Tag: chronic illness journey

Adoption, Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

Twelve Candles After Silence

barefootfaithjourney

Twelve Candles After Silence

Not Ready Yet: Twelve Candles After Silence

The room was supposed to be a doorway home.
Quiet, not heavy. Not sad.
Just full of the relief that comes
when five long days are finally over.

Bags packed.
Shoes by the door.
Hope sitting quietly on the edge of the bed
waiting to go home.

He was scared.
I remember that most.
Wide eyes searching my face
while I tried to sound calm enough
for both of us,
telling him every step
like calm could be borrowed.

I asked if they were qualified.
They said yes.
They said it was standard.

And then everything stopped being standard.

The line came out
and fear flooded his eyes so fast
it felt like watching a storm swallow the sun.

“Mommy help me.
Mommy save me.
I am on fire.
My heart is on fire.”

Over and over
like a prayer no one else heard.

His skin turned cold under my hands.
Pale. Fragile.
Clammy fingers.
Dark circles carving shadows beneath his eyes
like exhaustion had finally caught him.

I looked at the doctors
and they stood there, white as ghosts,
perplexed,
calling it behavior.

Behavior.

My hands knew better.

A body running out of strength
like he had already fought a thousand miles.
A child folding inward
while the room stood still.

That was the moment I knew
no one else was coming to save him.

I climbed onto the bed
because love does not wait for permission.
Held him as tight as fear would allow.
Kept explaining every second
even when my voice shook.

“Your room isn’t ready.
I’m not ready.
Please don’t leave me.
Wake up buddy.
Wake up.”

His body felt emptied out.
No strength left.
No fight left.
Just silence growing heavier in the air.

And then he went still.

Eyes rolling back.
Breath gone.
Silence louder than any machine.

I screamed his name into a room
that suddenly felt enormous and empty.
>I remember crying.
>I remember dissociating.
>I remember the sound of my own voice
echoing back at me like I was alone.

So much silence.

I pressed into his chest
hard enough to hurt
because pain was the only language left.

And he came back.

Later he told me what I could not see.

He said he was warm.
Bright.
Peaceful.

He said he saw me crying.
He said he was talking to me
telling me not to cry
but I couldn’t hear him.

I wish I had heard that.

A kind nurse.
Another doctor.
Movement finally replacing stillness.

A lung nicked.
Medicine where air should live.
Not life-threatening, they said,
but close enough to haunt every breath since.

We drove four hours toward someone who would listen.
The road long.
The night longer.
No talking.
Just silent tears
and a body driving home
while my mind stayed behind in that room.

And now—

Twelve years old.

Still fighting a body that refuses easy answers.
Still living with a diagnosis that does not care about fairness.
A nervous system writing its own rules.
A life many dismissed
like it was nothing.

But he was never nothing.

He is the child who fought to stay.
The child who heard his mother’s voice
through silence
and chose to come back.

And still
he wakes up.
Still
he fights.
Still
he breathes.

Twelve candles burning tonight
because love refused to be quiet
and a mother kept knocking
on a door
that heaven almost closed.

I do not say his name here,
but heaven knows it.
And I know it.

Twelve years after a room went silent,
he is still here.

And so am I.

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Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

With Every Joy, In Every Hope

Brandi C

With Every Joy, In Every Hope

This journey with OMS has brought me to my knees more times than I can count. It has stretched me, refined me, broken me open—and built something stronger in its place. However, With Every Joy, In Every Hope there is Jesus.

There have been days filled with fear. With doubt. With exhaustion that sank into my bones.
But there have also been days of joy.
Joy that surprised me. Joy that snuck in quietly and wrapped itself around the hardest moments.

And that’s what I’ve learned: joy and hope can live alongside pain.
They’re not emotions reserved for the easy days.
They are gifts from God, woven right into the messy middle of the story.

With every joy—in every smile, every step forward, every laugh that returned after weeks of silence—I saw God’s fingerprints.
With every hope—in every prayer whispered through tears, in every night I chose to believe again—I saw God’s faithfulness.

This journey hasn’t been linear. Healing rarely is.
There were setbacks, victories, and there were days I felt like giving up.
And then there were days when I couldn’t help but praise—because of the progress, because of the peace, because God had carried us one more step forward.

With every joy, in every hope, God was there.
Not one moment missed, not one tear wasted, and Not one prayer unheard.

And maybe you’re in a hard season of your own—maybe your story doesn’t look like mine, but your heart still needs to know:
Joy is still possible. Hope is still alive.
Not because of the outcome, but because of Who walks with you.

💛 If you’re navigating life’s hard places and need a safe space to heal, grow, or just breathe—Circle of Hope Counseling Services is here for you.

We offer trauma-informed, faith-filled therapy for individuals, couples, and families.

