Day-Maker #33

A tiny little blonde girl, who can't have been more than three, always prances around the pews during Mass. Today she walked over to shake my hand during the sign of peace.

On Being Stoker

As I mentioned a few posts ago, the front seat of a tandem bike is called the captain and the back seat the stoker. From the stoker seat, I can see everything I want to the right and to the left, but in front I have a very good view of Percy's back and can only see the road far ahead if it is straight. I have no way of steering and no access to brakes. I spent most of our first ride wondering if I would be able to throw myself clear if the bike should fall.

[Side Note : I discovered later that both of us can throw ourselves clear. No one was hurt, and it's reassuring to know that.]

Whether traveling on Williamsburg road and trails or gliding down mountain hills, I find the stoker seat a lot like those trust exercises I've always hated. The ones where you close your eyes and someone leads you, or you lean back and get passed around a circle, or you let a crowd carry you. I hate them because, well, I have trouble with trust. So, as excited as I was to get on a tandem bike (who has this life?!) I was also terrified. And continue to be a little nervous every time I get on.

When we first started biking, Percy and I had to learn each others' balance and biking habits. How we lean against the falling of the bike, when we stop pedaling, how he steers and brakes. I learned that he always steers us right and brakes in time (or, mostly he does), but that he tends to brake slightly later than I would if I were in the front seat. As we were flying down the hills at Lake Sherando, I realized that these tendencies made the ride so exhilarating.

Which, of course, becomes the perfect analogy for my life right now. I am sitting on the backseat of a bicycle with Someone whom I trust completely in the front seat. I have a general idea of where He is taking me, but the everyday bumps are often unexpected. I have moments when I want to scream and throw myself off, but I simply hang on tight and trust that I'll end up okay. Even with my YACM job ending soon and an unknown summer ahead. Even with a big move and worries about loans and leaving people behind. I've got an excellent Captain.

The Bike Goes on a Road Trip

This past weekend, my cousin Larry graduated from Law School. Since he goes to school two hours up the road, part of me kind of hoped to be there. So when Percy asked if I wanted a ride out thataway, it made my day. He was staying the weekend with family in a nearby resort and would pass through Larry's school on the way.

We decided to leave Friday afternoon and take the bike through the mountains, camping one night in the Blue Ridge mountains. The original plan was to bike part of the Blue Ridge Parkway, a plan which seemed exciting until we entered the parkway. The road surveys some utterly gorgeous parts of the mountains -- from two narrow, winding lanes along some pretty spectacular drops. With safety in mind, we decided to find somewhere else to pull out the bike.

We found our way to Lake Sherando without maps, though with the help of street signs, and picked out an empty campsite in Washington National Forest. After taking the bike for a quick spin and making friends with a caretaker, we set up camp.

I've posted before about lighting fires in a fire place. Well, I got a campfire going with one match! Our neighbor saw our fire and came to ask to borrow matches. Percy and I had a brief moment of fire-envy when our fire started looking shaky and his was blazing. But eventually his lighter fluid (something we did without!) burnt off. Our fire picked up, thanks to the excellent fire-maintenance skills of Percy.

We cooked chicken and rice over the fire and stayed up watching it burn until long after everyone else had gone to bed. Since we had no service and I refused to take out my travel clock, I have no idea how late we finally turned in. I do know that we slept too late and had to vacate the premises before we had time to make breakfast. We had about an hour to take the bike on the mountain and get used to the lowest gear before we had to be on the road again.

On Being a Day-Maker: I'm Half Crazy...

10 points for commentators who recognize the musical allusion of the title!

On Sunday, Percy told Julia and me that he needed to see a man about a horse. Then he rephrased : a bicycle. On Monday, I went with Percy to find the man with the bike. We arrived at the meeting place (a Catholic church) where we found a sketchy white van (thanks to the DC sniper, they will forever creep me out) and met the man who was selling his bike. He opened the van and pulled out a beautiful, red bicycle. Of the two-seated variety.

