Re-entry. About that . . .

I’m not getting any work done (again) so maybe I’ll write a (short) blog post instead.  After all, it’s past the bedtime I became accustomed to on Sea to Sea.  I have been trying to “catch up” ever since we got home.  Trying to catch up—not unlike my riding on those mountain passes! 

Rudy put it well this afternoon, “I find myself taking life at a slower pace, taking time to bid the students farewell as they leave for the day.”  That’s easy for him to say, he had a week of half days last week because of the extreme heat and the mostly non-air-conditioned school building; and this was his first full day back in the classroom!  I, on the other hand . . .

Let's just say, life seems busy.  When I attempt to get “caught up”, more often than not, cathcing up eludes me.  Have I grown so accustomed to not working that I’ve forgotten how?  Of course not.  But I’ve tasted another life.  Another pace.  And it leaves me wanting more.  More of less.  Does that make sense to anyone other than me?

The bills from my broken leg arrived while we finished Sea to Sea.  Thanks to them, we met our (large enough) health insurance deductible for the year.  The lure of extra income to pay extra bills is tugging . . . and about to reel us in.  Or maybe this temporary job opportunity is God’s way of providing what we need. 

Would that I/we be as attentive to the fullness of “Thy Kingdom come” as we paint a house and teach, as we were in those (carefree, crazy) days of summer. 

Thy Kingdom come. 

Your rule. 

Your reign. 

Your shalom. 

Come. 

Here.

Life in a Tent

As I rode my bike the last few days of the tour, it struck me how comfortably our tent had begun feeling like “home.”  There were times I woke up during the night and I didn’t need to remind myself that I was in a tent.  I didn’t need to deliberately remember why I was in a tent.  I didn’t have to orient myself to the makeshift surroundings.  The 8’ x 9’ dome had somehow (and unexpecetedly!) become a familiar, comfortable space with everything within reach.  The unorganized conglomeration of stuff from Week One had settled into natural resting places to the point where I could retrieve things without pause or frustration. 

I’m not sure what to make of this. 

Many parts of the tent resemble the normal things found in a house:

Bed—air mattress

Bedding—sleeping bag
Night stand—tent pockets
Closet—main compartment of the duffel bag
Hamper—small compartment on the end of duffel bag
Medicine chest—gallon-sized zip-lock bags
Top dresser drawer—small compartment on the other end of the duffel bag
Light—head lamp tied to the rip-stop loop hanging from the top of the tent
Back porch—vestibule of the tent
Shingles—rain fly
Windows with screens—zippered mesh fabric

The same question our daughter raised about her meager surroundings at her summer-job dormitory-living swims in my head.  How can this confined, stripped-down living space become a near-sanctuary?

----

I was back at work today, visiting with 20 freshman advisees; many of whom feel as overwhelmed in their new setting as we felt at the beginning of Sea to Sea—not remembering which names go with which faces or which stories go with which names.  Classes start tomorrow.

I will write more about the last few days of Sea to Sea; but not tonight.  I miss the people and the simplicity of that temporary, quirky community.  I am awake 90 minutes (plus the one-hour time difference) later than my Sea to Sea bed-time. 

I wish re-entry could unravel at a slower pace.  Good night.

How Many Bathrooms?

As we near the end of the tour, my days are measured by how far I was able to ride that day.

Monday—36 miles

Tuesday—0 because of a very, very hilly route

Wednesday—47 miles (I think; I can’t remember exactly)

Thursday (today)—the entire route—67 miles!! 

I am so thankful for the healing in my leg.  My ankle is still very tender when I turn on it in a certain way, but biking is a straight, rhythmic movement that has loosened my leg and joints quite nicely.  This morning I had a bit of limp walking around camp, but tonight it is much better!  It’s amazing what a “little” biking can do!

Two nights ago we stayed in a campground where we had two showers and two toilets available and additional facilities 400 yards up a dirt path.  As I stood in line for the bathroom with a few other people, someone commented about the fact that we had two bathrooms for over 100 people while many homes have three bathrooms for just two people.  Without expressly saying it, we were wishing for more bathrooms in our camp that night.  I pondered, which of those two situations—two bathrooms for 100 people or three bathrooms for two people—is more “wrong?”  Sea to Sea makes us think about things differently.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that I live in a house with three bathrooms and three people. 

Tonight we are in a city park with a swimming pool, but there are no children’s voices filtering through the chain-link fence.  The pool is closed.  I heard the pool has been closed ever since they ran out of chlorine a few days ago.  Many of us feel the disappointment that we can’t enjoy the swimming pool after today’s hot ride.  Some voice it more than others.  My antennae have been very alert to things which reveal a sense of entitlement.  Harold, a member of my small group on the tour, said that wherever there is a sense of entitlement, God is not #1.  That’s a bold statement; but I think there is truth in it.  We all know this sense of entitlement is easier to hear in someone else than in ourselves, but it’s there in all of us.  I hear it in myself, if not in my spoken words, then in my thoughts.  Try listening to yourself from an objective point of view and see what you hear.

A Disaster Relief Services team from World Renew greeted us at one of our SAG stops yesterday.  It was so encouraging to have people with us who volunteer directly on the front lines of one of the partner organizations with Sea to Sea.  After initial hellos, someone said, “Wait, are you the lady who broke her leg?  I’ve been reading your blog and so has Virginia Bouma!”  Whoa.  That’s a name from the past!  We taught with Virginia in the mid-80s in Visalia, California.  Here’s a shout out to anyone from Visalia who might read this!

I’ll never know who most of you are who are reading this blog, but once again, thanks for joining us on Sea to Sea in this way.  If you have not yet made a donation, feel free to do so by clicking here.

