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Our Many Gifts

Gifts from GodSarah and I make good time getting from Eureka to Fortuna, California. We stop in Loleta, California to take a tour of the Loleta Cheese Factory, you know “real California cheese.” Seeing how the different cheeses are made was interesting, and Sarah was able to talk to the owner about the different places this factory currently donates to and some new ones they might want to investigate. Sarah has such an embracing personality that the owner just couldn’t resist talking to her. I was as amazed at her gift of gab as I was watching milk products being made into all these delectable cheeses. And I truly mean it in the nicest of ways when I say Sarah has a gift of gab. She’s totally at ease talking about her mission work and putting Jesus front and center. What a gift God gave us when Sarah was born.

After purchasing a few different kinds of cheeses based off of the recipes I snagged at the factory, we are back on the road and headed to Fortuna. Sarah and I talk non-stop about what we were going to fix that night. I tell her it would truly be a gift from God if we could find a local farmer’s market so that we could buy some fresh broccoli for our cheese/broccoli soup, mushrooms and green chilies for our baked Havarti chicken, and green onions for our cheesy breads; all recipes from the Loleta Cheese Factory.

As we ride into town, the first thing we notice is a local farmer’s market. Sarah smiles broadly and shouts out a big “Hooha” as we ride our bikes into the midst of all those market stands. I gravitate towards a booth being manned by a nice looking middle-aged man. I’m not sure why I chose his booth, but he had everything we needed for tonight’s meal. Okay, I’ll admit it, he was nice looking, and I wanted to get a closer look.

Trying not to be obvious that I was checking him out, I carefully pick out the produce needed for tonight’s meal. As I’m doing this, Sarah is telling me that she is glad God gave me the gift of cooking. I smile thinking, “Yes indeedy, or we’d be eating gummy bears and Fruit Loops.” The nice man notices that I’m eyeing some of his nicer chilies and tells me that I look like a woman who knows her produce.

He says, “It’s quite a gift to know really good produce from okay produce.”

“Well,” I say, “my parents were good teachers when it came to fresh vegetables, and yours seem to be the best here.”

I go back to my selection, wanting to know more about this man, but several other women show up and take up his time, as they are all asking questions about what was good and what was bad. I notice him looking my way with a smile on his face. I began to realize why he had made his comment to me.

I start thinking about all the gifts that Sarah and I had encountered on this lovely day that God had also gifted us with. His love and grace is much bigger than I ever imagined. I always believed in God, always knew that He was always there for us, and even went so far as to believe that God created everything for a reason, but I never really felt it. It’s one thing to say, “I believe”, but it’s another thing to actually feel it. Today, I was feeling God’s overpowering presence. It was an awesome feeling.

After snooping around the rest of the farmer’s market, Sarah and I head to the River Walk RV Park and get settled into our tent site. The people running the park are so nice and accommodating offering to store our gear for nothing after Sarah mentioned wanting to check out the night life later on. We graciously accept their offer knowing it is another gift God gave us that day.

I busy myself with supper preparations while Sarah takes a walk around the park. She amazes me with the energy she always seems to have. Here I am sitting on my butt at the picnic table chopping vegetables after our day’s ride and thinking “I really needed a nap”, and then there’s Sarah, walking briskly around this park as if we’d only been on a mile ride. Ah, the gift of youth.

Our meal that night is over the top. The cheeses make each dish superb, although I think cooking outdoors adds a certain flavor to the meal. Sarah, who often times picks at her food, scarfs down her plate and goes back for seconds. I finish mine, barely; then proceed to clean up the dishes. I knew, from previous experience, that Sarah would disappear at the sight of dish duty. She didn’t disappoint me, but I didn’t care. It was nice to be connecting with this niece of mine who had always gravitated more to my older sister than she did me.

That evening, we walk over to the Play Room Bar where most of the locals can be found. This is a nice bar with good music. The dance floor is crowded. Sarah and I are a bit unsure about what tables are actually free, but that soon becomes a non-issue. Before we could snag a table, a nice young man comes up to Sarah and asks if she’d like to dance. She looks at me with a wondering expression on her face.

I tell her, “Go on, this is why you wanted to come here.”

She leaves me standing alone by the bar. I quickly begin to feel conspicuous and out of place. My anxieties are increasing as my eyes dart around hoping to find an empty table. I didn’t want to displease Sarah’s fun night by telling her I wanted to leave, so I said a quick prayer to God asking Him to give me a gift of a nice table.

OMG! It happened almost instantaneously. A familiar looking man about 60ish, walks over to me and invites me to sit at his table. My first instinct is to turn and run, but something inside me tells me this was another gift from God. So I graciously accepted his offer and follow him over to his corner table.

As I sit down, I notice he’s wearing a wedding ring. I think, “Great, I’m sitting here in a bar with a married man. His wife is going to kill us both.”

Bart introduces himself to me. I smile politely, but I can’t quit looking at that ring. I nervously shift in my chair and begin to search for Sarah. I just want to run out of the place and go back to the safety of my tent.

Bart notices and says, “I’m not married anymore. My wife died five years ago. This is the first time I’ve been out alone since her death.” He swallows hard, and I can see the pain in his eyes. I knew, then, that I would not be bolting. Instead, I relax and begin to tell him about my life, where I was from, what I was doing, and why I was on this crazy bike ride. The whole time I talk I keep thinking, “Where have I seen this man before?”

He sits there quietly sipping on his beer while I jabber on and on. I find out that Bart owns a small farm right outside town. He asks if I had stopped by the farmer’s market that day. When I tell him I had he says, “Then that’s where I must have seen you and your…” he pauses not knowing what relation Sarah is to me, then he continues, “daughter?”

I smile at him and say, “No, she’s my niece. I’ve never been married, probably never will be, but I have a great family, so that makes up for the loneliness that comes from being a single middle-aged woman. And now I know why you looked so familiar to me. I didn’t quite recognize you without your hat on.”

Bart smiles, but it’s obvious he’s struggling with the loneliness of losing a spouse. I ask him how long he had been married. He and his wife, Kate, had married right out of high school. He proudly says, “We had 37 years of a great marriage. I’ve never felt anger as much as I did the day our Lord took her from me.”

“Am I right to assume you are alone, I mean no kids?”

Bart tells me that he and Kate had four kids, but none of them lived in Fortuna anymore. They had all headed for the bright lights of the city, not wanting to be harnessed with their aging father’s aging farm.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fun feeling like you’ve been abandoned.” I ask Bart if he was still angry with God.

“Nah, I got over that a few years ago when I saw an old mare of mine give birth to her last foal. I didn’t even know she had gotten pregnant until she started showing. The birth damn near killed her, but she came through it and gave me one heck of a stud horse. He’s sired many a horse and save my farm.”

“What a blessing,” I said.

Sarah shows up and asks me if I’d buy her a soda. Bart quickly gets up and motions for the waitress. Sarah sits down and starts blathering on about what nice looking men this town has, and how she could dance until closing.

