This evening, we're in Imlay City, MI. The last fifteen miles were a hard rain that kicked up a lot of sand and grit. I think I've cleaned my bike five times in the last week. Sigh.
We had a new look at poverty today.
For the bulk of our trip, we've seen a fair amount of rural poverty. It looks like boarded up small towns like Derby (Iowa, I think). It also looks like Native villages or homesteads that don't have electricity or running water. It very often looks like abandoned farms or decaying farmhouses where people can no longer live, but show that some-when, someone tried to make a life there.
Today we saw a new face of poverty: urban poverty.
We rode through Flint in the late morning. (It was raining lightly already then.). There was very little traffic I downtown, many businesses were boarded up, and it didn't eve sound like a city. It was quiet. In the residential areas, there were many boarded up homes, countless burned ones, and very little construction or repair.
For me, this was a reminder that poverty knows no boundaries. It's in my home state, in city and country. Its causes are many, and its solutions hard.
Jesus was very right: the poor will always be among us.
And we don't have to go very far to find it.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Saturday, August 3, 2013
The rest of the world...
If you're reading this, then you know I and many others with me have been diligently riding our bikes for poverty relief the last six weeks.
Our world has shrunk down to the 100+ riders and support crew we've come to know as our temporary family. We've become friends, become aware of each other flaws and foibles (which are impossible to hide for six weeks), and we've learned to trust each other on the dangerous roads of the journey. Our world has also shrunk to the small and not-so-small towns we visit each night.
What we tend to lose sight of is the rest of the world. We keep up with immediate family by phone, while others with real tech connections keep the "world" aware of what they're doing. But our jobs, friends, and normal-life concerns have faded "out of sight."
So, I want to say thanks to my friends, family, and church family for reminding me and many other riders that you've remembered us while we've been gone.
Seeing the large group gathered in Vriesland as well as the sidewalk art in Jamestown (thanks Konyndyks) was an incredible encouragement to both me and many other riders. One commented that we must have passed through VanderAwesomeLand. :-)
More importantly, this morning was a concrete reminder that you've been praying for us too. From all of us on the road, thank you for those prayers. Please don't stop!
As riders, we might develop some tunnel vision, forgetting the rest of the world, temporarily. We're all grateful, however, for those that continue to remember us.
Our world has shrunk down to the 100+ riders and support crew we've come to know as our temporary family. We've become friends, become aware of each other flaws and foibles (which are impossible to hide for six weeks), and we've learned to trust each other on the dangerous roads of the journey. Our world has also shrunk to the small and not-so-small towns we visit each night.
What we tend to lose sight of is the rest of the world. We keep up with immediate family by phone, while others with real tech connections keep the "world" aware of what they're doing. But our jobs, friends, and normal-life concerns have faded "out of sight."
So, I want to say thanks to my friends, family, and church family for reminding me and many other riders that you've remembered us while we've been gone.
Seeing the large group gathered in Vriesland as well as the sidewalk art in Jamestown (thanks Konyndyks) was an incredible encouragement to both me and many other riders. One commented that we must have passed through VanderAwesomeLand. :-)
More importantly, this morning was a concrete reminder that you've been praying for us too. From all of us on the road, thank you for those prayers. Please don't stop!
As riders, we might develop some tunnel vision, forgetting the rest of the world, temporarily. We're all grateful, however, for those that continue to remember us.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Tomorrow...Michigan
It's been a long week of riding. I think we've averaged 90+ miles for five days straight (including tomorrow). That's over 450 miles in five days.
Tomorrow, we enter Michigan, Lord willing. After almost six weeks of riding, I come home for the weekend. It's the longest Mary and I have ever been apart.
Since the massive climbing in Iowa, Illinois has been much flatter, but wetter. Two days ago, we left Fulton and it rained off and on into our night's stop - Shabonna State Park. I found a nice, relatively dry spot under a large pine, but it rained all night. This morning, the rain stopped, but the mist was so thick, I needed wipers on my glasses. It finally dried up at about 10 AM.
