February 8, 2019

The Name of the Broken Road…

Category: News — admin @ 5:40 pm

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What I had to face, the very bitter lesson that everyone who
wants to write has got to learn, was that a thing may in itself
be the finest piece of writing one has ever done, and yet have
absolutely no place in the manuscript one hopes to publish.

—Thomas Wolfe
__________________

There have been a few things on my mind the last while. Things I’ve thought about often before, but just never got around to telling. Just as well, I think. In recent months, the tides of life came rolling in, smashing and waving and pitching all around. And I got sidetracked, what with Dad slipping downhill, then receding, receding until he was gone. It’s all so close in my head, what happened. The New Year comes. And with it, new life and new roads. And now, I’m looking around and thinking. Maybe some sort of force has been unleashed. I’ve been busy lately, doing what I had not done in quite a while. Writing. I’ve been busy writing. Every night.

That in itself is not particularly unusual, I don’t guess. There have been such times before. Just not lately. It’s been a few years since I settled in every night and either poked around and edited or just wrote a page or two of all new stuff. I had been wondering to myself. Is the time ever going to get here? Will the muse ever return? Will the voice ever speak, ever really flow again? And now, with the writing that comes every night, I am slowly, slowly carving out an answer to those questions. I’m walking. We’ll see how it turns out. And I think, too. Sometimes when the right time knocks on the door, it just looks a little different than you had figured it would. It’s all new territory. Take it for what it is instead of trying to make it what you want it to be. I try to do that as much as I can.

In the last blog, I talked a little bit about the Amish preachers of long ago. Generically speaking, of course. Any preacher or any bishop could do it. Stand to preach a sermon at the start of a real long service. And he’d hem and haw and clear his throat. “We have a big field to cross.” We? What do you mean, we? (Makes me think of that scene where the robber thug asks Dirty Harry. “We? What do you mean, we, sucka?” Clint Eastwood says, as he yanks out his massive cannon of a revolver. “Smith – and Wesson – and me.” Blam, blam.) What do you mean, we, preacher man? The field is only as big as you make it. That’s what we thought and would have said, had we dared. We didn’t dare, of course. Little Dirty Harrys we were not. We shivered and hunkered down, resigned to our fates. And then settled in for a long day. There was nothing anyone was going to do about it.

Ironically, or maybe not, that last blog was the longest in all my history of posting on this site. Ever. By far. Well, I tried to warn unsuspecting souls, with that preacher analogy. I thank every single reader who kept slogging through until the end. Now, I’ll make like no Amish preacher ever did, at least none that I remember. I stand and fold my hands across my chest. Look down on the ground. Clear my throat. Others could do this so much better. But I feel like I must say that today, we have a very small patch of ground to cross. It shouldn’t take one bit long. This may be the shortest blog, ever. We’ll be out of here early.

Moving on, then, over that small patch of ground. I haven’t mentioned the book much lately, except briefly in passing, here and there. I wrote about it when the contract came, what a tense time that was, not knowing what was going on for sure. This was roughly when I quit drinking, back in late 2017. More than a year ago. It was a big deal, to land a contract for a book with a big five publisher like Hachette. It seemed like a big deal to quit drinking, too.

I had a couple of real good chats with Virginia, the editor lady who’s making it all happen this time around. We talked about my story, and what I had in mind to write. And we got along real well. I went off and wrote several great long threads of different stories. And that’s about as far along as I got. I just stopped and looked at things for as long as I felt like looking. Always keeping an eye on, always writing out a few more pages, a few more scenes. But they always kind of flowed free on their own, the stories. I had to find a way to weave them together. To me, that right there is what makes it hard to write a book. Weaving it all together.

And as last year unfolded with Dad, a simple truth sank in. There would never be closure to any book before I had gone and buried my father. With my family, I mean, of course. I don’t know if Virginia instinctively realized this and backed off and left me alone, or what. There wasn’t a lot of communication between us for months at a time. The first deadline came and went with nary a peep from anyone. And I may have felt a premonition last summer when I drove up to visit Dad that this was probably it. Whatever words you have to speak to him, get them said. This is your last chance.