I am quick to dash her dreams by telling her that we had a long trip the next day and we’d have to get a fairly early start. Before the waitress can bring her drink, another young man comes over asking Sarah to dance. She looks at me with a wanting look. I shake my head in amazement that one new gal in town could draw this much attention from the young local boys.

I wave my hand and say, “Go on, have your fun, but don’t complain tomorrow when you are tired and want to sleep in.”

She takes a quick sip of her soda then hurries off with her latest dance partner. Bart and I watch as everyone on the dance floor breaks out into some fancy line dancing. Bart tells me what a looker Sarah is, how she reminds him of his Kate at that age.

At one point in the evening, I contemplate doing something I never do, am not even comfortable doing. I think about asking Bart if he’d like to dance, but again, God gives me the answer before I can even speak the question.

“Kate loved to dance, but God gifted me with two left feet. I mostly like just watching.”

I smile broadly, knowing that God had gifted me with the company of a man I felt totally comfortable with. I tell Bart that I, too, wasn’t a good dancer. I go on about the time a good friend tried to teach me, stating he was a great dance teacher. Three turns around the dance floor and my friend walked me over to a table and said, “I’m done trying to teach you. You try to lead, you don’t listen, and you can’t dance.”

Bart says, “Gosh, that was kind of harsh. Your feeling must have been hurt.”

“You would think they should have been, but I was so grateful to be off that dance floor and back in my comfort zone.”

Bart and I continue to talk sharing family stories and talking about God in our lives. Bart says, “It amazes me how God always seems to have another door to go through when He’s closes one. My kids have been telling me to get out and start dating again. I told them I’m too old for dating, but you certainly have giving me a fresh outlook on the whole dating scene.”

I go into instant panic mode thinking that Bart was thinking that he and I were becoming an item, but he continues on before I could show my fear. He tells me that after our evening together, he thought he just might be able to start checking out some of the older women in town.

“You know, Betsy, there’s this one woman in town who works at the local feed store. She’s always baking me pies and things like that. I think I’ll pay her a visit soon.”

I smile knowing that Bart had finally broken through the loneliness barrier and was ready to move one with his life.

By 11:00 p.m. I was ready to leave. Bart was kind enough to find Sarah at a table full of young men totally enamored with her. She was in “stud” heaven, but she didn’t complain when Bart told her that I was ready to head back to the campground.

He gives us a ride there, something I was truly grateful for since the moon wasn’t shining much due to extensive cloud cover. I give Bart a big hug when we get to the park. He thanks me for a great evening. Sarah pops out of the truck and heads to the bathroom, as I start scooting my way to that side of the truck.

Bart grabs my hand, pulls me towards him, and gives me a gentle kiss and says, “It’s a shame you are on this mission from God, but I thank you for spending some of your day with me, and I wish you the best of luck in all your travels.”

I touch Bart on the face, something I never pictured myself doing to any man, and said, “The pleasure has been all mine. I wish you good luck with your lady friend.”

As he pulls away I feel a tug at my heart. I wonder why God had set-up this meeting. Was He trying to tell me something, or was He just saying “Hey, here’s a lost soul who needs a little encouragement.”

Sarah comes back from the bathroom grinning from ear to ear. “Aunt Betsy, Bart seemed to really like you.”

“Yes, and I liked him, but he lives here and you and I are being called away from here to serve the Lord in ways that differ from Bart. He’ll find a good woman here, I’m sure of that.”
Sarah starts asking me all sorts of questions about what Bart and I had talked about and if I ever saw myself being married.

I tell her the easy stuff first, what Bart and I had talked about. Then I ponder her question and think, “Will I ever be married?” What came to me was this; God has given me such a wonder life filled with all sorts of different gifts that waiting and wondering if I’d ever be married would be a waste of time. So I tell Sarah, “If God wants me married, I know it will happen, but for right now I’m going to enjoy all that He’s given to me; you, this bike ride, the company of Bart for an evening, and all the people I’ve met and will be meeting.”

Sarah seems to be satisfied with my answer and says, “You always manage to keep me focused on what’s truly important in life. Thanks Aunt Betsy.”

We go to bed and sleep right through what ended up being a pretty big rain storm; another gift from God.

And in my real world, I often ponder how I’ve touched upon people and didn’t even know it. I had a roommate years ago who told me the day before she moved away, that I’d never know what a difference I had made in her life. I asked her what it was I did and all she said was, “Just know that you changed my life for the better.” To this day, I truly don’t know what it was that I did that made her feel that way, but it brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it for I know that God must have been working through me. It sends a chill through me to know that He trusted me enough with my roommate’s life to make a positive impact.

I hope we all recognize the gifts God gives us each day and that if those gifts were given for us to use and help others, may we have the fortitude to do so. God bless you all, especially those people who may be feeling a bit lonely. Know that you are loved even if it’s from afar. And as always, let’s keep going the distance

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Respect

respectMy excitement riding into Eureka, California, was off the charts. I was meeting up with my niece, Sarah, and would finally have someone else to ride with on this long trip of mine. I passed a few well-wishers holding signs saying things like “Welcome Bike Lady” to “Biker Girls Rock”. I hadn’t gotten this kind of reception in quite a while, so it was kind of uplifting to know that there were still people out there who saw me as a positive force and not some nutcase bent on doing the impossible.

Sarah had phoned me about five miles back and gave me her location. She had flown into Eureka the night before and had gone to a local bike shop, Henderson Center Bicycles, this morning to pick up her new bike gear. She had informed me that the shop wanted to do a free servicing on my bike to ensure that it was in good working order.

As I approached Henderson Center Bicycles, Sarah was out front wearing her new helmet and sunglasses, waving profusely. I’d never seen her quite this excited, well except maybe when candy was available to her. Then her eyes would light up like the Fourth of July, but this excitement wasn’t about candy. I figured it was about the opportunity to see this country like one’s never seen it before.

To my surprise, Sarah was super excited to see me. It had been several years since I had last seen her. She couldn’t believe how much weight I had lost, though I thought it was just a few pounds since I tend to still overeat wherever I dine. I also knew that I was not her favorite aunt. That title went to my sister, but here was Sarah running towards me with outstretched arms.

She screams, “Aunt Betsy, I’m so glad to see you!”

I give her a big hug and a kiss and tell her “the same back to you.” We head inside where I’m greeted by the owner. He tells me what they want to do for me, and soon, a staff worker is rolling my bike gear to the back workroom.

The owner takes this time to ask if there were any biking supplies I needed. He shows me a lot of the new gear they are now carrying as he tries to convince me that biking shorts would help me a lot. I can’t imagine myself in a pair of spandex shorts, so I politely declined his offer.

He continues to talk non-stop about the different riding groups Henderson’s supports. I kept thinking, “Mister, I just want to get to the RV park and take a long hot shower”, but I knew I needed to give the man the respect he deserved. After all, they were tuning up my bike for nothing.

And then I hear him change course and I find myself totally enamored with what he was saying. He was telling us about the different places we should check out in Eureka, particularly the Carson Mansion. This was the home of William M. Carson who started building this gorgeous Victorian mansion during the slow times of the logging season so his employees would have work to do so they could continue earning a paycheck.

