Community: Lifting Each Other Up in Times of Need

Nearly 30 years ago, a group of men began getting together to take a fall hike, usually during Eastern Mennonite University’s fall break, and usually at some beautiful mountainous area. As the years went by, we added biking to our repertoire. For several years, we alternated between a hike and a bike ride. Then we added an extra day and biked one day and hiked on the other. Not only did we go to the mountains in several states to hike and bike, we even rode in Manhattan, NY, and Washington, DC. 

Our times together are spent in animated conversation, joke telling, reminiscing, and because at some point there were four pastors among us, our conversations often turned to theology and church politics. We all grew up Mennonite, but because there were several former believers, agnostics, and scientists among us, our discussions were often very intriguing and deep. 

This year, a group of eight of us went to northern Pennsylvania to bike along Pine

PA's Grand Canyon and Pine Creek. Rail trail below

Creek which forms the gorge of what is known as Pennsylvania’s Grand Canyon. We rode 22 miles from one point to another on a rail-to-trail path and rented an Airbnb for our overnight stay. Despite cold and off-and-on drizzle, it was one of the most beautiful bike rides I experienced in many years of biking with the group.

For our hike, we went further east in northern Pennsylvania to Ricketts Glen, a state park with a hiking trail that includes numerous waterfalls along the way. This again was incredibly beautiful, but rather challenging. There was a nearly 800 ft. descent at the beginning of the hike, then an 800 ft. ascent to get back up to where we had parked. We hiked around 3.5 miles in all. 

Several years ago, I began to develop some balance issues. My personal physician recommended that I see a neurologist to rule out my fear that there may be something serious going on in my brain. She diagnosed me with neuropathy in my feet. Interestingly, I have no pain, just issues with balance. Some of my family speculate that I might have some inner ear issues since five of my siblings have varying degrees of vertigo, and three of my uncles and aunts were born deaf. However, I’ve never experienced vertigo nor other any symptoms my siblings have had. 

In addition, I had bi-lateral knee surgery a little over 10 years ago, and my knees don’t support extreme activities like I was once able to do. With all these physical debilities, I should never have considered doing the hike. However, I didn’t have many options. I had car-pooled with three other men, and I was nearly 5 hours away from home. Did I want to sit in a cold, although beautiful park for 3 hours? Did I want to hike for a few minutes to the first waterfall and then return to the park to sit? I decided to go with the group. 

The descent was nearly vertical with lots of stone steps skillfully leading the path through and around tree roots. Light pellets of frozen rain drops melted when the sun came out made the rocks wet and slippery. About half-way down the descent, my knees were wobbling and the muscles around them weak. Even with hiking sticks, my balance issues made the descent even more treacherous. 

In the nearly 30 years that we men have been together, age has provided various physical challenges to nearly all of us. Two on this year’s hike had heart valves installed. One had survived cancer and was facing knee replacement surgery. One was dealing with eyesight issues. In fact, several years ago one of our members had died from cancer. Age was catching up with all of us, but mine was the most hampering for the hike. 

After the halfway point of the descent, one of our caring members, seeing my difficulty, offered me his arm to help me along the way. I gladly ceded my ego and supposed masculinity to take his help. We made it to the bottom of the descent and ate lunch and rested before the ascent. I was presented with another option. A trail descended another mile from where we were to reach a different trail head. The trail was designated as moderate most of the way, while the ascent was marked difficult the whole way. My caring partner would accompany me, and we would wait there until our hiking buddies could swing around the park to pick us up. 

I was glad for this option, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that more descent would continue to be devastating to the already weakened muscles around my knees. Even when I was healthy, descents have always been more difficult than ascents—at least muscle-wise. The ascent would use different muscles, and I reasoned that I could even crawl up the slope and pull myself up to the next level with my hands if need be. Plus, the gang would be together. So, I decided to go with the gang. Up, up, and away we go! 

How delusional I was! The gaps between stone steps were often much wider than my crawl would allow, or my arms could reach. Once again, the ascent was almost vertical, and there were few places where the path leveled out enough to catch one’s breath and “balance.” My caring companion helped me from the rear, but another caring soul ahead of me often reached his hand down to pull me up over gaps that were too wide for me to negotiate. I was totally humbled because he was several months older than I. When we finally reached the end of the trail, I told him that I now knew literally what the old hymn meant: “Take Thou My Hand O Father, and Lead Thou Me.” I was exhausted. 

Despite the difficulty of the hike and the humility of needing help from my companions, the hike was indescribably beautiful. I lost count of the number of waterfalls we encountered along the way. The beauty of autumn in the Pennsylvania woods never disappoints. 

Except for theological views, our group of men is not diverse. All of us have advanced degrees and all of us are from Mennonite backgrounds. Beyond our love for nature and vigorous exercise, we are bounded by our fondness for each other. We eagerly look forward to our yearly adventures. We have formed a temporary community. Because of my experience with this group this year, this community means all the more to me. 

Our Airbnb along Pine Creek

After we returned home, I texted our community, “I bet no one has sorer or stiffer muscles than I.” One of my caring companions wrote, “Don, you are an inspiration to all of us.” Several others agreed. Although I thought that I was more of a hinderance than an inspiration, I have a better understanding of what community is: lifting each other up in times of need.