It would be the last time I saw him when he was lucid and coherent. He could still communicate. He ate at the table with some of his children who had been shunned for decades. All that fire died, in the end. He was delighted when any of his children from anywhere came around to see him. “Ira is coming to see me,” he’d say for days when they told him I was coming. I was always grateful that we reached such a place, even so dreadfully late along the way. But still. I’ve thought it many times, too. It could always have been like that. Except it couldn’t, I guess, because it wasn’t. Now I’m going in circles. Back to my visit last summer. We had a few nice chats, me and Dad. He welcomed me when I got there. We shook hands when I left. Said good-bye. Those would be our last words to each other on this earth.

I had a lot of time to think on the way up and the way back, on that trip. Had time to mull over things, to get a framework in my mind. And I went back to writing when I got home. Described those moments I was in, on that trip to see my father. I knew as the writing came. This was the winding down part of the stories of our lives with each other, mine and Dad’s. I wrote a lot of it as it happened. I remember a lot more.

And then he passed on when he did, just a few weeks ago, seems like. And I thought about it, as the last blog was coming out. This blog may be the framework of my book. Start out on the journey up to see my dying father. Go off on all the bunny trails you want, get the story of your own journey woven in there. Get back on the road now and then. And back and forth and back and forth like that. I don’t know if that’s how the book will end up structurally or not. They might want to go conventional. That’s the narrative I’m using, to get it written. So maybe I’d rather go that way. It would be a lot harder, though, to make it work if you bounce around so much. I don’t know. I guess we’ll figure it out when we get there.

So right now, I am writing. A lot of loose and far flung threads. I remember what the Tyndale people told me, way back when we were laying the groundwork for my first book. “What you leave out is just as important as what you write.” To me, it boils down to keep the story alive and don’t go down too many bunny trails that aren’t important. I’m looking at it all, trying to get a good grasp of the right course to take. What to leave in. What to leave out. Isn’t there a Bob Seger song with lyrics that go something like that? Seems to me there is.

It’s been interesting. I’ve stayed relaxed, mostly. I have been planting seeds on my blog for years. Seeds for the next book, when the stories came poking out. Now, I will go back and pull up some of those narratives. Adapt, edit, and rewrite. Fill in the gaps. And weave it all together. I got it in my head. If my fingers can write what I see in my mind, I’ll be fine. That’s where I am. Standing here, looking over there to where I want to be.

Virginia asked me very kindly, not long ago. She was fairly insistent. She needs a title for the book. We’ve had a working title, now we need the real one. So she can start working on the marketing. We’ve thrown a few suggestions back and forth. I’ll lay it out. Looking back, it simply cannot be denied. So much of my life has been walking on broken roads. I want those words in the title. Broken Roads: Journeys with my Amish Father, or some such thing. There’s one I really like that won’t quite cut it, I don’t think. Amish Black: Broken Roads. That would be the title. Weave that old Jeep right in there. Virginia is very open to the Broken Roads part. I need the next phrase, with the word Amish in it somewhere. Here’s what it might look like.

Amish Black: Broken Roads (This is the one I like.)

This is probably what it will have to be:

Broken Roads: ____________ OR ____________: Broken Roads

Help me out. Post me your suggestions, right down there in the comments. Someone, somewhere, can surely come up with the right combination of words. If you are the first to come up with a title we use, I will pay with signed books, and proper public credit. Help me out.

I think I mentioned it before, at least fleetingly. Last summer, some nice people in a book club invited me to talk at Winterthur, the DuPont estate in Wilmington, Delaware. It was one afternoon during the week. They had asked months in advance, so it was easy to plan ahead and make it work. Around noon that day, I drove over to the home of my friend, Dale Simpkins. Dale was the one who got me into the book club. I parked at his house and rode over to the Winterthur estate with him. I had never been on the place before, never had heard of it, to be honest. It’s vast and breathtaking all around. Both the grounds and the buildings. The book club people had commandeered a nice upstairs room with real old furniture, where we sat around on high-backed chairs in a large circle. Probably about thirty people, or so.

We had a fine old time. It’s fun to go to talk about the book when the people have read it and are actually interested. This group had and was. I think we went a little long. I always offer to sign any copies of the book that anyone has with them. That takes a while, to chat with each person who wants to. Then, as we were wrapping up, a nice older gentleman came up to me. “Will you come and preach at my church?” he asked. I laughed. And almost, I said no. But I stopped myself. I’m not a preacher, I told the nice man. But I will come and speak at your church, if you ask me. A few weeks later, here came the email with the official invitation. Come and speak about your book. We planned it for January 13th, a few weeks ago. There was a snow storm that weekend, so my talk got canceled. It was rescheduled for the last Sunday of last month. And that morning came, too, right along.

