Amish Iridology: Yes, Please!
Just when I thought I was done thinking outside the box… I had to think again.
When you tell a mama that her baby has a progressive degenerative genetic disorder that doctors can’t explain and that there’s nothing they can do… she will think again. And again. And again.
Our first venture into “out of the box” care led us to Florida, where I met an incredible team led by a kind and Godly man. What he did was unlike anything I had ever seen before, and I was floored. Because I tend to be a woman of doubt, I had him do his work on me first. He knew nothing about me except my name, and yet, he nailed everything.
That’s when I first heard of Amish Iridology.
Amish? Yes. But an Amish Iridologist? That was a new one.
Enter Reuben Schwartz, one of the kindest men I have ever met. That day marked the beginning of healing—not just for H, but for me as well. Healing from the inside out, despite what conventional doctors had predicted.
Now, let me be clear: neither Dr. Marty Monahan at SonRidge Health and Healing Center nor Reuben Schwartz ever suggested that we abandon conventional medicine. In fact, they both stressed the importance of following the instructions of our primary doctors. Their goal was to supplement our existing treatment—to work alongside modern medicine, not against it.
That being said, if God chooses to heal us from the inside out, perhaps one day, we won’t need those other medications.
If you’re seriously interested in learning more about the treatment and care we received in Florida, please fill out the contact form, send me your questions, and I’ll get back to you.
A Journey to Kentucky
Two months later, our journey took us to a small Amish community in Kentucky, where I had the privilege of meeting Dr. Reuben Schwartz in person.
The drive was breathtaking. I’ve always held a deep appreciation for the Amish community. My father-in-law worked closely with them, as did my daddy, who has dear friends among our local Amish families. There is a simple beauty in their way of life that I deeply respect.
As I neared my destination, I overshot the turn—oops! I found myself at a farm, but in an Amish community, that’s pretty much a given. A man was tending to his garden as I pulled up, greeting me with a warm smile. I asked if he could point me toward Mr. Schwartz, and with a chuckle, he told me I had passed his place at the bottom of the hill. Then he added something unexpected: he was one of Reuben’s sons.
We struck up a lovely conversation about my children and about H. As we talked, he shared that his wife had just given birth to twins—bringing their total to nine daughters.
Nine. Daughters.
Just let that sink in for a moment.
Before I left, I asked for his name. He smiled and simply said, “Abe.” I smiled back, telling him that my son’s middle name is Abraham. I shared a little of H’s story, and that’s when he told me that his full name is Abraham as well.
One day, I’ll share the story of the promise God gave me through Abraham and why we chose that name to honor our son’s legacy. But for now, I’ll hold onto the sweet memory of a garden-side conversation with a kind Amish man named Abe.
God’s fingerprints are everywhere, if only we take the time to see them.
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