Runaway Amish Girl

by Emma Gingerich

  You might be thinking freedom now, but think of the years ahead. You are the one that is making it hard for yourself and I am here trying to help. I hope you have enough sense to let yourself be helped. Datt is happy to know that you are safe and he wants you to be happy, but not the life you are in now.

  How would you like to go to the war? You might not like it, and there won’t be a way out of it if you stay English. The computer chips are the same way and there won’t be a way to help you out of it. Now I want you to read this a couple times and think about everything hard.

  Let me know when you are coming and what you got in mind.

  Your brother,

  Jacob

  Tears erupted halfway through reading the letter. I was not crying because I thought Jacob was right, but because I felt sorry for everyone I had hurt. Dear God, I prayed, please help my family understand why I had to leave them. Amen.

  Jacob obviously worried about what could happen to me. I do not know where he got the idea about the computer chips, and he thought I would end up going to war because I had a Social Security number. Mem expressed the same concerns in her first letter. These comments did not intimidate me because I was confident it would not happen. Either Jacob did not know any better, or he said it to scare me. I was doing what made me happy, and all the angels in heaven had my back. I had no doubt God was protecting me.

  Since leaving the Amish I had developed a very different outlook in my faith, and I went to church every Sunday. Going to a church where the preacher spoke English was a whole different learning experience—I had lots of catching up to do! I knew nothing about the Bible. Nothing. Not even a verse a three-year old knew by heart. It took me two years after leaving the Amish to accept Jesus as my Savior, and I even got dunked in a full-immersion water baptism by a Baptist preacher in Harlingen. I always knew the Good Man stood by my side, guiding me in troubled times even when I did not want to believe it.

  Reading Jacob’s letter again finally brought to light how sad I had made my family. I tried to imagine the pain on Mem’s face when she went to church the first few times. She could not hide the fact I was not there, and people probably questioned her inability to keep her daughter at home. If only they could understand leaving them had not been easy on me either, but explaining it proved to be difficult. Homesickness had been beyond hard to describe on some days, but I managed to stay busy to alleviate some of the pain.

  I folded Jacob’s letter and slid it back into the envelope. A sense of relief came over me and I finally crawled back into bed and fell asleep instantly.

  §

  I woke up the next morning startled to see I had just enough time to throw on some clothes and head to my 8:00 biology class. Missing coffee and breakfast was not a good way to start my day. I sat in class with my thoughts nowhere near the subject of the plasma membrane of a plant. Jacob’s wedding invitation still weighed heavily on my mind, and I remembered the last time I had gone home to visit, my third visit in the spring of 2008.

  I vividly remembered driving up the gravel road and turning into the driveway. I was amazed to see Datt was the only one outside, and it looked like he had been waiting for several hours. I found it a little strange no one else came out to greet me, but like the first few times I had returned home, the kids were not allowed to act as if they were glad to see me, so I figured they had been told to stay in the house again.

  Datt walked toward the vehicle, and as I opened the door of my Dodge pickup and stepped out he muttered, “You look so worldly; it’s disgraceful to me, please leave.” He turned around and disappeared into the shop.

  I stood in the driveway, speechless. It sounded like he had been rehearsing the exact words for the hundredth time. This was the third time I had come home to visit. The first two times had not gone well, but the letters he wrote to me after the second visit were polite and considerate. I thought he was finally ready to forgive me, but apparently it was all phony. I had driven 1258 miles to find out he still held a grudge and was not ready to accept me the way I was.

  I looked at the house and saw some of the little ones standing at the kitchen door peeking out. I wonder what all this is about; no one is coming out to greet me. I grabbed the books and magazines I had brought to give to the kids and walked to the door. Tears welled up with my anger. To my surprise, Mem and Jacob were standing in the kitchen waiting for me to come in.

  “What’s wrong?” Jacob asked. “What did Datt have to say to you?”

  “He told me to leave,” I answered. “I just came in to drop off this box of books, and then I am getting out of here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jacob muttered. “I am going to have a talk with Datt. He is crazy for acting like this.”

  “Don’t bother. If Datt doesn’t want me to be here, then I would rather just leave and not cause a problem.”

  It was too late. Before I could even finish the sentence, Jacob bolted out the door, with Mem following behind. Jacob’s reaction to all this surprised me. I was not sure how to take it, because the last time I came home to visit he did not have much to say. Something had changed.

  They soon returned and told me it was okay for me to stay. Datt was just not in a good mood, but he had agreed to let me stay for a while.

  Later that afternoon, Jacob and I sat on the porch with no one around. For the first time we had a long, deep discussion about our feelings. The brotherly conversation I had wanted so long ago was finally real, except now it was about a completely different subject.

  I listened to Jacob talk in a soft voice for a while. I burst into tears when he said, “It has been so hard to move on since you left, and I can never fully accept your decision, but I do want you to be happy.”

  I cried softly. For the first time, I was not mad that Jacob told me exactly what was on his mind. It felt so good to have a conversation and not be yelled at or preached at like Datt always did.