The bicycle man told us about the biking he'd done, the tandem rides he and his wife had ridden, how he started biking, where we could learn about biking, where we should ride, how we could find out more about this bike, his Element, his white van, his wife's car, Hurricane Isabel, and at least a dozen other topics, as Percy inquired about the bike and looked it over. We took it for a test spin around the parking lot, and I think at that moment Percy was sold. I don't understand how ideas come into his head, but this one ranks among the best. After an almost-intense debate about whether or not the bike would fit in Percy's car, we discovered that it did, and Percy made a purchase of a tandem bike.

The bike is meant to provide transportation for Percy and a roommate to and from school next semester. In the meantime, the roommate is out of state for the summer and I am riding "stoker." (The front seat is called the captain; the backseat the stoker.)

We followed a bike path yesterday from a park to historic Jamestowne, a 14 mile ride that went by gloriously fast. We started learning each others' balance and cycling habit, and Percy is learning to communicate the minutest of details, such as "I'm braking now," or "Stop pedaling." I am learning to play a constant trust game, since I can't see ahead, steer, or brake, and thus discovering how hard it is for me to give up control.

In general, riding a tandem bike goes as smoothly as riding a normal bike, with the added factor of compensating for someone else's balance -- as he is compensating for the balance as well. The tricky parts are the starting and stopping, which require more coordination and balance. Our starts have become smoother over only two days, so it shouldn't be long before it is flawless.

Today, we went down to CW and on the parkway. We saw more people and therefore got more stares. Normally, I hate when people look at me, but today I just felt awesome. I know the look of people who just saw something that made their day -- I wear it often enough -- and we were definitely a day-maker for several people. Including a car of little old ladies who smiled and laughed and waved. We managed to keep up with them for a few seconds, but 25 mph is still a challenge. We'll get better though.

Short Stories

Short Stories

1) My chin met the sidewalk the other day when I was running. So I've been walking around with a skinned knee, a skinned chin, skinned hands, and a whole lot less dignity.

2) My world is officially clearing out. Everyone had to leave campus housing by noon on Monday. So all my CCMers are gone. Even worse, Julia has left for the summer. I'm discovering it's hard to function without her! Who will make Trader Joe's runs with me?

3) On my "last night" with CCMers, we watch (500) Days of Summer. And then discovered that at 2:45 am, you can find bull-riding on TV. I was proud (though it is a dubious badge at best) of knowing that the goal was to stay on for eight seconds, knowledge I have thanks to Ana and Jake Owen's "Eight Second Ride," which played a lot on the radio last year.

4) On my "last night" with Julia, she, Percy, and I walked CW and found sheep. We baaa'ed at them but could not get them to come over to us. We could get the older couple walking by us to laugh, however.

5) I really want a doctorate because doctoral robes are the coolest. And apparently the hats stay on without pins, according to Julia's mother. The downside? The regalia costs $700. Seriously -- I think I get a doctorate instead of a wedding! (Sorry, Mom.)

It's Been Two Long Years Now

Hey, remember that time when I graduated? The Class of 2011 has its turn this weekend. Endings abound on campus, and I am struggling to deal with them all. Most of the non-seniors have headed home already and I am approaching the end of my YACM year in mid-June. CCMers are going away, Julia leaves me Monday, and I have no idea what I am doing with my life for six weeks of the summer, when I need diversion and income. I have many of the same feelings I had two years ago at graduation, only heightened by greater uncertainty for the future -- something that gives me sympathy for my classmates who didn't have plans this time two years ago.

As I put together the worship aid for Grad Mass, I saw a song that shaped the way I look at endings. So I pulled up a reflection I wrote on it a few years ago and post it now, in honor of the Class of 2011, but really for everyone with endings. For students going home for the summer. For people who are watching friends leave. For myself, as much as anyone else.

There’s a song we sing in my church at school. It’s called “The Summons,” and I love the lyrics:

Will you come and follow me
If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don’t know
And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown,
Will you let my name be known,
Will you let my life be grown
In you and you in me?

It continues in a true Summons, with Christ calling us as listeners to leave our comfort zone and follow Him in faith and service. To me it’s always been about getting out there and doing something. “Will you come and follow me?” seems like such an active calling. It made one of my friends spend his summer ministering at the Grand Canyon; my best friend agree to be vice-president of CCM. It called me out of a bad relationship and into the loving a loving Christian community. It's a beginnings song, a step out of your comfort zone song, a take-the-plunge song.

