Over the course of the next few days, approximately one million people passed through the Rotunda to pay their respects to President Josiah. Millions more watched the ceremonies via television and the Internet, sharing in the nation’s grief.
A formal ceremony was later held at the Washington National Cathedral, with world leaders and many of the nation’s politicians and celebrities in attendance. Everyone wanted to honor the man they had grown to love.
The crowd was solemn, and both men and women wept openly. The chief justice expressed his condolences to the Stoltzfus family, and then President Mark Stedman addressed those who were gathered there and the nation who watched from their homes and workplaces.
“Less than two years ago,” he began, choking back the tears, “just outside of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, I met a man who had wisdom not seen since … well, perhaps not since another of our great presidents, Abraham Lincoln. Like Lincoln, Josiah Stoltzfus came to Washington a humble and decent man filled with common sense and uncommon courage. He has left behind some mighty big shoes to fill. Not just for me, but for every one of us. The question for us now is this: Are we up for the challenge?
“I will be the first to admit that I fall dreadfully short of the mark. But because of President Josiah Stoltzfus, I want to do better. I want our country to do better. I know you do too.
“We still have a lot of work ahead of us. Our course has shifted and our plans have been altered by circumstances, but they can be changed again. We can go back to where Josiah was leading us. Only we’ll be wiser because of our experience and more appreciative of his vision.
“America is a blessed nation. An exceptional nation. A nation with a good heart. As Josiah would say to us if he were here, ‘We just need to recalculate.’
“Less than two years ago I met a man. You met him too. And we’re all better for it.”
President Josiah had been an unlikely hero and a reluctant savior for a broken nation, although he would have rejected both of those titles. He had seen himself as neither a hero nor a savior. He was simply a man who followed a path he felt he was meant to follow. In his heart, Josiah believed he had been born “for such a time as this.” And now his work was done.
After the ceremony, Josiah’s body was taken to the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. A dulcimer played “Hail to the Chief” as President Mark Stedman and military personnel stood at attention and saluted Josiah’s flag-draped coffin as it was loaded onto Air Force One, en route to its final resting place in Pennsylvania.
Josiah’s interment was held at a small Amish cemetery in Lancaster County. Dozens of buggies parked alongside government vehicles, and a crowd of Amish friends gathered beside politicians to welcome their beloved friend home. Bishop Miller gave the funeral message, extolling his friend who had sacrificed so much for what he had believed was his mission. President Mark Stedman again shared a few words. At Elizabeth’s request, the services closed with Josiah’s favorite hymn:
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Following the Amish ceremony, Mark and Cindy gave Elizabeth loving and heartfelt embraces.
“I don’t know if you feel the same,” Mark said, “but I’m glad our paths crossed.”
“Mark, you came into our lives, and everything changed,” Elizabeth said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “But I know Josiah didn’t have any regrets.”
“And you?”
“I took a vow to follow my husband wherever he led us. And I would do it all over again.”
Bishop Miller approached Elizabeth and extended his hand.
“Welcome home, Elizabeth,” he said. Elizabeth had been accepted back into her Amish family with open arms. She and Josiah had never rejected their Amish faith, and even though they had disobeyed the rules of the Ordnung, and discussions of shunning had been ongoing, Bishop Miller felt, as did the community and church officials, that the family had suffered enough pain. It was time for healing and mercy.
As Mark turned and walked toward his car, a familiar voice called from behind him.
“Mr. President?”
Mark turned around to see Harley Phillips standing there. Mark was both surprised and pleased.
“Thanks for coming, Harley,” Mark said.
“Look, I know we’ve had our differences, but … he was a good man.”
Mark nodded. “He was. Yes, he was.”
Harley walked to his own car, and Mark stood for a moment taking in the familiar countryside. This is where it had all started. It seemed like so long ago, but it had been less than two years since Mark’s car had careened off the road and into the ditch here. So much had happened since then. So much joy and so much pain.
Mark got into the presidential limousine and watched out the window as he left behind the little Amish community and the man and woman who had forever changed his life.
On the way back to the White House that night, the presidential motorcade passed by the Washington Monument. President Stedman looked out the window at the historic obelisk.
“I think I finally know why the tip of it remains in the shadows,” he said.
Cindy looked up at the top of the monument. “You’re right, it is in the shadows,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed that before.”
“I think it’s because we’re not supposed to see it all. I think the shadows represent that part of life that will always be just out of our view.”
“The part where we have to trust?”
Mark nodded, and the driver drove on, taking the president and First Lady back to their new home. Once there, Mark headed to the Oval Office again. Cindy followed.
“You’re going to have to sit in it sometime, you know,” Cindy said, turning the Oval Office chair around so that the seat of it faced Mark. He looked at it for a moment, hesitated, and then respectfully sat down in it.
“It’s bigger than I imagined,” he said. “Or maybe I just feel smaller.”
Only those who had seen the country from the vantage point of that chair could fully understand what Mark was feeling at that moment. It was a private club, this society of presidents, and the password was What in the world have I gotten myself into?
