2/28/2020 Try Some Asian Pears
The backroads were rather serene, and the covered bridges did not disappoint. As the afternoon wore on and we were wearing thin, we decided to pull over for a peanut butter snack (Peanut Butter Powwerrrrr!). After being chased by someone's pack of dogs, we pulled over in a patch of shaded grass next to some corn with a house not too far away. I had just gotten my solar panel set up and was sitting down to some spoonfuls of peanut butter when a car passed, stopped, backed up, and the driver, an older gentleman, got out and came around the car. "I've got a suggestion for you, if you want it," he said cheerfully as he approached. "Oh great," we both thought, figuring his suggestion was going to be getting the hell off his property. Even though we had not yet encountered anyone so brute...paranoia still ran high in our minds. We were pleasantly surprised that it turned out to be quite the opposite. I later asked, and he said that it was not his property and with a wave of his hand assured us no one would care that we were sitting there. What a relief to my nerves! The conversation proceeded with all the usual, "where you from, where you going, where you going tonight" banter. "Do you need some water?" If you've been reading our blog at all, you know that of course yes, oh my god, do we need water.
He introduced himself as Max, "Rose's husband. She's the nice one." I thought he was pretty nice myself, so she must be a real gem! When he learned Adam's name, he said, "Woah! That's a name." He asked Adam if he knew what his name meant, and Adam said, "Yeah, first man." Max said, "Well, there's that." Max is Christian and studies the Bible quite a bit, and apparently the human race, as I learned from the conversation, was once known as Adam. I'm not terribly familiar with that belief, though I had heard of it before. The conversation goes on for a good 30-45 minutes, and we cover a variety of topics, mainly religious and spiritual in nature. I have to say, this was the first conversation I've had with someone with different beliefs than mine, certainly in recent memory, where I didn't feel like they were pressuring me to change my mind or convincing me I'm wrong or a sinner or a heathen or judging me for not believing exactly as they do. The Baptist pastor comes to mind, and I ended up mentioning to Max how my conversation with him and my conversation with the Baptist pastor, though covering the same range of topics, left me with quite dissimilar feelings in general. Max wasn't really surprised. Keep in mind, however, that at least part of the Baptist pastor's livlihood comes from people attending his church. The way he might've seen us was as two lost sheep looking for a shepherd and that he could be that shepherd. He simply encountered me at a challenging point in my life, so it was hard to convey to him that I'm happy with the shepherd I have, to continue with the lost sheep metaphor.
Max said he had seen us earlier that day, on a different road, "...and you were a little slower," he said, gesturing to me. "Yeaaahhhhh," I replied, "I'm littler, and I hafta rest more often." He continued: "I felt I really wanted to stop and talk to you, but something about it just didn't feel right." I guess he saw us and figured we would be needing water, and knowing the area and the direction we were headed and the time of day, he'd have been right. It ended up that his suggestion was to stop at one of two houses in the area to ask for water. One was a pastor, the other was a formerly Amish couple named Sam & Hannah who have 5 children. "Have you ever had an Asian pear?" he asks. Max has a roundabout yet captivating way of dealing out information. "It's like a cross between an apple and a pear," he explains. Apparently Sam and Hannah grow them, and they had just picked a whole bunch that day. In fact, he had just come from their house and had a few himself. He went on for a little bit about each of his two suggestions, but he said that he more strongly recommended Sam & Hannah's. He thought they would get a kick out of our whole get-up: the bikes, the packs, the story of our journey. He noted that if we do go there and get water from them, that we should either pray over the water or be thankful for it, and that way, no harm would come to us from the water. That was the first time I had ever heard anything like that come out of someone's mouth. As it turns out, Sam & Hannah have made a well from which to draw water, and most folks around there are wary of well water? I guess I didn't catch all the details, but even though I grew up in the city, we had well water, so I was well (haha) accustomed to it. Still, as I filled our reservoir in their sink, I spoke a bit of gratitude silently to myself...just in case. Also, it's good practice to acknowledge gratitude, so I try to make sure to do that all the time anyway.