Mr. Carson was known for treating his employees with a lot of respect and concern. He paid them decent wages, made sure they weren’t over worked, and fed them well. In return, he had the respect of every one of his employees, and he grew to be respected in the entire community.

He shared his wealth with the community as he donated to several charities that helped those less fortunate people in town. When he died, it was discovered that his will had 116 beneficiaries in it to include company employees along with local churches, and other local agencies.

I soon found myself wondering if maybe this business owner was a little bit like Mr. Carson. It was clear that his staff was into their jobs, and it seemed like this owner had everyone’s best interest at heart. He never once tried to get me to buy anything. He merely showed me what they had available.

I don’t know if it was out of guilt or if the Lord had touched upon me, but I found myself buying a new and improved bike helmet, some biking gloves, and even some biking shoes that seemed to fit into the pedal straps better than my big old clunky walking shoes. He tries one more time to convince me to buy those biking shorts, but I drew the line there. Sarah fails too, at convincing me that I had lost enough weight to fit into these skin-tight garments.

The bike techs finish tuning my bike and Sarah and I are on our way. We get checked into the Shoreline RV Park where we discovered was truly just for RVs, but they were nice enough to allow us to pitch our tent and spend the night there. They explain that they were all behind my ride and respected me for all that I was doing for people.

I was taken aback by their comments, and found myself asking what exactly it was they thought I was doing to help people. What they say comes as a shock to me. They tell me that there had been several stories out on the internet about the woman riding her bike across the United States, and how couch potatoes were finally getting off the couch and doing something to improve their lives. One man wrote that his doctor was amazed at the change in his overall health. He had been on the fast track to dying of a heart attack at age 40, but since he started riding a bike around the town he lives in, his cholesterol was well below 200 and his blood pressure was back to normal.

The desk clerk says, “You saved his life, you know, just like you have saved the lives of many others who have talked about how their depression had improved, one couple finally found something they could do together and it saved their marriage, and the number of schools that have posters of you in their gyms has increased by 50%.”

I found myself getting choked up, not realizing how one middle-aged woman on some crazy bike trip could affect so many people. Tears started streaming down my face as I thank the clerk for her kind words and generosity.

She says back to me, “It’s my pleasure to be able to say I met that woman riding her bike across this country of ours. Good luck to you and your daughter.”

I smile and say, “Thanks, but she’s my niece, and a very special one at that.”

As Sarah and I set-up camp, we talk a lot about how she and I could continue to make a difference in people’s lives. She explains that was the very reason her boss sent her on this mission trip.
“Aunt Betsy,” Sarah says, “You have always been so good at respecting all people even though your attitude is sometimes a bit harsh.”

I smile, knowing that I was known for speaking my mind and not being walked over. Sarah and I had not always seen eye to eye, but I always loved and respected her as I did the rest of my family.
Once we had camp set-up, we venture out to get some groceries for tonight’s meal and to see that grand Carson Mansion. We come back from this excursion with a true meaning of what respect means. It seemed like everywhere we went someone was talking about Mr. Carson as if he were still alive. Maybe he is in spiritual sort of way since his generosity helped so many people, churches, and agencies in this town. What he did way back when is still producing positive results today.

Makes me know that having a little respect for our fellow human beings can deliver a lifetime of good. I knew that Sarah’s and my bike trip was truly a God driven event, one in which we needed to spread His word through our daily actions. I went to bed that night thanking God for all He’s given me, especially my niece.

And in my real world, treating people with respect is a huge part of what Catholic Charities does with every one of their clients and donors. And in return, we are respected by our clients and donors. We have weathered some harsh economic times through the grace of our donors, and we’ve been able to lend a hand up to several people on the brink of total economic disaster.

May we all be like William M. Carson for that’s EXACTLY what God wants us to act like. God bless you all and lets’ keep going the distance.

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Priorities

PrioritiesI can’t be sure why I’m poking along, taking my time getting to McKinleyville, California. It was only 22 miles from Trinidad, but I just couldn’t seem to ride very far each day. I found my mind wandering a lot, and about nothing special.

The views of the ocean were spectacular. I could hear the ebb and flow of the waves as they rhythmically move, almost like some sort of dance. At one point, there was a parking area off the side of the road with access to the beach.

I decided to take time out from this ride and do some reflecting. Water always helped me feel close to God, and God was who I was missing right then.

As I sat on the beach, allowing the ocean to tickle my toes, I thought back as to why I seemed to feel depressed. The weather had been picture perfect, so I knew that wasn’t it. My money was holding out, and I wasn’t yearning for any nourishment.

I decided to think back as to when this depressed feeling started. I had been unsuccessful finding any type of volunteer work in Trinidad, but that hadn’t bothered me. I took advantage of my time there and did a lot of sightseeing.

Then it hit me, while I was out snooping around, I came across an old man who was kneeling before some sort of memorial that had been erected in his backyard. I quietly watched this man as he prayed; at least I think he was praying. When he finished, I saw him touch a photo that had been imbedded into the stone memorial. I could make out that the photo was of a woman.
I allowed myself to assume this woman was the man’s wife. I figured he recently lost his wife, and was still mourning the loss. Judging by his frailty and white hair, I figured the man to be in his late 80’s or maybe early 90’s. Assuming he and his wife married young, I figured they had been married over 60 years. How hard that would be to love someone that long and be the one left behind.

Later that day, as I sat at the diner counter eating my lunch, I inquired about the old man. My waitress, a middle-aged woman, knew exactly who I was talking about, but some of my assumptions were wrong. The man was 92, but the photo was a picture of his daughter who had passed away over 60 years ago.

The man had been a salesman which took him away much of the week. His daughter would often beg him to come to one of her baseball games, but Jim, the old man, always explained that work came first. His daughter grew to accept the fact that her father’s job took him away, and unlike her friends’ parents, was unable to be a bigger part in her life. Her mom would show up occasionally, but most game days, the mother needed to be home with their other children.

On one sunny day, the girl headed off to practice and was struck by a speeding car. She was killed instantly. Her father was away and couldn’t be reached by phone since there weren’t any cell phones back then. His wife had to wait until he phoned her to give him the tragic news.

My heart grew heavy thinking about how this father must have felt hearing that horrible news long distance. I began to realize just how good things like cell phones, internet, and other modern devices are to communicating with others. I had often condemned the popularity of texting stating that it takes away the closeness between people, but this story made me rethink my position on this.

As I continued to listen, my waitress grew solemn while she swallowed hard before finishing her story. She said, “That man was my father. He was never the same after my sister was killed.”
I made my condolences, quietly finished my lunch, and got on my way. I had been thinking how tragic it had been that the man had never seen his daughter play baseball, probably missed birthdays, first attempts at anything, and wasn’t there the day the accident happened.

I soon realized that my depression was based off of the number of times I had ignored a loved one, claiming to be too busy for them. Subconsciously, I had been thinking how selfish my ride seemed to be, but then I realized that I was still doing God’s work. I thought back to all the wonderful people I had met and who had helped me along my way.