We made remarkable time into Lansing, Ill today. Len and I rode at about a 17+ mph average. Actually, Len rode like a madman - I just drafted him as best I could. We did 100 miles in under 6 hours of riding time (not counting stops). Not too bad.
The change from rural to suburb to city happens pretty quickly. It is surprising and a bit overwhelming to see how much corn this country grows. Corn is everywhere. It's about the only scenery we've had for the past week.
We had a great welcome at Illiana Christian High School. I have fond memories of Illiana: in high school, our school choir sang down here. On the bus ride back, Mary and I shared our first kisses. Aww.
Anyway, back to today: the area churches fed us dinner and will feed us breakfast.
We also had an ice cream social where I met shirttail relatives, Jim and Shirlene Medendorp, who drove up from Indiana.
I am so looking forward to a weekend at home.
In some ways, these six weeks have flown by.
In some ways, they've been very long.
Tomorrow, we enter Michigan, Lord willing. After almost six weeks of riding, I come home for the weekend. It's the longest Mary and I have ever been apart.
Since the massive climbing in Iowa, Illinois has been much flatter, but wetter. Two days ago, we left Fulton and it rained off and on into our night's stop - Shabonna State Park. I found a nice, relatively dry spot under a large pine, but it rained all night. This morning, the rain stopped, but the mist was so thick, I needed wipers on my glasses. It finally dried up at about 10 AM.
We made remarkable time into Lansing, Ill today. Len and I rode at about a 17+ mph average. Actually, Len rode like a madman - I just drafted him as best I could. We did 100 miles in under 6 hours of riding time (not counting stops). Not too bad.
The change from rural to suburb to city happens pretty quickly. It is surprising and a bit overwhelming to see how much corn this country grows. Corn is everywhere. It's about the only scenery we've had for the past week.
We had a great welcome at Illiana Christian High School. I have fond memories of Illiana: in high school, our school choir sang down here. On the bus ride back, Mary and I shared our first kisses. Aww.
Anyway, back to today: the area churches fed us dinner and will feed us breakfast.
We also had an ice cream social where I met shirttail relatives, Jim and Shirlene Medendorp, who drove up from Indiana.
I am so looking forward to a weekend at home.
In some ways, these six weeks have flown by.
In some ways, they've been very long.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Rain, Trains, and Hills
So, we're just about done with Iowa. Hard to believe. As we look at a map, the distance starts to overwhelm. And the distance ahead is less than the distance behind.
What will we remember about Iowa?
Rain, for one. We've had several days of morning or afternoon or evening rain. We're beginning to think God is bringing the rain with us. My tent is finally dried out.
Trains is another thing we'll remember. It seems like we've been camped by tracks once too often. Did you know that trains blow two long whistles, one short, and one more long at every intersection?
Last night's trains were empty coal cars going west and full ones coming east.
Finally hills.
The south of Iowa feels as though the land was 50 miles too wide, so it was squished to fit, making wrinkles of hills. I would have never thought that we'd climb many ten percent, nine percent, and countless eight percent climbs in Iowa. Three of our top five climbing days have been in Iowa. And the frequency and steepness make them more fatiguing than the mountains.
Actually, there's one other thing. We haven't seen a large amount of people, going through numerous small towns. But almost every square foot of arable land is covered with mature corn (or soybeans). It's amazing to see that much land used for growing. God has made an incredible world that can produce as many crops as we've seen. We see His hand everywhere.
What will we remember about Iowa?
Rain, for one. We've had several days of morning or afternoon or evening rain. We're beginning to think God is bringing the rain with us. My tent is finally dried out.
Trains is another thing we'll remember. It seems like we've been camped by tracks once too often. Did you know that trains blow two long whistles, one short, and one more long at every intersection?
Last night's trains were empty coal cars going west and full ones coming east.
Finally hills.
The south of Iowa feels as though the land was 50 miles too wide, so it was squished to fit, making wrinkles of hills. I would have never thought that we'd climb many ten percent, nine percent, and countless eight percent climbs in Iowa. Three of our top five climbing days have been in Iowa. And the frequency and steepness make them more fatiguing than the mountains.