A French Lesson and a Few Pictures

It’s 7:15 a.m. on Saturday morning of Week 8.  The sun rose about an hour ago and I’m sitting in the shade of an evergreen tree to minimize the glare on my computer screen.   Many riders have already made their way down the curved lane to the road where today’s route will take us to Montreal.  We had a brief French lesson in Peleton last night to help prepare us for the French-speaking province of Quebec.  Bonjour!  Je ne parl pa Francoise.  Parle' vioux Engles?  Merci.  Hello!  I do not speak French.  Can you speak English?  Thank you.  (If you know French, please pardon these spellings!!!!)  It's so hard to believe that we have only one week left of this crazy adventure.

We have had many warm welcomes by CRC churches here in Canada.  Yesterday, some people drove an hour from a church north of us to be at one of our SAG stops with cookies.  Apart from visiting Rudy’s home church in Chilliwack, British Columbia, I’ve never heard so many people speaking with Dutch accents!  There seems to be a deep sense of camaraderie amongst the people and churches; however, there might be a little competition between them as well. J  We surmise that the comradeship exists because so many of the people emigrated from the Netherlands after World War II.  There is a bond amongst them that most of us have never known; the bond of sticking together in a foreign country in order to make life work.  The people who greet us are, more often than not, the older people of the congregation.  We, the younger generation(s) forget our grandparents’ struggles, bravery and sacrifice to settle in a new country, and we tend to be more independent.

In spite of the warm welcome we have received from the CRC churches here in Canada, as we head further northeast we seem to experience more road rage against bikers.  One rider had a plate of food thrown at her group from a passing vehicle.  Other riders reported having stones spit at them by a pickup purposelly driving on the shoulder of the road and spinning out on the shoulder of the road.

We’ve ridden through some beautiful country along the north shore of Lake Ontario and up the St. Lawrence River.  The region is thick with history, which, as a non-history fan, I may or may not care to dwell on.  The mismatched, cut limestones fit together like a pre-made puzzle, forming the walls on buildings from small houses to large churches.  Interestingly, the stones' arrangements remind me of the adobe buildings we saw in Zuni, New Mexico.

St. Lawrence River

We road a ferry which was part of the Ontario highway system.  There was no other way to get across the waterway and no fee!

Niagra Falls (from last weekend)--Rudy has some better pictures on his camera, but it's on the road with him on his bike right now.

I have ridden my bike the last three days—12, 16 and 22 miles, respectively!  There is another rider who has been riding partial days because of her sore achilles tendons.  She bikes the first part of the route while I drive our van and when she is ready to stop, we switch places.  Having our van with us allows us more freedom to go to the store or Laundromat when we need to, but it also means that I can’t bike unless someone is available to drive our van.  This arrangement has worked out well so far.  I hope we can find a way for someone to drive our van into New York City on the last day so I can bike to the tire dipping!  I’ve chosen not to bike today for several reasons.  1) By the time I would ride, we’ll be in heavier traffic nearing Montreal.  2) I don’t want to overdue the use of my leg.  3) I get to drive our van into Montreal.

I feel a sense of freedom when I get on my bike for part of the day’s route.  My mind wonders wherever it wants and I lose track of time.  The scenery this week has been so, so beautiful.  I haven’t taken that many pictures but I’ve post a few here.  If you want to see more pictures, you can go to the Sea to Sea Facebook page or follow the link to other peoples’ blogs at www.seatosea.org .

 

I have moved into the recreation center where we camped last night in order to access the Internet and post this blog entry.  In the auditorium down the hall I hear a vocalist rehearsing and they are church songs--Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee and Great is Thy Faithfulness.  Time seems to pause as Sarah, a young woman with Downs Syndrome who is helping in the kitchen for the last two weeks of the ride, leans up against the white brick wall and sings along for a verse. 

 

Thanks for riding vicariously with us!

 

Meeting Former Acquaintances and Riding Again

We spent the weekend at Redeemer University College in Ancaster, Ontario.  We had lovely dormitory apartment accommodations with laundry facilities.  On Sunday afternoon we had the largest “celebration rally” of the tour with over 1,000 people in attendance.  Geographically, we are in the land where Sea to Sea was conceived and there is great support for the tour.  We’ve had churches provide over-the-top SAG stops and dinners.  Sometimes the amount of food seems to contradict our cause of fighting poverty.  Yes, we need a lot of calories when we’re biking, but we could not bike enough miles to work off all the food we’ve had offered to us in the last few days.  If only we could package that food and send it to those who really need it.

One of the speakers at the rally on Sunday called us heroes.  Personally, I believe that is an overstatement which puts us on a very undeserved pedestal .  We’re just normal people doing what we can to raise awareness and funding for a great cause.  Some of us ride bikes.  Some of us work in the kitchen.  Some of you donated money.  Some of you influence systemic change.  Some of you move to foreign countries.  We all do our part.  None of us can fight the cycle of poverty alone.  We talk to people along the route every day and explain what we are doing.  Some people volunteer a donation while others wish us well and bid us safe travels. 

I unexpectedly connected with a former colleague from our teaching days in Visalia, California.  Vicki is now serving as the pastor of a church in Breslau, Ontario.  It was good to reconnect and to hear about her life, even though it’s had its share of unexpected events, and of her plans for a walking pilgrimage on the El Camino De Santiago in Spain next year.  Someone told her that it is a life-changing event.  Two of the founders of Sea to Sea spoke at our Peleton meetings the last two nights and referred to Sea to Sea in the same way.  I think one of them hit the nail on the head when he said, “You don’t yet know what impact this tour will have on you.”  Significant events have a way of shaping us for years to come, often in surprising ways.  As I’ve looked back over my life, I can recognize some defining moments, but I had no idea of their significance at the time.

Crossing paths with former acquaintances seems to be a recurring event on this tour.  Rudy saw a familiar-looking face at the Trenton Christian School where we stayed last night.  It turns out the man was a teacher at Dordt when we were students there, and the father of one of Rudy’s soccer teammates at Dordt.  He commented, “Who knows when our paths may cross again!”  This seems to be a very true statement, given the groups of people we interact with.  (There is no end to Dutch Bingo on this trip!)  Today I met a woman who worked with my sister for several years at Calvin Christian School in the Minneapolis area.  What fun.

