A View from the Buggy

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Authors: Jerry S. Eicher

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HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

EUGENE, OREGON

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota

Cover photos © Chris Garborg; hendrsd / Bigstock

A VIEW FROM THE BUGGY

Copyright © 2014 by Jerry S. Eicher and Nathan Miller

Published by Harvest House Publishers

Eugene, Oregon 97402

www.harvesthousepublishers.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Eicher, Jerry S.

A view from the buggy / Jerry S. Eicher and Nathan Miller.

pages cm

ISBN 978-0-7369-5686-4 (pbk.)

ISBN 978-0-7369-5687-1 (eBook)

1. Christian life—Amish authors. 2. Simplicity—Religious aspects—Christianity. I. Title.

BX8129.A5E33 2014

289.7'3—dc23

2013043550

All rights reserved.
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Contents

A Horse Named Rose

Jerry Eicher

Color Tour

Nathan Miller

Going Fishing

Erma Louise Schrock

Horses and Boys

Marvin Wengerd

An Eventful Evening

Janice Hochstetler

A Priceless Gift

Joanna Yoder

A Precious Sunbeam

Joanna Yoder

High Water

Malinda Hershberger
 

Kerlin

Eldon Schrock

Billy Goat Style

Oba Hershberger
 

Our New Life Together

Oba Hershberger
 

The Pig Chase

Sarah Bontrager

Why Don't We Butcher?

Aaron Miller

Spokes and Spooks

Regina Bontrager

Beyond the Stars

Wilbur Hochstetler

The Beginning of My Journey

Miriam Schwartz

The Continuing of My Journey

Miriam Schwartz

Those Lemon Bars

Delores Schrock

My Night Away from Home

Samuel Chupp

A Day in My Amish Country School

Rachel Miller

Joe, the Pet Crow

Harvey Yoder

A Girls' Silo Filling Day

Grace Ann Yoder

I Ran the Red Light

Levi F. Miller

How to Have Good Neighbors

Mose E. Helmuth

They Said
I Do

Rachel Troyer

Our Bean Bin Tipped Over

Betty Gingerich

Hosting Church

Sarah Bontrager

Can We Go to Law?

Levi F. Miller

Special Days in My Life

Lori Miller

Outreach

Louie Weaver

Pinecraft Excursion

Norman Miller

All's Well That Ends Well

Grace Elaine Yoder

Barn Raising

Harvey D. Yoder

My Brush with Danger

Aaron D. Beachy

Winter Evening Chores

Ruth M. Bontrager

My First Wash Day Alone

Maria Kay Bontrager

The Day We Missed the Bus

Crist Renno

Musings from Our Sugarhouse

Levi F. Miller

The Wedding

Harvey and Grace Ann Yoder

Nickel Mines Tragedy

Benuel M. Fisher

To Market, To Market

Rachel Troyer

Penny

Luke Weaver

Under Arrest

Omer Miller

The Victory

Kenneth Gingerich

My Journey to Baptism

Kenneth Gingerich

Baptism

Kenneth Gingerich

The Buggy Wreck

Titus Yoder

Christmas Caroling

Joanna Yoder

The Amish FBI

Nathan Miller

Grandfather Eicher

Jerry Eicher

Working with the Threshing Ring

Philip Stoll

My Scary Day of Silo Filling

Philip Stoll

Babies Don't Wear Watches

Esther Weaver

Nearing the Dawn

Laura Yoder

New Beginnings

Nathan Miller

Goodbye, Grandma

Joanna Yoder

About the Authors

About the Publisher

A Horse Named Rose

Jerry Eicher

Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away (Matthew 5:42).

H
UMILITY IS VALUED BY THE
A
MISH COMMUNITY
,
RIGHT UP THERE
after godliness. Every member is expected to readily admit to his or her shortcomings. So I will open this book of true Amish stories with a tale from my family's repertoire of less-than-stellar accomplishments.

County Road 96 runs through the center of the little Amish community in Belle Center, Ohio, where our family had moved upon our return from several years in Honduras. Our time in Honduras had been a mixture of good and bad, but our return home was disappointing to the whole family.

Dad had come up to the states some months earlier and made the down payment on the property that would be our new home. When he returned, he made a point of telling us that our neighbors, Eldon Yoder and his wife, Fannie, were friendly folks, as were other folks in the Amish community.

I was 16 at the time and mourned our move away from Honduras. This preempted any interest I had in who our new neighbors would be. But when we arrived in Belle Center, Dad was proved right—the Yoders were fine, generous people. This was made clear when, upon our arrival, Eldon Yoder offered to sell us Rose, his best horse.

Eldon Yoder was a short man with a bushy beard. His wife, Fannie, was always smiling. She was almost as tall as her husband, and a fluttering sort of woman. Fannie gave off a sense of eternal busyness, which contrasted with the easygoing nature of her husband.

If Eldon had any regrets about the sale of Rose, I never heard him
say so. And one would have heard such a thing in that small community. I hasten to add that Rose was a gentle, mild-natured horse when we bought her. This was one of her attractive qualities, Dad claimed. We didn't need a dashing horse. We had arrived back Stateside bruised in heart and soul. A troublesome horse was the last thing we needed. Maybe that knowledge was what had stirred Eldon Yoder's compassion to sell Rose to us—or perhaps it was simply our general bedraggled condition.

Sadly, the sale of Rose to our family—though well-intentioned—quickly turned into a disaster. What happened, we never really knew. But something went wrong as we proceeded that turned a kind gesture sour. Not intentionally, of course. It just sort of happened. Dad knew how to handle horses, and he didn't abuse them. He had been around horses all of his life.

I know we liked the calm and gentle Rose and expected that she'd be a fine horse for us. But to our surprise—and no doubt Eldon Yoder's too—she was soon ruined beyond repair. Perhaps she didn't like this Amish family who had spent time in faraway Honduras. Whatever the reason, Rose began to balk. When hitched to a buggy, she simply refused to go.

This is not only a most inconvenient trait for an Amish horse to have, but a well-nigh intolerable one. The whole family would cram into the buggy outside whatever farm the church service had been held at that Sunday. People were milling around, talking with each other as the Amish do after the services—and there we were, right in the middle of the driveway, with Rose refusing to budge.

Dad would slap the reins and holler for Rose to go. Nothing happened! Rose stayed stubbornly in place. She'd even rear a little off her front feet, but she made no other movement. Next, we'd climb out of the buggy and pull on her bridle. This only angered Rose, causing her to rear higher and paw the air. We were the embarrassment of the Sunday afternoon church gathering.

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