Category: Reuben Schwartz & Jake Shirk Amish Iridologist

Looking Into My Eyes Amish Iridologist

On the Road Again: Back to the Amish Iridologist

In Looking Into My Eyes Amish Iridologist, I will discuss the journey where most of my family came to visit Reuben and meet Jake Shirk, his apprentice. Here we go again—back to see Dr. Reuben Schwartz, the Amish Iridologist, as he looks into my eyes once more. This time, our journey took us back to Hestand, KY. Thankfully, the trip wasn’t too long, just about four hours.

The night before, I packed H’s bag with all the essentials: pull-ups, wipes, a baggie, extra clothes, three stuffed animals, a banana, gluten-free snacks, and two movies. I also made sure the kids did their chores before bed—nothing like waking up to a mess. And, of course, everyone had to bathe. Because kids. And kids smell.

The Journey Begins

Morning came, and the kids ate quickly, got dressed, and piled into the van. Once we hit the interstate, Big Daddy took the wheel, I caught some much-needed sleep, and the kids watched a movie. A perfect setup.

Due to a ridiculous amount of road construction—and the fact that Dr. Reuben lives quite literally in the middle of nowhere—we arrived about fifteen minutes late. They were waiting on us, and I could tell it was creeping close to dinnertime. The Amish do not miss dinner.

Meeting Jake Shirk

Jake Shirk, Reuben’s apprentice, was there to help, so he took the boys to one room while I stayed with H and G. Mr. Reuben got to work. Out came his little crucible and utility flashlight as he leaned all the way into my personal space. The man smells like Melaleuca and love. I kid you not. His bright eyes, crisp clothes, white beard, and piercing blue eyes—all topped off with that warm, engaging smile. He is honest, kind, and an absolute joy to know.

The Results Are In for the Kids

G: Her “rages” stem from an unhappy left ovary. Dr. Reuben noted she had this issue before she even came to us. He also detected pneumonia scarring from before she joined our family. On top of that, her thyroid is struggling, affecting her weight and stress levels.

N: Stress, thyroid, adrenal gland issues, digestive system concerns—and he needs to drink more water!

D: Stress, digestive trouble, and potential heart issues. This one took us by surprise, but Dr. Reuben’s son even asked if heart issues ran in the family. We had to quietly explain our unique family dynamics.

J: Stress, digestive issues, not enough water—but then came the kicker: “Lay off the sodas.” We laughed. He only drinks water and milk. However, Dr. Reuben spotted pre-diabetic markers. This concerned me deeply. Ethiopians typically don’t have diabetes. He’s only twelve. We’ll be following up with his pediatrician to check his blood work. Mama is not messing around.

Big Daddy and Me

Big Daddy: Dr. Reuben asked about his joints (cue collective laughter—his knees are shot). He also nailed his thyroid issues, stress levels, lack of water intake, red meat consumption, and, of course, his heart health.

Me: When Dr. Reuben finished his assessment, he leaned back in his chair and said, “Good grief, you are under tremendous stress.” I shrugged. “I’m as good as I can be.” Then I asked what made him think I was stressed. He laughed. “Your eye is telling me you are under stress.”

I told him about the last two weeks—how every night, I either hurt, vomited, or had diarrhea. His response? Straight-up stress. He said my body needed to calm down.

The Weight of Stress

What struck me the most? Every single one of us—every child and both parents—had stress show up in our eyes. This past year has been nothing but one giant stress ball.

And I hadn’t even realized the toll it was taking on my kids.

That hit hard. As a mom, I should have seen it. I should have recognized the weight they were carrying.

It’s clear—we need a family meeting. A serious one. We may need to step back from some things. Our family’s mental health has to take priority.

Stepping Back

I know life is overwhelming right now. Seven kids. So many irons in so many fires. The anniversary of my Lady’s passing is looming. The house is in chaos because we’re painting. My living room is currently shoved into my bedroom. H is struggling at school. And a family member is breaking my heart.

I have to step back.

It’s that simple.

Now… how to do that?

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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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