Table Of Content“This book isn’t just about pretzels. From the simple life of an Amish
family, living in community, through tragedy, betrayal, violation, and
finally, reconciliation, Anne Beiler’s story will grab you and never let you
go. It is, after all, a story of forgiveness, hope, and promise. It is about
what Love can do.”
Gloria Gaither
Author, Lyricist, Speaker
“In the pages of this book you will experience the highs and lows of the
life of Anne ‘Auntie Anne’ Beiler. It will inspire you to face your obstacles
—personal, professional, spiritual—and to live the biblical principal ‘. . .
with God, all things are possible’ (Matt. 19:26). It is a story of courage
and faith.”
Don M. “Bubba” Cathy
Sr. VP for Chick-fil-A
“Anne’s extremely candid sharing of the highs and lows in her personal
journey are a powerful real life story that will capture your attention, stir
your emotions, and cause you to stop and reexamine your own life. It is a
story of family love, support, and encouragement that overcomes grief,
guilt, depression, and hopelessness. It is a story of forgiveness, God’s
grace, and redemption.
Don Soderquist
Retired Vice Chairman & COO of Wal-Mart Stores “Anne Beiler traversed
barren lands of emotional, relational, and financial disaster, and the
journey prepared her for great achievements in each of the areas of her
greatest challenges. Anne’s story illustrates the overcoming strength that
comes from faith, vision, and a commitment to serve. This amazing and
uplifting narrative will touch the heart and motivate each reader to reach
beyond failure to achieve full potential. I couldn’t put it down until I read
every page!”
Tom Wilson, Ph. D.
Superintendent, Life School, Dallas, Texas “Anne Beiler is an
inspirational and exceptional woman. From unimaginable tragedy to
inspirational and exceptional woman. From unimaginable tragedy to
success in business, her story is filled with faith and optimism. Anne is a
blessing to everyone who has the good fortune to know her by reading
this book.”
Ben Shanley
East Region Vice President, Coca-Cola FoodService
© 2008 by Anne Beiler
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording,
scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior
written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark
of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or
sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scriture references marked NLT are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation. © 1996.
Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois, 60189. All rights
reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data
Beiler, Anne, 1949–
Twist of faith / Anne Beiler with Shawn Smucker.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7852-2323-8
1. Beiler, Anne, 1949-2. Women cooks--United States. 3. Auntie Anne's Incorporated—History. 4.
Amish—Social life and customs. 5. Family—Psychological aspects. I. Smucker, Shawn. II. Title.
TX649.B446B463 2008
641.5092—dc22
[B]
2007052322
Printed in the United States of America
08 09 10 11 12 QW 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Jonas, my dear husband,
and my daughters LaWonna and LaVale,
And to the memories of Angie, our sweet angel,
and my dad, whose presence was with me
as I wrote this book.
Contents
1. My Angie
2. Into the Darkness
3. A Homecoming
4. The $6,000 Loan
5. From a Store to a Business
6. A Family Business
7. Graveside Confessions
8. Surviving Prosperity
9. The Red Light
10. No More Secrets
11. A Secret Is Told
12. Enlarging the Future
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
My Angie
I walked a mile with Pleasure / She chatted all the way
But left me none the wiser / For all she had to say
I walked a mile with Sorrow / And ne’er a word said she
But, oh, the things I learned from her / When Sorrow walked with me!
—ROBERT BROWNING HAMILTON
And just like that, the journey ended. I had covered so much ground
during those years, walked so many miles. I went through the darkness,
at times unsure if I would make it. I also walked the mountaintops and
accomplished more than I ever dreamed possible. Do journeys always
seem to end so abruptly? This one did. One moment I was caught up in
running a business, and the next moment suddenly we were walking
away from it: after seventeen years and building over eight hundred
locations, we decided to sell Auntie Anne’s Soft Pretzels.
One moment represented the climax of that journey’s end: my
husband, Jonas, and I sat alone on a stage at the annual Auntie Anne’s
convention, in front of nearly one thousand franchisees, corporate
employees, and family members. I felt as though nearly everyone fit into
the last category: family. In many ways those franchisees and employees
served as family through the years. We spent holidays with them,
attended their weddings and their funerals, and sent congratulations on
the arrival of children and grandchildren.