It’s amazing how these meetings happen.  I’ve recorded several of them here in this blog, but I’ve probably missed some as well.  They seem like meetings of chance, but my theology says that God has his hand in everything and there is no “chance.”  Vicki and I were not best friends or anything, yet it was good to see her familiar face and to catch up on the main details of our lives.  What is it that makes connecting with a former acquaintance a good thing?  Maybe it reminds us of a certain segment of our lives and prompts us to remember those days and people from a distance.  Sometimes things look much different from a distance than they look up close.

I thought I would have more time to write this post, but we should leave this library (and our Internet availability) soon if we want to make it back to camp for supper.

My big news for the day:  I road twelve miles of the route on my bike!!!!  The view was clear, the breeze was fresh, and a sense of freedom teased my musings as I biked along the shore of Lake Ontario southwest of Kingston.  I am thankful to be riding after only four and one-half weeks since breaking my fibula.

Walking Again!

Yesterday I walked with only one crutch for most of the day.  This morning the crutch felt like a nuisance and when I tried walking without the crutch, it worked!  I’m still limping a fair bit, but I’m walking! 

This afternoon in camp, Rudy set up my bike on a trainer.  I was a little nervous to try riding.  What if my knee won’t bend far enough?  What if it bends far enough but it moves slowly?  What if my bike isn’t completely fixed from the fall?  None of these things happened and I am thrilled to be on my bike again, even if it is standing still.  The hardest part was getting my right leg over the bike frame!  The community has been very supportive and encouraging as I go through all of these stages of healing.  Everyone cheers when they see me each day as they observe the improvement with my leg.  I’ve never liked being the center of attention and I’m certainly not used to having this much attention.  I try to receive it graciously and am so thankful for everyone’s care and encouragement.  I continue to be amazed at the way God created our bodies and the healing capabilities they have.

It was such a beautiful day for riding today.  The weather seemed to contribute to the relaxed atmosphere among the riders at our SAG stop today.  Some of them stayed for 20 minutes to talk and to eat watermelon, pretzels and hummus.  The same climate lingers in camp this afternoon at Woodland Christian High School.  Tomorrow we will arrive at Redeemer University in Ancaster, Ontario, where we will spend the weekend.

Daily Catch-Up

Friday:  1) We arrived at Hope College and checked into our dorm room in a lovely old building complete with tall oak baseboards and ceiling beams adorned with mouldings.  2) We were greeted by the brother and sister-in-law of Dave De Ridder, the youth pastor from our former church when we lived in Visalia, California 25-30 years ago.  Even though we had never met Dave’s brother before (I think his name is Steve--I’m revealing my weakness for remembering names—my apologies if I have that wrong!), it felt as though Dave, himself, had tracked us down; not because they resemble each other’s appearance, but because Dave took the time to tell his brother who then tracked us down to pass on Dave’s greetings to us.  3) I took the splint of my leg.  It was SO stiff from being immobilized for three weeks.  I spent the evening in our dorm room with my leg elevated.

Saturday:  1) We enjoyed a pancake, and sausage breakfast at Pillar Church, the location where the Christian Reformed Church split from the Reformed Church in America back in 1857.  In a unique, reconciliatory spirit, the church has recently enacted joint membership in both denominations.  On my way down the stairs to the pancake breakfast, (left hand on the hand railing, right arm using my crutch) the hand railing on broke.  After a gasp from me and a church member (custodian?) who happened to be right there, we all breathed a sigh of relief that I did not fall down the steps with my newly un-splinted leg.  2)  I was greeted by Henrietta Byker at one of the support stops.  Henrietta is the wife of my Dad’s cousin and lives near the Sea to Sea route through Western Michigan.  I had met Henrietta a few times throughout my life and we had a nice visit in the parking lot of the public library.  3) We gathered with the bicyclists at Calvin Church where we had lunch before riding as a group into Calvin College.  They ran out of food due to the increased number of riders who joined us for the short ride (39 miles) from Holland to Grand Rapids.  They ordered Little Caesar ’s Pizza and when it arrived, many riders swarmed around the unopened boxes.  Someone wisely announced that the riders who had already eaten should wait until those who have not eaten had gotten their pizza first.  Truthfully, I was appalled that such an announcement had to be made, but such is the nature of hungry riders!  4) We got to connect with Mary Dracht, a friend from our days in McBain, Michigan.  Bill and Mary rode the 2008 Sea to Sea tour and we met up with them in Sioux City when they biked through northwest Iowa that summer.  Sadly, Bill passed away this year and his absence was palpable as we greeted one another.  Bill and Mary took care of us well when we lived in McBain.

Sunday:  There was a “celebration rally” at Calvin College.  I joined the parade of bicyclists on the balcony as we circled the arena with their.  It was hard to keep up with my crutches, but after completing the lap, I told Rudy that it wasn’t as hard as climbing that 10,200 foot pass in the mountains!  It was a sad weekend to not be riding. 

Monday:  We camped at a wooded state park in south-central Michigan.  I was sitting around camp, telling Jane Brouwer about my long-distance consultation the night before with Shelly, my friend who is a physical therapist.  I had asked various people over the weekend if they new of a local physical therapist who could give me some tips for getting off on the right foot (pun intended J) with increasing my mobility.   No one new any PTs so I was doing my best to stretch my muscles and move my joints.  Jane looked me in the eye, as she is so good at doing, and said, “There is a physical therapist in camp right this minute.”  Before long Jane reappeared with Melissa, the PT.  Melissa was in camp for an hour to visit some of the people she had ridden with on the 2008 Sea to Sea tour.  The 30 minutes I spent with her were filled with getting my black-and-blue, swollen ankle to fit into my tennis shoe; stretching exercises and putting weight on my leg for the first time.  Because of her conversation with another rider, I picked up a bike trainer in Sarnia, Ontario (I’m writing this on Thursday morning) which I can use to reacquaint my leg with pedaling.  I am very thankful for that “chance” meeting with Melissa!

