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

Not What I Expected

We have completed Week 3 of the Sea to Sea bike tour and we’re in Colorado Springs right now.  Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch to say that we completed Week 3.  Technically speaking, Rudy completed it, while I had a fall about 20 miles from the end of yesterday’s ride.  As a result, I have several spots of road rash and a broken fibula about two inches below my knee.  My entire leg is in a splint until the threat of swelling has passed and I can see a doctor and get it casted.   

Rudy and I will be driving home tomorrow.  The ER doctor gave no indication whether surgery will be needed.  I hope that I do not need surgery and that the cast does not have to go too high up my leg.  These are my specific prayer requests.  Rudy plans to resume Sea to Sea after I have seen the doctor and we have more information. 

It’s hard to think of leaving this quirky, mobile, beloved community that has formed among us.  I would like to return in a volunteer capacity, but that depends on many unknowns at this point.  I am so, so disappointed that I cannot continue riding.  Riding in the desert and the mountains has been more than I’d ever dreamed of doing.  But I did it, and I loved every bit of it—even the hardest climbs (10,200 feet elevation) and the hottest temps (100+ degrees).   

The Sea to Sea bike tour exists to fight the cycle of poverty.  With or without me, the cause still exists and the ride goes on.  If you haven’t yet made a donation, please consider going to www.seatosea.org to find out more information.  Following my injury, many people have asked, “How can I help?”  If you feel led, consider giving a donation under my name for those who live in poverty and do not have access to the medical care we have.  Just click the link for “Donate to Cyclists” and your gift will help fight the cycle of poverty in North America and around the world.

More to come on another day.

 

God be with you,

Shirley

 

It’s the end of Thursday and I want to let you know that we are fine after three big days of biking.  I’ll give you a quick recap and add more later if I can.  The days go by so quickly.

Tuesday

Today was an 88-mile ride in which we climbed 5,884 feet and descended 3,784 over many long hills.  It was a long, hard day; but rewarding to complete it.  The green hills were welcomed scenery after so many days in the dessert.  We didn’t get in to camp at Chama, New Mexico, until 4:00 p.m.  Which made everything rushed—recover, set up the tent and air mattresses, etc., shower, eat a delicious dinner, and go to bed early. 

Wednesday

We biked our first mountain pass today.  We started out from Chama at about 6800 ft. elevation and reached the pass four hours later at 10,200 ft.  It was hard, but doable.  We pedaled the whole way, stopping to catch our breath, but not to walk.  My right calf muscle was very tight and caused some pain during the ride.  The ride up was BEAUTIFUL.  Shortly after reaching the summit, the clouds moved in and it started to rain.  We road the entire descent (about 3,000 feet over 4-5 miles) in the rain.  At one point it was pouring and we were drenched to the skin and freezing cold.  We stopped at a little gift shop to warm up, and changed into dry shirts.  After some hot chocolate and a delicious peach turnover, we hit the road again.  Again it started to rain and even a few hail stones came down.  We took cover in a SAG van for a few minutes until the lightning stopped and then continued on our way.  We finally completed the 78-mile ride at 4:00 p.m.  And once again . . . no time for blogging.

Thursday

We climbed another pass today up to 9,000 feet after riding about 50 miles on flat land.  We’re camping on a county fairground.  My right calf muscle hurt today again, but I borrowed someone’s muscle roller tonight and it feels somewhat better.  We got in at 2:30 today, but after making a wasted trip down the road to a laundry mat that was closed and doing some laundry by hand, there was, once again, no time for leisurely blogging.  We’re on Sweep Team tonight and tomorrow morning.  We’re looking forward to tomorrow’s ride which is mostly downhill. 

 

Sorry for the minimal details!  Stay tuned for another day.

