Denise Walker

My son married into a community where the eighty-year-olds still bring the harvest in by hand. That was the day I saw what the years had quietly taken from my husband. My son Greg fell in love with a woman named Sarah. Sarah is Plain. Old Order — a farming valley about three hours from us, where the fields are worked with horses and the day ends when the light does. When Greg told us he was marrying her and moving out to that valley, I won't lie to you. I had a good cry about it, and not all of it was the happy kind. A mother pictures a certain life for her boy, and that life usually has a pho

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