As I sat watching the waves dance, I decided that the best thing I could do to remedy my situation was to call family and friends more often. I even thought that some of my nieces and nephews may like to join me on some of this ride. How great would that be to have that kind of quality time with a loved one.

I got up, brushed the sand off of me, and headed back to my bike. I grabbed my phone, called each of my siblings, and told them how much I love them and miss them. Then I called a few friends and my nieces and nephews. Surprisingly, my middle niece said she’d love to ride with me. Her job is with a local ministry, and they decided she could do some ministering along the way.
I’ll be meeting up with Sarah in Eureka, California. I have new found energy since Eureka is only about 25 miles from where I stood. I felt like I had my priorities straight again. Never would I ever take any loved one for granted for we just don’t know when God calls them home.

And in my real world, I just experienced losing my uncle. He lived in California for years. I remember when I was growing up, looking forward to seeing Uncle Hal because he had traveled the world, seen so much, and had such delightful stories to share.

My sister, brother-in-law, and I took a trip out to see him about ten years ago. We had a blast and Hal had shown us so many wonderful sights around the San Francisco area. Then we helped him cull through some personal items that he was thinking about parting with. Most of the items were household items. He gave me this fabulous set of Royal Dalton china that I display proudly in my hutch.

About five years ago, my uncle’s health started going downhill. My sister and I must have said at least a dozen times in the past two years that we needed to get back out to see Hal since he was not able to come see us anymore.

We kept saying, “Maybe next year we can plan a trip out there.” Now it’s too late. Hal has been called home to be with God, and we are left to mourn like the fictitious man at the beginning of my blog.

As my sister and I drove back to Nebraska, where Hal was laid to rest, we spoke about how we had not been good about prioritizing our lives to accommodate the aging relatives we still have. We were grateful that we were able to see some of those relatives at Hal’s funeral, and we are now busy trying to make plans for some sort of family reunion somewhere halfway between the places we live.

Life is too short to spend most of your time working. As important as our jobs are to our livelihood and the people we touch on with any jobs we have, we have to know when to say, “I’m going home to be with my family. That piece of work can wait until tomorrow.”

You see, the work will always be there, and if you aren’t there to do it, someone else will get it done. But you may not have another opportunity to see that school play, a first date, or a special birthday. And for those of you who still have parents who are living, take the time to do things with them even if it’s a little inconvenient for you.

Also, recognize when others, who value family time a little more than you might, need more personal time than maybe you do. Just because you are focused on work projects, doesn’t mean they need to be just like you. God made us alike in a lot of ways, but He also made each of us individually.

I’m going to take this opportunity to say “thank you” to my boss and CEO of Catholic Charities of Central Colorado for giving me the personal time off to attend my uncle’s funeral. As my family and I mourn our loss, I can be thankful that I work for a great bunch of people who do recognize that we all need to prioritize the work we do into our personal lives.

So before you race off to another meeting, or head to the gym before going home, take some time to at least call someone and say, “Hey, have I told you lately just how much I love you?” And as always, let’s keep going the distance. God bless you all, and I love you.

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A Time to Rest and Regroup

ImageI decided to stay in Trinidad for a while longer.  It’s not that I was enthralled with what Trinidad has to offer, although it’s a very nice town, but I just felt the need to rest and regroup.  I’ve been on the road for such a long time, and my body needed a little rejuvenating along with my heart, my soul, and my mind.

I’ve taken great pride in what I’ve accomplished, but the fatigue from riding the road seems to have gotten the better of me.  I was no longer seeing the beauty around me.  Instead, I found myself cussing each driver that drove a bit too close to me, or counties that do very little on road improvements.

I knew that it was time for an extended rest so that I could get back to seeing all that God has placed around me.  My hotel was already providing me with a spectacular view of the ocean.  I spent several mornings sitting out on my deck watching the waves crash in.

I took joy in the seal families located on a rocky point just down from my hotel deck.  It amazed me how attentive the cows were with their young, and when I say “cows” I’m not referring to moo cows but to the female seals.  The male seals, called bulls, were quite aggressive at times.  I had to laugh at how similar humans are when courting the opposite sex.  The males strut their stuff while the females act somewhat unimpressed by their antics.

Now don’t start writing to me telling me how offensive my words are when I compare human behavior to animal behavior.  I only meant that as superior as we are to any other living group, we still show signs of similarities, even though those similarities are stretched some.  And it was still fun watching those bulls try to be the king of the colony.  It got my mind off of the hectic pace I had laid out for me, and got me back to a good spot in life.

I don’t know how long I’ll be staying here.  I’ve actually thought about looking for some sort of temp job just to add a little to my wallet, but for right now my finances are holding steady so I may just continue to rest and regroup.

And in my real world, Catholic Charities of Central Colorado big fundraiser event is over.  There’s still some work that needs to be done to finalize our numbers, but the stress of preparing for this huge event is now behind us.

We are all striving to regroup and get our lives back to normal.  Some will have more of an opportunity to rest, while others simply have to adjust their lives back to the normal range.  I am one of those adjusting my life back to a point where I can sit and visit with my elderly mother, do some cleaning, and I can get back to writing since writing is such a passion of mine.

And don’t go thinking that every hurdle in life is some sort of punishment from God.  Sure, He may be testing you, trying to teach you some sort of lesson, but sometimes stuff happens and it’s nothing more than that.

So as we go about our daily grind, take some time to rest, to regroup, so you can continue to enjoy all that God has placed before us.  And as always, let’s keep going the distance.

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Highs and Lows

Highs and lows

I can’t believe I just went 62 grueling miles getting from Crescent City, California to Trinidad, California.  When I say grueling, I don’t mean huge mountains I had to ride up and down, but more the fact that the road is quite busy, most of the ocean views are blocked by trees, and it rained on me for at least half the trip. 

I was feeling quite low, until I rode up to the Turtle Rocks Oceanfront Inn.  It’s a small hotel, but the views are breath-taking.  As I entered, I overheard a woman arguing with the hotel manager, or at least I presumed he was the hotel manager.  This woman had with her, a little shih tzu with a pink bow in its top notch.  It was a cute little thing who seemed very well behaved.  It wagged its tail as I approached, allowing me to pet it.

The woman screamed at the hotel manager, “YOU SEE, SHE’S A FRIENDLY DOG AND WOULDN’T HURT A FLEA!  YOUR AD SAYS THIS IS A PET FRIENDLY PLACE.”

The hotel manager was having nothing to do with the woman.  I could see that the woman was reaching her limit, so I decided to step in and tell the manager that she was right. 

“Sir,” I said, “if you go to the Trinidad California Chamber of Commerce website, it specifically says that the Turtle Rocks Oceanfront Inn is pet friendly.  May I suggest you log on and see for yourself?”

The manager was none too happy with me, but he did go to his office, shut the door, why? I’m not sure, maybe only to get himself calmed down.  I stood there with this lady who had picked up Muffin, as I quickly learned was the dog’s name, and thanked me for verifying that she was not insane.