  When I could talk without blubbering like a baby, I said, “I feel very bad to put you and the rest of the family through so much pain, but there was no other choice. I was so unhappy and miserable the last few years that I just had leave. Going to the balloon doctor was just the last straw for me. During that treatment I decided to definitely get out of here. I was so angry with Datt for making me go there, I didn’t know how to forgive him. I honestly believe that God has been watching over me and has given me the strength to go find a different life.”

  “Are you going to ever forgive Datt?” Jacob asked quietly.

  I was silent for a second, then said, “Yes, I came here today to forgive him and I quickly found out he wasn’t ready for it. I don’t think I will ever forget, but forgiveness is the only way to live without pain from the past.”

  “Do you think you will come back to stay someday?” he asked, voice raspy, as if he was about to cry. He leaned over and braced his arms on his legs so I could not see his tears.

  “At this point I don’t see myself being Amish again,” I said. “I wish I could come home so the family could be happy again. But I know that I wouldn’t be happy, so why should I deprive myself and be miserable? The last thing I want to do is come back and then leave again if I can’t make it here. I can’t bear the thought of hurting the family twice.”

  “Well, I wish you would come back,” he said in a hopeful tone. “But I see your point. It would be better if you wait until you are ready.”

  I did not say anything more. I sat in silence, wishing it would not be so difficult to explain why being Amish was not for me anymore. My heart ached. I wished there were words I could say that made sense. But my feelings were not explainable. It is kind of like the moment when a boyfriend suddenly breaks up with a girl with no specific explanation. The girl desperately wants closure to move on, but nothing the guy says helps the shattered heart, because there are no exact words that can make the hurt go away. At this point, the Good Man was the only One who could comfort Jacob and help him understand my feelings.

  Soon Datt came
out of the shop and sat behind me on a bench. He started talking about the good Lord and how evil the outside world had become. I let him talk without interrupting. Jacob sat silently as well. The preaching lasted for a good thirty minutes, and when Datt finally grew quiet I said as calmly as possible, “I appreciate your view, but everyone has their differences.”

  With that, I stood up and walked back into the house. I could not listen to one more word of Datt’s preaching, and definitely did not want to start another argument. Datt did not talk to me the rest of my four-day visit, and I returned to Texas with a hole of sadness still open in my heart.

  As I left the biology class an hour later, I could not believe I did not pay any attention to the teacher. All I remembered hearing was the teacher saying we would have an exam in a week. I was screwed.

  §

  A few days after zoning out in biology class, I stepped off a Southwest Airlines jet at the Kansas City airport. I was about to do something I swore I would never do. But after remembering how Jacob had rescued me from Datt’s decision to make me leave, and because our conversation had been so fulfilling, I felt I needed to be at his wedding. It was such a big day for him and I wanted to show him my love and support. Besides, I knew the bride very well: we had gone to the same school, and she had been one grade ahead of me. She was our second cousin, and I was against marriage to such a close relative, but I had no control over it. After all, it happens all the time in the Amish community.

  My parents’ house was a two-hour drive from Kansas City, so Virgil and Jolene toted me from the airport to the house. I did not feel comfortable not having my own vehicle, in case I needed to make a run for it. However, I knew my parents did not want a car sitting on their property during the wedding, so I made an exception and hoped for the best. I had not talked to Datt since the last visit, but just like before he wrote me letters as if everything was normal. I hope he does not pull that stunt on me again, I prayed as I walked into the house.

  Datt sat in his usual chair in the living room, pipe dangling from his mouth, visiting with several young men.

  I walked over to him, greeted him with a handshake, and asked, “Vee bisht du?”

  To my astonishment, he greeted me politely. I thought it was awkward to greet Datt with a handshake when he should have gotten out of his chair and given me a hug, but giving hugs was out of the question in my family.

  Datt asked if I knew who the men were. They sat silently and stared at me as if they had never seen a girl wearing pants.

  I looked at them for what seemed like a long minute. I had no idea who they were. Both of the guys had dark, thick beards and hair long enough to cover their ears and the back of their necks. They reminded me of gorillas. My face flushed from embarrassment.

  Finally I said, “I am guessing you are my cousins, but I don’t know your names.” I offered them a handshake. Still they did not tell me their names. They were quieter than fence posts. Even more embarrassing, it looked like they were hurt because I did not know them.

  Just when I thought I was not going to get an answer, Datt said, “They are your first cousins from Ohio.”

  After he told me their names, my heart stopped for a moment. I remembered playing with them many times when I lived in Ohio. I had seen them again when I was in my teens living in Missouri, but it was at least eight years since I had last seen them. I had almost three hundred first cousins and I did not know how I was supposed to remember them all. Since I had not been living with the Amish anymore, I noticed more than ever that the men’s looks changed after they started growing beards, and eventually they all ended up looking the same.

  “Really?” I said, surprised. “I am sorry I didn’t recognize you, I would have never guessed.”

  One of them finally made an effort to say something, “I guess we all change in some ways.”

  I left the living room as politely as I could and went to the kitchen where the girls washed the supper dishes. I was relieved to finally see some familiar faces, and to be greeted happily. I waited until they finished the dishes, then we went upstairs to figure out what I was going to wear for the wedding. Mem joined us, sitting on the bed next to me. I had my cell phone in my hand and was trying to put it on vibrate, hoping she would not tell me to turn it off. I planned to hide it in a drawer close by, in case an emergency arose and I wanted to get away.