Week 3, Sunday and Monday, July 7-8. Shiprock, NM

Hey, everyone!  I’m writing this from an open green field at The Wines of San Juan in Turley, New Mexico.  We were not scheduled to be here, but they rerouted us for three days due to the recent fires in Colorado.  The roads we would have traveled are open to vehicle traffic but the air quality is too poor for us to be biking there.  Our ride today was short—55 miles—but we stopped quite a bit and got to camp around 12:30.  This place is in a lovely valley near the San Juan River and is owned and operated by a former dairyman from Wisconsin.  He gave free tours this afternoon where he explained the wine-making process (and offered free tasting, of course).  We are still using port-a-potties, but they rigged up some pretty inventive outdoor showers using shower heads on the ends of garden hoses inside a white canopy tent with separated “walls”.  The water warmed up nicely in the hose, so we didn’t have cold showers!

 

We were up at 4:15 and ready to leave camp at sunup this morning at about 6:00 a.m.  This was the scenery behind us as we left Shiprock.

 

We took a detour through Farmington in hopes of finding a bike shop open, but they didn’t open until 10:00.  We also stopped at a museum called Salmon Ruins, which had artifacts from Native American Ruins.  We also stopped at an Ace Hardware store to look for a screw for Rudy’s bike seat.  He noticed Saturday afternoon at one of our stops that his seat was wobbly.  His investigation showed that one of the two screws that holds his seat onto the frame had fallen out and the other one was lose.  Uh.  Oh-oh.  We tightened up the remaining screw and made it to the end of the century ride just fine.   We couldn’t fine a replacement in Shiprock over the weekend, so we were glad to find the exact screw—diameter, length, thread length and allen-wrench top—at the store this morning. 

All those stops made for slow progress, but we got here!

I’ll make a few comments about our stay at Bethel Christian Reformed Church yesterday.  Shiprock is on the Navajo Reservation, and most of the church members are Navajo.  The pastor has been there for 17 years and is Caucasian.  When he told us what to expect from our stay and the worship service, he said that the morning service started at 10-ish.  Sounds like another church I know of. J   He also told us to expect the service to last an hour and 45 minutes.  They love to sing!  Many of the church members formed a choir to sing for us.  In the evening service, Sea to Sea people read various scripture passages and we sang most of the songs in Navajo.  I was secretly hoping we would sing “Jesus Loves Me” in Navajo because I learned this song in 3^rd grade from Miss Van Engen, who had taught in Rehoboth prior to Ireton Christian School.  And what do you know, but we did get to sing that song and I knew all the words!  What an enjoyable flash from the past! 

Before the evening service started, I asked the lady sitting near me where the nearest store was to buy some chapstick and camera batteries.  She told me which direction to go from the church, and I asked, “Can I walk there?”  She replied, “No, IT’S TOO HOT!”  She offered to bring me to the store.  I was so grateful for her generosity.  I then had a chance to talk to her a little bit.  She is a grandma whose daughter and three children have moved in to live with her and her husband because the daughter couldn’t afford her apartment rent.  I asked if her grandchildren were learning the Navajo language and she said, sadly, that they were not.  It’s a hard language to learn.  She said that some of her own kids could speak it, but others could only understand it but not speak it themselves.  It’s the same thing that seems to happen with most immigrant families. 

We have a couple tough days coming up tomorrow and Wednesday with more miles, mountain passes, and warm (hot) temperatures.  We’ll try to get an early start again. 

It’s quite obvious that most of our ride this morning was off the Reservation.  There were more stores, more irrigation, and the general appearance of a higher standard of living.  It struck me that the past several days we could have called our tour:  Sea to Sea—Cycling to See Poverty. 

Week 2, Saturday, July 6. Shiprock, New Mexico

We slept last night in the weight room at Rehoboth Christian School.   Only a few others found this spot to “set up camp” but there were people wondering through and a late-night phone call, etc., that contributed to a marginal night of sleep.  Tonight we’ve chosen to set up our tent on the host church’s small back lawn with about 20 other tents back to back and side to side.

 

The original plan was to stay at the local high school, but something fell through and we’re thankful that Bethel CRC is willing to let us stay here on a last-minute notice.  We’ve been asked to use the port-a-potties in the parking lot so as not to overload their septic system.  Sure, it’s inconvenient and not ideal, but we are their guests and we will do everything we can to serve them.  Earlier today, the young Native clerk at the Shell station said, "Be my guest," when I asked if I could get a cup of ice water at their beverage station.  He quickly corrected himself and said, "Your are my guest.  Help yourself." 

