Rest

The End of My Asheville Odyssey

I end my summer odyssey story to Asheville, North Carolina (NC) describing several mini excursions which sound tiring, but actually led to some well-needed rest. God gives full approval to rest, even naming one day of the week as THE day to rest. Jesus rested at times from his heavy preaching schedule as in Mark 6 where after sending the 12 apostles out in pairs to preach repentance and heal the sick, he invited them on a minivacation to a secluded place to rest. My secluded place in June was Asheville. But first, we had to get there.

Cinderella’s Carriage

I know I sound like a broken record, but traveling with advanced stage Parkinson’s Disease is like going to war. We packed our gear and headed for battle; the airport. We took some lessons from our last vacation flight and streamlined to three suitcases, a backpack, wheelchair bag, a walker, and my wheelchair which gets checked at the airplane door. We planned as best we could for the 2:00 a.m. rise, 5:00 a.m. flight, 12 hours of travel, three legs of flights, nearly twenty meds taken, three G-tube feeds and a couple bathroom breaks; it was like combat. The flight attendants and airport personnel were my brothers in arms, lifting me in and out of my wheelchair and into the skinny transport wheelchair thing at each airplane door. The hardship of travel though came with the promise of enjoying some Blue Ridge Mountain congeniality and rest. We were motivated. Let me just say that once we hit the tarmac in Asheville and I felt the steamy NC air on my face at the open air jetway and saw my wheelchair waiting on the hot airport asphalt, to me that was like Cinderella seeing her awaiting carriage. There wasn’t any time for commiserating this wretched disease, I was claiming victory.

Hillman Beer

Once the battle was won and we were in our hotel we were bound and determined to find some rest. There were four places that I really found rest during the entire odyssey: the first being Hillman Beer. The other three were Biltmore Mansion, downtown, and atop the Blue Ridge Parkway. I found such peace in each of these experiences that I literally fell asleep at some point in each place. I know this first place doesn’t sound very spiritual, but stepping (rolling for me) into Hillman Beer on the outskirts of Asheville after an entire day of travel was like entering the pearly gates. We checked into our hotel and cleaned up a bit and Chris asked a young desk clerk if there were any microbreweries nearby. We’d heard that Asheville is the microbrewery capital of the US. It was already 5 p.m. we were exhausted and although she had never been there, the clerk said she heard that a lot of folks like us (old people) enjoyed Hillman Beer. We were there in five minutes, because it was literally two miles away. Also, remember that Chris is the primary travel planner now. It was a bustling open-air establishment filled with people (our age!) enjoying great food and Coca Cola. The food was excellent, and the atmosphere was settling and peaceful with evening breezes whisking through the wide-open garage-type doors, flowing in and around the wooden tables and inhabitants. I fell asleep and Chris finished my beverage. Rest. Upon returning to our hotel, we hit the sack early because travel planner Chris, Mr. efficient, had booked our tickets for the Biltmore Mansion at 9:30 AM the next morning! What was he thinking? 

Finding Rest at the Mansion

With the previous day of air travel in the rearview mirror of my road in retirement, we headed to Biltmore at about 8:30 a.m. Upon our arrival at a parking lot half a mile from the mansion, a large bus literally picked me up in my wheelchair and put me in the back of the bus and then dropped me off a few yards from the front doors of the Biltmore. God is gracious. George Washington Vanderbilt, grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt started building the 35-bedroom, 43-bathroom “home” in 1889, finishing in 1895. His grandad was worth $100M in 1877 (railroad and other business wealth). Artists and architects call it a French Châteauesque-style mansion with gilded age architecture, masterful European craftsmanship and meticulous landscaping and gardening on its 8000 acres. In the spirit of rest and recovery, I felt rested there, even with the thoughts of how laborious it must have been to construct all that we were seeing without modern tools and machinery. We toured most of the mansion except where the 2nd oldest Otis elevator in the U.S. could not take us, which was the 3rd floor and basement. We donned listening devices and wheeled through the high-ceilinged rooms, at our own pace. Each room had a unique architecture, purpose and story. It was a beautiful sunny hot day, and the mansion performed according to its planned architecture, catching Smoky Mountain breezes and whistling them through the home like a sophisticated ventilation system. 