“Throughout the years, incumbent presidents have offered some of their best advice to their successors,” Mark added. “At Benjamin Harrison’s inauguration, outgoing president Grover Cleveland was gracious enough to hold an umbrella over the new president so he wouldn’t get rained on. I wonder what Josiah would be saying to me right now.”
Cindy smiled. “He’d probably be saying, ‘Don’t lose your way.’ “
“And President Reagan told President George Herbert Walker Bush, ‘Don’t let the turkeys get you down.’ “
Most residents of the Oval Office respected the presidents who had gone before them and on some level felt empathy for those who followed. It took a person with a lot to give to sit in that Oval Office chair, and that Oval Office chair would take a lot from that person.
SPRING CAME, AND THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS WERE NOW IN FULL bloom in Washington, D.C. It was a spectacular sight — pinks and whites everywhere, as though some angelic artist had splashed vibrant and colorful paint at random all over the landscape. As usual, tourists arrived in droves to capture the beauty in their memories and through the lenses of their cameras.
It was a new season for Washington in other ways too. A different attitude was prevalent in the halls of Congress. The constant verbal wrangling between the two sides that had previously defined Congress had toned down. Each party, as well as Independents, now listened as the other side explained their position. Rare was the congressional member who would miss a vote, and rarer still was any filibuster.
Congress was working together, putting aside their various differences, to perform the work of the people. They were doing what they had been sent to Washington
to do. And when it came to a ballot, they voted their consciences. They didn’t fear losing a reelection because of a certain stand they had made on an issue. They voted the way their hearts told them to vote. They had recalculated their priorities.
In the halls of Congress, it was commonplace to see a Democratic member of Congress holding the door open for a Republican member, and vice versa.
People couldn’t believe what they were seeing. And members of Congress couldn’t believe what they were doing. The change seemed to happen naturally. Balancing the budget became a priority instead of a panic play to avoid a government shutdown. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to work a little harder, be a little bit better.
Even Harley Phillips was coming on board, ending one of his speeches before Congress with, “And that is why I propose we appropriate the six billion dollars for this project in my home state of … Ah, never mind. We don’t need it.”
What was happening to the country?
It was being healed.
The morning of President Stedman’s State of the Union address arrived, but back in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, a certain widow paid it no mind. Other than her personal memories, that chapter of her life was over now. She might read some brief mention of it later in the Amish newspaper or hear talk of it from the tourists, and she would, of course, wish her old friend well. But today she knelt in the graveyard and solemnly brushed a few blades of grass and some leaves off a tombstone, then lovingly ran her fingers along the carving. The stone read “Josiah Stoltzfus — beloved husband, father, son, friend.” The words summed up her husband well — Josiah Stoltzfus, the Amish man who had represented hope for so many. The words fully described him. Almost. Tagged on at the end, listed in the order of Josiah’s priorities in life, were two more words that completed the picture:
“And president.”
MARK STEDMAN SAT BEHIND THE DESK IN THE OVAL OFFICE reviewing his State of the Union address one last time. He had aged more than the actual time he had served in office, but he wore the gray well. In honor of Josiah, he had also grown a beard. Josiah’s well-worn Bible was at the top right-hand portion of the presidential desk. Josiah’s Bible was a constant reminder of Mark’s dear friend and the source of the Amish man’s strength.
When the time came, the presidential limo picked up the president and First Lady and drove them to the Capitol Building, where the much-anticipated speech would take place.
“Mr. Speaker, the president of the United States!” the House Doorkeeper said as President Stedman entered the congressional chamber, where both sessions of Congress were assembled.
The crowd cheered as the president entered the room, made his way up to the platform, and approached the microphone.
President Stedman waited for the applause to die down, then he smiled and said, “The state of the Union is gut!”
The standing ovation Mark received was said to be the longest in American political history.
EPILOGUE
IF YOU ARE EVER IN THE LANCASTER, PENNSYLVANIA, AREA, FOLLOW the signs that say Josiah Stoltzfus Presidential Library. It’s a small, modest building — exactly how Josiah would have wanted it. No fund-raisers were held to build the library. The Amish constructed it themselves, raising the frame in just one day.
When you get there, pull into the driveway and find a place to park. Then walk up to the front entrance and go inside. The cost of admission to the library is on the honor system.
A portrait of President Stoltzfus hangs on the wall just inside the entrance. It shows Josiah holding DayBreak’s reins in front of the White House. The portrait view is from the back, but it is unmistakably Josiah. It’s a striking pose.
Elizabeth Stoltzfus will most likely greet you herself when you enter, and she’ll invite you to look over some of her husband’s books and papers that he wrote while serving in the White House. The former First Lady might even invite you to her home for supper. If you have the time, take her up on it. She’ll feed you well and will probably offer you some homemade shoofly pie for dessert.
Enjoy your visit. By the time you leave, you’ll have learned a little more about Josiah, his presidency, and the Amish.
They are good people!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MY HUSBAND, RUSS, WHO HAS WALKED ALONGSIDE ME ON this journey through life since we first met when I was fifteen years old, and my children and grandchildren, who later joined us on the journey and have made it all worthwhile.
