Recently, Mike and I were invited to attend a Christmas meal with Amish friends. Two local Amish business’s wanted to celebrate with their employees. We’ve enjoyed meals with our Amish friends before, and found this event to be just as welcoming with great food, wonderful conversation, and basketball.
Out of respect, I took no pictures, but I can set the tone of our time.
The home was three stories and filled with scant furnishings and various rooms. Lamp light flickered in windows while propane gas lighting hissed throughout the rest of the large house. It was actually one of the largest homes I have ever been in, but with nine children, I imagined they needed the space.
Children scampered into rooms to play while we introduced and invited to sit for a spell in the main floor sitting room. A mother fed a new boppli, while men chatted about vacations. Much of the conversation consisted of trips to Tennessee and high bridges.
Soon we were directed to join the others in the basement. Another large area with tables aligning the back wall and ping pong tables shadowing the opposite corner. Ping pong matches continued throughout the night. A few times the ball would ricochet across the room, sending little ones eager to fetch after it.
The tables were adorned with round, glass vases with a candle tucked deep within. Water pitchers sat along the tables and hard benches made plenty of room for the growing crowd rotating through the basement doors leading out to a concrete path.
At one table, Amish drivers sat with their families. Most taking in the children playing as I was. They stood out, but then again, I’m sure we did too.
Dinner was delayed a while, as some were late, but once the silent prayer finished, food was carried in quickly. Guests ate first, as tradition, and soon all plates were filled and forks diving in. Grilled chicken was packed in coolers to stay warm and I loved every bite of the smoky flavors. The meal consisted of mashed potatoes, gravy, noodles I could barely see in the dark center of the room where food was served. There was salad, much like the seven layer salad I often make for my family gathers, with two dressings. Ranch and a homemade dressing that I was blessed to get the recipe for. There was corn and casserole. Jelly jars sat next to the butter to dress up the fresh bread slices.
The dessert table was simple. Cookies, cherry pie, and pecan bars. I brought brownies and noticed they didn’t last long.
Once the meal was over, a second silent prayer drew all chatter and movement to a quiet. Young women began clearing tables while young men ventured outside. In a neighboring building, much the size of a very large barn, was a basketball court. I have learned that different areas have their favorites. While some focus on volleyball or baseball, here in northern Kentucky it is basketball that keeps the young and old pleased. Mike guided me into the building with high wooden ceiling and a full ball court complete with painted lines. We stood on the sidelines and watched two very competitive games commence. As a fan of the U.K. Wildcats, I imagine a couple of those men could have impressed coach Cal plenty. Young girls watched from a far corner, while older men conversed on chairs in another.
After a time we were all called back to the house for break. This is what the Amish call snack time or a break when friends gather at one house for an evening of conversation or board games. Pepsi, Mt. Dew, and coffee were brought out, along with more baked goodies, crackers and dips. Little ones began growing tired. I had the joy of sitting near an English woman who had worked with the family for many years as well as a few young women as they talked. She knew the family very well. She was quite entertaining. After learning many more names I’m certain to forget, (Names never stick with me very well) we said our so-longs, because goodbye is not accepted. We thanked our hosts for welcoming us, and helped four little girls get their shoes on. They were fast asleep, worn out from all their play, by the time we made the short trip home.
