Hidden in Our Midst

“The reign of God is like a buried treasure which a man found in a field. … Or again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant’s search for fine pearls …” Matthew 13:44-45. 

Rarely one to seek tranquility for spiritual reflection, I, along with my daughter recently pedaled over 400 miles with 1300 others from 34 states and 6 countries in the 31^st annual GOBA, Great Ohio Bike Adventure.  The buried treasures and fine pearls are the people whose narratives I’ve shared.  They’re far richer than the words I’ve written! 

I passed on the left as Malcolm drove the Formula 1 of bicycles, low, sleek to the pavement.  His legs static, firmly held in place, he propelled his three-wheel trike with muscled shoulders.  Meeting later, he described an accident he’d suffered along with his wife, then seven months pregnant.  Unfortunately paralyzed from the waist down, a determined Malcolm promised he’d fight for his wife and child survived.  His son has since completed college.  “I am blessed!”  Malcolm smiles wildly.  This day we ride is Father’s Day!

Grandpa, assisted by his three adult children, one with an acute genetic disorder, guided eight grandchildren cycling and raising tents to camp.  You go grandpa!

During a soaking rain from Bowling Green to Fremont, a determined dad pulled a train of two extended wheels.  The oldest child kept cadence with dad.  The four-year-old slept peacefully across the handlebar in her father’s wake. 

Committed groups supporting food pantries, children with special needs, disabled vets, scouts, a wildlife sanctuary, student activities, a volunteer fire department, retirement centers, and repairs for those suffering flood damage prepared food, snacks, and meals throughout the week as fundraisers for those in need.  Cyclists, providers, communities broke bread together.

Upon so many occasions parents fostered opportunities for their children to lead.  Mistakes corrected.  Good decisions praised and lived.

Father encouraged newly adopted Honduran son to overcome headwinds as they entered an experience, a common mission; strengthening a lifetime journey of father and son together.

Guest speaker and author, Chris Register traveled the country by bicycle initiating conversations with Americans in an attempt to understand the real America.  In the first of his proposed series, Conversations With US, he told the story of three black carnival workers wrongly accused of rape in 1920.  They were lynched from a lamppost without a trial in Duluth, MN.  Below, chiseled into a memorial were the words of a Native American elder;

“Inside of me there are two dogs.

One of the dogs is mean and evil, the other dog is good.

The mean dog fights the good dog all the time.”

          When asked which dog wins, he reflected for a moment and replied,

“The one I feed the most.”

The Native American parable questioned me.  Which dog do I feed?

I bought Register’s book.

Another guest, Jackie Mayer, Miss America and Miss Ohio 1963 and resident of the Port Clinton area spoke not of her reign as Miss America, but of a stroke she suffered at the age of 28.  Then a mother of two, a five-year-old son and a nine-month-old daughter, Jackie found herself paralyzed on her right side and unable to speak.  She relearned with her son teaching counting and ABC’s.  Her daughter hosted speaking competitions.  “It’s humbling when your toddler speaks better than you.”  It took Jackie nearly five years to start talking well again.  “We worked hard at it,” Jackie prevailed, “and my family taught me that if I was afraid to fail then I would never try and I would never get better.  So, I told myself that I would try and be prepared to fail, but that eventually I would get it right.”  Today, Jackie spawns hope working among stroke survivors!

West Point grad soon to fill his assignment at Ft. Leonard Wood accompanied his sister, also a recent grad in global health and engaged to be married.  Sharing miles of memories, they toasted each other embracing one another’s spirit before embarking on separate journeys. 

The sun’s rays break the horizon enticing me to rise.  Bobwhites, orioles, hooded warblers proclaimed in chorus a new day.  At dusk, I rest beneath the cooling embers of a setting sun.  Insects’ buzzing and coyotes’ howls settle me to sleep.  It’s been a good day.  

Grandfather Neil honored college graduate and granddaughter Riley!  Cartons of ice cream strapped to his bike from the grocery drive-thru began melting.  Urgently, inviting new friends, family revelled with vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry.  This was their sixth GOBA together!  Cheers!

