rising Phoenix Press

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This memoir is based on the author’s personal experiences, and any events included herein are presented from the author’s recollection of those events. The contents of this memoir were not written to represent word-for-word transcripts of any conversations that transpired at any time. Some names have been changed to protect the anonymity of individuals and to protect the privacy of those individuals involved in any events mentioned. The views, opinions, or any information published or expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, LLC or its officers, agents, or contractors.

  Text Copyright © 2015 Emma Gingerich

  All rights reserved.

  Published 2015 by

  Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, LLC

  www.progressiverisingphoenix.com

  Cover and Author Photos by Zach Weber Photography

  Original Book design by eBook76.com

  Case Edition Book and Cover design by William Speir

  Visit: http://www.williamspeir.com

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank first and foremost Mitch Haynes, the mastermind behind Lexicon Writers conference. He encouraged me to follow my publishing dreams and not give up. I gratefully appreciate and thank David Hughes, for his editing services, he did an amazing job. I want to thank Author Amanda Thrasher and Author Jannifer Powelson, owners of Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, for their hard work in getting the book to print. They truly have been a blessing to work with. And thank you to Zach Weber and his photography business for working with me on the photos for the cover. He knows his art!

  On a more personal level, I want to thank Bill and Laura Jo Turnipseed, and Scott and Tara Williams for their continued support and for asking me a million questions. Answering questions inspired me to write a book so I don’t have to answer anymore!

  Dedication

  To Dad and Mom, Brothers & Sisters,

  If you should ever read this book, I hope you can finally understand why I left home. Sometimes you just have to follow your heart and let God be in control of your life even though it doesn’t make sense. Trust in yourself and live the life that’s meant for you. Although we are in two different worlds, my thoughts and love are with you daily.

  This whole book is about the Swartzentruber Amish community.

  Chapter 1:

  Ask for Forgiveness not Permission

  I am deliberate and afraid of nothing.

  ~Audre Lorde~

  Rules, rules, rules! You cannot have a phone in your house. You cannot have electricity. Your dress has to be a certain length. You cannot take sightseeing vacations. The windows in your house cannot be too big. The list goes on and on. I thought about these rules as I cruised down highway 499 in my maroon 2001 Dodge pickup truck, air conditioner and radio both cranked up. I was on my way to Texas State Technical College in Harlingen where, at 19 years old, I had just begun my journey in educating myself. I had no clue what I was doing, but finally escaping from so many pointless rules filled me with a sense of relief so deep no one else could ever fully understand—unless, of course, that person grew up Amish.

  As the tires hummed and the truck headed south, I thought about the handwritten letter I had just received from Sarah and Amanda, my younger sisters back home. Out of fourteen children, I was the oldest of the girls, and I had one older brother—Jacob. I smiled as I reminisced about my two favorite little pals. Reading their letter brought back memories of the crazy things we used to do together. Well, as crazy as three Amish girls could get. Sarah and Amanda were only a year apart and sometimes folks mistook them for twins because they were the same size, but they did not look the same. Sarah was fourteen, with blonde hair and blue eyes; she looked just like Mem, except for the fact that Mem had dark hair. Amanda was thirteen and looked and acted a lot like me. She had dark brown hair, green eyes, and was more serious about life, like Datt. They could wear each other’s clothes and often did things together as best friends. In fact, their friendship was so close it would not surprise me if they wound up getting married on the same day. After all, the Amish do have double weddings sometimes.

  As alike in age and appearance as the two girls were, their personalities were very different. Sarah was full of humor and jokes, as if she did not have a care in the world. I could always read her mind and could tell when she had something up her sleeve. She would have an ornery look on her face and become a little overly talkative. Where Sarah was mischievous and easygoing, Amanda was more serious and could easily get angry when someone got under her skin. When she was in a good mood, however, she could light up a room with her witty remarks. I missed them very much, but unfortunately, I was now the outcast of the family, a dove whose wings could never quite be clipped. I now knew I probably would never have the same relationship with them as I did before I flew the coop. The thought choked me up.

  As the Dodge’s wheels hummed toward my future, I continued driving down the path of my memory; I could see their mischievous, giggly faces as if it was just yesterday when we had made fools of ourselves. As confined by rules as my Amish life was, it seemed almost anything could remind me of my past: the smell of a feedlot would bring back memories of my datt’s cattle and sheep barn that eventually went to nothing. The whisper of wind through the leaves reminded me of the nights I would sit in bed, leaning against the wall, and wonder why my life had become so frustrating. On that road to college, the pickup brought to mind when I was almost seventeen and Sarah, Amanda, and I came as close to becoming criminals as we could. In a heartbeat, the memory of the unexpected night of walking home barefoot when the truck we had stolen broke down tumbled into my head. At the time, I did not think about the morality of what we had planned to do. I just craved a taste of freedom and excitement.

  As that Saturday evening approached, my cousin Eli and I had the plot to steal the old pickup truck well underway. Eli was the same age as me and was also one of our neighbors. His mem was my datt’s sister.