This morning started out with an unexpected announcement by Al De Kock, the tour director.  Half the riders had already left on the day’s route and many others were doing their final preparations.  Al’s voice came over the bullhorn, “May I have your attention please.”  Oh, oh.  This can’t be good.  This has never happened before.  As it turns out, yesterday afternoon’s rain had washed out a temporary culvert about half-way into our route, leaving a 15’ gap in the road.  We were told that we would not be able to portage our bikes, that the ride was canceled for the day, and we’d be staying in Rehoboth an extra day.

A hush fell over the crowd of people, spoons of oatmeal half raised, tire pressures half checked, and riders poised on their bikes ready to leave.  We were in shock and disbelief.  “But I already put butt cream on!” someone commented.  (Which, by the way, has not been needed by us recumbent riders.  If you don’t know what, or why you would need butt cream for biking long distances, use your imagination.)  Another person was immediately spouting off the names of area parks and attractions we could visit.  Within two minutes, in an equally unexpected announcement, Al’s voice reappeared on the bullhorn and informed us that he had just received word from the New Mexico state police that a by-pass would be available and we could do the ride as expected.  A loud cheer went up from the crowd.  By the time we got to the washout, the hole had been temporarily filled by earthmoving equipment.  It sounded like this make-shift fix was done specifically to allow us to ride, since the permanent culvert was scheduled for installation on Monday anyway.  Therefore, the route was closed to through traffic, and we enjoyed having very little traffic on the road all day. 

 

Our route today took us through the Navajo Reservation and the Navajo CRC churches hosted SAG stops along the way. 

I enjoyed seeing this Blue Bunny truck from one of our SAG stops.

Rudy and I met a Native American at the Shell station across from one of our stops.  He was in a wheel chair and after some small talk about a ride he had done on a hand-driven bike from San Francisco to St. Louis ten years ago, he asked about the purpose of our ride.  When we told him we were riding to raise money and awareness to fight poverty, his head dropped, and he said, “You can’t do it.  There’s always going to be poverty.”  My initial reaction was to agree with him, but to suggest that we can do whatever we can to alleviate it.  “The rich just get richer and the poor get poorer.”  Given my previous blog posts about our equipment, etc., I could totally understand where he was coming from. 

After a reflective pause, with a shaky voice he said, “Look what your people have done to us.”  He reached up to wipe a tear from the side of his eyes.  “What is Obama going to do for us?  What are you white people going to do for us?”  At that moment, I knew that my feeble explanations about anything would mean nothing.  So I listened.  When the time seemed right, I said, “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for what has happened to your people.”  A tear tugged at my eyes as well.  Rudy reached his arm out to touch the man’s  shoulder or give him a bit of a hug and the man immediately wheeled his chair backwards out of reach.   Just as quickly he wheeled a bit closer and at that point, I excused myself to use the restroom.  When I returned, the conversation was more light-hearted.  He saw my camera laying on my seat and asked if we would like to take his picture.  I knelt down beside him and he put his arm around me for the picture. 

I am reminded that Jesus moved among the broken and the hurting people.  We “lost” over 20 minutes because of this conversation but it made no difference to me.  I don’t know the impact of that conversation, and I don’t want anyone to surmise grand things about it.  We gave the man a moment to express pent-up pain, acknowledged its bitter reality, and offered what little reconciliation we could.  I believe it is the Benedictines whose goal is to see Jesus in every person they meet.  I don't know if I saw Jesus in this man, but I know Christ was there in that moment and conversation.

 

About the ride itself—WE DID IT!  We completed a century ride today in fine form, as did everyone else!  No-one had to be SAGged in today even though we had a bit of a headwind all day, increasing as the day went on.  I felt particularly strong riding today.  At times I prayed the Jesus prayer—Jesus, have mercy—with the rhythm of my biking.  The scenery was beautiful, but very dry.  Dust devils spotted the landscape later in the ride and one even crossed the road shortly before we reached its crossing point.  The dust in my eyes hurt.  When we stopped at McDonald’s for an ice cream cone and a smoothie on our way into town, we were pleased to join several other riders who had also stopped there.  Camaraderie  is forming.
 