Tuesday:  I helped Carrie with a SAG stop again on Tuesday.  It was cloudy and the rain came down just as we packed up.  We had lunch at the nearby Subway since they were so gracious in letting our riders use their restroom even though they did not buy anything there.  Thanks, Carrie!  We stayed overnight at the Imlay City High School.  Some people camped inside, while others—including us—set up our tent in the fresh air outside.  I was very impressed by Larry, the head custodian at the high school.  He was so helpful with such a great, great attitude.  He graciously offered me the use of a wheel chair, but instead I accepted his offers to get bags of ice for my ankle.  Sitting in a wheel chair would have felt like I was taking steps backward in the healing process!

Wednesday:  Our Canada-crossing day started out with threatening thunderstorms.  The greens, yellows and reds on the radar lit up a direct line from Lake Michigan to Lake Huron, as if to mark our route for the day.  Some riders left early with the hope of beating the storm while others stayed back waiting for the storm to pass.  Rudy left before the storm but not very early.  A half hour later he called to let me know that he had taken shelter under the awning of a restaurant not yet open for the day.  He waited longer than the others for the lightning to pass before setting out again.  By the time the riders reached the ferry crossing at Marine City where we would cross into Canada, the skies had cleared.  The St. Claire River waterfront was beautiful.  I took my camera out, only to discover dead batteries.  L  The border crossing went off without a hitch, even for the rider who inadvertently left his passport on the gear truck!  We had a warm welcome into Canada and a feast at the Sarnia Christian School.  We enjoyed the hospitality of the aunt and uncle of Rudy’s former sister-in-law as they invited us to sleep at their apartment.  I was pleased to be able to take a bath/shower for the first time since breaking my leg.

Thoughts:  I keep hearing people use the word “blessed” and “blessings” as they talk about various things.  Some people would have used that word in my previous paragraph about getting a shower, or about the physical therapist in camp the other day.  Believe it or not, I find myself somewhat uncomfortable with this language and I’m not sure what to think of this.  I don't mean to offend those of you who use the word regularly, as a matter of fact, I'm thankful that you do use it as it prompts me to think about  it. 

 

Someone said it was such a blessing that the bad weather skirted around Sarnia last night such that we encountered nothing worse than a little rain on the tents.  My initial thought is this, What about the people who encountered the serious weather in our place?  Would they say it was a blessing that it hit them and not us?  Can something be a blessing if it occurs at the cost of someone else?  Or . . . if someone says they are so blessed to have their extended family still living nearby, what does that say about the person whose family lives far away?  Are they not blessed?  And is it a blessing when family members stay close to home even if they stay there for the wrong reasons?  Some would say that it’s a “blessing” that my accident wasn’t worse, but to realize that “blessing” I had to have the accident in the first place.  Is it a blessing that I fell and broke my leg?  It’s a “blessing” that my leg is healing, but along with the healing comes scarring and swelling.  Can “blessings” be directly accompanied by apparent “non-blessings”?  Does a bad event turn into a blessing only if we identify something good that happens in its context? 

 

I sometimes wonder if we use the word too loosely. 

 

I'm just thinking out loud here . . .  thanks for bearing with me.  For now, I’ve settled on using the word “thankful” when good things happen.

A More Detailed Look

The sky is dark with low clouds releasing their rain on Benton Harbor as the riders leave camp this morning.  Their heads bobble as they make their way slowly down the hill on the cobblestone street separating our camp on the lawn at Lighthouse Ministries from the once-stately church building across the street.  It, like the place we stayed, is no longer occupied by a thriving congregation but by one of several ministries bent on reviving this area.  We were told last night that the current population of 11,000 is a third less than it once was.  Even with the beauty of Lake Michigan at its back door, the town is depressing.  The body of Christ is taking steps to bring hope through community development and outreach.  There will be a K-5 Christian school starting here in the fall of 2014.  The school will follow the model of an urban school in Grand Rapids which makes Christian education affordable by setting the tuition at 5% of a family’s income.  The teachers have a heart for the cause and agree to a small salary, compared to their peers in other Christian schools.

The rain continues to fall.  It is 8:00 a.m. and it seems that all the bikers have now left camp.  Many were holding out, waiting for the rain to subside, but that’s not going to happen any time soon.  The sky is gray.  This is probably the latest many of them have left camp in the morning.  With only a 60-mile day, they should have plenty of time.  Oh, nope, two more riders just left.  I’m hearing the first thunder of the day and spotted some lightning as well.  Hmm.  That’s not good.

I’m sitting in the second-row captain’s chair of our van with my right leg resting on a rolled-up sleeping bag where the other captain’s chair would normally be.  The rain pelts against the roof, splatters off the windshield and runs down the side windows.  I don’t mind being inside where it is dry, but I wish I were out participating in the full, intended experience of biking all the way across the country.  One of the younger riders assured me that this is one day when I should be glad I didn’t have to ride.

I’ve thought about whether or not I should have returned to the ride following my fall.  Mind you, I’ve thought about it, but I have not second-guessed our decision.  I wrote in an earlier post about my questions about purpose and contribution.  It dawned on me the other day, that when we were fundraising, we told people we were going the whole way—from LA to New York City via Toronto and Montreal.  By remaining with the tour, we are both keeping that pledge.  During the first weeks of the ride, a common question was, “Are you here to the end?”  I noticed some people’s response and made this my answer as well:  “That’s the plan!”  The word “plan” has taken on a whole new meaning on Sea to Sea.  Obviously my plan of riding the whole thing has changed, but we’ve learned to go with the flow of the day or week in many regards.  Routes change.  Eating times change.  Camping locations change.  Dinner plans change.  Riding groups change.  On a trip like this, you would expect some sort of routine to form.  Flexibility has become our routine.  Believe me, the contradiction of these terms has not gone unnoticed!  Some have adjusted to this environment better than others. 