I’ve done dozens and dozens of book talks over the years. So, if you ask me to come and speak, I’ll of course smile and say yes. And I’ll start thinking about what to say about the morning the talk is scheduled. I have a very basic, rough outline. It was written in the broadest of strokes, so there are always a hundred bunny trails to meander down, if I want to. That morning, I got up and dressed up in coat and tie. White shirt. Black pants. It was cold enough. I huddled in my trench coat until Amish Black got warmed up on the road. It was about an hour over there from my home. I left plenty early. Drove along into the clear morning winter sun. I located the Lower Brandywine Presbyterian Church with no trouble. The church (not the building) has been in existence since 1730. They have a list of all the ministers who served the church since then. Pretty old stuff, for this country. Not many churches have been in existence on roughly the same spot since 1730.

That’s where I was going to speak, at such a place as that. And on a Sunday morning, yet. There would be no other speaker. I had the sermon time. That all played around in my head a little bit, as the days passed and the time approached. These are learned people you’re going to talk to.

I didn’t fret all that much, as church started. The place seemed decently packed. There were a few hymns and children’s class and then a scripture reading. Somewhere along about here, I got introduced. I walked up to the lectern. Spoke into the mic. I had been told. Speak for twenty minutes, then take a few questions. I stood there and talked about my journey as written in the book. And maybe a little beyond that. There was a bit of gospel sprinkled in, too. It wasn’t a sermon. Just a talk. And I didn’t speak for twenty minutes, I spoke way longer than that. Thirty-six minutes, someone muttered to me later when I asked. Umm. I thought to myself. I went and did what I have always so despised when preachers did it over the years. Preached too long. It’s like I always said in my grumbling. When a preacher does that, goes overlong, it’s because he thinks his time is worth more than everyone else’s combined. It’s rude and inconsiderate. I was pretty hard, in that line of thinking. And here I had gone and violated my own strident rule for others.

Ira preaching

I was shocked and a little horrified when that sank in. But then I thought. You know what? Everyone gets one mistake. One free shot. You don’t really know quite what’s going on, the first time. But you better not ever do such a thing again. That’s how I worked it out in my head. I have purposed in my heart to never go overlong again in any public speech anywhere.

Anyway, I enjoyed talking to those people in that church that morning. There was cake after the service, and I sat at a table and sipped black coffee. Some nice lady came over and pushed an enormous slice of cake on me. To take home, she insisted. People came and asked the questions they would have asked, had there been time up in the main service. I thanked the pastor, too, at some point. I told him. The pulpit is valuable real estate, I realize. I appreciate the opportunity to speak at this church. I’m honored to be in such a historical place.

I was honored. It was fun. I’d do it all over again.

I’ve mentioned it before, a few times. Not often. But a few times. My oldest brother, Joseph (the Amish preacher), has been battling multiple myeloma for a long time. It’s a cancerous blood disease. Most people who get it last around five years or less. Joseph has hung on strong for ten.

He has reached the end of the road with standard treatments. The drugs don’t work anymore. Joseph was excited last year to get accepted into an experimental treatment program in Columbus, Ohio. It’s untested. It may work. Or not. But it’s the only hope he has to stay alive. He checked in last month, soon after Dad’s funeral. It was a minor miracle that he could make the trek up to Aylmer to bury our father.

He started the experimental treatment program several weeks ago. He is very ill. His sons and daughters took turns to go and stay with their Dad and Mom, there at the hospital in Columbus. That takes a lot of energy and a lot of effort. You get weary. It’s exhausting.

Family is family, and blood is blood. You go when you’re needed, you help out when you can. This blog is posted from the road. Because this morning, I took off on a little trip to go see Joseph and spend a few days with him.

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(64 Comments) »

  1. Broken road; Shadows or Echoes

    Comment by carol ellmore — February 8, 2019 @ 6:06 pm

  2. Amish Broken:Black Roads

    Comment by Gail — February 8, 2019 @ 6:46 pm

  3. No longer Amish; Broken Roads

    Amish Wanderer; Broken Roads

    Comment by Velma Smucker — February 8, 2019 @ 7:19 pm

  4. Broken Roads: Walking On
    Broken Roads: Amish Roots
    Broken Roads: The Lion’s Cub Goes Home Again :)

    Have fun Ira, Thanks for writing.

