When I was a teenager I was staying at a friend’s place. Back then I biked everywhere. It was summer, and we decided to go on a bike adventure. We packed a tent, some food and water, multiple clothing layers, and a little money. We headed north, but had no direction otherwise. We explored nature along the way, resting and basking in the sun on a rock island in the middle of a wide creek. When we saw a business like a home-based art gallery or a farm selling their produce, we stopped and talked with the owners about their livelihoods and their passions. At an orchard we ate a delicious apple pie for lunch. When it became dark, we found a field and pitched the tent in the dark. We slept soundly. In the morning we packed up and continued on our way. Back then there weren’t smart phones, and we relied on locals to help direct us back home, making stops along the way. We stopped at a Hindu temple and were welcomed in, fed, and discussed Hinduism with the worshippers there. Back on the road, we were caught in a rain storm. Our spirits weren’t dampened. On the contrary, it was a warm rain, falling in sheets. The sheer power of it was exhilarating. It abated as we neared home. We came upon a house, its lawn decorated in Christian art, made from various materials such as hubcaps, and painted in vibrant colours. We knocked on the door to ask the owners about it. They saw a couple of happy teenage girls, soaked through, with our bikes and our backpacks. They invited us in and gave us hot tea. We sat in the living room with a couple and their kids, talking about religion and the role of art and music in worship. After, we headed back to my friend’s apartment.