My situation with crutches and a straight leg has been a big change not just for me, but for Rudy as well.  He has been wonderful since we rejoined Sea to Sea.  He now sets up the tent, the air mattresses, the sleeping bags and gathers the duffel bags for both of us.  He brings my meals to me while I sit in my camp chair with my leg on another chair—I can’t carry a plate of food while using crutches.  (I’ve kept my leg up as much as possible to keep the swelling down.)  Since the Sea to Sea camp is usually spread over a fairly large area, I often do not accompany Rudy through the food line as it is very tiring to hold my leg out in front of me to keep my partially extended foot from hitting the ground.  He generally knows what foods I like and which ones I avoid.  I have decided to be content with whatever he brings me, even if it is a baked potato with no butter, salt or other toppings.  After each meal he collects my dishes and washes the dishes for both of us.  The time of day when I feel most dependent is when he stands behind me with his arms wrapped around under my arm pits to lower me to the air mattress on the ground in our tent.  Once down, I am there until we do the same routine in reverse the next morning.  This is the one form of assistance that is, naturally, reserved only for Rudy. 

Some people have adjusted to helping with little things like holding doors open for me, while others allow me to keep my independence and prop the door open with the base of my crutch as I pass through (wrestle with) the door.  I can usually manage doors, etc., on my own, but it takes more care and effort.  In spite of my independent nature, I have come to appreciate it when someone offers this sort of help. 

Various people in camp have taken on their own unique roles in watching out and caring for me over the past two weeks.  Sharon Tans checks the color of my toes and insists I put my foot up if my toes do not pass the test.  (Many thanks to Sharon, also, for helping me get checked into my dorm room at Hope College this afternoon!)  Chris brings me a serving of our awesome kettle chips every afternoon as the cyclists arrive and grab their snacks to replenish their bodies with protein and sodium lost in their sweat of the day.  Of course I haven’t been sweating, but she keenly picked up on my cues that I love those chips!  Billy enjoys calling me by the wrong name and good-naturedly gets after Rudy if he thinks Rudy is shirking his “duty” of taking care of my every whim and desire. 

I sometimes have to fight my impulse to say, “I’m fine,” (read: “I can do it myself,”) or even, “Oh, it’s okay, Rudy will take care of it.”  This morning was one of those times.  After Rudy helped me up from my air mattress, I made my way from the tent, (picture me with crutches through all of this), around the gear and kitchen trucks in the parking lot, into the building, down the hall, up a slight incline to the bathroom, squeezed into the narrow stall door, stood at the sink to brush my teeth, and made my way back to the parking lot.  I was tired and really wanted to sit down.  Just then Larry Stehower got up from his chair and insisted I sit down.  He then asked what I wanted for breakfast.  I almost said, “Rudy will get it for me.”  But I stopped myself.  He is asking to serve me and I made a conscious decision to accept his help. 

I placed my order of oatmeal with brown sugar and before long he reappeared with my food in his dishes.  (That means he would have to wash his dishes twice this morning.)   I began eating and the first hints of rain began to fall.  As if on signal, Hank appeared at my side with an umbrella.  He confessed that he wouldn’t be doing this thing for me with the umbrella if someone (his wife?) hadn’t told him to do it.  J  As the rain increased, I quickly finished eating, left Larry’s bowl, spoon and cup on his chairs, and gathered my crutches to make my way to our van where I would have a dry place to sit.  Hank patiently walked a half stride behind me, guarding me from the rain.  If it hadn’t been for the crutches, I would have felt like quite the princess.  One of the riders scurried for his camera, announcing that Hank’s rare chivalry should not go unrecorded.

I hope this gives you a hint of the community which continues to take shape on this trip.  Yes, there are aspects which rear their heads when living in relatively confined areas with 125 people, but those, too, are expected.  We grow if we take the time and pay attention to how we’re responding to various people and situations.   We minimize our personal develpment if we fail to be open to new methods of relating in difficult circumstances, no matter the size of the challenge.

I finished writing this post after arriving at Hope College in Holland, MI.  Rudy hasn’t arrived yet on his bike, but I saw him at one of the support stops at mile 20 or so.  While there we were treated to cookies and freshly picked blue berries.  My trip to the church’s restroom turned out to be potentially treacherous as the rider’s jerseys and shoes shed their water on the tile floor.  If I spread the crutches too wide they would slip away from me and if I kept them straight down beside me they would form a suction grip on the floor.    We laughed at the popping noise coming from the base of my crutches as the seal broke with each stride.  Laughter is good medicine. The rain stopped and the sun started breaking through the clouds as we left the church.  It remains overcast, with a comfortable breeze coming in my first floor dorm window.  It’s an old building with beautiful woodwork, new windows and typical dorm furniture.  Rudy will get the top bunk.  J

Helping at SAG Stops

I’ve had the opportunity to help out at one of the SAG (Support and Gear) stops on Tuesday and Thursday this week.  It’s been a great change of pace/scenery for me.  Thanks, Carrie Kooy for letting me “help” you!  It was so refreshing to be out on the bike route and see the people as they passed our stop to refill water bottles and grab some fruit and/or chips.

On Tuesday we set up our SAG stop across the street from the Shell station in Amboy, IN.  It all started there with a conversation in the convenience store because of my broken leg.  They were very interested in the ride and before we knew it, the clerk behind the counter was placing a call to the local newspaper.  We set up our SAG and before long the newspaper’s bookkeeper came, camera in tow—all the reporters were busy because it was 10:00 am and the weekly deadline was at noon.  They told us they were making room for Sea to Sea as a late-breaking news story. 