  “I am concerned about your short hair,” she said. “How are you going to put it in a bun to put under your head covering?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I will try and get it up somehow,” I assured her.

  “You shouldn’t have cut your hair in the first place,” she said, smiling a little.

  “Ahh, I bought a wig that I was going to wear to make my hair longer. Would you like that better?” I joked.

  She looked at me and quickly said, “No, I do not want you to wear a wig. I want you to be as real as possible for tomorrow.”

  Hmm… as real as possible. Did she think I was not real anymore? I brushed the comment aside. I was not about to tell Mem how I ended up with such short hair. The first haircut I had gotten after leaving the Amish fell just below my shoulders. The beautician had cut off twelve inches the first time, then coaxed me into keeping the locks as a souvenir even though I really wanted to be liberated of that long hair for good. One day I decided I wanted even shorter hair—it had been a dream of mine since I was young girl. I had told the beautician, Tiffany, I wanted my hair length to be right above my shoulders. Feeling a little giddy about the privilege of being able to cut my hair any way I wanted without fear of God punishing me, I sat smugly in the chair while Tiffany snipped away.

  After a while Tiffany cheerfully said, “Look in the mirror to see the new you!”

  As she swung my chair around and I came face-to-face with my reflection, my jaw dropped to my feet. I was mortified. I could not believe how much hair she had cut off; I thought she had scalped me! It was not the haircut I had envisioned. I looked like a boy! I lied to Tiffany and pretended I liked the haircut even though I was furious she had cut much more than I had wanted. I went home and cried my eyes out. Dear God, you did not say in the Bible women cannot get boyish haircuts, did you? I hoped not.

  By wedding time, my hair had grown out enough to put it in a little ponytail. Mem would have been even more concerned to see me otherwise. The awkward silence soon broke when Sarah popped into the room with a dark red dress along with a nicely-pressed and folded cape, and an apron to go with the dress.

  “Emma, this is my dress and I am so worried it won’t fit you. Please try it on right now.” She sounded like it was an emergency.

  Everyone left the room to give me privacy while I changed. Sarah soon returned and looked at me with her twinkling blue eyes. The little smile on her face told me she was thinking something amusing about the way I looked.

  “Why are you looking at me so funny?” I asked.

  She laughed and said, “I am just glad you are here. I never thought you would actually come for the wedding, since you knew that you would be wearing Amish clothes.”

  “I am surprised at myself that I did come, but I wanted to be supportive for Jacob, and I knew you would want me to be here.”

  “Yeah, that is good. The only bad part is I won’t get to visit with you because I will be navahucking.”

  “Oh shit! I never thought you would be the one. I knew Rhoda would be a navahucka, but not you too.”

  Suddenly I was devastated. Navahucka meant that she and Rhoda would be sitting next to the bride in the church service and following her wherever she went for the whole day. So would their boyfriends, except they would be sitting next to Jacob. They were considered the two maids of honor and the two best men.

  After Sarah noticed the look on my face, she said in a serious voice, “I know it sucks, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  We sat on the bed in silence for a little while. We both knew this would be our last conversation because I was leaving to go back to Texas
early Friday morning, right after the wedding, and Sarah had to stay at the bride’s house for the next two nights.

  Finally Sarah said, “I best be getting ready to go. My boyfriend will be here soon to pick me up.”

  “Okay, go get ready and have fun tomorrow.” I patted her back. She had written me a letter telling me about her boyfriend. At that moment, I realized she would never leave the Amish. My hopes for my sister to join me in the outside world had vanished for good.

  As Sarah was leaving the room she stopped at the door and offered me some encouragement, “You will still have Amanda and Anna by your side tomorrow.”

  “Umm, yeah, I know. Don’t worry about me, I will be just fine.” Sarah’s boyfriend, Abe, was the first guy I had a date with, and I did not want to revisit those memories, but there was no way of ignoring them. Abe was the bride’s brother and an attractive guy, and by the look on Sarah’s face I could tell she loved him. I just wished they were not so closely related.

  Thank goodness I had plenty of sisters to get me through the next day. It was customary for the bridesmaids and their partners to spend the night before the wedding at the bride’s house. There was no chance of me visiting with Sarah anymore because she would be drowning in a sea of people all day long. The only problem with Amanda and Anna was they had grown and changed so much in the last few years I felt like I did not know them anymore. Amanda was four years younger and about two inches taller than me. She looked a lot like me, but just did not think like me. Amanda was more serious with the Amish life and was content with the way things were. Sweet little Anna had grown into a younger version of Sarah: funny, blonde, blue-eyed, and full of energy, ready to play jokes whenever possible.

  That night I went to bed early because I felt sick. I had a bad migraine headache and heartburn like nobody’s business. I knew it was all just nerves from worrying about who I would have to face the next day. It had already gotten off to a bad start downstairs when I did not know who my cousins were, and I could only imagine what tomorrow would be like.