    Comment by Daniel — February 8, 2019 @ 7:24 pm

  5. Broken Roads: Full Circle

    Your life story as it relates to your father is a full circle. You were together at the beginning of your life and for some years after, but for the majority of your life you were separated. Now, at the end of his life, the circle is completed when he greets you warmly and eats at the table with you.

    Comment by OSIAH HORST — February 8, 2019 @ 7:27 pm

  6. Broken Roads, Driving Amish Black

    Driving Amish Black, on Broken Roads

    Comment by Sharon J Westcott — February 8, 2019 @ 7:35 pm

  7. Long Lanes and Broken Trails: Amish Black and Old Blue

    Comment by Jim Eshelman — February 8, 2019 @ 7:53 pm

  8. 1. Amish Life Interrupted: Dark and Burdensome
    Broken Roads

    2. Amish Life Interrupted:

    Finding Healing From the Black Well of
    Broken Roads…

    3. No Regrets: Former Amish Man Ira Wagler Shares
    Story of Leaving Broken Roads Behind and
    Living Life Now on a Solid Foundation

    Comment by Loretta Shumpert — February 8, 2019 @ 7:57 pm

  9. It seems..at least on my old crank netbook that my post ran into Carol Ellmore’s. Mine starts with

    Amish Life Interrupted: Dark and Burdensome Broken Roads.
    I submitted three.

    Comment by Loretta Shumpert — February 8, 2019 @ 8:02 pm

  10. Broken Roads: Miraculously Repaired

    or
    Broken Roads: Lovingly Repaired

    Comment by June and Barry Kinsey — February 8, 2019 @ 8:42 pm

  11. I am thinking something similar to Sharon Westcott. Broken Roads: Driven by Amish Black or Broken Roads as Driven by Amish Black.
    I am glad this book is coming together! May you have Strength, Courage, and Joy in the process!

    Comment by Beth Southwick — February 8, 2019 @ 8:45 pm

  12. Broken Roads: Amish Acceptance

    Comment by June and Barry Kinsey — February 8, 2019 @ 8:45 pm

  13. Broken Road: My Amish Journey

    Comment by JOSEPH GRABER — February 8, 2019 @ 8:48 pm

  14. Looking Homeward: Broken Roads

    I really enjoy your blog. I know how much it can wear on a person when they make the choice to not follow the path chosen by your family. Even though you know you have made the correct decision, there is still something that lingers with you.

    Comment by Walter Scott — February 8, 2019 @ 9:16 pm

  15. Broken Roads: Lead Back Home

    Broken Roads: Restored

    Broken Roads: Don’t Always Stay Broken

    Comment by Dave Smucker — February 8, 2019 @ 9:18 pm

  16. Broken Roads; On Amish Paths
    Broken Roads; In Amish Black
    Broken roads; Amish Home Ties
    Amish Threads and Broken Roads

    Comment by Janet Bell — February 8, 2019 @ 9:23 pm

  17. Broken Roads; Beauty for Ashes
    Beauty for Ashes; Broken Roads
    Ashes for Broken Roads
    Ramblings from Broken Roads
    Ira’s Ramblings; Broken Roads
    Broken Roads; Ira’s Ramblings
    Broken Roads; The Tunnel’s End
    Broken Roads; Now You Know
    Broken Roads; The Sure Future (or Certain Future)
    Broken Roads; Future Unknown
    Broken Roads; Concrete Highways

    Comment by Jacob R Dienner — February 8, 2019 @ 9:55 pm

  18. Mr. Wagler,

    Thank you for giving your readers an opportunity to be a part of this next chapter in your journey. What an honor!

    I have four titles that I would like to contribute for consideration –

    Amish Black: Broken Roads & Strong Roots
    or
    Amish Black: Driven By Faith
    or
    Amish Black: A Journey of Faith on Broken Roads
    or
    Amish Black: Broken Roads & Ties That Bind

    That’s all I have.
    …so far :)

    Comment by Kris Arquilla — February 8, 2019 @ 10:03 pm

  19. Broken Roads; Amish Barn-raisings
    Broken Roads; Amish Church
    Amish Church; Broken Roads
    Broken Roads; My Amish Love Affair
    Amish Love Affair; Broken Roads
    X-Amish; Broken Roads
    Broken Roads; X-Amish
    Broken Roads; X-Amish Love Affair
    Broken Roads; I’m 2 Amish 4 U (or: I’m Too Amish for You)
    Pulled Up Amish; Broken Roads
    Broken Roads; Pulled Up Amish

    Comment by Jacob R Dienner — February 8, 2019 @ 10:09 pm

  20. The title is irrelevant! We want to read the book! And those bunny trails all lead back to Your life, and that is what we want to read about.
    Thanks, IRA.