I want to get this posted now, so maybe I’ll add some pictures tomorrow. Thanks for your prayers and notes.  Have a blessed Sabbath.  We will be resting tomorrow and hitting the road again on Monday.

 

Week 2, Day 13, Friday, July 5. Rehoboth, New Mexico (near Gallup)

Let’s make this quick.  I want to get to bed early so we can hit the road early because we have a loooooongggggggg ride of 98 miles.  I hope to add two extra miles to make it a century ride.

We’re staying at Rehoboth Christian School near Gallup, New Mexico.  The school began in 1903 as a mission school and it too, like Zuni Christian School where we stayed yesterday, has expanded with building projects.  Rudy and I were here 18 years ago and there are many new buildings that were not here then.  The Recreation Building where we are staying is really fabulous.

 

Let’s see . . . about the ride today.  There were a couple steep climbs, but the sweet spot of the ride was a six-mile descent into Gallup.  Let’s just say that I set a new top speed personal record which I won’t post here because it might cause some of you undo worry. 

 

I lost my biking gloves and sunglasses today.  It was overcast and I took off my sunglasses to take a picture.  I took off my gloves to use the port-a-potty at a SAG stop and forgot to pick them up off the wheel of the trailer.  Thanks to Leanne Gillson (my sister’s sister-in-law) for the ride into town to replace these items (and the tour of Rehoboth Christian school this afternoon)! 

 

 

We had a beautiful monsoon rain this afternoon.  It cleared up and now the clouds look like more rain.  Leanne told us they are in a drought, so every drop of rain is cause for celebration.  The air smelled so clean after the shower.

 

 

 



Week 2, Day 12, Thursday. Zuni, New Mexico

Woah.  Sorry for the small print on the last post!!  I’ll blame it on the Mac computer I was using in the school’s library.  J

 

We had a few hills on our route today, but overall it was a great ride with only 52 miles.

 

This was the  beautiful view coming into Zuni, New Mexico.

 

We’re staying at Zuni Christian Mission School in, you guessed it, Zuni, New Mexico! They have been wonderful hosts and have opened the entire school for us to use.  This is the entrance to the "old gym".  They are seeking a building permit to build a new gym as Phase 2 of an expansion plan.  The new classroom building we stayed in was very nice.  The Christian school there is truly a mission school as 75% of the students come from non-Christian homes.

 

This afternoon we went on a walking tour of the Old Town area.  They asked us not to take pictures because of the sacred nature of the square. 

We stopped at a church built by Catholic missionaries from Mexico in the 1600s.  The cemetery filled the enclosed front yard.  Our tour guide explained that because of its age, the graves lie on top of one another to the point that the front yard of the church leaves the original front door half underground.  There are steps going down to the front door, but no parishioners darken that door since they built a new side entrance.   The catholic mission was eventually abandoned because of its distance from the rest of the Pueblos in the Southwest.  Currently, there are paintings of Zuni gods covering the interior walls.  They, too, according to the tour guide, are very well done but are falling into disrepair because there is no money for upkeep.

We viewed a 40’x40’ square on a rooftop where they held a ceremonial rain dance on Monday to celebrate their summer solstice.  Had we been in Zuni then, we could have viewed the dance from the surrounding rooftops.

We are riding Sea to Sea to raise money and awareness to fight the cycle of poverty.  Our afternoon tour guide compared the poverty here in Zuni to that of a third world country.  There used to be farming but the climate has changed and now only a few hobby gardens exist in the town.  It is so dry.  Powdery dirt lingers everywhere.  One of the riders received a donation of $2 from an unemployed, local town person.  Let that sink in.  . . .  a gift to fight poverty from an unemployed person.  I’m guilty of stinginess.

The Christian Reformed Church is the only protestant church in this town of about 6,500 miles.  The other religions are Mormonism and the Zuni religion.  The tour guide talked a little bit about the religion of the Zunis.  Their sacred spaces are sacred.  Before entering Old Town, the tour guide stopped to ask for permission to show us around, even though she had finished with another group just a few minutes earlier.  They said not to take pictures.  There were places we could not enter.  Strangely, something about the way they treated their sacred spaces caught my attention.  I couldn’t help but contrast it with the way much of Western Christendom has emphasized the Jesus-is-my-friend familiarity of God.  I wonder if . . . no . . . I think we are missing something if we let go of the fall-on-our-faces awe and mystery of God. 