We had a couple retired farmers stop to chat as well.  One of them informed us that he is “out-standing in his field!”  They asked about donating to our cause online.  One of them admitted that he was becoming more spiritual over the last few years as he gets older.  Another elderly gentlemen handed a ten dollar bill to Billy, our motorbike-route-patrol, wanting to buy sweet corn from us.  Apparently there was a sweet corn stand with a blue canopy just like ours set up on the same spot last week.  Billy tried to return the money to him, but he wanted us to keep it.  I hope he found something else for dinner that day!  Two others wanted sweet corn as well. 

What I haven’t told you is that Tuesday was the first day the riders had to ride in the rain most of the day.  It was a long, hard, 85-mile day.  The Shell station I mentioned above, stepped up in a big way and served complimentary coffee, hot chocolate and soda to all the riders who came into their store.  It was an unbelieveable bright spot on a cold, wet day. 

Today Carrie and I did a SAG stop at Indiana Dunes National Seashore.  It was a gorgeous spot on the shore of Lake Michigan.  It has felt good to help out at the SAG stops, but I was tired on Wednesday and chose not to help that day.  I guess you could say I’m taking advantage of the luxury of choosing whether to help with a SAG stop, or simply ride in the back seat of our van to the next location.  At times I feel guilty about this.  I’m reminded that people who live with the challenges of poverty do not usually have the luxury to choose their position in life.  Rudy and I chose to stay in a motel last night in Lansing, IL because I haven’t been able to wash my hair or do my sponge bath.  Okay, too much information.  J   

My leg has produced no shortage of conversation starters!  When we were home that first week, our son observed all the people who stopped to talk to me during the few times that I was out of the house and he said, “Wow, Mom, you’re a celebrity.”  Someone else on the tour said the same thing at one point.  I’ve never been called that before!  I am sure I have talked to many more “locals” because of my broken leg.  I am humbled at the number of people contributing prayers on behalf of the tour.  I am looking forward to Saturday, not because we’re riding into Calvin College, but because it will be three weeks since my fall and I am allowed to take my splint off to see how it feels to put weight on my leg!

This week we’ve stayed it Unity Christian High School in Fulton, Illinois where they served a wonderful dinner which Rudy and I missed so I could visit a seminary classmate in Davenport, Iowa; the beautiful Shabonne State Park in north-central Illinois; Illiana Christian School in Lansing, IL where we connected with one of our former school administrators, Peter Boonstra, and were treated to a wonderful dinner and breakfast by our hosts; and Lighthouse Ministries in Benton Harbor, Michigan, where we got to hear about their ministry in this poverty stricken town.  Approximately 80% of the people in Benton Harbor receive some form of assistance.

Sorry I haven’t posted any pictures.  I haven’t taken pictures lately because it’s a cumbersome process with crutches.  Feel free to check out the blogs of other riders—some have recommended Len Kooy’s and Sandy Westra’s blogs for photo viewing. 

 

We’ve had high-mileage days for the last five riding days totaling over 450 miles. Tomorrow is only 60 miles and Saturday is shorter yet at 39 miles. These will be a welcomed relief for everyone.  Many sites have been, or will be, stepping in to cook dinner and/or breakfast for us.  This gives the cooks a much-welcomed break as well.

Thanks for reading and always for your thoughts and prayers.

The New Normal

Since rejoining Sea to Sea on Tuesday evening, we have traveled through the southern part of Iowa.  The weather has been unseasonably cool with low humidity.  All in all, it’s been a beautiful week, but also hard for biking because of the hills and some wind.  I was glad to spend two nights at a friend’s house in Pella.

Yesterday was a typical day for me on the road with Sea to Sea.  Get up early so Rudy can pack everything up and get on the road.  Sit around camp until the kitchen volunteers are ready to leave camp.  Navigate the route from the back seat.  (I can’t sit in the front seat since I cannot bend my knee.)  Arrive at camp.  Find a place to park the van and then a place to “park” my lawn chairs—one for me another one for my leg.  Usually I spend my time watching the activities of setting up camp each day, reading, or just enjoying the sights and sounds of our new location.  The view here in Coralville includes a small pond with a steel fountain, and ducks.  Sorry, no picture to post.  I conserve the use of my crutches and it’s simply too much work to get the camera (and I get tired of asking Rudy to get things for me, though he has been wonderfully eager to retrieve whatever I ask). 

I had a great time hanging out in Pella with Shelly DR for a day.  I also got to see other friends, Bruce and Gina J as well as my cousin, Sharon D and Aunt Lois!  There was a short, outdoor worship service Friday evening at Central College.  Rudy wanted to skip it but I convinced him to go.  While there, I enjoyed connecting with my former coaching colleague, Jim N, and even one of my former basketball players, Lindsey.  What fun!  Bruce and Rochelle DB were also there, as well as a few former teaching colleagues from our years at Pella Christian High School in the mid-90s.  It’s always great to see familiar faces on the route. 

I can’t believe we have only four weeks left of this crazy adventure!  I spoke with a couple this morning in a cute little convertible car in the parking lot of our camping area.  They seemed truly interested in what was going on, even though the gentleman glanced at his watch a few times between his questions.  Eventually I asked if they would like to make a contribution and when they didn’t jump at the chance, I quickly followed up with a suggestion to visit our website at seatosea.org.  I think the largest random donation anyone has received so far is $100.  I’ve become more bold about asking for donations on this trip, but I still entertain a little mind-game every time I find myself in a conversation.  Rudy stopped to take a few pictures at an old church yesterday on the route, and discovered a wedding party getting ready to take pictures.  Without asking, the groomsmen contributed a can of beer before he left!  J

I’ve started a blog post several times this week, but then I stop writing and before you know it, another day has gone by and what I wrote seems like old news; or we’re out of Internet range and I can’t get it posted on a timely basis.  I hope to get this posted today yet!