Rest in the Garden

Young George Vanderbilt was well-read and within his expansive library were 20,000 volumes of books stacked on beautiful oak shelving framed with hand-carved wood trim. We were told by the audio voice that he read them all. He was a genius at designing and planning architecture, horticulture, landscaping, and artwork making the mansion tour astounding. Old Cornelius Vanderbilt was rich, but all his billions maybe trillions in today’s money eventually went to philanthropy in an attempt to tell the historical story of the gilded age, and also to train and educate the underprivileged in the ways of farming, building, and horticulture. Unfortunately, the grandson and family were a bit too generous, and all that wealth was never reinvested. It has all but disappeared, except for this mansion and gorgeous grounds. We finished the mansion tour and exited to one of the most lavish gardens I’ve ever experienced. After grabbing a light lunch in a flowered portico between garden plots, I fell asleep. Rest. We ended the day by hopping into our vehicle and driving through the dark green Biltmore Forest and light green meadows to the estate’s still functioning winery. I know this is starting to sound like it was the Chris and Eileen drinking tour, but the winery was historically part of the Biltmore estate. As we pulled away from the grand estate we were again exhausted but grateful that this mansion still exists for us to ponder and enjoy. 

Downtown and the Pig

Our second evening in Asheville included a mad dash downtown to grab some food and get the lay of the land. After a nice American dinner in one place and European dessert in another; Chris running me up and down steep sidewalks in the hills of downtown Asheville it began to rain so we stepped into a  . . . you guessed it, microbrewery to wait out the rain. It was getting late so we decided to head out in the light steady rain. For a few blocks and after a couple of wrong turns we discovered we were a bit turned around. Chris finally asked someone that appeared more local where the pig was located. The rain let up a little and we headed for the pig. We remembered that our vehicle was parked in a handicap parking spot next to a bronze pig at the top of the downtown square area; somewhere. After trudging around several more steep sidewalks and inclines we finally found the pig AND our vehicle and happily turned the heat on full blast to dry off as we headed back to our hotel. We still don’t remember the significance of the statue. There were other excursions into downtown Asheville during our stay, one involving a huge Juneteenth celebration in the town square with numerous food and beverage trailers, a nonprofit community service expo, and several musical groups performing in the multileveled and several blocks long city center square and park. The music and evening of Juneteenth was deeply calming and restful and I fell asleep. Rest.

The Gray Hawk

The final element of my restful time in Asheville was during our last full day in the mountains of the Blue Ridge Parkway. By this time our youngest son had joined us. He drove, Chris navigated, and we meticulously climbed from the lower elevation of Asheville to over 4000” atop the Blue Ridge Mountains. Many parts of the Blue Ridge Parkway are still closed due to Hurricane Helene’s massive wind and rain in 2024, but we managed to enjoy a whole day of extensive green mountainscapes and plunging rocky ravines. Near a huge mountain reservoir called Lake Lure we grabbed lunch, not at a microbrewery but at the Gray Hawk Bar & Gardens. In conversation with locals, it was obvious that this area is still in recovery mode. The lake is 30 feet below its normal level so that cranes and heavy machinery can remove millions of tons of trees, rock, and gravel that poured into the lake from the devastating 2024 event. At the Gray Hawk we ate outside where tables were situated on an expansive wooden deck and gorgeously landscaped sawdust yard; all of this under a canopy of either wood slats, white linen sheets, or natural tree branches. I rested in therapeutic sunshine, clean mountain air, and casual word-chart assisted communication with my son and Chris. I fell asleep in my Cinderella carriage at the table.

Rest for the Soul 

Matthew chapter 11 records what seemed to be several days, maybe weeks of large receptive crowds and literally thousands of people being touched by Jesus’ love and miracle healing power. But then he hits a tough stretch of unrepenting cities whose inhabitants pretty much mocked him as a Galilean commoner. A few individuals: however, believed in him, repented from their wicked ways and followed him; probably experiencing similar harsh treatment from the locals. He tells these committed souls to ignore the naysayers and look to him to find rest. He doesn’t tell them to lay their burdens down, but to lay them on him. He beckons them to come into his presence and find ultimate rest from life’s sometimes relentless burdens. Similarly, our entry ticket into his presence and rest isn’t a perfect sinless life, but a weary and heavy-laden soul. Asheville was more than a location; it was a reprieve from the tumult and a time of turning to the Christ; finding rest for my soul.