Church in Asheville

And now it was Sunday.

And time to choose a church.

Michael chose one before any of us were even out of bed.

And so we went. 

The service was at 10:30 AM.  We made it early!  (This is a miracle!)

Maeryn insisted on wearing her silver glittery high heeled shoes with a pink jumper.  I did not approve of this choice.  I felt like this casual dress did not go with those fancy shoes and I was pretty stubborn about it.  Michael raised an eyebrow:

"Is it really that big of a deal?"

Yes.  Yes it feels like a freaking huge deal.  I don't want people to judge my parenting based on my child's clothing choices.  I don't want people to think we don't have enough money or good enough judgement to help our children choose appropriate footwear.  I don't want my five year old to look like a hooker. 

"..."

"It's not.  Let's go."

And he put the shoes down on the welcome mat, and Maeryn put them on, and he took her hand and out the door we went.

I'm usually the parent who lets things go easily.  I rarely put my foot down on things like clothing choices.  But as a feminist who is against the sexualization of young girls certain things just stab at me - even if maybe they shouldn't. 

So I was preparing myself.  I was steeling myself.  I was putting up all of my walls.  I don't want people to stare.  I don't want judgemental glances.  I don't want them to think we are poor or stupid or uneducated...

And again, as usual, it was me who was judgemental.  Me who was stupid.  Me who was, inherently, poor.

The first people we encountered were around age sixty - a man and woman.  The woman smiled and said, "Those are some beautiful shoes!"

Maeryn was thrilled. 

I was ashamed. 

She can make her own choices.  I am not always wiser, or always right.

And church was great.

It was overwrought and the sound wasn't perfect and the preaching was fine and not fabulous but the people...

They were real and authentic and friendly and kind. 

When I asked him about Sunday School Jonah said, "It was awesome."  And he usually sort of hates Sunday School. 

The pastor announced a potluck set for after church and of course we hadn't prepared for that.  He said, "Even if you didn't bring anything, stay and eat with us."  I don't believe that crap for a second.  I have manners.  I'm not going if I didn't bring anything.  If you are in need, you should eat that potluck food.  And there were times when we didn't have money for groceries that potluck was the only way we were eating dinner - thank God for those potlucks - but I didn't want to take something I didn't need, that wasn't for me...

And then five separate people invited us and reiterated that we were welcome to attend and that they wanted us to come. 

Michael brought some apples from the bus so I could get over myself.  There's been a lot of that lately...

And we went to the potluck.

We sat at a table alone because we knew no one. 

And another family chose to sit next to us.  And two women sat next to us too.  And they wanted to know us. They wanted to know all about us and they didn't even know the bus was ours.  They wanted to be our friends.  I almost cried several times sitting there at the naked picnic table with half-eaten so delicious cheesy potatoes. 

And so Asheville is the city of proving me wrong. 

And it couldn't feel more right.

The Heartbeat of Asheville

It was Friday, and we were scouring the internet for something to do.  There were so many things available for free and so easily that it was difficult to choose.  We worked to narrow down our choices, but as dinner simmered on the stove, we still had no clue about our night life.  I didn't want to stay in - I wanted to explore more of the city!

And then there was a knock at the door.

This isn't normal in campgrounds.

Not unless something is wrong.

Maeryn had been outside playing with LEGOs... I had only looked away to stir the potatoes...

But there was nothing to worry about.  It was a mom and her five year old daughter and they were on their bikes.  Mom introduced herself as "Steph" and said her daughter's name was Maya but she was currently going by "Vanessa".  They just wanted to say hi.  They lived in the van a few spots down.  She was a single mom and they had just finished a journey like ours.  They had chosen Asheville as a place to settle.  I was noticing a trend.

We talked for almost an hour as dinner cooled on the burner.  It was worth it.

"Hey if you guys aren't busy tonight you should come to the drum circle!"

"Drum circle?"

"Yeah, it's downtown tonight, just off College [Street]."

"When does it start?"

"Now!  But we haven't eaten yet so we'll be late.  Here, let's exchange numbers and you can text me if you decide to go!"