Feeling humbled after taking the prescribed mileage shortcuts, veteran rider Jerry provided insights to others for touring the Great Lakes region.  He, also, provided essential power strips for recharging phones, watches, Kindles.  Jerry’s celebrating 75 years of living!

Stepping from duty after five tours, green beret, Paul emblazoned with signature tattoos chased us on his 3-wheel trike.  Later, during a snack break, he told me of a difficult time; he struggled mentally to focus and make decisions, but strangely he knew it was not due to combat.  Doctors revealed micro seizures.

“Can’t risk burning myself on an upright two.  Power a trike now.”  Paul smiled confidently, “I’m studying to be a minister, maybe a chaplain.”

An engineer enjoyed cycling so much, he designed a five-seater tandem for his family.  Watch out!  They required a wide turning radius.  Thrilled, giggling, three kids centered mom and dad!

Excited, families boarded the ferry to Kelley’s Island.  Most had never ridden a ferry, let alone on a bike!  Youth have always known Lake Erie to harbor life.  Historically, though, their parents knew the lake, nearly as vast as an ocean, to be dead, absent of life, the result of contamination and environmental abuse.  To the adults, the body of water is still recovering.  Lake Erie has been brought back to life.

Kelley’s Island, a short distance from the Canadian border, cradles a hidden clue, evidence to the slow laborious evolution, mystery of Creation; glacial grooves, precursors to fertile land and pristine lakes.  Over 18000 years ago, glacial ice cut grooves and imbedded fossils in limestone bedrock.

Blessed as friends, eight women in their late sixty’s and early seventy’s rode as sisters.  Three had lost spouses.

Transplanted Texans, Dyke and Mary Beth camped next to us for three nights.  A jovial pair of empty-nesters spoke wisdom with humor.  “Couples should pass two criteria to determine whether they should marry; Pedal a tandem bike together for an extended trip and navigate a river with a canoe.  It’s not about the quantity of either, but about the quality of communication when things don’t go well :-)!”

Father, Dave, and daughter, Maggie, father, Dan and son, Eric cycled together.  The goal: complete their first centuries.  They did!

Brenda became an exuberant ambassador introducing strangers to one another to make new friends.  She rode with Ann riding Alowishus, her bike; the name reminded Ann to strive for independence and self-confidence.

Twins Tim and Tom raced time, pacing each other.

A man who tilled the soil for decades splattered mud across the gravel lot.  He broke his pickup to rest next to me in the heavy mist. “What are you doing?” 

            “Cycling across your beautiful lands.” I answered straddling my bike.  I peered inside his open cab.

            “Sure are a lot of you!” He referred to the vast migration of cyclists.

            “I see you must be Catholic.”  I nodded to the rosary draped over his rearview mirror.

            “I don’t pray it.” The farmer looked away from me and glanced at the entangled beads of grace.  “My wife prayed them all the time.  She died two years ago.  Didn’t want them buried with her.”  His eyes engage mine.  “I hold them tightly every day.  She goes where I go.”

Kelsey, a nurse and 25% acute myeloid leukemia survivor, pulled daughter Sophia decked in sunglasses beneath a sunflower decorated helmet.  When asked if she knew her bone marrow donor, Kelsey answered, “Yes.  I’ve contacted her, though she’s a woman who does not speak English.”  Nearly breaking into tears, the young mother smiled.  “I was super scared there would be no matching donor.  Sophia was 11 months old.”  Today, Sophia completed kindergarten.  Tomorrow, mother and daughter will enter first grade together.

I hear only my tires squeezing the wet pavement.  Slow rain silences, cools nature.  I refresh, recharge in the Creator’s water.

Breaking to dine beneath a lengthy white tent, my daughter exclaimed, “We’re having lunch at the UN!”  Canadians sat before us.  New Zealanders sat to our right.  A German couple sat to our left.  Laughter and our common goal united us.

The greatest treasure, the finest pearl, with more gratitude than I am capable, I shared my journey with my daughter, Eva, nearly 450 miles!  Unforgettable grace in time!  Laughter, exhaustion, meals, conversation, experiences, Father’s Day, new friends … We cycled our first century together; 100 miles in an Infinite Kingdom!

God is hidden in our midst!