The manager returned after a few minutes, apologized, and then told the front desk clerk to honor the woman’s reservation, but that she’d have to pay a $100 deposit.  The woman didn’t seem bothered by the extra expense.  It was obvious that Muffin was much more than just a dog to this woman.

My check-in experience was much less dramatic, and soon I found myself in my own little suite.  The deck looked out onto a sea lion colony.  I stood there for several minutes watching and listening.  I began to wonder how many people had stayed her who ended up complaining about the growling noises these creatures make.  I found it all so fascinating.  The crashing ocean waves were much louder than those sea lions, but I knew from past experience, that these sounds would lull me to sleep that night.

I get cleaned up fully expecting to want a nap from my long ride, but the low I was feeling riding into town had vanished and was replaced with an exceptional high.  I head into town and tour their museum, a couple of other local businesses, then ate lunch at the Larrupin Café.  Life couldn’t be better at that very moment.

But the moment would be brief when I heard some locals talking about a young couple who had recently gone off hiking along the beach area forgetting to keep track of when high tide happened that day.  They were trapped in a remote area of the beach as the waters continued to rise.  Unfortunately, they were both caught in a rip tide and drowned.  My heart went out to their families.  I said a quick prayer for the repose of their souls.  I wondered how God could allow such a thing happen to such a young couple at the beginning of their life.  Then I remembered that God gives us choices in life, and if we choose to live our life on the edge, sometimes bad things happen.

After a fabulous lunch, I headed back to the inn to get some rest.  I knew my stay in Trinidad would be short, and after such a long trip, I knew I’d need to get to bed early.  I was thrilled that this inn served a free full breakfast in the morning.  Saving some money always brings a bit of a high to me.  Life was good again.

And in my real world, I’m faced with highs and lows daily.  I think we all do, but I try to focus more on the highs.  It keeps my mind clearer, and allows me to keep God first in my life.  I know God is always there, especially when I’m at a low point.  I feel like He wants us to appreciate all that He has given to us, things that give us that Godly high. 

I know I have many things in my life that I appreciate, too many to record here in this blog, but I’m also aware of all the people out there that have so little in their lives; people like the clients Catholic Charities sees daily.  I wonder if they have anything in their lives they can appreciate, or if the harshness of a bad economy and maybe a few poor choices in life keep them from seeing the good that is around them.

I know many of them do thank those who help them with various life issues, so that’s probably something they are appreciative of.  But then I wonder how long their high from the help they receive from Catholic Charities lasts.  It would be easy for me to sit before my computer preaching to them how they need to let go and let God, but I don’t think that would be fair of me.  I don’t know what their lives are like and just how bad things might be.

I’m not here to judge them, but I do think I know what it’s like to hit rock bottom.  Back in the mid 80’s I reached a very low point in my life where I actually thought about ending it all.  It was the worst fifteen seconds of my life.  Yes, it only lasted fifteen seconds, but it changed my life forever.  It was then, at that lowest point, when I decided it was up to me to make something of myself, to pick myself up and get back to living, to let go and let God. 

I prayed hard that night for His guidance and support.  I shed the overpowering pressure of being broke and embraced it instead.  Soon I found my life was on an upswing again despite the fact that I was still broke.  I saw the beauty around me, I appreciated my friends and family, and I turned over my lack of income to God.  Shortly after that, job offers started coming in and life was good again.

About five years later, a co-worker commented how upbeat I always was and how she looked up to me.  Then she told me she thought of me one Sunday when her minister talked about letting go and letting God.  I was floored.  I couldn’t believe that I had made an impact in this woman’s life to the point where she thought of me in the context of her minister’s sermon.  How honored I felt just then.  It’s that feeling I think about when I get to feeling dumpy, fat, or inadequate. 

I know that I am exactly who God wants me to be, I’m doing exactly what God wants me doing even on days when things seem to be overwhelming, and that as long as I continue to accept the highs and lows in life, God is pleased with me. 

Have I ever come close to getting as low as I did that one fateful night?  No, because I know that I have been blessed by the Lord.  And I know that some of the lows we have are from God, too.  We need those lows to appreciate all that we have; to appreciate the highs.  And as I sum up this blog, I can’t help but hum the song from The Bryds “Turn, Turn, Turn” based off that ever popular bible passage Ecclesiastes 3:1-15.  How true those words are every day of our lives.  There is a time for everything, and it’s up to us to make the best of it.

So when you’re feeling a bit low think about the words from that song or bible passage, and know that God is right there beside you, waiting for you to embrace all that He’s given you.  And as always, let’s keep going the distance.

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The Wild Side of Gold

Gold BeachMy bike trip has taken me back to the edge of the ocean. It’s nice being able to see the waves crashing in over the rocks. It keeps my mind off the grueling 59 mile ride from Bandon, Oregon to Gold Beach, Oregon. The only thing my body wants to do is rest, but I know lying in bed will only intensify those aches.

After I get checked into my hotel, another Motel 6, gotta love the Motel 6, I decide a long, hot shower would do my body a bigger favor than a long nap. I’m amazed at how much this simple shower revived me. I was raring to go.

I head to the main shopping district of this fine town. Most people in this town seem to be very active and the businesses reflect this, as many businesses sell outdoor and athletic stuff. I find a few souvenir shops that I browsed through, and a couple of art galleries, but mostly it’s shops that don’t interest me much, that is until I see a sign in a storefront window that says “Clamming Supplies”.

I remember my failure at crabbing, but clamming had to be easier. I wasn’t sure what I would do with the clams if I found any since I was staying in a hotel, but it was something I had wanted to try. I went inside and inquired about how one went about clamming. I was given some great instructions, and was sold the minimal gear needed, a rake and a basket. After paying for my supplies and my day fishing license I headed outside.

The store owner was so kind, pointing me in the right direction for the best clamming. So there I was walking towards the miles of open beaches, hoping for a new adventure. I felt like I was walking on the wild side. Yes, I realize clamming isn’t much of a wild thing to do, but when you live inland all your life, digging in the sand to find delectable clams seemed a bit wild to me.
I reach the beach and discover only a few others walking on my “wild side”. Clamming in the middle of the week seemed to be the right time for finding a good spot; fewer people, lots more clams. I pick a spot and start digging around as instructed. I was told this method should provide me some nice little neck clams. It’s not long before I strike gold.

I continued digging until my basket held my quota. I looked at my gold mine and wondered, “Now what?” I look down the beach and see a middle-aged man and woman being a little more aggressive with their clamming. They were obviously after other kinds than the little necks because their gear was much different than mine.

I walked over to them and introduced myself. The woman smiled with delight as she said, “Ah, you’re the woman riding across the country on her bike. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
We babbled on, me telling them why I was on such a ride, and they talking about life in Gold Beach. I finally explained that I was staying in a hotel and wouldn’t really be able to fix the clams I had dug up. I told them the only reason I went clamming today was because I had wanted to experience what it was like to clam, but now I didn’t know what to do with them. Could I simply throw them back in the ocean? Did they want them? I didn’t want to kill the little critters because of some stupid act on my part of not knowing if they can survive being thrown back into the ocean after being dug up.