My disappointment of not riding peeked as I rode the familiar roads of south-central Iowa in a vehicle yesterday instead of on my bike.  I am content, though, to be a part of the adventure, even if it is in a limited capacity.   The people we meet at the stops are so kind.  Yesterday the Sully CRC church served a fantastic breakfast about 20 miles into the route.  “So you’re the one with the broken leg,” someone greeted me.  They assured me of their prayers and wanted to know if I was related to the Folkerts who live in … somewhere.  I confidently assured them I am not, since my husband’s father was the only one from his entire family to immigrate after World War II.  I think people generally want to feel connected to Sea to Sea, even if it means claiming a long-lost relative’s friend as their acquaintance!  I take this to mean that they care not only about connecting with a person, but also feeling a part of the cause we are riding for.  Sometimes I feel like we are mostly planting seeds which will grow over time and in ways we can’t even imagine today. 

Reflections on Being Injured and on Poverty

Even though I’m not riding, I can still blog.  (P.S.  I added a "subscribe via email" link on the right if you're interested.)

Until Friday evening, I hadn’t left the house since my doctor’s appointment on Tuesday.  A friend reminded me that the best thing for healing is rest.  I keep up with what’s happening on Sea to Sea by reading the blogs of other riders.  Each day they make their way closer to Iowa but honestly, Sea to Sea seems like a world away.  The tears surface again as I think of what I am missing.  I wish I could have ridden across Kansas, hop-scotching from grain elevator to grain elevator.  I wish I could have ridden that second century ride.  I would have taken the bad with the good, just like everyone else did.  I wish I could have seen the beauty of the changing landscape.  I wish I was there to hear the stories and thoughts that my small-group members are telling each other every night.  (Thanks for taking over for me, Adam!)

Rudy moved the box spring and mattresses (somehow we have two mattresses on the spare bed—picture a short stack for The Princess and the Pea) from our spare, single bed upstairs into a small office room on the main floor.  Basically, “the office” is where my books accumulate; but it’s my bedroom for now, and it keeps me from having to climb a flight of stairs with crutches and a peg leg. 

Rudy and I have been trying to do some prep-work during these days at home—Rudy, for his substitute teacher who will start the first 3 ½ days of the school year in his place; and me, for classes which begin just three days after finishing the ride on Staten Island.  I’m wondering if I will be riding then, or serving the riders in some other way. 

Even though we’re at home for a few days because of my broken leg, I’ve been thinking a lot about my current status as a non-rider.  It was so hard to leave the group, but at the time it seemed like the wisest thing to do.  A sense of uselessness teases my disposition.  Yet I distinctly remember concluding before we left, that even if I’m not riding, I have some thing(s) to offer the Sea to Sea community.  1) Using my business gifts, I could gather, record and organize the receipts for daily expenditures on the tour; though someone else may have already taken on this role since its need was just arising as I was leaving the tour a week ago.  2) Using my pastoral gifts, I could offer spiritual direction to anyone who needs a listening ear that is bent on what/where/how God might be present and working in their life.  I sense that some people on the ride are at a sort of crossroads in life, whether large or small; or they are processing life’s events.  They didn’t necessarily go on Sea to Sea to find answers, but being on the tour gives a person time to step away and to consider things apart from their normal day-to-day activities.  The tour is nearly half over, and I wonder if those processing moments are happening.  I’d like to make space for, and encourage those conversations if they are needed.  3) Using my maximizer gifts, I could compile people’s thoughts on what has gone well on this tour, and collect ideas for the next tour.  (Yes, I confess, I find myself thinking of the next tour as I convalesce and acknowledge my unfulfilled dream of Sea to Sea 2013.)

Maybe I’m just fighting the thought of being useless; or being viewed as useless.  I don’t want to be useless.  No one does.  But sometimes things happen which redefine our usefulness—things which keep us from contributing in the way we had originally intended.  Sometimes limitations bring out contributions which would otherwise have remained hidden had things remained as they were. 

Poverty is limitation.  Limited money.  Limited abilities.  Limited spiritual awareness.  Limited resources.  Limited . . . you name it.  For some people, poverty is a catalyst for resourcefulness.  For others, it becomes an auger burrowing deeper and deeper into darkness.

Bear with me, I don’t know where this post is headed.

I’m reminded of a brief conversation Rudy and I had with a gentleman in the parking lot of a little 6-room motel on our ride from Poncha Springs to Canon City last Friday (I think).  We had stopped to use the restroom which had been left ajar, eliminating the need for us to ask permission when the sign said, “for paying guests only.”  We told the man in the parking lot about the ride—he was interested because he used to be a long-distance biker (maybe even a triathlete).  As soon as he heard about the cause of fighting poverty, he was quick to make a contribution.  “Poverty is what you make it.  There.  That’s my contribution.”  He basically said that if you can’t make a go of it in North America, it’s your own fault.  Woa.  We weren’t expecting that comment!  We talked about Partners Worldwide and he backed off a bit.  We decided not to report this man’s “contribution” at our nightly Peleton meeting! 

At a glance, people living in poverty have limited contributions to make.  I guess, in a way, you could say that I feel like I’m living in a miniscule state of physical poverty; out of the game.  I can choose to let this setback dig a hole for me, or I can redirect my efforts and make some other contribution.  But part of me wonders if even our definition of contribution is misguided or limited.

I think of the graceful way that Pope John Paul II allowed the world to watch his failing health, as if to teach us that suffering is part of life and we shouldn’t be ashamed of it.  I think of John and Shelly Nelson who adopted Josi, and the joy and fullness (in spite of the challenges) that this severely handicapped child from Haiti has brought to them and those who know them.  I think of Henri Nouwen who chose to live among the mentally disabled and made it his practice always to travel with one of the residents, even though his travels would have been much more “efficient” on his own. 

