Apple Trees and Bamboo Leaves

You know what’s scary? Bare apple trees.

Allow me to elaborate. If you’ve never seen apple-less apple trees, they look like monsters. They have gnarled, knotted trunks; they’re this cold, stony gray color, and their branches turn downward like horribly clawed arms. Isaw hundreds of these trees during our weekend in Hendersonville, North Carolina, and I kept imagining them reaching out to snatch up little children. Or my soul.

Alright, so I may be exaggerating a bit. But you know what else is scary? Signing up for a weekend service trip completely outside your comfort zone, not entirely sure what you’re getting yourself into.

I’d known for a while that I wanted to go on an APO service immersion trip— why would I pass up the chance to spend an entire weekend serving and learning alongside some of my favorite people? So I signed up as soon as I found out about this one. Mind you, I’m not particularly outdoorsy or athletic, but I tried not to think about that too much. Flash forward to this weekend, and once we were on the road, my nerves hit me full-force. I’d camped once before, but not in cold weather. And we were going to be chopping and hauling bamboo-- what if I sucked at it? Plus trail maintenance? I don’t hike. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve hiked. The closer we got to the campsite, my nerves increased, and I was struck by a sudden bout of homesickness— Hendersonville is, unsurprisingly, nothing like Northern Virginia. Naked apple trees abound!

Then we got started. And, as per usual, my nerves were proved completely wrong.

We survived camping for a night, thanks to a copious amount of marshmallows and blankets. And chopping and hauling invasive bamboo for five hours the next day was surprisingly therapeutic. We all broke a sweat, but we had fun doing it, and the end result was a massive pile of bamboo stalks that doubled as an impromptu trampoline. Better yet, David from the Carolina Mountain Land Conservancy took us down to see the tiny bog which our efforts helped to protect, and his passion for his work was so evident. We all left that day with a renewed sense of appreciation not only for our environment, but for the people who do the thankless work of protecting it every day.

Then we ate at Daddy D’s Suber Soul Food, which was the most genuinely welcoming and DELICIOUS restaurant. We spent the night in a church, graciously opened to us on a pretty last-minute basis, with a girl about our age who gave up her Saturday night to make sure we were taken care of. We sang, we laughed, and we played classic youth group games (Sardines, anyone?), which reminded me that no matter how close you are to completing a degree, there’s room for the 10 year-old in all of us. My friend Kristine and I led a reflection, too, and the way everyone talked about serving others made me so proud to be part of this organization.

Day two was trail maintenance, and while I still had some apprehension about hiking (and had to pee— what else is new), it ended up being the best possible way to end the weekend. The CMLC volunteer accompanying us seemed taken aback by the sheer number of us who had shown up to help. The hike was totally doable, and I was gladly reminded of just how lovely the world can be. In between cutting the occasional tree branch, I had some amazing conversations— we talked about faith, future plans, the pros and cons of serving abroad, and why we all found APO in the first place. There’s just something about the wilderness that makes for instant bonding. Then, after a quick lunch in the sun, we were finally on our way home with happy hearts and stomachs.

I went outside my comfort zone this weekend, and it paid off. Stepping outside your comfort zone doesn’t have to look like a big, flashy, go-save-the-world trip across the ocean. Sometimes it just looks like sucking it up and attacking what feels like a million bamboo stalks with loppers, even though you’re convinced you’re the least outdoorsy soul on Earth. Sometimes it means quietly telling yourself, “You can do it,” and other times it means just listening to someone else express their passion, whether you fully understand it or not. It means forming friendships with brothers whom you might not see otherwise. It means letting a little place called Daddy D’s totally surprise you. And it means reminding yourself that a tiny, middle-of-nowhere town is most definitely somewhere to a lot of good-hearted people.

I’m glad we left our mark, however small, on that town. Thanks for the memories, Hendersonville. And APO, I love ya more every day.

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