Actually, there's one other thing. We haven't seen a large amount of people, going through numerous small towns. But almost every square foot of arable land is covered with mature corn (or soybeans). It's amazing to see that much land used for growing. God has made an incredible world that can produce as many crops as we've seen. We see His hand everywhere.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Wind and rain
Those two words defined the past week.
We had rain on Monday, Friday, and Saturday.
We had wind every single day.
Monday was rainy for the first forty miles, with a stiff crosswind. As we left Colorado Springs, we never saw the mountains again. We could also tell we were out of the more bike-friendly areas, as eastern Colorado is not as considerate.
Tuesday was clear, warm, with a stiff breeze across the Plains. Anything under 25 is considered a breeze.
Wednesday and Thursday were days of wind and warm temps. However, the terrain was marked by little more than grain elevators and miles of prairie and farms.
Friday and Saturday were Kansas and Nebraska, with rolling hills and sudden downpours.
But we're safely into Fairbury in Nebraska for the weekend.
We're grateful for tired but healthy bodies.
And I'm appreciating that God's Spirit is a wind that can push me, pull me, nudge me, and even push against me.
I'm limited on my wifi time, so this will have to do.
Till next time.
We had rain on Monday, Friday, and Saturday.
We had wind every single day.
Monday was rainy for the first forty miles, with a stiff crosswind. As we left Colorado Springs, we never saw the mountains again. We could also tell we were out of the more bike-friendly areas, as eastern Colorado is not as considerate.
Tuesday was clear, warm, with a stiff breeze across the Plains. Anything under 25 is considered a breeze.
Wednesday and Thursday were days of wind and warm temps. However, the terrain was marked by little more than grain elevators and miles of prairie and farms.
Friday and Saturday were Kansas and Nebraska, with rolling hills and sudden downpours.
But we're safely into Fairbury in Nebraska for the weekend.
We're grateful for tired but healthy bodies.
And I'm appreciating that God's Spirit is a wind that can push me, pull me, nudge me, and even push against me.
I'm limited on my wifi time, so this will have to do.
Till next time.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Sunday
So, we've completed three weeks. We're one third done.
We've also completed our first six-day week of riding.
For the first time in a week, we don't have to get up early, hurry through breakfast, pack up our gear, pump up tires, fill water bottles, make lunches and stuff them into jersey pockets (bagels are my preference at the moment), check the map, find our riding partners, and take off down new roads.
Today is Sunday. Today we rest.
We're at the point where our muscles don't hurt in the morning anymore. But it's been a long week of hard climbing. One day we crossed the continental divide and climbed 5,900 feet. The next we climbed over a 10,000 ft. pass. We've done lots of climbing and our bodies, minds, and emotions are a bit tired.
We need today. We need a break. Church at Cragmore CRC, lunch, maybe a little siteseeing, but no riding. Our necks, bottoms, legs, and minds need the rest.
Rest is so important, God patterned it into our lives. He also uses it as a symbol of living a life in Christ (in Hebrews).
It makes me wonder if I rest enough. I don't mean taking days off. I mean real rest. Really giving the mind, soul, and body a chance to recharge. I wonder if we "play" so hard on our days off that we really don't rest. Not truly.
Today I'm going to rest.
I hope you get to also.
We've also completed our first six-day week of riding.
For the first time in a week, we don't have to get up early, hurry through breakfast, pack up our gear, pump up tires, fill water bottles, make lunches and stuff them into jersey pockets (bagels are my preference at the moment), check the map, find our riding partners, and take off down new roads.
Today is Sunday. Today we rest.
We're at the point where our muscles don't hurt in the morning anymore. But it's been a long week of hard climbing. One day we crossed the continental divide and climbed 5,900 feet. The next we climbed over a 10,000 ft. pass. We've done lots of climbing and our bodies, minds, and emotions are a bit tired.
We need today. We need a break. Church at Cragmore CRC, lunch, maybe a little siteseeing, but no riding. Our necks, bottoms, legs, and minds need the rest.
Rest is so important, God patterned it into our lives. He also uses it as a symbol of living a life in Christ (in Hebrews).