  We hatched our plot one night while I babysat at Eli’s house; his parents had taken a trip out of town to visit family and friends, and we could not pass up the opportunity. The Byler’s did not leave town often, so it was the perfect time to get into a little mischief. Since it was Saturday night, Sarah and Amanda decided to spend the night with me and help babysit Eli’s three little brothers and his baby sister. My sisters had no idea what we planned to do, and I could not wait to tell them. We had to wait, though, for the whole neighborhood to settle down for the night before we could spring the plan into action, so I took the opportunity to fill my sisters in on our agenda.

  “Hey,” I whispered to Sarah and Amanda, making sure none of the little kids overheard us, “guess what we will be doing tonight?”

  “There is no telling what have you planned,” they said in unison.

  “What will we be doing?” Amanda asked.

  Their faces glowed with excitement as I told them about the old pickup truck I saw on top of the hill as I drove home from town earlier that day. As soon as I saw it, I knew that if the keys were in it, we would take it for a ride. Before Sarah and Amanda arrived, I had already filled Eli in on my intention to sneak up the hill to “borrow” the truck and go for a cruise. At first he laughed at me, but he soon realized I was serious.

  “You don’t know how to drive,” S
arah piped up, her round blue eyes widening with fright.

  “I know, but surely it can’t be that hard.” I tried to sound confident. “I will drive in the plowed field first, to practice.”

  “I think one of the boys should go with us,” Amanda added.

  “Okay, I will ask one of them to go with us, just to be on the safe side.”

  We waited for Eli’s brothers and sister to go to bed and fall asleep; we could not take the chance of one of them snitching. They finally fell asleep by ten o’clock.

  Two other boys in the neighborhood, Levi and Noah, came over that evening to spend the night too. The boys filched a four-wheeler out of a neighbor’s garage without permission. The neighbor was only home during deer hunting season, so they thought there was no way anyone would ever know. The boys headed up the road to where the old farmer had left his truck while we waited on the side of the road close to a bridge. No water flowed under the bridge—it had gone dry over the summer—but howling noises erupted from the dark woods nearby. Amanda shuddered and glanced around. Sarah stood coolly, a smirk drawn on her face. I was too excited to be nervous or scared. I felt like nothing could go wrong when my sisters hung out with me.

  We were about a quarter of a mile from Eli’s house. It did not seem that far away, but if one of the kids woke up, there was no way to hear the cry.

  Luckily, the keys were in the truck, as if it sat waiting for us to take it out for a cruise. The boys promised I could drive after they got it started. Eli and Noah gunned the four-wheeler further up the dirt road to a dead end to play in the mud.

  Levi climbed into the pickup and drove it back to where my sisters and I waited by the bridge. The headlights shone brightly as the truck rattled down the hill. As soon as the pickup stopped, I jumped in first, with my sisters tagging behind. All four of us squeezed into the front seat, eagerly anticipating a great evening of unforgettable fun and excitement. This was definitely something different from the cooped-up life we lived at home week after week.

  Levi drove north toward my parents’ farm, and nervousness crept over us as we approached it. What if this horrible old truck stops right in front of the house? I thought. The engine made a loud sputtering noise that hurt my eardrums. I was sure Datt could hear it from his bedroom. I pictured him looking out the window and seeing four guilty Amish teenagers sitting in an old stolen farm truck, and I was sure he would fly off the handle and never forgive us for such mischievous behavior. I could not even begin to imagine what our punishment would be. In some Amish communities, rumspringa, or “running around,” was a time when teenagers could do anything they wanted. They could go to clubs, dance, drink alcohol, and change into modern clothes for a wild night out on the town. Some kids would even buy a car to use on the weekends, but would keep it hidden. Parents were expected to look the other way and hope their children decided to give up their worldly desires and join the church when the time came. Unfortunately, my community did not practice rumspringa, so we would be in a heap of trouble if my parents found out what we did.

  If we got caught with the truck, everyone in the community would know. I shuddered at the thought of my friends staring at me and whispering behind my back the next time I went to church. But then again, I was getting used to girls talking about me. Why should I even care what they think? I wondered. All my friends seemed to be so well-behaved it was awkward and boring to hang out with them. I did not fit in no matter how hard I tried. I used to tell myself, “Tomorrow I will start behaving like a young lady just like I am supposed to do.” However, tomorrow never came; I continued doing what I did best, and that was pushing against the rules.

  Levi pressed on the gas pedal and the sudden acceleration yanked me from my thoughts of getting caught. As we approached my parents’ farm, my sisters and I held our breath. Whew! We whizzed past the house with no problem. Now we could relax and have some fun. The radio blared… My sisters laughed… No annoying bonnets clung to our heads… no shoes smothered our feet. All my sisters and I needed was a pair of jeans and a tee shirt so we could ditch our long dresses for a bit. I knew that would not happen tonight, but for the moment we enjoyed an unforgettable adventure. My dream to drive a vehicle was finally becoming a reality. Or so I thought.