    Comment by Matthew Block — February 8, 2019 @ 10:11 pm

  21. Ira’s Amish Ramblings on Broken Roads
    Broken Roads; Ira’s Amish Ramblings
    Broken Roads; Ira’s X-Amish Ramblings
    Broken Roads; Amish Ramblings in Plain English
    X-Amish in English; Broken Roads

    Comment by Jacob R Dienner — February 8, 2019 @ 10:16 pm

  22. Broken Roads,Healing Heartaches

    Good Luck…..

    Comment by Mona Greer — February 8, 2019 @ 11:21 pm

  23. Blending all these wonderful ideas together, how about
    Broken Roads: Mended Journey

    Comment by Nancy — February 8, 2019 @ 11:33 pm

  24. Broken Roads: Morning Light

    Comment by Sho — February 9, 2019 @ 2:23 am

  25. Or in a more humorous vein, Broken Roads, Clip-Clop, Clip-Clop

    Comment by Sho — February 9, 2019 @ 2:32 am

  26. Broken Roads ~ Unbroken Spirit

    Comment by Carol Magno — February 9, 2019 @ 2:57 am

  27. Broken Roads – Amish Heart Work

    Comment by Johanna — February 9, 2019 @ 5:46 am

  28. Amish Black: Circling Back on Broken Roads–the book cover could show a buggy on such a road, with your Jeep at another spot, both traveling in a circle.

    Comment by Christine in Maine — February 9, 2019 @ 10:16 am

  29. Amish Black on Broken Roads
    Broken Roads in Amish Black
    Traveling Broken Roads in Amish Black

    Comment by Ava — February 9, 2019 @ 10:43 am

  30. Amish Black: Roots and Wings

    Comment by Marion Riley — February 9, 2019 @ 10:47 am

  31. Going Home on Broken Roads

    Comment by Patty Sines — February 9, 2019 @ 10:58 am

  32. Broken Roads: The Journey Home

    I have truly enjoyed reading your blog over the years after discovering your book. So much of what you write is about journeying home, literally and figuratively. My sympathies in the loss of your father.

    Comment by Kathy Alderfer — February 9, 2019 @ 12:18 pm

  33. Broken Roads and Paved Highways
    Broken Roads and/with Amish Black

    Comment by Jan — February 9, 2019 @ 1:21 pm

  34. Broken Roads: Take Me Home

    Comment by forsythia — February 9, 2019 @ 4:13 pm

  35. Hello: Broken Roads and Amish Black: A Journey from the Past through the Present and into the Future. Thanks for the stories.

    Comment by Milly Weidhaas — February 9, 2019 @ 4:18 pm

  36. Broken Roads Lead to Mended Fences

    Comment by Jerilyn Gainsford Henderson — February 9, 2019 @ 7:03 pm

  37. Broken Roads:an Amish Homecoming

    Comment by Connie Vaughn — February 9, 2019 @ 7:45 pm

  38. Broken Roads : Amish Bridges

    Comment by Ron Wilson — February 9, 2019 @ 8:46 pm

  39. Sounds like a great book is in the making…Ira, May you have sufficient perseverance & patience to complete this book…From following your blogs for some time & your sharing of your past & present, my idea of a book title is “Broken Roads…Redemption & Hope for a Amish Son”…Looking forward to seeing your book in the near future out here on the West Coast.

    Comment by Peter Klassen — February 10, 2019 @ 2:09 am

  40. Broken Roads: Finding my way out of an Amish family

    Comment by Steven L. Denlinger — February 10, 2019 @ 12:36 pm

  41. Don’t include “Amish Black”.

    Comment by Mark — February 10, 2019 @ 4:01 pm

  42. I have a couple suggestions and I wish you luck in naming your book. Broken Roads: New Territory or Broken Roads: Difficult Lessons.

    I also want to say I thoroughly enjoyed your first book. I’m looking forward to reading the next one. Happy to have found this blog and your Facebook page. Thank you for sharing.