📞 Reach out today to schedule your first session (KY residents only) or learn more: Circle of Hope Counseling Services.

You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Hope starts here.

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Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

When Your Child Is a Medical Zebra… or an Okapi

Brandi C

When Your Child Is a Medical Zebra… or an Okapi

When Your Child Is a Medical Zebra… or an Okapi

As I continue sharing our journey with Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS), I wanted to highlight a valuable resource that may help bring clarity to those who have never heard of this rare condition—or can’t quite grasp how it manifests. Especially When Your Child Is a Medical Zebra… or an Okapi.

There is an excellent video from NORD (National Organization of Rare Disorders) that explains the symptoms of OMS in a simple, visual way. You can watch it here:
👉 NORD OMS Video

For those of you walking this road alongside a loved one, or just wanting to understand better, this is a great place to start. The visual presentation of opsoclonus (uncontrolled, rapid eye movements) and myoclonus (jerky muscle movements) can be difficult to explain—but this video does an incredible job.

But Here’s the Thing… My Son’s Case Wasn’t That Clear.

I wish our experience had looked as “textbook” as this video. But the truth is, my son is what the medical world affectionately calls a zebra—and, if I’m being honest, maybe even something rarer than that.

Let me explain.

In medicine, there’s a saying: “When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.” It means doctors are taught to consider the most common explanation for symptoms before jumping to something rare or exotic. But for some patients—like my son—the common answer never fits. That’s when doctors begin to consider the “zebras”: rare diagnoses that don’t follow the usual rules.

And then, there’s my son.

He doesn’t just check the zebra box. Honestly, he confuses even the most seasoned specialists. He doesn’t follow the standard presentation or response patterns. His symptoms come and go unpredictably. His labs are often conflicting. Treatments sometimes work, sometimes don’t, and sometimes cause reactions no one can explain.

So, we’ve taken to calling him our medical okapi.

If you don’t know what an okapi is, that’s kind of the point. They’re one of the most unique, rare, and mysterious animals on the planet. Most people think they’re made up—until they see one. They look like a cross between a zebra and a giraffe, with their own unique quirks. They’re rare. They’re beautiful. And they don’t fit into any neat little category.

Just like my boy.

The Struggle With the Unknown

For families dealing with a rare condition like OMS, there’s already so much uncertainty. But when your child doesn’t even fit into the rare diagnosis they’ve been given, the confusion is multiplied.

Doctors are unsure. Therapies are trial and error. Even the support groups—so full of comfort and community—sometimes can’t offer guidance because your child’s experience is just so different.

And let me tell you… that’s isolating.

But it’s also where I’ve seen God show up the most.

In the absence of clarity, He gave peace.
>In the absence of answers, He gave direction.
>In the absence of a roadmap, He gave presence.

I’ve learned that not everything needs to be understood to be held by the Lord. We don’t need certainty to be carried.

A Visual That Helps Others Understand

That’s why resources like the NORD video matter. They open a door to understanding. They help make the invisible more visible—for family, friends, teachers, and even medical professionals. Even if our story doesn’t align exactly with what’s shown, it’s still a helpful tool to begin conversations.

Because awareness leads to empathy.
Empathy leads to support.
And support makes all the difference when you’re navigating the impossible.

So What Now?

As we continue sharing more about our journey this month, I’ll be diving deeper into how OMS reshaped not just our son’s life, but our whole family’s. I’m hoping to share from his perspective as well—what he remembers, what he felt, and how he sees things now. There are hard questions we’re starting to ask—and bravely beginning to answer.

This series is for awareness, yes—but it’s also for the ones who feel alone in this. The ones parenting their own little zebra… or okapi. The ones trusting God for each next breath, even when the path ahead feels dark and unfamiliar.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for caring.

Let’s keep learning together.

Reach Out

💛 If you’re navigating life’s hard places and need a safe space to heal, grow, or just breathe—Circle of Hope Counseling Services is here for you.

We offer trauma-informed, faith-filled therapy for individuals, couples, and families.

📞 Reach out today to schedule your first session (KY residents only) or learn more: Circle of Hope Counseling Services.

You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Hope starts here.

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Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

Understanding Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS)

Brandi C

Understanding Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS)

Understanding Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS):

What It Is and Why It Matters

As part of this series on navigating life after a rare diagnosis, I wanted to take time to share more about what Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS) actually is. It’s a disorder many have never heard of, yet for the families affected by it, it becomes the center of their world overnight.

Whether you’re here because you’re walking through this with your own child, supporting someone who is, or simply trying to understand more—thank you for leaning in.

What Is OMS?

Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS) is a rare neurological disorder that most often affects young children, typically between 6 months and 3 years old. It is believed to be an autoimmune condition, where the immune system mistakenly attacks healthy cells in the nervous system, particularly in the brain.