Well, the woman smiled and said they’d be happy to take them off my hands since they had not gotten any little necks that day. I handed over my basket and rake, and told them to keep it all because now that I had tried clamming, I didn’t need that stuff anymore. I explained I was done “walking on the wild side” of nature.

The woman started crying. I thought, “My God, what have I done?” I soon found out that this couple not only was living a bit on the wild side, but they were also living on the edge of poverty. Both of them had had decent, good paying jobs a few years ago, but when the economy took its downward turn both had been laid off. Unemployment ran out, good paying jobs still weren’t available so on their days off from work – she worked as a maid at a local hotel and he worked as a cashier at a local convenience store – they came down here hoping to get their quota of clams. She explained that if they were able to get enough food from the ocean, then they spent a lot less on groceries which allowed them the funds to pay their rent.

I could barely hold back my tears seeing this couple working so hard at trying to make ends meet, but I silently applauded them for not giving up, for taking what jobs were available, and finding a way to help make those ends meet. I said a quick prayer for them that God would reward them with a much bigger basket of gold. I thanked God for letting me walk a bit on the wild side, and for giving me the chance to turn my wild side day of clamming into gold for two of His people.

I returned to my hotel feeling pretty darn good. I not only experienced something I had never done before, but I was shown that a little hard work can be quite rewarding for those who try. That night I prayed for that couple again, and for all those living on that edge of poverty. Many of them don’t have the opportunities that this couple had in finding delectable foods like clams, but some aren’t as diligent either about finding work or ways to make ends meet as this couple was doing.

I felt myself starting to judge those who don’t try as hard, so I knew that it was time to simply thank God for all that He had given me, and to get some rest so that I could make my way to California. I was 39 miles away from the California border. Oregon has been a great state to me, and offered me so many opportunities to walk the wild side of life. Life was good.

And in my real world I think about all those clients we serve daily at the Marian House Soup Kitchen. Many are families like the one I depicted in my virtual life, hanging on by a thread. Sometimes the only way they keep from being homeless is to eat their one meal at the Soup Kitchen.

I remember serving a meal at the Soup Kitchen just a couple of months after I started working for Catholic Charities of Central Colorado. I was astounded by the number of families that came through the line. It was quite a shock to my “rose colored” mind. I went home that night and thanked God for the home I live in, the job I have, and my supportive and loving family.
And I thank God for all those who work and volunteer at the Marian House Soup Kitchen. You will never find them judging any of our dinner guests. All are treated with dignity and grace, and the only time a guest is treated differently is when they have disrespected the staff, volunteers, or other guests. Staff and volunteers make each meal feel as much like home as they can for our clients. It is a well-run machine serving over 600 meals a day.

So as you look for a little gold in your life, and if that gold happens to be found on the wild side of life, remember to thank God for all the blessings He’s bestowed on you. And as always, let’s keep going the distance.

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A Purpose in Life

Our-prime-purpose-in-this-life-is-to-help-othersIt’s been an exciting 24 miles of salt filled air, but one can’t see the ocean from this stretch of the highway. In fact, one can’t see much at all because you’re busy watching all the traffic around you. It’s a beautiful section of highway, flanked by trees on both sides, but because it’s only a two-lane, one must be attentive to all those vehicles.

I find myself thinking “Where are they going?” I soon find that many are heading to Bullards Beach State Park near Bandon, Oregon; the same place I’m staying at. It sits inland enough to be protected from the strong ocean breezes, but it’s near the Coquille River, so many of those entering the park have boats.

I will be doing some crabbing, and I don’t mean complaining. Having never crabbed before, I was a bit hesitant to try, but I was told that it’s quite easy. They have a special dock where one can chat with others making it easy to pick up pointers from the pros.

I rented a yurt, a domed tent structured by a wood frame with a wood floor. It wasn’t exactly what I had expected. The yurts were quite close together, but it was clean and there was a bed so I was a happy camper.

I did a lot of hiking while staying at this park. I went to the historic Coquille River Lighthouse then ventured down the 4 ½ miles of open beach. The sand felt good squishing up between my toes. Having lived inland my entire life, I realize why so many people are drawn to our coastal states. The ocean is mesmerizing, and there are so many different things one can find along the beach. I was like a little kid seeing something for the first time.

My crabbing ended up being a bust, but I was fine with that. I had more fun watching the pros haul in those delectable crustaceans. It made me realize how diverse we all are especially when one ventures out of their comfort zone.

It also made me realize how important each individual is on this fine earth. There isn’t a one of us without a purpose. I know we all have days when we feel bogged down by the humdrum of our lives, but each task we do each day is of value to someone.

So I spent the rest of that day touring this area, and taking note of all the different tasks that were being performed by all the people I came in contact with. It was truly breath-taking, to see just how widespread God made all of us, yet we are all so very much alike; mind boggling to say the least. God is truly the master of all things.

And in my real world, I am coming off our busiest time of the year. It’s during this time that our number of donations and number of clients seen doubles, maybe even triples. And each person who works for Catholic Charities, each person who volunteers, each person needing assistance, each person who donates, plays a critical part in the success of Catholic Charities. There isn’t one job or one person that is more important than the other.

I remember, while living in Aspen, watching this mobile parts distributor pull up to a mechanics shop. I could only assume he was there to present to the mechanic the different products he had that could make the mechanic’s job easier. As I passed the truck, I heard a couple of young guys comment what a “loser job” that parts distributor had. I was appalled. I thought, “Just where do you think that mechanic gets the tools he needs to fix your cars?” And I must confess that when I was much younger, I would occasionally think that certain jobs were below me.

I’m so grateful that I’ve come to a point in my life where I know each of us has a purpose in life. Sometimes that purpose can be highly rewarding, and other times one is totally unaware of what their purpose in life has done for someone. I think those times are the most special to God because we are doing things just because, and not for any kind of recognition.

I see this time and time again here at Catholic Charities. We have so many great volunteers who come each week because they believe in what we do. And I hope they know that Catholic Charities couldn’t do what we do without them. Kudos to all of you who volunteer not only here, but all around the world. God is smiling down on you for your efforts.

And don’t forget to recognize your own purpose in life. It took me a while to realize that one of my purposes in life is to write. I ignored this for years, but have now embraced my writing skills. I have completed my first book, and am now working on the second in a series of books about this epic virtual bike trip I’m on. And as I wait for these books to be published, I’ll continue doing what I do for I know that each task I perform each day is a small piece in God’s perfect plan.

So in this fast pace of life we live in, take some time to appreciate the diversity of tasks being performed around you each day by a diverse group of people. Look for the value in each person to include yourself, and thank God for He is the master of all things. God bless and as always, let’s keep going the distance.

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Giving Thanks

My travels have taken me south to Yachats, Oregon, a small coastal city in Lincoln County, Oregon.  After getting myself checked in at the hotel I was staying at, I did a little snooping around.  I discovered that this town was voted one of the “Ten Coolest Small Towns of the US” in 2007.  I could see why it received this accolade as the town sits right on the edge of the Pacific Ocean with a forested hillside surrounding it.  It’s beauty takes your breath away.

