Plain Wisdom: An Invitation into an Amish Home and the Hearts of Two Women
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Two friends from different worlds—one Old Order Amish, one Englischer—share the truths that bring them together.
Best-selling novelist Cindy Woodsmall might seem to have little in common with Miriam Flaud, a woman immersed in the culture of Old Order Amish. But with nine children and almost 60 years of marriage between them, Cindy and Miriam both have found the secrets to facing life with strength and grace. Whether enduring financial setbacks, celebrating new babies and times of prosperity, grieving the crushing losses in the deaths of family and friends, or facing disappointments with their respective communities—through it all they find guidance for each day by looking to God.
With poignant recollections, unexpected insights, and humorous tales, the two women welcome you into their unique friendship. You’ll also gain a rare glimpse into the traditions and ways of the Amish as Miriam recalls special occasions and shares family recipes throughout the book.
Plain Wisdom is a heartwarming celebration of God, womanhood, and the search for beauty that unites us all. So grab your cup and your quilt and settle in for a soul-comforting read with Plain Wisdom.
into bite-size pieces (Note: 1½ to 2 stalks of celery equal two quarts, and a stalk consists of approximately a dozen individual ribs.) 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup water � cup sugar butter, the size of a walnut 2 teaspoons vinegar 2 cups whole milk, approximately � cup evaporated milk 2½ tablespoons brown sugar 2 tablespoons flour Slowly bring the celery, salt, water, white sugar, butter, and vinegar to a low boil. Cook ingredients for about 10 minutes or until celery is soft. Once the celery
the kitchen one more time as we anxiously watched the road for our company. Cindy and I had chosen the second week in June because my husband, Daniel, was planning to be in Maine that week on a timber-framing job. We thought this would give us lots of chat time—just the moms and our six children, three of which had full-time summer jobs. Daniel would be here when she arrived, but I knew he’d have to leave soon afterward. As the time of her arrival drew near, I found myself wishing my husband
been diagnosed with cancer and was staying at a nearby hospital. I bought a nice card and signed it from the group, gathered a few books she might enjoy reading while staying at the hospital, and went to visit her and her son. I didn’t know what she looked like, but I knew what floor she’d be on. The nurses directed me from there. When I arrived, the young man was having a procedure done. I found his mom in a waiting room, and we fell into each other’s arms. The raw pain reflected in her eyes
step of that journey. Healing their broken hearts came more slowly. Their grief will never completely cease, but I’m awed at the loving-kindness she exudes to everyone. She’s an encourager who radiates God’s love, and she willingly shares God’s goodness through her writing. She stopped writing fiction for a while but never stopped writing of His great love in her diaries. At the bottom of each e-mail, she has this paraphrase of Lamentations 3:22–23: “The Lord’s mercies are new every morning;
color-blind. They laughed with him and assured him the car was gorgeous, no matter what its color. But my brother never felt the same about the car after that … or, for a long time, about himself. I’ve thought about that event a lot over the years, perhaps because one of our sons is also color-blind. Embarrassing moments and lack of confidence are part of the package in our color-conscious world. But that incident brings to my mind a spiritual parallel that clings to me even more. We don’t all