 

Week 2, Days 8-10, July 1-3

Sorry I haven't posted for a few days. Finding time and Internet access is sometimes a challenge. Here is a little bit on the first three days of riding this week. I'm posting this from Zuni Christian School where we arrived about 90 minutes ago. I hope to write more later.

Day 8, Monday. Payson, AZ

This was our last day in Payson before resuming our scheduled route. Most of us hadn’t ridden since Thursday. They planned a 25-mile day-ride out to a picnic spot along a river. The ride took us on a two-lane mountain road with a 30 mph speed limit. They chose this spot and route because it any cars on the road would be going slow. The ride out there was challenging with steep grades. We went down, only to go back up again. I have to confess, I broke the speed limit a time or two. About half-way there, I wondered how in the world I was going to get myself back to Payson, but I kept going anyway. The river and picnic spot was lovely. It felt so good to dangle my feet in the cool mountain river. Rudy went swimming and got a little sunburned. After a picnic lunch we saddled up for the return trip. I wasn’t looking forward to the ride back to town, but I took one hill at a time and before I knew it we were back on the main drag through town. I almost wanted to ride back and do it again. Almost.

Day 9, Tuesday. Heber, AZ

Today’s ride was a short 52 miles. But don’t be misled by the distance! It was basically 30 miles uphill and then mostly level or a little downhill. The climb took us from the valley up to a plateau. The views were beautiful, but let me tell you, those climbs were difficult. Thankfully, the road had a good shoulder to ride on. My speedometer hovered between 4.4 and 4.8 mph most of the time. At one point I was down to 3.8 mph. This is the slowest I've ridden my bike without tipping over. 

This bear was feasting on a dead elk not far from the road.

Each person on the tour is assigned to a Sweep Team. When the riders finish riding for the day, the Sweep Team people unload all the gear bags from the aisle of the gear trailer and lay them out on the ground for people to claim. A couple hours later they help set up, serve and clean up dinner. The next morning they set out the breakfast items and the food for people to pack their lunches for the day. They also load everyone’s gear bag into the semi, pack up breakfast, and are the last people to hit the road. It was our turn to sweep today.

As everyone lined up for dinner, the ominous clouds stood guard behind the nearby mountains. The menu was leftovers and several of us on the Sweep Team hurriedly dished food on to plates, urging the people to move quickly through the serving line. Let’s just say that half the people got their food in fine form, while the other half got mac and cheese plus rain, fried chicken plus rain, peas and carrots plus rain, etc. The large drops were refreshing at first, but soon they had us reaching for our sweatshirts. Btw, the food has been excellent on the tour and I seriously doubt if I’ve lost any weight yet. 

Day 10, Wednesday. St. John, AZ

Wow, it’s hard to believe we’re ten days into the tour already.  Since we were on the Sweep Team this morning, we did not leave camp until 6:45 a.m. That’s over an hour later than “usual”. Our route today took us through 77 miles of beautiful, high dessert scenery. It was a great ride. The flowers were beautiful. The vistas were never-ending. The temperature was over 100 degrees by the time we finished the ride. Given our late start and the climbing today, we were the last riders into camp. Our recumbent bikes are definitely slower than the upright bikes when going up the hills. However, I wouldn’t want to trade them for some of the aches, pains, and chafing that some riders are already experiencing. 

The locals call it monsoon season, and a strong wind came through camp in the late afternoon, but with no rain. Some people’s tent poles broke and they are improvising as best they can. We, however, had no problem with our tent in the wind because we hadn’t set up the tent yet! This is one bright spot of getting into camp last. 

We’re camping in the city park tonight and to kick off their 4^th of July celebration, they are showing “American Tale” on the side of a building just a hundred yards from our tent. It’s quite loud. Kids are playing on the playground equipment and having a great time. We’re always very thankful for the communities which host us, because not every town or organization is open to, or able to have a travelling band of bicycle riders camping in their town. 

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