An Amish Winter Trip Gone Wrong (Part 1): When “Amish” Isn’t Just One Thing

Let’s welcome author Haley Straw back today as she shares part one of a new winter-themed series, drawing on one of her more challenging experiences as an Amish taxi driver.

We all have moments that redraw the maps of our lives. For me, it was driving the Amish through the Christmas break of 2022. It was a blur of 3:00 AM calls and whiteouts that forced me to look for the good in every situation—no matter how catastrophic.

What follows is pretty chaotic. It is a winter story shaped by faith, stubbornness, and human weakness—mine included. It unfolded mile by mile across icy roads until it became something I knew I had to share.

Identifying details have been altered, but the heart of the story remains untouched. Some truths aren’t found in cold, hard proof; they are measured in what they teach us about courage, community, and the cost of saying yes.

This is that story.

When “Amish” Isn’t Just One Thing

“By perseverance, the snail reached the ark.” – C.H. Spurgeon

Those seven words summed up our Christmas in 2022. The Amish are God-fearing, hardworking, and deeply good people, but that winter, I learned that “good” doesn’t always mean “easy.”

Most of the time, driving taxi for the Amish is rewarding and predictable work. I’m there for the milestones—the births, the hospital runs, the weddings, and the funerals.

I’m also there for the everyday events: visits to the neighbor, the store, school meetings or community auctions. Usually, we hit the usual snags: a flat tire, a patch of bad weather, running late, or a miscommunication.

But once in a lifetime—if the stars are perfectly misaligned, a cascade of trouble arrives all at once, like a slow-motion collision you can see coming but can’t stop. To understand the Christmas of 2022, you must understand the bones of Amish life.

They live by a code called Gelassenheit—a word that means yielding your own will to a higher one; essentially surrendering to the way things are.

Alongside this is the Ordnung—the rules that keep them separate from the world. These rules are as heavy as stone because they are meant to keep the focus on what matters: God, family, and community.

Yet—just like our world—not all Amish communities are the same.

Each settlement has its own standards of dress, speech, and daily living. Some drive black buggies; others gray or white. Some allow reflective triangles; a minority do not. Some reject most technology; others cautiously adopt it.

In that way, Amish communities are like our own towns—different values, different cultures, and different ways of doing life.

Among these groups were the Amish I came to know as “low-order.” Not because they were bad people—but because their rules were far more restrictive and their lives far more difficult.

Their poverty was not accidental; it was spiritual. They used kerosene lamps, outhouses, and hauled water from wells. Baths were once a week in shared water, and clothes were changed only for Sunday worship.

That difference mattered—especially to taxi drivers like me.

The low-order Amish were the group most drivers respectfully avoided. Too many late-night calls. Too many passengers. Too much pressure. Too many “we’ll be fine” decisions that didn’t feel fine at all.

So, when they called, my answer was usually the same: No.

Christmas only complicated things. The Amish celebrate several Christmases—not just one. Family visits stretch across days, and plans change by the hour.

That year, snow arrived early— thick, heavy, and unforgiving. Buggies moved through the white night, lanterns glowing like small stubborn stars against the darkness.

And then my phone rang. I let it ring longer than I should have. Because I knew exactly who it was, and I knew exactly what they would ask.

I had said no before. But Christmas has a way of softening even the firmest boundaries.

Haley Straw is a barefoot Amish taxi driver with a storyteller’s heart and a knack for gathering the kinds of tales the Amish share on long, quiet night drives. She tells these stories the way she experienced them —with raw honesty, a healthy dose of fear, and the hard-won wisdom that comes from surviving the storm. This winter series is drawn from her book Amish Christmas Mishaps. You can find her books, free Amish-inspired goodies, and more at haleystraw.com.