Breathing and Believing. Just Me.

From first through third grade my best friend's name was Beverly.

She was Beachy Amish.

She is a mom now with a family of her own but I still think fondly on those days when we were little. I remember I would go to her house and put on one of her dresses, she would fix my long hair just like hers, and in just a short time I would blend right in. I often envied her childhood and I loved pretending that I was one of them. She had so much of everything; brothers, sisters, millions of cousins and a big old farm to play on. To this day I still sometimes make grammatical errors from things I learned during that time spent with her. I ask if something is "all" meaning gone, and often want to throw a "not?" on the end of a question to make it more of a statement. Back then my creative mind loved the fact that even if just for a moment, I could be a little Amish girl too...

But yesterday for several little girls near where I grew up, to be Amish, was a tragedy.

At the Georgetown Amish school near Paradise, PA ten girls, ages 6 to 13 were lined up facing the blackboard, their feet were tied together, and then they were shot execution style buy a seemingly normal guy.

A normal guy. Unbelievable.

I am still awaiting a call from home to find out whether I knew any of the families personally. But it's a small community and at the very least I am certain that we have friends who were related to the victims. I drove past the shooter's house every day on my way to high school and he bought all the premeditated supplies at the hardware store my parents use as well. The Amish school was only a mile or two from his house, one of my supporting churches is within walking distance and friends of mine were involved in the medical care of the girls who made it out.

It's a small world.

So I'm sad. I'm sad for little girls who will never grow into women. I'm sad for a family shattered by the loss of a husband and father and the knowledge of what he's done. I'm angry that sin has such a hold on our world. I'm sad for the loss of innocence in a community that is generally one of peace and simpicity. I'm sad that this community is more about a religion than a personal relationship with Jesus as "religion" isn't going to comfort them during this time. I'm sad for our Amish friends and neighbors who are always the first ones to help us out in a crisis. They live their lives quietly but they love well and will grieve deeply.

Today I'm grieving along with them. And for just a moment I feel Amish again.

Posted by Brenda on Tuesday, October 03, 2006 at 1:19 PM | Permalink