I handed my phone to Steph, friend for one hour, and she entered her number and headed back to her van with Maya...er... Vanessa.  I talked to the fam and we scarfed dinner.  We were absolutely positively going to the drum circle.

It was dark and tough to get a great shot - but I think you can get the idea.

The old, the young, the black, the white, the rich, and the poor were all here and drumming, dancing, shouting, and playing together.

The kids, and there were many, danced, hooped, and spun Poi - provided by the amazing Poi Artist who came equipped with her own stuff and a basket full for any kids who might show up.

Michael shot a couple of videos - again, the picture isn't great, but the sound is pretty accurate:

After we noticed Maeryn getting tired and approaching the point of no return, we headed toward the car.  On the way we encountered two living statues.  The kids loved interacting with the artists.  The Man in White came to life and played a tune on his guitar when someone put a tip in his bucket and the Silver Lady awoke to gift the tipper with a piece of butterscotch candy from her basket before adjusting her dress and hat and coming back into tableau.  Maeryn couldn't wait to try statue-ing for herself.

And Asheville... you're growing on me... in spite of myself.

In Which We Realize We Have No Agenda

We seriously thought about staying at Springmaid Mountain for the next month to sit quietly and watch the leaves change and fall around us, only leaving at the signs of the first snow - but we decided to go.  There is always that push... to continue on... not to settle.  Not yet.  And so we debated about our next location.  Before we head south for the winter, I wanted to see the leaves change.  I wanted to visit a few other places - especially Kentucky, my mom's home state.  We went back and forth about what to do next... this was the first time in the journey we had no agenda.  No deadline.  Nothing to come back to.

After an hour or so of discussion, we landed on moving east to Asheville, NC.

Throughout our journey so far, many people have said we would love Asheville.  When we talk about "finding our spot" - Asheville comes up over and over again.  When I look up places to meet other unschoolers?  Asheville - and meeting other unschoolers had rested heavy on my heart since ARGH.  During the panel, all of the kids were well adjusted, happy, awesome people - but when we talked about connecting with others, many of the panel participants were brought to tears about how they longed for closer and deeper relationships with others like themselves.

I was pretty determined that Asheville would be a tourist attraction for us and nothing more.  I have no desire to live in the south.  I hate hot, humid summers.  I love snowy winters!

And then we got here.

We stayed in the cheapest campground around - right next to the highway.  It had horrible reviews on Google and no amenities (no bathhouse, no playground, no camp store).  A bike path ran directly through the grounds (which included about twenty spaces for RVs) and it was used heavily.

Immediately after we pulled in Maeryn noticed a few little girls playing at an RV at the end of the row.  She begged to be allowed to go over and play with them.  It's always a little scary to allow this for a multitude of reasons - not the least of which is the risk of rejection, which is always a blow to all of us.  I would rather just hole up in the bus.  We'll go and see the city, stay in the bus... there's no reason the kids should want to go out - no playground...

Michael took Maeryn over to meet the other little girls.

And it was good.  You'd think I'd learn my lesson by now when it comes to be social and open - but I really haven't.  The risk or rejection, ridicule, hatred, fear... it's so heavy on my mind.

Eventually, Jonah went and played with the little girls along with his sister and I really had no excuse anymore.  I went out and we talked with their grandmother and mother and they talked with us about the campground and the area.  They were nice.

After dinner Jonah wanted to check out the bike path.  I decided to accompany him.

We had a great ride along the French Broad River, stopping a few times just to hang out along the way.

When we returned and put the bikes away, we set up the dining tarp my dad bought for us as an early Christmas gift.  It felt amazing to have another room for rest and play. 

As we finished setting up the tarp and screen, our next door neighbors came over to introduce themselves.  They were full timers who decided to stay in Asheville and find permanent residence.  We chatted a long time before excusing ourselves to go on a drive through the city.

Downtown was busy, even on a weeknight, and the prominence and dominance of the arts struck me immediately.  There were studios and galleries on every corner, street musicians on every sidewalk, and living statues posing in front of every upscale restaurant. 

When it came time for bed I thought, in a sort of foreboding way...  I might have to reconsider this place.