OMS is often associated with either a recent viral illness or a neuroblastoma (a type of cancer found in the nerve tissue), although in rare cases, no clear cause is ever found.

Key Symptoms of OMS:

  • Opsoclonus: Rapid, uncontrolled eye movements in all directions (sometimes described as “dancing eyes”)

  • Myoclonus: Sudden, jerky muscle movements or spasms (also referred to as “dancing feet”)

  • Ataxia: Loss of balance and coordination, which can make walking or even sitting upright difficult

  • Irritability or behavioral changes: Mood swings, aggression, and sleep disturbances

  • Speech regression or delays: Children may lose words they previously had or stop speaking altogether

Symptoms often appear very suddenly and worsen quickly, leading to a medical emergency that requires urgent attention.

Diagnosis of OMS

Because OMS is so rare—affecting roughly 1 in 5 to 10 million children—it’s often misdiagnosed or misunderstood. There’s no single test to confirm OMS. Diagnosis is typically based on a combination of:

  • Clinical presentation of symptoms

  • MRI scans to rule out other neurological conditions

  • Urine and blood tests for tumor markers (especially if a neuroblastoma is suspected)

  • Sometimes, spinal taps or EEGs

Treatment Options

There is no cure for OMS, but early and aggressive treatment can dramatically improve outcomes. Common treatments include:

  • High-dose steroids (IV or oral)

  • IVIG (Intravenous Immunoglobulin)

  • Chemotherapy agents like Rituximab or Cyclophosphamide

  • Plasmapheresis (plasma exchange)

  • Physical, occupational, and speech therapy

Treatment typically requires a team of specialists, and relapses can happen—often triggered by illness, stress, or tapering medication. Long-term care is often needed.

What OMS Is Not

OMS is not:

  • A result of poor parenting

  • A behavioral disorder

  • A temporary condition that children just “grow out of”

  • Well understood by most general practitioners

Raising awareness is key because early diagnosis and treatment can prevent long-term neurological damage.

Faith in the Unseen

For families walking this road, the diagnosis of OMS can feel like being dropped into the middle of a storm with no map. The fear, the unknown, the way life changes in a single day—it’s all overwhelming.

But even here, in this space of confusion and questions, God is not absent. He is present in the waiting rooms, in the hospital corridors, in the shaky prayers whispered late at night. He is faithful through every test result, every unanswered question, every slow and painful recovery.

OMS may have changed the story—but it doesn’t get to define the ending.

Why This Matters

There is power in sharing knowledge. There is purpose in raising awareness. And there is hope in knowing that even in the most complex, heart-wrenching diagnoses—God still writes beautiful, redemptive stories.

This post is here so others don’t feel as alone as we once did. It’s for the parent Googling symptoms at 3 a.m., the friend wanting to, the family member unsure how to help. It’s for the ones standing in the gap and believing for healing.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for caring.

Coming Up in This Series:

  • Personal reflections on how the diagnosis reshaped our daily life

  • A post (hopefully!) in my son’s own words, sharing what he remembers

  • How faith carried us—and continues to carry us—through the unknown

Have questions about OMS or want to share your own story? Feel free to reach out or comment. This is a space of grace, education, and encouragement. You are not alone.

💛 If you’re navigating life’s hard places and need a safe space to heal, grow, or just breathe—Circle of Hope Counseling Services is here for you.

We offer trauma-informed, faith-filled therapy for individuals, couples, and families.

📞 Reach out today to schedule your first session (KY residents only) or learn more: Circle of Hope Counseling Services.

You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Hope starts here.

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Amish Iridology Story

Brandi C

Amish Iridology Story

Amish Iridology

Amish Iridology: A Follow-Up on Reuben Schwartz

 

I receive a significant number of inquiries regarding Amish Iridology and Reuben Schwartz. Given the continued interest, I wanted to provide an updated post. Below, you’ll find additional insights and links to previous posts for a more in-depth look at my experiences.

As always, if you have specific questions, feel free to email me at barefootfaithjourney@gmail.com. I do my best to respond promptly, but if your message lands in spam, please resend it. Life gets busy!

Introduction to Reuben Schwartz

Many years ago, a friend told me about an Amish doctor. Her husband had visited him, and they were planning a follow-up trip. She knew my husband suffered from knee pain (bone-on-bone) and offered to bring back a cream from his office to see if it would help. My husband wasn’t consistent in using it, and I let the knowledge of Reuben Schwartz slip away.

However, God had already planted that seed.

At the time, I never imagined I’d have a medically fragile child with Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome. That wasn’t exactly on my list of life goals.