I also discovered quite the history here; a history not so becoming of the beauty this area holds.  This region has been inhabited for at least 1,500 years with radiocarbon tests being done on the remains of a pit house that showed it dated back to 570 AD.  The town was built on sea shell middens and numerous graves from past inhabitants.  That sort of freaked me out knowing that I could be walking on someone’s remains.  And it shocked me that when these skeletons were found when Highway 101 was being built along with other buildings, they were simply bulldozed into the fill dirt. 

And this total disregard for the early inhabitants of this area continued.  Native American tribes were forcibly moved to a reservation 80 miles north of where they had called home and where they were able to provide for their families.  No longer were they hunters and gatherers.  Now they had to make a living planting crops and many crops planted near the ocean failed causing many deaths by starvation.  My blood was boiling thinking about how arrogant the white man was.  It was if they thought this world belonged totally to them and that they could do anything they wanted to get what they wanted.  And even though these tribes were finally allowed access to the Yachats River Valley where they were able to grow potatoes, oats, wheat, and corn, and allowed to hunt again, in 1875 they were once again forced to move because of the white man’s desire to homestead where they were living.

But that’s history and this area is simply beautiful.  I knew I couldn’t change the history of this area, but I could make sure that I not only treated this area with respect since it is a gift from God, but that I also treat everyone I meet with respect.  And this town seemed to have that same mindset, for each July 4th the Yachats la de da Parade is held and anyone in the town can participate.  I saw photos of this parade and it boasts entries from the Yachats Umbrella Drill Team to belly dancers, to the fire department to the Oregon Central Coast PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays).  It seemed to me that this town has learned God’s lesson that we are all His children.  And with all the activities this town has year-round, it shows that they are all thankful for the blessings God bestows on them.

I visited the Cape Perpetua Scenic Area and the Heceta Head Lighthouse.  I also went to the Little Log Church and Museum, the North Fork of the Yachats Bridge, and the Gerdemann Botanical Preserve.  All in all, my stay in Yachats was enjoyable if not memorable.  I thanked God as I left Yachats for giving me the chance to be a part of their fine community even if it was only for a day.

And in my real life, as I prepare for the holidays, I am thankful that God has brought my sister and brother-in-law back to Colorado Springs.  Having them close to us again has brought such joy to both my mother and me.  I’m thankful for my entire family both immediate and extended since they all play such key roles in my life.  Without them, I would not be who I am today.  I’m thankful that we live in these United States where we can agree to disagree and still love each other.  And I’m thankful for the job I have at Catholic Charities for it was here where I learned just how sheltered I had been for so many years, and how I had been ignoring God’s prompts to be a steward for Him. 

I knew there were poor in Colorado Springs and in the world, but did I really see them?  I did not.  In fact, prior to working here, I did everything to avoid the poor and downhearted.  Every time I heard the word “Stewardship”, I cringed, yetI felt God tugging at me to become a steward of His word.  But I fought Him for years.  Then finally one day, after being laid off from my previous job, I found myself working for Catholic Charities.  God had managed to put me smack dab in the middle of His stewardship and I love it.  He won; thankfully He won.

Catholic Charities is truly a steward of God’s word.  We strive to treat everyone with respect and dignity.  Race, color, religion does not matter at Catholic Charities.  We are here to help those in need in whatever way our funding allows us to help.  Through sound leadership, the staff at Catholic Charities has been able to help many people go from a desperate state of life to a comfortable state.  We pride ourselves on giving a hand up and not a hand out.

So as we move towards Thanksgiving and the Christmas season, take some time to think about what you are thankful for, how much you have, and maybe how much you can give to the community that you live in.  And don’t be like I was for all those years, fighting God about stewardship.  Stewardship is quite rewarding and you’ll find that you have that much more to be thankful about by simply being a steward of God.  God bless you all, happy Thanksgiving, and let’s continue to go the distance.

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A Ride Well Worth Taking

Image   Hello from Lincoln City, Oregon, a tourist and retirement community located on the Pacific coastline.  I finally made it to the west coast, and the views in this town are breathtaking and have made the miles I rode well worth it.  I can see why it’s a tourist attraction and why people choose to retire here.  And I must admit after taking more than 3 years to get here I thought about putting down some roots and just staying here, but once again the uncharted road is calling out to me.  So my stay here in Lincoln City will be brief.

After getting my tent set-up at the Devils Lake RV Park, I biked on over to the Pacific Ocean.  Yes, I know I was camped right by this lake, but I wanted to dip my toes into that awesome ocean.  It was an inspirational feeling.  At that very moment in my life had I not already believed in God, I would have to believe in Him now for there is nothing greater than feeling this mighty ocean crash against your legs bathing them in its cool refreshing water.  The salt smell in the air was euphoric.  No way could I say this mighty ocean was not a creation of God.

I sat on the beach for several hours thinking about my life, my journey, and my family.  I felt peace where peace hadn’t been for a while.  I knew that the fatigue of riding these past 2,190 miles had taken its toll on me, but now sitting here seeing the Pacific Ocean made all that fatigue melt away.  I had accomplished something I never had been able to do before.  So many diets I’d been on, so many attempts to make exercise a part of my life and yet each time I found that my lazy side would win.  But here I am, sitting on this beach knowing that I had just made it the first leg of this trip I started over 3 years ago, a trip that was supposed to help me lose the weight that doctor of mine had said made me a candidate for weight reduction surgery.

Okay, so I’m already delving into my real life as I talk about my doctor recommending me for lap band surgery.  I’m sure he meant well with his sage advice, but I know that most of those drastic weight surgeries give one a quick fix, but doesn’t allow the brain to recognize that the body has lost a bunch of weight.  At my age my mind is confused enough I didn’t need to add in quick weight loss to add to the confusion.  Besides I have still managed to shed over 30 pounds.

And I know that this ride has not only helped me lose weight, it’s helped me through a lot of other life issues.  I no longer argue with my mother about the number of beers she’d like to have each day, but rather I simply tell her “this is how many you get.”  It irritates her that I won’t raise my voice giving her the opportunity to argue back and blame me for starting a fight.  When one remains calm with someone who is angry, it’s hard for the angry person to stay angry.

I guess that’s why so many counselors are so calm when they are counseling someone, much like our wonderful Life Connections counselors at Catholic Charities.  These women are such calming forces not only with the clients they see, but with day to day work issues.  I’m blessed to know and be a part of each of their lives.

I’ve had people recently tell me how proud they are of me for staying dedicated to this ride, for caring for my mother, for taking on the whole process of writing a book about this journey I’m on all the while I’m working a full-time job.  And I thank them all for their compliments, but really, isn’t this all just a part of life?  Isn’t this what God wants us to be doing, to not take life for granted, to utilize the talents He’s given us, to be selfless with the way we live our lives?  I don’t see anything I’ve done now or in the past as being any greater or lesser than anyone else on this fine earth.  We all are just one big family of God and if my little blog stories help someone through a difficult time or if it can impart a smile on someone’s face then I feel I’ve accomplished a task given to me by God.  Thank you all so much for following me on my journey as it has all been well worth the effort and as always, let’s keep going the distance.

