A Gentle Season of Song: Rumspringa

We hope this email finds you well and enjoying the long days of early Summer. Here in the Heartland, the past week has brought heavy rains—between three and five inches in many places—and the air has been thick with humidity. While the gardens are grateful, the folks tending them are hoping for a little break in the weather so they can get back to their rows without sinking into the mud. Still, the fireflies are out, the corn is stretching skyward, and the evenings carry the soft hum of crickets and quiet conversation.

This week, I'd like to share a glimpse into a part of Amish life that's often misunderstood: Rumspringa. If you've only heard about it through television or movies, you might imagine it as a time of wild rebellion or rule-breaking. But here in our local Amish community, Rumspringa is something much gentler, more grounded, and deeply rooted in tradition.

Among the Amish, Rumspringa simply refers to the years between turning sixteen and choosing to join the church—what many here call the "Youngfolk years." It's a time of growing up, of learning responsibility, and of deepening one's place in the community. Far from being a license to misbehave, it's a season of social connection and spiritual reflection. The young people gather every week or two for singings—often around a campfire in the Summer months, and in someone's home during the colder seasons. These gatherings are filled with hymns, laughter, and the quiet joy of being together.

In addition to singings, the Youngfolk might play volleyball, go on campouts, or lend a hand to neighbors in need—helping with housecleaning, gardening, or even barn-raising. It's not uncommon for a group of teens to spend a Saturday helping an elderly couple weed their garden or tidy up their home. These acts of service are woven into the fabric of their social lives, reinforcing the values of humility, community, and care.

While each young person must eventually decide whether to be baptized and join the church, that decision is rarely made in isolation. Parents, elders, and even visiting speakers from other Amish communities offer guidance and support. The church encourages open conversations and provides opportunities for the youth to ask questions and explore their faith. It's a process marked more by quiet discernment than dramatic rebellion.

Of course, not every community approaches Rumspringa the same way. In some places, there may be more leniency or even concern about outside influences. But here, the emphasis remains on nurturing strong roots and helping the next generation grow into their place with grace and intention. When young people from other communities visit and behave in ways that don't align with local expectations, their families or ministers may be gently informed. It's all part of maintaining the harmony and values that define Amish life.

Stories from Our Amish Basket Weavers

Here are a few happenings the families dedicated to weaving the beautiful baskets featured on AmishBaskets.com have shared with us this week.

The Mast Family

Phineas Mast spent his Wednesday lending a hand in a neighboring Amish community where a growing congregation recently divided into three separate churches. He helped build a new benchwagon and 40 handmade benches for one of the newly formed districts. As is tradition, the older women in that community sent hearty casseroles to feed the workers, while the younger women contributed homemade desserts. The bench project continued on Thursday with more men pitching in, and on Friday, the girls from the community gathered to carefully varnish all 40 benches, finishing off a week filled with shared labor and fellowship.

The Yoder Family

On Thursday, the Yoders' oldest daughter joined about a dozen girls at a neighbor's home for a quiet act of service. Together, they helped the family's younger children weed and hoe the garden. At the same time, their parents stayed near a hospital in the city, where their newborn, born prematurely, is steadily gaining strength. The girls brought casseroles and desserts along, making the workday feel more like a gathering of support and friendship. With the older children doing their best to keep the home running smoothly, the spirit of community care continues to shine in even the smallest gestures.

The Gingerich Family

A few early risers from the Gingerich family were up before dawn last week to check the wild black raspberries in the woods. By 5:00 AM they were out among the brambles, soaked through from dew and morning mist but rewarded with the first ripe handfuls of the season. Laughing at their soaked shirts and skirts, they waded into their home patch too, picking what they could before the heat of the day settled in. Squirrels chattered from overhead branches as if to stake their own claim on the berries. Back home, with their bowls full and clothes dripping, they headed in to clean up and start their day.

"This would be a wonderful world if people showed as much patience in all things as they do in waiting for a fish to bite."

— Amish Wisdom