About the
Book:
An Amish Love Story About Hope and Finding
Home
Everything in God’s nature, Johnny
observed, did what it was created to do. Everything, that is, except the human
race. Johnny was born into an Amish family, into a long line of farmers and good
businessmen. He is expected to follow the traditions of family and church as he
grows to adulthood. But even as a boy, he questions whether he can be satisfied
with this lifestyle. He wants “more” — more education, more travel, more
opportunity.
His restlessness leads him down a dangerous
road where too much partying and drinking result in heartbreaking consequences.
He’s adrift, and no one seems to be able to help him find his direction.
Then he meets spunky Annie, who seems pure
and lovely and devoted to her God. Her past, though, holds sin and heartbreak.
She was a worm, she explains, but God has transformed her into a butterfly.
Johnny falls hopelessly in love; and eventually he, too, finds the power of God
to transform lives.
Settling down on the family farm, he forgets about the questions and the restlessness, thinking that he is happy and at home, at last.
Settling down on the family farm, he forgets about the questions and the restlessness, thinking that he is happy and at home, at last.
But in a few short hours, tragedy changes
his life forever, and he is again wondering… and wandering on a very long
journey.
Entwined with Johnny and Annie’s story is
the allegory of two Monarch butterflies, worms who have been transformed into
amazing creatures specially chosen to carry out the miracle of the fourth
generation. They, too, must undertake a long journey before they finally find
home.
Purchase your copy at AMAZON.
My Review:
This is a very different type of Amish Novel. I liked how it shows that the Amish aren't perfect and that they have struggles just like anyone else. This is the story of Johnny and his coming of age, then he meets Annie. She seems perfect, but she also has secrets. They fall in love, but then tragedy strikes. Annie is fascinated with Monarch butterflies and the butterflies play an important part in this story. Johnny sets out on a journey to try to figure out his life. This is a very well told story, but it is a little deep.
I received a complimentary copy of this book for my honest review.
About the
Author:
Paul Stutzman was born in Holmes
County, Ohio in an Amish family. His
family left the Amish lifestyle soon after Paul was born. They joined a strict
Conservative Mennonite
Church where Paul
was raised to fear God and obey all the rules the church demanded. Paul
continued to live among and mingle with his Amish friends and relatives his
entire life. Paul married a Mennonite girl and remained in the Amish community
working and raising a family. After Paul lost his wife to cancer, he sensed a
tug on his heart- the call to a challenge, the call to pursue a dream. With a
mixture of dread and determination, Paul left his job, traveled to
Georgia, and took his first steps on the 2,176 mile
Appalachian Trail. What he learned during the next four and a
half months changed his life-and can change yours too. After completing his trek
Stutzman wrote Hiking Through—a book about this life changing
journey.
In the summer of 2010 Stutzman again heeded
the call for adventure and pedaled his bicycle 5,000 miles across
America. He began his ride at the Northwest corner of
Washington
State and pedaled to
Key West, Florida.
On his journey across America he encounters people in all circumstances,
from homelessness to rich abundance. The people he meets touch his life
profoundly. Stutzman writes about these encounters in his book
Biking Across
America.
Recently Stutzman released his first novel
entitled The Wanderers.
The Wanderers is a story about Johnny, a young Amish boy growing up in a culture he
is not sure he wants to embrace. A young Amish girl named Annie wins his heart
and life is great for a time. Entwined with Johnny and Annie’s story is the
allegory of two Monarch butterflies, worms who have been transformed into
amazing creatures specially chosen to carry out the miracle of the fourth
generation. They, too, must undertake a long journey before they finally find
home.
In addition to writing, he speaks to groups
about his hiking and biking experiences and the lessons learned during these
adventures. Stutzman resides in Berlin,
Ohio and can be contacted through his website at
www.hikingthrough.com or
www.paulstutzman.com.
Stutzman
resides in Berlin, Ohio and can be contacted through his website at
www.hikingthrough.com or www.paulstutzman.com
Title: The Wanderers
Author: Paul Stutzman
Genre: Amish Fiction
Publisher: Carlisle Printing
Pages: 374
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0984644911
ISBN-13: 978-0984644919
Author: Paul Stutzman
Genre: Amish Fiction
Publisher: Carlisle Printing
Pages: 374
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0984644911
ISBN-13: 978-0984644919
First Chapter:
I was ten when
I had my first taste of beer. A late start, to be sure, but I was never bothered
much by peer pressure. My friends had all sampled the stuff two or three years
before, but I had felt no desire or need. There was only one reason I drank on
that hot August day. I was thirsty.
Finished with
my morning chores, I started across the hayfield with an armful of boards ripped
from the old washhouse. Previous generations had scrubbed and soaked and steamed
in the one-room shack in front of our farmhouse; my parents, though, had
upgraded to a new kerosene washer, and now the women worked in the coolness
under the long front porch. An old kettle still hung above the brick fire pit,
but the washhouse sagged like a tired old work horse.
My dad had
assigned me the task of dismantling the washhouse. That was fine with me; I had
plans for that scrap lumber. I wanted to enlarge the deer stand at the edge of
the distant woods. The stand was my hideout, where I spent countless hours
contemplating life. It was a haven for my wondering mind, and I called it my
institution of higher learning.
Eight years of
school at Milford Elementary, in the little village several miles east of our
farm, were not enough for me. While most Amish children were happy to be
finished with formal education, I wept when I could not attend the local high
school.
The English
students sometimes mocked us Amish as backwards farmers, but I enjoyed school,
excelled in sports, and had the gift of gab. Although I was known as something
of a "charmer," I never liked the word. It's true, I could talk myself into or
out of anything. You do have to make the most of whatever talents God's given
you.