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UFO Fest – Unidentified Familiar Objects

ImageAs I make my way towards the west coast with my goal of getting to Lincoln City before Halloween, I decide to take a break from my travels and got myself a room at the Best Western Vineyard Inn in McMinnville, Oregon.  It was a nice hotel and my stay there wasn’t anything to write home to mother about, but the town itself was fun to be in as this town is a place where UFO sightings have occurred.  It has the second largest UFO festival in the nation, second only to Roswell, New Mexico.

As I made my way through this fine town I discover it’s rich in restaurants, so much so that Bon Appetit magazine rated it one of the nation’s foodiest towns.  I find the Bon Appetit article in a store and read up on the restaurants they highlighted.  Thistles is one of them so I head there hoping they had a menu posted in their window.  I was in luck, there it was in bold print, but what I noticed was it was a lot of foo foo foods and I was hungry for something a little more familiar to me.  I pressed on hoping that I’d come across something that piqued my interest.

I stumbled upon a street full of various restaurants.  Ah, just the thing I was looking for.  So many restaurants to choose from, but again I was looking for familiar foods that were recognizable.  I didn’t need something smothered in wine sauce, or some sort of sea urchin that looks like some space alien.  And then there it was, Nick’s Italian Café.  As I perused the menu I saw so many familiar items from pizza, to lasagna, to soups.  MMM, my mouth was watering, but it was only 10:00 a.m. so I still had time to kill before they opened for lunch.

My wanderings take me to a familiar place, a quilt store, Verna’s Sewing Center to be exact.  Of course, being the quilter I am, I needed to go in and see what fine things this store had to offer.  The first thing I see is a sign with huge letters on it – U F O – and in smaller print it says Un-Finished Opportunities.  It was a sign talking about a quilt day to bring in unfinished quilts and other handmade items and be given the venue to get them completed.  I had to laugh that this town embraced this whole UFO thing, but thinking about all those U F O items I had stored away in my parent’s crawl space made me realize that a venue like this could be beneficial to all we crafters out there.

As I strolled around the store I saw many familiar looking fabrics, but did find a few that I had never seen before.  Thankfully I was able to resist buying any, left the store thanking the store owner for her hospitality then headed back towards Nick’s Italian Café.

On my way there I started thinking about all those familiar things in life that keeps me grounded.  I so love fall with the colors in the trees, smell of the fallen leaves, briskness in the air.  My mind soars off into high school football games, sitting on cold bleachers sipping hot chocolate and rooting for the home team.  I discover that so many of my familiar thoughts revolve around family.  I’m grateful to have been raised in such a wonderful family, but a part of me knows that I’ve probably missed a whole bunch of unidentified familiar objects because my own life issues placed blinders on my eyes preventing me from seeing those familiar things.

I get to Nick’s and am warmed by the brick ovens used to bake the homemade pizzas.  And even though I’m there right as they open, the place is already packed with families and friends.  As I’m seated in a corner, something I was happy about as it kept me out of the main flow of things yet allowed me ample room to view all those around me, I look around and realize that even though I don’t know a soul there it all looks so familiar.

These are people like any other people from any other town eating lunch with co-workers, with their BFFs, with their aging parents, and with their kids.  It’s a warming sight one that will live with me forever and ever.

When my food is delivered to my table I bow my head and thank God for the wonderful food before me, for the people around me, and for all those friends and family who are miles away.  I’m overwhelmed with the power of God right then and there as I realize that although this is one giant earth we all live on, it’s small in God’s eyes.  We are all His children and we should all be familiar to each other.  And although I find tears welling up in my eyes as I think about how glorious our Savior is, I find myself happy to be a part of this great world we live in.

I know that God is beside me always and will continue to watch over me as I make my way to the west coast.  The very thought of finally seeing the Pacific Ocean is exhilarating and gives me the drive to push on.

And in my real life I think about how UFO’s played a huge part in my sister’s life.  Kathy graduated from high school in 1970.  At the time she was asked by our guidance counselor what she wanted to become.  Her desire back then was to work for our space program investigating UFO sightings.  The counselor, an elderly nun, had no idea what my sister was talking about and steered her towards teaching.

My sister went on to college getting her master’s degree in teaching and taught in 3 different states for over 30 years.  She was a good teacher, a diligent teacher, a teacher who managed to change a few students’ lives, but she never had the passion of those teachers who live and breathe their profession.

She retired from teaching a few years ago and is now sort of mentoring our niece, Emily, who is in her last year of college to become a teacher.  Emily has the passion needed to be a great teacher.  She asked Kathy recently if she loved teaching.  Kathy had to admit to Emily that teaching had never been her passion, that what she really had wanted to do all her life was to investigate UFO’s.  Kathy shared this with me recently and I thought “Gosh, for 40 years this familiar sister of mine was doing a job she liked, but wasn’t passionate about.  How sad.”  Then I realized I had done the same thing.

After graduating from high school I went directly into the business world and excelled at being an administrative assistant for several companies.  I loved the work and was happy when something I had worked on actually helped whatever company progress forward.

But then one day, at the job I’m currently at, my boss came to me and said “Do you realize that a God-given talent of yours is going to waste?”  I was shocked wondering what it was he was talking about.  He told me that he’d been reading all my blogs since I started this virtual bike trip and said that my writing style is one of a true author.  He said by not writing a book I was taking that God-given talent and tossing it back in God’s face.  I pondered his words for several weeks, thought about what my sister had told me about her desire to this day of wanting to investigate UFO’s, and I thought about family members of mine who had also taken that familiar path in life and didn’t seem all that fulfilled.  I prayed on this and was amazed when I felt the strong message that said the familiar path in life isn’t always the path God wants us to take.  Sometimes it’s that Unidentified Familiar Object – in my case writing – that is truly the path that God sees me taking.

So a couple of months ago I took the plunge into the world of writing and have started writing a fictional book about this crazy bike trip I’m on.  The main character is much like me, but she has a reporter who tags along for a story for the newspaper he works for.  They run into real life issues, they have to make tough decisions, and they have to face their demons that have haunted them for years.  I find the whole process of writing freeing and invigorating.  I find myself drawn to write even on nights where my administrative job has exhausted me.  I feel the passion, it’s a wonderful feeling.

I wished that I could wave a magic wand and give my sister that chance of investigating UFO’s as I was given the chance to write.  And I wish that magic wand could also help those people that Catholic Charities serves find their true path in life, to find their passion, but I know that there are times God wants us to go through hard times so that we recognize what is truly important in our life.

I’m grateful to my parents and siblings for being there for me, I’m thankful for all the places I’ve worked and people I’ve worked with, I’m thankful for my boss at recognizing and motivating me to take that leap of faith, and I’m most grateful to God knowing He is there beside me, you, and everyone else on this fine earth.  May we all find the passion in our lives, may we find those unidentified familiar objects, and may we all keep going the distance.  God bless.

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