My agent/manager, Dan Posthuma, for enthusiastically seeing this idea through from its birth at Border’s coffee shop to its publication, and for his friendship and encouragement along the way.
To Mel Riegsecker, owner of The Blue Gate Restaurant and Theater in Shipshewana, Indiana, for his generous help, support, and personal knowledge of Amish traditions and faith.
To longtime friend Lynn Keesecker, who said to me over lunch one day, “Why aren’t you writing novels?!” Thanks for the friendly nudge. And to Carolyn McCready, Terry Glaspey, and others who have also nudged me in that direction.
To the entire Zondervan editorial team, including Sue Brower, Tonya Osterhouse, and Leslie Peterson, for your efficiency and skill; Londa Alderink, Jennifer VerHage, Ben Greenhoe, and everyone else on the Zondervan publicity team for your enthusiasm and creative talents; Verne Kenney, who believed in this project from its beginning, and the entire Zondervan sales team.
Bill and Gloria Gaither, Beverly Lewis, Wanda Brunstetter, Jerry Jenkins, Mike Huckabee, Congressman Marsha Blackburn, Gene Perret, Mark Lowry, Ken Davis, Chonda Pierce, Michael Catt, Bunny Hoest, Rick Eldridge, Lani Netter, Lord Taylor, David Pendleton, Paul Aldrich, Charlie McCoin, Rick and Bubba, Judi Feldman, Scott Davis, Rik Roberts, Wayne Newton, Doug Wead, Nazareth, Taylor Mason, Jim France, Gloria Wallman, Joshua Katzker, Adam Lowe, Miranda Sloan, Sara Posthuma, Angela Hunt, Twila Belk, Kim Messer, Carter Robertson, Heidi Petek, Nan Allen, Bonnie Keen, and each one of you who has helped with promos, endorsements, and too many other ways to list, but most importantly, your encouragement and friendship. I sincerely appreciate you and can’t thank you enough!
The casts, crews, and theater staffs of The Confession and Half-Stitched for all the wonderful time we’ve spent in Amish communities together (Indiana, Pennsylvania, and Ohio). A special thank-you to composer and director Wally Nason. A thank-you, too, to Robert Dragotta.
Paul Miller, who took me to the next level on this writing path with the publication of my first book back in 1985.
John Branyan and my friends in the Christian Comedy Association for their love and support over the years.
My “adopted” mom, Diantha Ain, for always being a loving and enthusiastic cheerleader.
Linda Aleahmad, Mary Scott, Margaret Brownley, Kathi Macias, and all my writing and speaking friends all over the country for their friendship and kinship in this craft (AWSA, WAN, WGA, and all the others).
Friends, family, work associates, and all you readers of books who have ever written or spoken words of encouragement to me over the years. Writers are an insecure lot and need all the positive input we can get. So many of you have provided that at just the right moment in my life. I do not take your words lightly. They (and you) mean the world to me!
Praise
My friend Martha Bolton has created the perfect presidential candidate — a back-to-basics, plain-speaking, humble, and wise Amish man named Josiah. As a writer for Bob Hope, Martha wrote plenty of humor about the political scene (from the Reagan years to the Clintons’), and even wrote for a certain real-life presidential candidate from Little Rock. So if you’re looking for a fascinating read or just an escape from the current political scene, this book is it!
—GOVERNOR MIKE HUCKABEE,
TV host and bestselling author
A great read that challenges you to think outside the box! Josiah comes to life via his interaction with Congressman Mark Stedman in a unique and interesting way. Martha Bolton brings forward a character who is believable and who embodies many o
f the back-to-basics traits that Americans crave.
—CONGRESSMAN MARSHA BLACKBURN,
United States House of Representatives
With a fascinating premise, Martha Bolton crafts a delightfully heartwarming story, poignant for these political times, yet laugh-out-loud funny. Bolton breathes new life into the Amish fiction subgenre!
—BEVERLY LEWIS, New York Times bestselling author
of The Fiddler
Josiah for President is a compelling tale of an unlikely friendship, and an even more unlikely agreement. Heartwarming and funny, Martha’s book will leave you cheering for the underdog, while believing there is still hope for America’s future.
—MICHAEL CATT, senior pastor of Sherwood Baptist
Church and executive producer for Sherwood Pictures
With Martha Bolton’s help, I was nearly elected president myself some years ago, so when I heard she was writing a novel about an Amish man who runs for president, I wasn’t surprised at all. You’re going to love how Martha’s wit, creative imagination, and heart clearly come through these pages. And Martha, if Josiah ever really does run for president, tell him I’m available to serve as his vice president!
—MARK LOWRY
Were one to look up the definition of “great top comedy writer, talented, sensitive, and truly genuinely nice person,” surely a picture of Martha Bolton would appear. She is a brilliant talent, having written for the likes of the great Bob Hope all the way to my shows, whether in Las Vegas or the U.S.O. Tours in Beirut or Afghanistan. She’s the best, and I am honored to know her.
—WAYNE NEWTON
Martha Bolton’s writing never disappoints. Josiah for President demonstrates her ability to get the reader turning each page to discover what happens next. It is a gripping and most timely novel.
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