  We drove to a small town about seven miles away and stopped to buy some gasoline for the truck. We paid with cash, and the cashier stood slack-jawed when he saw what we were doing. He probably wondered how Amish kids managed to get away with a vehicle.

  “If he is smart he will realize we stole this,” I told Sarah and Amanda.

  As we confidently walked out the door, we smiled and waved at him. He waved back and a little smile cracked his face. Great! Smiling was a good sign!

  “I hope he doesn’t call the cops,” Sarah laughed nervously.

  “Nah, we will soon be out of sight and forgotten,” Levi assured her.

  We started back home by a different route. My sisters and I looked forward to taking a turn driving as soon as we hit the gravel road. For a long time I had secretly contemplated leaving the Amish, and tonight was the perfect opportunity to start learning how to drive. For the past several months I had been peeking into parked cars every chance I got to figure out how they worked. I especially wanted to learn which pedal was for the gas and which was for the brake. It puzzled me that people did not get them confused.

  “Levi, can you pull over and let me drive now?” I yelled over the noise of the radio and the roar of the wind howling through the open windows. I could not wait any longer to get my hands on the steering wheel.

  “Are you sure? I think you should wait until we are on the gravel road. It is not as easy as it looks.”

  Sarah and Amanda yelled, “Let us out before she starts driving!”

  “What is the matter with you girls?” I turned and looked at them; both returned my gaze, faces serious. “You are supposed to be supporting me,” I reminded them. “It was my idea to take the truck and you had a choice whether or not to come along.”

  Sarah leaned close to my ear and yelled, “You are going to scare us!”

  “Owww, you are making me deaf yelling like that in my ear!”

  Less than ten minutes later my anticipation of driving was crushed, and we ended up walking home. Our trashy stolen truck quit running while bouncing down Main Street right in the middle of another small town. We had just turned left at a stop sign when the engine popped loudly and the truck drifted to a complete halt. It scared the dickens out of all of us!

  Levi jumped out and opened the hood. Thick black smoke poured from the engine. Talk about frightened sisters! Sarah and Amanda both resembled stiff white ghosts haunting an abandoned graveyard. I am sure I probably looked the same or even worse. It was just like one of those many dreams I had where I was scared and tried to move but could not. Now the horrifying dreams had become reality. The town was very quiet except for dogs barking and the occasional vehicle driving by.

  I knew we deserved to be punished for stealing the truck, but did it really have to happen right here and now? If we made it out alive, we could end up in jail, which was an unimaginable thought. I had never heard of an Amish person being arrested, but it could have been possible since many things in the Amish community are kept secret.

  “If we get arrested,” Sarah said, “why don’t we live somewhere else after we get out of jail?” She suggested running away and renting a house and live like the “English” do. We used the term “English” for anyone who is not Amish.

  Sarah did not know at the time I had already planned to leave. Now I wondered how she would react if I told her I was seriously thinking about running away. Would she want to go with me? I thought. We had talked about escaping many times but it was always just in fun, and I was not ready to let her know how serious I was.

  Amanda sat in the cab, too scared to say anything. She stared at the smoke, hypnotized.

  At that moment, we had only one choice: get out of the truck and run! I yanked Amanda’s ar
m to get her moving. The truck sat stranded in the middle of the street. We could not roll it off the road because it sloped uphill. We could not back it downhill either because the truck had broken down right in front of an intersection. So we left it sitting in the road, hoping no one would run into it when they turned at the stop sign.

  Unfortunately, we were four miles from Eli’s house, and one of those miles consisted of a gravel road, which we now had to run barefoot on since we had left our shoes at home. We ran for a while, then slowed to a jog. Every time a vehicle approached from behind, we slowed and walked normally to minimize suspicion. After three miles on the paved road, we arrived at the gravel road. Thank goodness running around outside barefoot for years had hardened the soles of our feet like shoe leather, so we hardly noticed. We made it safely back to Eli’s house, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I found all the little children still sound asleep.

  After Eli and Noah returned with the four-wheeler and listened to our story, they rode back to town to see if the truck was still there. As they approached the intersection, they saw cop cars surrounding the truck, so they turned around and raced back home as fast as possible. We stayed up most of the night worrying the police would come pounding on the door and arrest us. We finally concluded they would not be able to prove we did it because we did not have Social Security numbers. I do not know why we arrived at such a lame conclusion, but for the moment the thought comforted us.

  I later learned the truck owner lived about two blocks from where it had broken down. I wondered what he thought about his pickup being abandoned in the middle of the town he lived in and four miles from where he had left it. At least he got some free gasoline out of the deal! I do not think anyone would have suspected Amish kids were the culprits. The outside world often perceives the Amish as innocent and would do no wrong. And it was even more unusual for girls to do something this extreme, as they were always at home with no chance to get out.