I often do some of my best head clearing thinking here . . .
on the seat of my FJR. It's not often that in Upstate New York you can get out an ride in mid-march. This year has been one of those rare treats and yesterday was my 3rd trek out for the season. One of my favorite local destinations is Letchworth State Park during early spring and late fall when the traffic is non-existent and I can push the 35mph envelope a little . . . well a lot actually, and hone my skills on some of the parks 'twisties' and 'sweepers'. When I'm not pushing the bike and myself to the next level there is a lot of welcomed 'alone time' inside my helmet. No phones to answer, no e-mail, no calendar, no interruptions at the door . . . it all fades away somewhere into the horizon. It's in these relaxed miles that I can ignore the endless line of demands and entertain my thoughts.
Yesterday I began making a mental list of "First" and "Big" days all brought about as I passed by the spot where I first rolled my FJR out onto a highway just minutes after picking her up at the dealership 3 years ago. The "Red Rocket" is not my first bike but because of the connection you build between your mind, body, and bike you just never forget your first ride on a new scooter. I clearly remember how top heavy she felt and the incredible amount of horsepower and torque that had to be tamed under her throttle. She's nimble and quick and as of yesterday we've covered 18,000 miles spanning 7 states together.
So my list of "First" and "Big" days started playing on the screen behind the mirrored sheild of my helmet and here are some of them:
I remember being 8 years old, sitting in church in Lubbock, Texas and pulling the stubby pencil out of the holder in front of me and writing "I want to be baptized by my Dad" on the invitation card and then making the long walk up front to the minister. I can still hear the minister's voice echoing the words on my card. I think about Matthew 18:3 and Matthew 19:14 where Jesus talks about children and the kingdom. I suppose it was a simpler, carefree, and less burdened age of life when my faith and belief were less tested and more absorbed into the mysteries and stories that the Bible holds. The days where my schedule was: school, play, bible class three times a week, repeat.
When I was in 5th grade I remember asking my Dad, who was then a minister, "If the earth is round how will everyone see Jesus at the same time when he comes?" I don't recall the exact verbiage of the answer but he didn't know and satisfactorily explained that not all the answers are in the Bible, just the ones God believes we need to know.
I thought about my first drum competition in, or near, Chicago, Illinois in 1977. I wasn't a good student in school or in music and always did just enough to get by. Maybe that made me smarter as I ended up graduating with a lot less effort? After weeks, and months of preparation by my drum teacher we showed up at the competition and it was there and then that he told me I couldn't use the sheet music I was dependent upon to play. I still think he knew all along and somehow this was his way of telling me I needed to work harder. When it was my turn I got behind the kit, played the first part of the piece from memory and then improvised the rest until I felt it complete. I won 3rd place. I still wonder if the judges had the music I was to play in front of them and they knew what I did, or if they were clueless as to what I had just pulled off?
My wedding of course. This year will mark 24 years. We met in 2nd grade, never dated until college, and were married between my junior and senior year. All I can add is that "Wow! God knew what he was doing." I don't believe I could have made it this far, or had everything held together so well without her. Lori has always been my "constant".
The birth of my daughter, Alexis. We had elected to not find out if our first was going to be a boy, or girl. I remember minutes after she was born Lori asking me if I was disappointed that our first child wasn't a boy. I could have cared less after witnessing the truly miraculous creation of a new life. That followed by the arrival of Austin 2 years later. Such joy, wonder, and responsibility. You have to be a complete idiot to believe in evolution if you truly comprehend the science and marvelous supernatural inception of life.
The day I quit smoking and my last hangover. They're not the same day but I forever thank God for being there on both of them and for the power he vested in me to overcome.
The last day I spent with my Dad, Columbus Day 2006, and the day we buried him just a few short weeks after. My dad was a veteran of WWII, Korea, and Vietnam. He wanted to be cremated and as we sat in the military chapel of the Maine Veteran's Cemetery I stared at the little metal container that held him and wondered how such a big full life, that had seen and done so much, fit into such a tiny box. I still hold onto the boyish vision that my Dad was bigger than life and I still punish myself for not being there on his last day, his final breath. While time has numbed the sting it hasn't healed the wound yet.
The day we found Northridge Church and the Sunday I turned and headed home after 22 years of running in the other direction. It was April 6th, 2003. The Sunday after the "second coming" of the ice storm in Rochester. North has a tradition of a new "Song of the Month". I still don't remember the name of the song but I will never forget the line in the song that crushed my heart . . . that unexplainable moment when and where you realize everything in your life that is broken is about to be fixed, everything you've done and hidden is known and forgiven, that the emptiness you feel inside after years spent chasing after the illusions of earthly life is about to be filled with the power, eternal life, and spirit harnessed only by the Father himself. That verse you ask? "It was my name that Jesus cried when on that tree He bled and died."
Though I could never sing that verse without choking up and welling up in tears, the rest of the song recited the truths that redirected my steps. In no particular order I recall: "It was my sword that pierced His side", "If not for Christ I would surely fall.", "Salvation does to me belong.", "And now to Christ I owe it all."
Curious that I should remember the line "And now to Christ I owe it all". I've spent the last week contemplating the meaning of 'Everything" and "All" in the context of God's expectations of, and from, our lives. I'll tuck that away for safe keeping and a later post.
Wheeling back up 390 North I once again pass the on ramp that I first rocketed out the FJR on her maiden voyage home 3 years previous. The traffic and congestion build and my thoughts escape me as I work my way through traffic to get home and meet life's next deadline.