Then Came My Brother

One day, I was driving home when my brother called me. He doesn’t usually call, so my first thought was that something was wrong. Instead, he had information he thought could help.

He shared what he had read and suggested a few things. Some we had tried, some we had not. Then, he mentioned an Amish man who had helped people.

That reignited the spark in my memory. I asked if he was referring to an Iridologist, and he confirmed it. Years later, the knowledge I once had was coming back to the forefront. I decided to dig deeper.

Research and Calls

I called my friend and refreshed her memory about Reuben Schwartz. She shared what she could remember. Then, I turned to the internet. I found a mix of positive and negative experiences, which is typical for anything. At this point, my son was barely walking, and we had tried numerous treatments—IVIG, Rituximab, ACTH shots, and more. We had also visited Dr. Monahan at SonRidge Health and Healing Center in St. Augustine. I had already stepped outside the conventional medical box, so why not explore this avenue too?

Visiting Reuben Schwartz

When we arrived, my GPS mistakenly took me down a driveway leading to a large house. That’s where I met Abraham, one of Reuben’s 12 children. He lives there with his wife and kids. Abraham kindly redirected us—Reuben’s office is actually the first building on the left, a newer structure.

Inside, there was a bit of paperwork to complete. Reuben didn’t know anything about my son’s condition. He doesn’t diagnose specific medical issues, as he has no exposure to the outside medical world.

The office itself is small but charming. The Amish also sell homemade bread, herbs, spices, and other items. A full-length front porch provides a peaceful waiting area.

Meeting Reuben Schwartz

Reuben is about six feet tall with a white beard and a warm smile. He smelled of melaleuca and kindness. I asked him how he became involved in Iridology, and he shared his journey.

Iridology has been practiced in his community for generations. Initially, he thought it was witchcraft, but as he witnessed people finding healing, he began studying it. The results spoke for themselves. He now believes in its effectiveness and, most importantly, he loves Jesus, which reassured my heart. One of his sons has since taken up the practice as well.

What to Expect from an Appointment

Reuben is not a medical doctor. He does not prescribe conventional medications and does not tell you to stop taking your prescriptions. Instead, he listens, offers advice on diet, and recommends herbal supplements in liquid or pill form. Everything he provides comes from natural sources.

For anything he doesn’t carry, there’s Mountain Air Herbs down the road. They are not Amish but work closely with Reuben. They can also ship herbs if needed (call 270-487-1334).

The Process

In his small office, Reuben uses a crucible and utility flashlight to examine your irises. He notes his findings on paper.

When he examined my son, he identified the same issues that had been detected in a bio-impedance scan—primarily parasites. I was amazed at the accuracy. The entire visit lasted about 15 minutes, though I stayed longer to chat.

My Personal Experience

When Reuben looked into my eyes, he knew nothing about me. Yet, here was our conversation:

Reuben: “You don’t have a uterus, do you?”

Me: “No, sir, I don’t.”

Reuben: “You still have your ovaries, don’t you?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

He pushed back in his chair, gave me a concerned look, and hesitated before saying, “Your ovaries are angry with you.”

I burst out laughing at how serious he was. He then asked about my moods, depression, and sleep habits. He prescribed something to balance my hormones and improve my well-being.

Cost and Payment

  • Appointments with Reuben are FREE, but he has a donation box in his office. If you feel led, donations are appreciated.
  • Herbs and supplements are NOT free. They can be pricey but last a long time.
  • Some bottles are refillable. The Amish prioritize recycling, so if you return with an empty container, they will refill it instead of selling you a new bottle.
  • Mountain Air Herbs (non-Amish) offers additional supplements and takes credit cards.
  • Be prepared—the liquid supplements taste horrible! I mix them in applesauce to make them more tolerable.

How to Make an Appointment

Reuben does not have a phone, internet, or email. The only way to schedule an appointment is to write a letter. Expect a short reply with a date and time.

Mailing Address:

Reuben Schwartz
1201 Radure Rd.
Hestand, KY 42151

Hours (as of March 2018):

  • Monday, Tuesday, Friday: 7:30 AM – 3:00 PM
  • Saturday: 7:30 AM – 11:00 AM

Final Thoughts

My experience with Reuben Schwartz was enlightening. While Iridology may not be for everyone, it was an insightful addition to our journey. As always, I encourage you to do your own research, consult your physician, and make informed decisions about your health.

If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me via email at barefootfaithjourney@gmail.com!

 

 

Medical, Reuben Schwartz & Jake Shirk Amish Iridologist

Looking Into My Eyes Amish Iridologist

Brandi C

Looking Into My Eyes 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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Medical, Reuben Schwartz & Jake Shirk Amish Iridologist

Amish Iridology Yes Please

Brandi C

Amish Iridology Yes Please

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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