I felt very uplifted by our conversation with Max, and I was sure to thank him for it, I even gave him a hug, which I think he thought was a little odd. He is, perhaps, a little old fashioned, and receiving a hug from a young woman, a stranger at that, was maybe a little taboo. He obliged, however, and then he said to Adam, "Now if you try to kiss me, I'll have to punch you." I'm thinking he probably just didn't realize the mental and physical challenges I had been facing lately and just how high my spirits had been lifted by our encounter. If he fully understood how refreshing it was to have that conversation with him, maybe the hug wouldn't have been so awkward. He emphasized that we should ask them for some Asian pears along with the water and told us to make sure we said that Max sent us. So on to Sam & Hannah's we went: our first time going to a stranger's house, on the advice of another stranger, no less. If that isn't a leap of faith right there! I really appreciated Max. He was certainly an interesting yet fleeting character in our story.
As we went up a gravel hill into the wind (!!!) we saw two houses, one on each side of the road. One had solar panels on top and looked like a barn. The other just looked like a regular house. We weren't sure which to go to, and I thought that surely the one with solar panels would not be our destination, but as we got closer, we saw children's bikes strewn about the driveway of the barn-looking house (which looked more like a house from this angle), and we knew that this must be Sam & Hannah's. We hesitantly pulled into the driveway and parked our bikes at what we thought was a safe distance from the house. By the time I had my pack off and was approaching the front door, we'd been spotted, and a woman with a baby on her hip came out of the door and asked if she could help me. "Are you Hannah?" "No, I'm Hannah's sister-in-law. Is there something you need?" So I went on to tell her how Max sent us, and by that time, Hannah was approaching the house from the barn with a few children following her. From this point, the sequence of events is a bit of a blur. I remember mentioning the Asian pears, making sure to say that Max told us to ask for some, and with a chuckle she said we could have some. I don't remember the point at which Adam joined us. Maybe we both went up together but he just hung back a little bit. Being the female, I am naturally less intimidating, and we didn't want to put anybody off, even though we both agree Adam's one of the nicest, most accepting people you'll ever meet (perhaps I am biased).
She and several children went into the cellar which was just the ground level floor of their house (which they built themselves), I asked if it was alright if we come in. "Sure" she said. So she picked out several very fine looking Asian pears for us and asked if it was too many (8? no, I do not think that's too many). We had already decided on our way to their house that we would, if it felt right, ask them if we could pitch our tent for the night. I had read on a bike-tour website that when doing this, you want to use the phrase, "pitch the tent" versus "camp" because pitching the tent implies you'll be in and out while people associate camping with staying awhile and trashing the place, and most people probably won't want you to stay awhile...or trash the place. So the whole time Hannah is curating a batch of pears for us, we're all chatting and getting to know one another. I remember feeling very nervous and feeling like I was coming on very boldly, like when you're talking loud and fast after having too much coffee, something I later regretted, but Hannah was very kind and gentle, a thermostat, if you will. She remained calm, soft, kind, and warm throughout our interactions. I kept delaying the big question by asking her other questions like how they knew Max, how long they've known him for, how long have they lived here. All very pressing when you just need water, a place to sleep, and are getting some divine tasting Asian pears. Adam sees that my conversation tactics are going nowhere remotely in the direction of procuring a camp site for the night, so he musters up the question if it would be alright if we pitch the tent for the night somewhere on their property. Hannah said, "Yes, you can stay the night" before the vibrations in the air from the question posed even ricocheted off the cellar floor. I think she pretty much knew our story before we even told it. She was prepared with a generous and open heart.
A huge weight had been lifted from my soul. Even though the stealthing and early rising were things I was prepared for and looking forward to, the degree of the accompanying paranoia came from left field and had been a tough adjustment for me.