The school of
higher education that I did attend was built in a stately oak that stood
sentinel at the edge of our woods. Two gnarled branches cradled my hideout, ten
feet off the ground, overlooking the fields that my family had owned for
generations. Years ago, my grandfather had secured several boards across the
limbs and nailed short slabs up the oak's trunk, a ladder ascending to the
platform. Over time, the trunk swallowed up most of the rungs, but edges still
protruded far enough for deer hunters to clamber up and lie in wait for the
quarry.
My first hunt with my dad and my brother was
also my last. Finally, I was deemed old enough to go hunting with the men. I
climbed the ladder and settled into waiting, tense with excitement. Very soon, a
doe came through the woods, paused at the spring to drink, then walked slowly
down the side of the ravine. One shot echoed through the quiet morning. We
scampered down the ladder rungs and approached the deer, lying bleeding on the
hillside. It struggled to its feet, took another tumble, and lay still.
My excitement vanished. I felt only sadness and
pangs of remorse. The doe's brown eye was open, staring at me, asking, "Why?
What did I do to deserve this?"
Dad had a knife in his hands; I knew what must
come next. Backtracking, I was violently sick behind a bush. I was not meant to
be a hunter, and no one would ever shoot another deer from that stand if I had
any say at all.
I did have my say. Well, my mom did. Although
Dad was the authority and power in our house, Mom often held the reins. With
tears streaming down my face, I unloaded my sad description of the dying deer.
"We can't shoot them anymore. We just can't."
Soon the NO HUNTING signs were posted, and the
woods, deer stand, and all of God's nature on our 120 acres were mine.
Well, perhaps not quite everything fell under my
protection. Every year, we butchered a pig, a horrible sacrifice for the
betterment of our family. My dad and brother would select the offering. I always
wondered how the selection was made, but I never asked. They'd grab the unlucky
swine by the hind legs, lift it over the fence, and carry it away as it squealed
in terror. As the surviving porkers looked on in great relief, I'd run to the
house, up the stairs, and cover my head with my pillow. I'd hear the shot
anyway.
While my
family processed the departed, I'd venture to the pig pen. I knew each hog by
distinguishing marks; and, in dread, I checked to see who was missing. Spotty
had survived. Curly was still here. Snort made the cut. We would be eating
Limpy. A wild dog or coyote had wriggled through the board fence one night and
taken a bite out of Limpy. Our German shepherd, Biff, had heard the commotion
and chased the intruder away before he could get a second bite. On the day of
Limpy’s demise, I reminded myself that I must take caution; I must never injure
myself in any way that might cause my own lameness.
***
My usual route from the washhouse to the deer
stand followed the cow path leading from the barn to the pasture field and
traveled twice a day by our herd. On this day, the hay field between the house
and the woods had been mowed and I took advantage of this shorter route. I might
have chosen the hay field even if the route were longer; as a ten-year-old, I
drank in the sensory gifts of summer: the aroma of new mown hay, the sweetness
of warm strawberries, the smell of an August rain on dusty ground.
"Johnny, go get us some Stroh's!" my older
brother Jonas called. He and his friend Jacob were in the field, making hay.
Jacob had been recruited to help my brother today because Dad was on a lumber
buying trip, and the clouds warned there would be rain by tomorrow. I dropped my
boards reluctantly and retraced my steps back to the farmhouse.
My great-grandparents had built this house over
a spring, and the cool waters flowed through the basement, filling a concrete
trough where my mom stored crocks of butter, fresh milk and cream, eggs,
watermelon, and any kind of dish she was preparing for the next meal. Those
amber bottles of Stroh's were chilling in a corner of the trough just inside the
door. I grabbed two by the necks and rushed back outside, leaving a wet trail of
spring water.
The Stroh’s stash belonged to Jonas. Dad was
bishop of our Amish church, and I had never seen him drink beer. As a church
leader, he was very much aware that anything misused, misread, or mistaken could
affect his reputation and influence in the community.
Jonas, on the
other hand, had no such reputation to protect. Sixteen, he had recently
concluded his formal education and he knew exactly where his future lay. He was
not yet a member of the church, but he would join in a few years, get married,
and settle down right here in our valley. He had big plans to take over the
sawmill that my dad ran as a part-time operation. I was the younger of Dad's
sons; my father's hope was that I would be farming the Miller family land
someday.
"You thirsty?"
Jonas handed his half-empty bottle to me. I was thirsty. But that first taste
was not good.
Still, that swallow in the hay field meant that
now I was one of the men. I may have been a Miller boy, but now I was a Stroh's
man.
Yes, I admit,
many bottles of Stroh's beer would find their way to the deer stand in the years
to come. For a while, it was not only my thinking stand, it was my drinking
stand. More of a beer stand than a deer stand. Stroh's beer would get me into so
much trouble; but it would also lead to meeting Annie. And then, for a short
time, I had it all. I was an Amish man living the dream.
Until it was
all taken from me.
About the book: Julia Whittaker's rocky past yielded two daughters, both given up for adoption as infants. Now she must find them to try to save her son.
About the authors: Shannon Ethridge is a best-selling author, speaker, and certified life coach with a master's degree in counseling/human relations from Liberty University. She has spoken to college students and adults since 1989 and is the author of 21 books, including the million-copy best-selling Every Woman's Battle series. She is a frequent guest on TV and radio programs and mentors aspiring writers and speakers through her BLAST Program (Building Leaders, Authors, Speakers & Teachers.) 
About the book: Diana is ready to begin a new chapter in her life-until the husband she believed dead reappears at her engagement party.
Meet the author: Robin is the author of 65+ novels and novellas. Her home is in Idaho, where she spends her time writing stories of faith, courage, and love; pondering the things of God; and loving her family and friends.