We easily turn our backs on those who can’t perform a “normal” contribution to society by some Western standard—those with mental illness, social awkwardness, physical disabilities, etc.—any type of poverty.  None of us wants to be the injured one.  None of us wants to be the one caught in any form of poverty when everyone around us carries on with a “normal” life.  We all want to be the few, the proud . . . okay, maybe not the Marines . . . but you get my point. 

Is it possible that we are uncomfortable with poverty among us, and that our discomfort fuels our desire to “help” so that we don’t have to deal with our anxiety about it?  Is it possible that we don’t know how to handle it when things/people do not fit into the ribbon-tied boxes we create for them?  In some puzzling way, could the poor and injured among us enhance our community, rather than detract from it?  In some up-side-down way, does my broken leg contribute to the community, rather than detract from it?  It has opened opportunities for others to serve (me).  It has opened opportunities for me to accept help from others (or at least think about accepting the help that has been offered).  And yes, I realize that my little broken leg is nothing compared to those living in real poverty.  I realize my comments could be taken in so many unintended ways.  I’m not suggesting that we turn our backs on poverty; or that we don’t work towards alleviating malnutrition, bad drinking water, malaria, human trafficking, etc. 

Words of Jesus keeps ringing in my ears as I write this, “The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me.”  These words appear in Matthew 26:11, in the context of the woman anointing Jesus with the alabaster jar of expensive perfume.  Earlier in verse 8, Matthew writes, “When the disciples saw this they were indignant.  ‘Why this waste?’ they asked.  ‘This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.’”  Later, one of the disciples, Judas, sells Jesus for money.  Are we like the disciples, using one hand to raise money to help the poor while using the other hand to pad our pockets and our North American life-style?

Mark 14’s account of the woman’s anointing includes the phrase, “and you can help them any time you want.”  The footnote references Deuteronomy 15:11, “There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land.”  Be open-handed.  But are we open-handed enough?  The poor you will always have with you.  But do we really have them with us?  Or do we shuttle them off to segmented lands and hospital wards, develop policies and systems that keep them away in other countries, or send the homeless traveler on their way after one complimentary night in the local motel? 

Whew. 
This is more than a blog entry. 
Too many questions. 
Too many thoughts. 
Too much time to think. 

Or not. 

Still processing.
Thanks for bearing with me.
Any thoughts?

NO surgery, NO cast, NO weight-bearing

I named this blog “bent on the road” 1) to write about people, places and other stuff associated with riding our recumbent bikes on the road; 2) to remember to be bent (read: attentive) on the journey, not just the destination; and 3) to record the bent-up parts of the journey when things don’t always go the way we plan.  The current events definitely fall in the third category as my eyes still tug at burried tears from time to time.

We drove home from Colorado Springs yesterday (Monday).  I’ve driven this route many times, but yesterday’s ride seemed the slowest of all.  I sat in the second row of captain’s chairs in our minivan with my splinted right leg sometimes resting on the armrest of the front passenger seat, while at other times I sat sideways with the leg on the chair beside me.  Getting out of the van to use public restrooms was a bit of a challenge as I’m still honing my crutch-walking skills.  At one restroom, a young lady entered the facility just before me and chose the handicapped stall when the other stall was available.  I waited because I knew I needed to use those support handles on the wall if I didn’t want to risk falling.  When she opened the door and saw me and my crutches she said, “Oh, my gosh.  I’m so sorry.”  I said, “It’s okay,” knowing full well that I’ve probably done the same thing in the past—unnecessarily claiming the big stall.  At another restroom, a woman was particularly helpful in opening and holding the door of the stall and the outer door for me.  This broken leg gives me a new perspective on daily activities, attitudes and people.

While en route yesterday I called the Orange City Health System to arrange an appointment for today.  It was good to be greeted by familiar faces and facilities.  The most painful part of the visit was when they removed the sticking (non-stick) Telfa pads from theroad-rash under the ace bandage of the splint.  They re-did the x-rays of my ankle and leg and compared them with Saturday’s x-rays.  The ankle still showed no breaks (yeah!) and the break in my fibula seemed to be lined up better than on Saturday (yeah! yeah!).  My doctor was able to consult with the orthopedic surgeon who was in town for a satellite clinic today.  In a nutshell, they said, no surgery, no cast, no weight-bearing.  They’re keeping me in the splint and after three weeks if there is no pain  I can start using it and maybe begin riding again!  I am allowed to unwrap the splint to check the road-rash and to flex my ankle a bit each day.  I have a follow-up appointment next Thursday.  Thank you to Dr. Kamstra, Joyce, and Kari Broadway for your attentiveness and care this morning!

Many times during the day yesterday and today, I find myself thinking of what must be going on at the Sea to Sea camp, where they are biking, etc.  I pray that all is going well and that there are no more ER visits!  Being here in Orange City and away from Sea to Sea is a bit surreal. 

I actually had to decide what to eat for lunch today.  I’ve grown used to packing the same food in my bike bag each day and pulling out a few bites every hour or so.  Even though I had the luxury of going to my closet this morning, I easily chose to wear one of the three camp shirts I had with me on Sea to Sea.  This minimalistic lifestyle of the tour has grown on me quite easily.   I confess, however, that I enjoy not having to walk 200 yards for the bathroom.

I hope to use the next few days prepping for my classes this fall.  I had planned on doing this on the road (since I didn’t get it done before leaving on June 21), but I may as well do it now!  Rudy also has a few days to get things ready for his substitute teacher before he returns to Sea to Sea this weekend.  I hope to join up a week later after my follow-up doctor’s appointment, but we’ll take things a day at a time and remain flexible. 

Thanks for all your prayers and well-wishes!  God is with us, no matter where we are, what Kingdom-work we are doing, or how bright or dark the day.  “Not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven.”  ~Heidelberg Catechism Q & A 1.

Blessings, my friends,

Shirley