Plowing Through the Cow Poop

We just returned from a great week long motorcycle trip through Washington, Idaho, Wyoming and Montana.  For the most part we traveled roads we’d gone over before but we did discover a couple of new routes.  That’s always fun when you can divert from the regular stretch and see something you haven’t seen before. 

We had one very unique experience.  Way out in the middle of Wyoming, where the land was flat and monotonous, the road straight as an arrow as far as you could see, and not even a jack rabbit in sight, we tipped a slight hill to find ourselves in the middle of a cattle drive.  About 500 Black Angus cows and calves were being herded down the highway.

A herd of cows, in case you didn’t know this, is a slow moving not very bright bunch of animals that moo a lot.  The other thing they do a lot of is – well, to put it gently – poop all over the road and each other.  The odor is not any more pleasing than the sight.

We had two choices.  Hang back moving at a snail’s pace or weave our way through the mass of black, very messy, very smelly cows.  We chose the latter.

You might think that cows would run away from a big, loud Harley Davidson but you’d be wrong.  Mostly they stopped in front of us and looked as if trying to decide if we were a foreign presence to be avoided or an odd looking relative worthy to be pooped on.  (It didn’t help that our bike is shiny black just like those cows.)

We weeded our way among them praying they’d part and make a path.  It was slow going and once or twice we had to come to a complete stop while we waited for one of them to decide whether to move out of the way or not.  An understatement would be to say it wasn’t the most pleasant adventure on our journey.

But – we made it through relatively unscathed, picked up speed, and laughed about it later.  It was one of those obstacles in life you’d choose to avoid if you could but in the end you do what you have to do to get past it. You just plow through.

A good example of just that came later on our trip when we stopped to visit friends in Idaho.  It was there we received the sad news that she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and would be starting treatment very soon.  Her comment was, “It isn’t something I’d choose to do but I don’t really have that choice.  It is what it is.”  She will be plowing into something she can’t avoid.  It won’t be pleasant but to get from here to there she’ll have to navigate her way through.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the Christian life meant smooth sailing?  Unfortunately it doesn’t.  We face the same plowing though the yucky stuff that non Christians face.  Only we know the ultimate ending and we know the One who can get us there, up, over, under and through whatever stands in the way.  If I have to do it, I’m so thankful I don’t have to do it alone.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:32-33

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Gucci Shoes, Liz Claiborne Dresses, and Army Green Rain Gear

It’s 4:30 a.m. and the sun should be peeking over the hill.  Unfortunately, thick rain clouds make it difficult to know for sure if that’s happening.  If you read my previous blog you know we are leaving bright (well, maybe not bright) and early this morning on an 8 day motorcycle trip.  And it’s seriously threatening to rain on our parade.

Yesterday was 82 degrees and gorgeous, teasing me into gleeful anticipation.  I picked out my outfit for this morning with thoughts of sunscreened arms under a clear blue sky. The shirt I chose was pink with a Harley logo on the front to match my pink leather chaps, a gift from my biker husband on our 40^thanniversary.  This morning I’m tucking the shirt in my bag and pulling out my turtleneck and black leathers, much more suited to inclement weather.  And – the rain gear.

I have nothing against a little sprinkle, although this looks to be a bit more than that.  What I do have a problem with is army green which is the color of my rain ensemble.  It’s not pretty.  It’s not complimentary to my light complexion and blonde hair.  And it certainly is not fashionable!  The best you could say about it is it’s serviceable.  How boring is that?

Don’t get me wrong.  I can appreciate the serviceability, just not the lack of fashion.  It’s boxy, plain and well – green.  However, from past experience I can tell you it works.  It keeps me dry, cuts the wind, even adds some chill resistance factor.  Should the skies open up as they threaten, I will be prepared.  When we arrive at our day’s destination, I will be relatively dry.

It’s much like the full armor of God.  I don’t want to need it.  I want to wake to sunshine every day.  I want to throw my head back, suck in the fresh air and sing at the top of my voice.  But many days are not conducive to blind enjoyment.  In fact on most days I will face some type of threatening storm.  Much as I’d like to skip through life in Liz Claiborne dresses and Gucci shoes, I will most often find myself in army green.  In some environments it will not be considered fashionable.  On some days people will point their fingers and mock me.  On other days it will feel cumbersome and hindering.

But I’ve had experience enough to know it will always be serviceable.  Beyond my rain gear which deflects water, these garments will deflect the arrows of the enemy.  They will protect my most vulnerable parts from accusation and anger, from jabs and jeering, from harm and hatred.  They will keep me safe in the bloodiest wars, give me courage in the scariest situations and cover me with peace in the midst of turmoil.

The full armor of God may not be what I see in the glossy ads of fashion magazines.  But it will inevitably be the garments my world envies when they see me survive and thrive in a land of death and destruction.

Today I will wear my rain gear with this in mind.  My God has a garment for every situation.  Rain clouds will not frighten me.  I will throw out my army green, oversized arms and praise His name – with His living water running in torrents down my face.  I will smile at Mother Nature because as hard as she tries, she is no match for Father God.

Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.  Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place,and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.  In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Eph 6:13-17

No posts next week, friends.  I will be on the road!

 

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You Can’t Take It With You

On Friday we leave for an 8 day motorcycle trip and as I prepare I am once again faced with the impossible task of condensing 8 days worth of clothes, makeup and hair tools into the teeny weeny luggage compartment of a Harley Ultra Classic touring bike.  Big bike – little storage by my standards.