The late afternoon and evening passed with so much pleasantry, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I kept saying out loud, "If heaven is real, a piece of it is right here." I'm not sure how much they liked that, in retrospect, because it might be considered blasphemy. I meant it as a compliment and a way of giving thanks. Hannah's sister-in-law left in a horse-drawn buggy, taking a few of the children (her children) with her. She had just come over for the day to help out. We then got to meet Sam who had just popped back in because he was driving to Bloomington (I think I mentioned they are *formerly* Amish) that night and a friend there had wanted to go with, so he came back to pick him up. Sam was immediately receptive to us and his joviality was contagious. We had a nice conversation with him before he left, at which point we were given a bit of a tour around the property to help select a campsite. Believe you me, I was asking all kinds of questions, as I found Hannah's stories to be so interesting. They'd lived there for about 10 or 12 years, and the first year (or 5 years?) they lived there, they lived in what is now the old barn (if memory serves), with no utilities. It was a difficult time for them, but they persisted and, with the help of friends, they got their house built and were able to connect it to their well, install solar panels and make it an open and welcoming home. There's just no other satisfaction quite like a house designed by and built by oneself, I'm thinking. Adam and I were left to our own devices to locate the perfect campsite and after doing so, we moved the bikes from their original parking spots out front and pitched the tent in some shade at the edge of their property. I covered myself up a bit more as I felt rather naked around the others who were in solid colored ankle length dresses, each with an apron over their dress, and light bonnets on their heads with me in my stretchy pants and a t-shirt. The boys wore cotton overalls with cotton button-down shirts underneath and brimmed hats. I noticed they all walked around barefoot and was impressed that they didn't have poison ivy covering their feet. It was clear that this was the norm for them, and their feet were quite used to it. I couldn't help but follow suit with a "When in Rome..." mentality. My feet proved to be a little more tender, but it was freeing. I was so thankful for Hannah and Sam's welcome that I wanted to repay them. I also never know, when I'm staying over somewhere, whether I should join the people and socialize or where that line is of impoliteness because I'm perfectly happy to sit alone and knit (read: play Clash of Clans and occasionally glance at the knitting). Since an early age, I have been intrigued by the Amish lifestyle, so back on the other hand, I figured this was a perfect and rare opportunity to engage and learn as much as I could. So I asked if there was anything I could help with. Apparently most everything had been done for the day, but Hannah said she would be planting garlic later on so I said I'd love to help. I've only planted garlic once--and it was an exeriment that I pulled out of the compost pile. I must have played Clash a little too long after pitching the tent because by the time I went to join her, she and the children were just coming back having finished planting the garlic.
A mother needs to be clever when there are 5 bored children (6 if you include me) in need of something to do. So she and I and the children sat in the cellar and shucked corn for awhile. The 18 month old helped by eating the corn, most of which just stayed on his face. When that was all done, Hannah continued to offer me produce grown right there on their farm. I learned that for their income, they grow produce for a program called CSA. I can't remember what it stands for, but they send most of their produce to Indianapolis and some of it also goes to Bloomington. Both are around 60 miles away. I think they have quotas that they have to meet. We kept in touch for awhile after our stay there, and I know that by the end of the season, she was happy that CSA would be wrapping up soon. So anyway, she gave me some gorgeous looking bell peppers and called them "seconds" because they had small blemishes or deformities and weren't fit for CSA. Coulda fooled me. These were, quite probably, the best looking and most delicious tasting bell peppers I've eaten in my entire life. And I've had a few! She also gave me several heads of garlic and welcomed me to pick anything out in the gardens that I wanted. She had continually been asking me if there were any vegetables we wanted. Such a generous woman.
All the time we were together, we were chatting and getting to know one another. She was oil on my wound, tenderizer to my meat, a thermostat in my cold room. She listened intently and without judgement. Later in our stay, she would tell me that she'd never met anyone who didn't know very much about the Bible, but there proved to be zero barrier in our abilities to relate to each other. Usually, with people who have such a strong Christian faith, I feel like there's no person there, only a Bible-waving zombie who is trying to do anything to get me to believe and worship the same way they do. With Hannah, I think she acknowledges and celebrates her individuality while giving all the credit to God. I admit, we don't know them very well because we only stayed a short time, but this was my impression. She was also clearly ministering to me, as this is one of the principles of Christianity, but somehow it felt different. There was no threat of damnation if I did not look to God, only promise of heaven if I did. Still, I did not feel cast away or in any way rejected because of my non-Christianity.
Adam and I had our dinner out at the campsite which was probably some concoction of pasta and the vegetables we had just received. Asian pears for dessert (you gotta try an Asian pear sometime!). We slept long and well, despite hearing coyotes closer than we'd ever heard them before, but not as close as we've heard them since. Comments are closed.
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