    Comment by Tracey Lawson — February 10, 2019 @ 5:28 pm

  43. Might as well throw my hat in the ring. Broken Roads: An Amish Memoir

    Comment by JERRY S EICHER — February 10, 2019 @ 5:29 pm

  44. Couldn’t you do just “Broken Roads”?

    Comment by Dorothy — February 10, 2019 @ 5:44 pm

  45. Please excuse my not writing about the title of your book, that will come when you need it.

    You mentioned your brother, Joe to me, and I wanted, if you will, tell him he always brought joy to the Bloomfield Public Library. My husband was the sub mail carrier on their route for many, many years and we send many prayers that this treatment will be his saving chance. (Your dad was much quieter than Joe.)

    Thank you,
    Regina

    Comment by Regina Gooden — February 10, 2019 @ 6:17 pm

  46. Broken Roads: Journey Whispers

    *dour morose titles are a turn-off to curious positive readers . We all have tough paths in life, it’s good to walk the path. No regrets, focus on the present and stay positive!

    Comment by Sho — February 10, 2019 @ 6:42 pm

  47. Broken Roads: My Fathers’ shadow.

    Go gently.

    Comment by Mark — February 10, 2019 @ 8:23 pm

  48. Broken Roads: No Way Out But Through

    Comment by Ruth H. — February 10, 2019 @ 9:27 pm

  49. Prayers for your journey and for your brother’s treatment

    Comment by Erin Boyd — February 10, 2019 @ 11:08 pm

  50. Broken roads revolve around Amish Father

    Broken roads: Amish Horizon

    Amish born to Amish Homecoming: A Round Trip Journey Down Broken Roads

    Amish Heritage: Broken Roads

    Amish Black Covers Broken Roads

    Comment by Trudy Hansen — February 11, 2019 @ 7:54 am

  51. Broken Roads: Seeking Amish Approval, Finding Freedom
    Broken Amish Roads: From Shunned to Loved
    Broken Roads: From Amish, To Freedom
    Broken Roads: An Amish Father And English Son

    Comment by Carol Magno — February 11, 2019 @ 11:00 am

  52. Broken Roads: Amish Endurance

    Comment by Daniel — February 12, 2019 @ 5:52 pm

  53. Broken Roads:Blessed Journeys
    Fleeing the God of my Fathers

    Comment by Whodat — February 13, 2019 @ 1:01 am

  54. Broken Roads:An Amish Exodus…Broken Roads:My Amish journey from darkness into the Light… peace to all..

    Comment by Lenny — February 13, 2019 @ 5:06 pm

  55. Broken Roads: Walking On

    God Bless You, Ira.

    Comment by Daniel — February 13, 2019 @ 6:52 pm

  56. Broken Amish Roads: Walking On

    Comment by Daniel — February 13, 2019 @ 6:53 pm

  57. Broken Roads; An Amish Journey

    I wrote and it disappeared. Maybe I’ll try again another time. Liked your book, your blog and looking forward to the new one.
    Patricia

    Comment by Patricia Groshong — February 14, 2019 @ 5:20 am

  58. Amish Roots: Broken Roads

    It will be great whatever the title.

    Comment by By jones — February 14, 2019 @ 10:02 pm

  59. I always enjoy your blog. Your first book was very good. I’m looking forward to your next one no matter what you choose to title it. However, I like Mark’s idea as a possible title: “Broken Roads: My Fathers’ shadow.”

    May God bless you with good health throughout 2019.
    Jane Goforth

    Comment by Jane Goforth — February 16, 2019 @ 11:03 am

  60. Circling Back: An Amish Journey on a Broken Road

    Comment by Christine in Maine — February 16, 2019 @ 2:17 pm

  61. Prayers for your brother and all your family for comfort and peace.

    Broken Roads…Healed Hearts.

    It seems that as you and your father aged there was less reminder of the hurts and disappointments that were evident in the earlier years. When your father sat and ate with you and others that are shunned it seems that hearts were healed. I believe God will give you the title at the perfect time.

    Comment by Elsie Peachey — February 16, 2019 @ 9:32 pm

  62. Broken Roads –Shadows Of An Amish Past.

    Comment by Ben Girod — February 19, 2019 @ 12:49 am

  63. Broken Roads, Mended Fences: An Amish Memoir

    Sorry for the loss of your father, may you find comfort he is with Jesus. Saying prayers for healing for your brother, he is blessed to have such family support. Thank you for your blog, and looking forward to reading your next book.

    Comment by Susan Vanatta — February 19, 2019 @ 3:30 am

  64. Broken Roads: Amish Memories

    Comment by Katherine — February 19, 2019 @ 7:36 pm

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