I start by putting the bag that fits inside the luggage compartment of the bike on the couch and patting the sides to puff them out so it looks bigger.  I do this several days ahead of time.  I carefully fold into a neat pile four pair of jeans, two turtlenecks in case of cold, six tanks in case of warm, two long sleeve shirts for layering, a sweatshirt, underwear, socks, sandals, tennis shoes, curling iron, hairdryer, makeup, sun screen, assorted hair accessories, book, journal, e reader and nightgown.

I stand back to look and notice the tower of items I’ve placed next to the bag looks like the stepsister’s size 10 foot next to Cinderella’s size 5 slipper.  Not good.

I begin subtracting by pulling out an undergarment.  The stack does not shrink noticeably.  Darn!  I begin to negotiate with myself.  “I can wear a pair of jeans three days instead of two can’t I? “ Out comes one pair.  “It’s June – bound to be warm, right?” Out comes the turtlenecks.  “Who needs tennis shoes?  We’ll be riding not walking.”  Nix the tennis shoes.  “Book or e reader? ”  “Air dry the hair?”

I check the weather reports for areas we will be visiting.  Out come three tanks, back in go the turtlenecks.  I pull out, put in, fold tighter, sigh and start over.  I am an unlimited-luggage-for-the-cruise type girl in a black leather biker world.  I have enough clothes in my closets to make sure I don’t repeat an outfit in any 30 day period.  But I love a guy who sees changing from a black T-shirt with the HD logo to a white T-shirt with the same as a major wardrobe overhaul.  Needless to say he doesn’t understand the packing challenge.

The funny thing is, once we’re on the road I don’t find it quite so difficult to wear the same thing two days in a row or even (gasp) three if necessary.  I’m not so caught up in how I look as I am in the scenery around me.  And, I’m too busy enjoying uninterrupted time with my husband to think about impressing others.

The craziness of multiple projects, plans and people coming at me in a constant deluge disappears the minute I crawl on the bike behind him and we set off on yet another roaring adventure.  This is pure togetherness – so close we are constantly touching, our direction perfectly matched, sharing thoughts and impressions as we sail down the highway. I can almost feel his heartbeat when I wrap my arms around him and our bodies sway in perfect harmony to the movement of the bike. 

We need this trip.  Life has been like a speeding train lately.  It will ramp up again when we return.  But for the next 8 days it will be just us, our timing, our choices, our quiet talks, our laughter, our frayed bond healing.

“Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves.  I held him and would not let him go ….”  Song of Songs 3:4

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Introducing a Little Humor

So, a friend told me she thought it was time for a humorous post.  She should have known the danger of that suggestion because the funniest things that have ever happened to me also involve her.  I hope she’s up for this!

My husband and I make quite a few extended trips on our Harley Davidson.  We have a favorite couple we like to travel with, the friend mentioned above and her husband.  They had been married just five days and this was our very first trip with them.  My husband and I were celebrating our 35^th wedding anniversary and they were marking one week as we left home for ten days on the open road.

It is no secret that guys love their bikes.  They talk about them, show them off, polish them, compare them, and talk about them some more.  Everytime we stopped for a break, the guys would stand around admiring the bikes while she (let’s call her Bev) and I busied ourselves with more important things like finding an espresso stand or poking around gift shops or catching up on all that had gone on since the last stop two hundred miles ago.

This particular stop was for gas and a short break.  Bev and I went inside the mini-market to grab a cup of that questionable push-a-button- shazaam-it’s-espresso.  Of course we got the extra large size.  We wandered back out to where the guys were doing what guys do – admiring their bikes.  The sun was shining, the weather was perfect and the camaraderie was perfect. 

I leaned against a pole and took a big sip of my drink.  Bev decided she needed something out of the saddlebags so she set her drink on the front seat of the bike. The memory of what followed will forever be frozen in time.

Bev opened the saddlebag, her extra large, hot, sticky drink tipped over, the shiny chrome of the Harley disappeared under a sheet of mocha – and the only sound was the sharp gasp of breath from every man within viewing distance.

No one moved for several seconds.  All of the guys looked at the husband.  Bev and I looked at each other.  Somehow we knew this would be the ultimate test of the week old marriage.  She would either be flattened, forgiven, or forced to find her own ride home.

Have you ever known someone who reacts to a crisis by laughing?  Yeah? Well,  that’s my friend Bev.  So let me give you some advice right here and now.  Dousing a Harley Davidson showroom polished motorcycle with a sticky chocolate drink is not a laughing matter.  Take my word for it. 

You might also appreciate knowing that pulling a cheap, carboardy napkin out of your pocket and attacking the flawless chrome is not a good idea regardless of your intentions.  There are special chamois cloths for that.

And one more bit of knowledge gleaned from that experience.  Men love their wives.  Men love their motorcycles.  Do not let yourselves get in a situation where one is pitted against the other.  My friends are still married – but it was a close call.

Now – the challenge.  How do I turn this little story into something inspirational to fit my platform?  I guess I would have to refer to this little scripture hidden in the book of Leviticus. 

“‘Now if a person sins and does any of the things which the Lord has commanded not to be done, though he was unaware, still he is guilty and shall bear his punishment.”  Leviticus 5:17

Bev, the fact is you were a newlywed in a whole new experience, completely innocent of the rules.  But by the biker standard – you were guilty as sin! And had you not been a brand new bride, it may have been the unpardonable sin!

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