It makes me wonder if I rest enough. I don't mean taking days off. I mean real rest. Really giving the mind, soul, and body a chance to recharge. I wonder if we "play" so hard on our days off that we really don't rest. Not truly.
Today I'm going to rest.
I hope you get to also.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Hi everyone. Thanks for being patient. It seems like so long since I've been able to post. We've passed through so many small towns that had no wifi for us. The people with cellular coverage for their pads and computers have a real advantage. They can post every day. I'm a bit more restricted, sorry.
Our weeks have had real themes to them.
Week one was definitely dominated by heat.
Week two was a tour of very different Native nations. The Zuni are poor and insulated. The Navajo are more open to some western things, but still very connected to their heritage and culture. It isn't unusual to hear Navajo and English. Last Sunday's church service had traditional music, contemporary music, and Navajo songs. God calls His people from every tribe and language. Last Saturday, we rode 100 miles into Shiprock NM, seeing huge rock formations, dust devils, and lots of dust. The road had been washed out the night before in a rare but welcome downpour, but the DOT let only us cyclists through. The coolest part was the rest stops at the Navajo CRC's.
This week, the theme has been climbing. Monday was a short climbing day to a winery near Turley, NM. Tuesday was a hard climbing day - almost 5,900 feet of climbing to Chama, NM. I started riding with new friends from Canada: Len and Stan, Stan's daughter Ava, and a couple others. We call ourselves "Team Weigh-more...Awesome."
From Chama, we climbed Chumbres Pass, a 10,200 foot pass into Colorado. That night we stayed in Alamosa. Yesterday, we rode a long mountain valley to Poncha Springs, CO.
Today, we rode to Canon (Canyon) City. 50 miles downhill along the Arkansas River. Amazing sights. God's world is stunningly beautiful. Along the way, we stopped (with about 20 other cyclists) at a small coffee shop. As I paid for our table's coffee, the barista wanted to know more about us. I spoke to her about our mission and purpose; I also gave her a business card with the Sea to Sea information. She asked, "will this show me where I can donate?" That happens every day. Last week a Navajo woman went to her friends and collected $1.65. She felt badly that she couldn't do more, but her generous spirit was beautiful.
Every day, we see more beauty, more evidence of man's brokenness, and more urgency for the grace and power of the Gospel.
Thanks for reading and being patient.
Thanks especially for your prayers.
Our weeks have had real themes to them.
Week one was definitely dominated by heat.
Week two was a tour of very different Native nations. The Zuni are poor and insulated. The Navajo are more open to some western things, but still very connected to their heritage and culture. It isn't unusual to hear Navajo and English. Last Sunday's church service had traditional music, contemporary music, and Navajo songs. God calls His people from every tribe and language. Last Saturday, we rode 100 miles into Shiprock NM, seeing huge rock formations, dust devils, and lots of dust. The road had been washed out the night before in a rare but welcome downpour, but the DOT let only us cyclists through. The coolest part was the rest stops at the Navajo CRC's.
This week, the theme has been climbing. Monday was a short climbing day to a winery near Turley, NM. Tuesday was a hard climbing day - almost 5,900 feet of climbing to Chama, NM. I started riding with new friends from Canada: Len and Stan, Stan's daughter Ava, and a couple others. We call ourselves "Team Weigh-more...Awesome."
From Chama, we climbed Chumbres Pass, a 10,200 foot pass into Colorado. That night we stayed in Alamosa. Yesterday, we rode a long mountain valley to Poncha Springs, CO.
Today, we rode to Canon (Canyon) City. 50 miles downhill along the Arkansas River. Amazing sights. God's world is stunningly beautiful. Along the way, we stopped (with about 20 other cyclists) at a small coffee shop. As I paid for our table's coffee, the barista wanted to know more about us. I spoke to her about our mission and purpose; I also gave her a business card with the Sea to Sea information. She asked, "will this show me where I can donate?" That happens every day. Last week a Navajo woman went to her friends and collected $1.65. She felt badly that she couldn't do more, but her generous spirit was beautiful.
Every day, we see more beauty, more evidence of man's brokenness, and more urgency for the grace and power of the Gospel.
Thanks for reading and being patient.
Thanks especially for your prayers.
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