It was supposed to be a fun excursion to do research for my next book, but icy rain poured from the winter sky as our friends, Paul and Jacki, drove my husband and me through the Michigan countryside. Paul is a lifelong resident of Western Michigan and knows just about every back road and fun, out-of-the-way place on the map—and a few places that aren’t on the map. “I want to show you something,” he said, as we pulled into a little town I’d never heard of. “Do you like pies?”
Of course! Who doesn’t? We drove past humble houses, down streets without traffic lights or sidewalks, and pulled into the driveway of a small, unassuming, brick home. The garage door stood open but there weren’t any cars in it, only a nice-looking riding lawn mower and the usual clutter found in most garages, hanging from hooks and heaped around the perimeter. “Who lives here?” I asked.
Paul shrugged. “I don’t know.”
We piled out of the car and dashed through the rain into the open garage. I like to think of myself as adventurous but walking into a stranger’s untended garage, uninvited, seemed odd. I expected the door leading into the house to open at any moment and for the owner to ask us what we were doing.
Two huge, ancient-looking chest freezers stood along the rear wall of the garage. Paul opened the lid of one and asked, “What kind of pie do you like? There’s apple, cherry, blueberry, pecan . . . Ooo, and homemade apple dumplings!” A hand-lettered sign listed the prices. A battered cardboard box collected the money on the honor system. “We’ve had these pies before,” Paul said. “You just take them home and bake them. They’re delicious.”
He explained that this was a fund-raising effort on behalf of a local church. The women gathered together every so often like an old-fashioned quilting bee and spent the day baking in the church kitchen. The finished pies were sold out of this garage. I glanced around but didn’t see any security cameras. The entire endeavor operated on trust, and had become well-known in the community and surrounding area. Everyone for miles around knew where the small, brick house was, and that the garage door would always be open. The freezers would always be filled with pies. The cardboard moneybox would be waiting.
I felt like I’d stepped back through time into a kinder, gentler era. “I don’t believe it!” I said. “Who does this kind of thing?” Until two years ago, I lived in the Chicago area along with six million other people. This pie-selling setup would never work there. No one would ever agree to leave their garage door open all day, and their lawnmower and other household goods unguarded, with only a flimsy door leading into their home—not to mention leaving several hundred dollars-worth of pies in unlocked freezers. And with soaring energy costs, no one would ever volunteer to pay the electric bill for two huge, non-energy-efficient freezers.
So, what sort of people would ever be this generous, this trusting?
People who had faith in God and wanted to support their church. People who put serving Him ahead of their material possessions. People who trusted that even if the worst happened and thieves broke in their home, God would somehow use the situation for His glory. People who believed that their “neighbors” included strangers they’d never met who might be in need of a pie.
Jesus said, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven . . . For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” I’m guessing these trusting, pie-selling homeowners will have a whole pile of treasure waiting for them in heaven.
We chose a plump an apple pie and put a $10 dollar bill in the money box. It turned out, Paul was right—the pie was delicious!
Latest posts by Lynn Austin (see all)
- Can An Old Dog Learn New Tricks? - November 15, 2021
- A 1951 Christmas - November 1, 2021
- Researching? - October 18, 2021
Great story, Lynn! Thanks for sharing!
Oh, how I loved this! It’s reassuring to know that the ‘honor system’ is still alive and well. If I lived anywhere near that town, I’d swing by for a pie. 🙂
…In fact, I may have to bake one of my own. You’ve made me hungry for apple pie…
I LOVE this story, Lynn! Thank you for reminding me of what really matters. And, like Becky, now I’m hungry for pie!
Love this story! Thanks for sharing!
Wanda
I love this story and had no idea something like this would even exist in this day and age. Sounds like a fun trip and a neat place to see through your eyes. Thank you for sharing Lynn. 🙂
What a lovely idea! I, too grew up just outside Chicago, in Elgin. Now after living in St. Louis for 20 years we moved south to just outside Springfield. A whole different way of life! Slower and the people act so much more Christian!
What a lovely post today. You must have thought you were in pie heaven.
What a great story! I know places like this still exist, because I live in one, and as a pie lover, this made me crave pie! Thanks for sharing this. I may hit you up for an address next time I’m in the vicinity, lol.
I love this! A family I know grows corn and pumpkins, and they always have an honor system pile on the side of one of the roads near me. They have prices according to size on the pumpkins, and you just put your money in the box. There are also a couple of other places that have corn, etc., and you just leave your money. It’s a rare thing in this day and age, though!
Good friends who live near St. Louis, MO have honey bees and sell the honey in bottles at the end of their lane, using the honor system as payment. Unfortunately, they had “one bad apple” last year that caused them to install a security camera, but otherwise they’ve had great success relying on the kindness and honesty of their friends and neighbors.