I desperately clung to Jonas’s hand. He began his adult life as a
mechanic by trade, something that fit into his true calling: fixing things.
Initially this worked itself out in his life when he owned a body shop,
beating old cars into shape. Eventually he channeled his efforts into
counseling, tuning the engines of broken lives, making them purr again. I
think when most people meet him, they see his serious side, his
compassion. What many people don’t see is that really he’s just a little
boy, downright silly at times. Sitting beside me on the stage, he made me
feel strong and capable.
Some of my oldest and dearest friends talked about when they first
started with Auntie Anne’s. Their stories about broken-down delivery
vans and grand opening day disasters put all of us in hysterics. But they
also told stories that made me cry, stories about the changing of fortunes,
how Auntie Anne’s altered their lives for good, forever.
Two of our first franchisees in the South told their story of wanting to
open a location in spite of our hesitancies. “You’re too far away,” we told
them. “We’re not ready to incorporate a store that far away into our infant
distribution system.” Back in the early ’90s, we struggled to keep up with
the business, growing mostly in Pennsylvania, and we couldn’t imagine
expanding so many hundreds of miles away. We eventually resigned
ourselves to their pleas, agreeing to meet them half way between their
hometown and the interstate with their delivery once a month. These
days franchisees receive deliveries on their doorstep, once or even twice
a week. But back then we sometimes had to do things the hard way if we
wanted to grow.
As other franchisees spoke kind words, my eyes fought the glare of the
spotlights to search the crowd. Stories flashed through my mind as I
scanned those faces. Hundreds of success stories, rags-to-riches tales
that warmed my heart. Some faces brought to mind difficult times,
conflict, and disagreement, but that went with the territory. There’s
nothing like the combination of money, passion for a product, and
competition to stir up disagreement. Then, through the searching beam, I
saw Charlie Johnson.
I remember one of my first trips to California to meet Charlie, a new
franchisee. He drove me around in his sports car, gave me a tour of his
stores in San Francisco. He seemed so full of peace and compassion, a
family man. I attended church with Charlie over Mother’s Day weekend
and got to know him, heard his story. I soon discovered where the
connection I felt came from—he’d experienced the tragedy of losing
someone close to him, just like I had. When I told him the story about my
daughter Angela, tears welled up in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry you lost your daughter,” he said that day, Mother’s Day.
He repeated the statement many times after that: “I’m so sorry you lost
your Angela.” Charlie somehow understood I never stopped thinking
about her. Even before I got up on stage the final day of our convention,
he approached me, said how happy he was for me, but the last thing he
said echoed in my spirit: “I really think your success is somehow
connected with Angie being in heaven. I think she’s pulling some strings
for you up there.”
“I think you’re right, Charlie. I think Angie played a huge part in all this.
I’ve always thought . . .” But I couldn’t continue. Just the thought of her, of
Angie, well, I stood there shaking my head, unable to press words past
the rising emotion.
A warm autumn day in September 1975, and I walked barefoot in the
grass along the stone drive. My daughter LaWonna ran ahead of me, her
thin four-year-old legs spinning toward my sister-in-law’s house.
LaWonna’s brown hair danced. Nineteen-month-old Angie tried to keep
up, her chubby bare feet and uncertain steps sending up dust. Shirl and
her four children lived only a hundred yards or so down the lane, and
LaWonna loved playing there with her cousins. As LaWonna dashed up
to the door and knocked, Angie stopped halfway between us and looked
back at me. Her little blue eyes, impatient, seemed to say, “Are you
coming, Mama?” She smiled, then turned and ran.
We spent a lot of time with Shirl and her children, but on that particular
morning something weighed heavily on my mind, something I hoped Shirl
would understand. We sat at her kitchen table and talked over coffee
while children’s voices skipped to us through the open window.
“Shirl, I’ve been having these dreams,” I said. “I keep thinking someone
in our family is going to die.” I looked down, afraid she might think me
silly for believing in my dreams, or perhaps she might think I doubted
God’s ability to protect us. But when I looked up, her face seemed pale