Applying to YouthWorks and spending my summer in Carthage was just such a plunge. I threw myself head-first into getting to know and love the people there. By the end of the summer, I was fully in love with Carthage. Also, by the time August hit, it still felt like the beginning. I was just starting to understand, just starting to hear God's messages.

And suddenly... it was at the end of the summer. It was time to go home.

At the last Mass at St. William of Vercelli, we sang “The Summons.” And I thought, “Really, God? This song? Right now? Why don't I get a song to send me home?”

But by the time I got to the last verse, my world gave a slight flip. Lord, Your summons echoes true when You but call my name; I will come and follow you and never be the same. What if it was a song to send me home? That would mean that going home was a calling... just as much as coming out had been.

That would mean it doesn't end here. It doesn't end today.

God loved me enough to call me out here. And He loves me enough to call me home.

Mob Mentality

One of my CCMers, our lovely incoming vice president, invited me to a Saturday adventure last week with AVAdventures. She'd shared the concept with me a while ago : everyone participating downloads an audio file to an iPod/mp3 player. They all press play at the same moment. And -- go!

I wasn't sure what to expect, but I obediently watched the video on their website and downloaded the file. I hadn't expected an elaborate narrative. Turns out, I was joining "The Heist" -- an attempt to "steal" a painting from a local art gallery. I had to choose one of four track to download, and I picked to one recommended for first time AVA-ers.

First thing, arriving at the group meeting place, I decided choosing that track was a mistake. Everyone else had gone with a different one -- the same different one, as suggested in a Facebook message that hadn't made it to me. Which meant I was taking my adventure... alone. In the realm of Awesome Little Things God Does For Me, a friend whom I do not see often enough had the same track and was standing alone in the crowd. And like that, I had a friend for the adventure!

When I pressed play, I heard a voice telling me to meet at the Wren Courtyard in 5 minutes. Each track took adventurers to a different location. Music coursed through the headphones as I made my way to Wren. A crowd had gathered at the foot of the building, and a guy whom I recognized from the intro video stood waiting. I hadn't expected there to be actors involved. The music faded and he began to "speak" -- mouth words and gesticulate, without making a sound, to line up with our recording. Every now and then he would give a command, and we saw how every track was off just a tad bit from the others.

After "training" for the Heist, we met up with the other groups. From then on out, we all had the same soundtrack, but commands often went out to one specific group. In addition to the five characters from the video, actors assumed the role of museum curator and guards at various points throughout the night. Our role got more and more ridiculous as the night went on. Picture two hundred people crouching on a street corner at night meowing like cats to keep a "guard" from noticing them. Or standing the pouring rain, learning how to "mime." And every time we were in transit, several hundred people danced to the same music inside their heads.

The sociologist in me went crazy. I wanted to talk to people there, to figure out if they thought of themselves as alone or together. Were they having an adventure with hundreds of people, a few friends, or by themselves? How did someone's experience change depending upon the people around them? Had the adventure been a bonding experience? Did people listening to different tracks have the same bonding experience? Each group had a small secret -- how did that effect the adventure?

The rest of me just enjoyed the ride. And wished I had hopped on this bandwagon sooner, so that this would not be my only AVAdventure.

Moo Cow

Remember the days when the milkman would drop off glass bottles of milk on your front porch? Yeah, me neither. However, I have found a way to make it happen again!

Percy and I hit up the Farmer's Market on Saturday... followed by a church yard sale, followed by a flea market up the road. Besides refurbished hubcaps, frightening figurines, and more old bottles than I could understand, we found a milkman. He offered us samples of his fresh milk and explained that they would deliver to our front door.

When you start buying milk, you get a blue cooler that sits on your porch. Once a week, they deliver milk to that cooler. You put the bottle back when you are done... and they replace it with a full bottle. Besides the fact that the milk really did taste better, I have this lovely romantic idea of deliveries from the milkman. Unfortunately, low income plus high milk consumption equals the inability for me to justify doubling the my milk spending.

Day-Maker #32

During Mass today, as the Gloria finished, a small child immediately shouted, "Yay!" The entire congregation laughed.

Krispy Kreme Angels

The College council of the Knights of Columbus and the parish one teamed up last Sunday to sell Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the classic fundraiser. However, one of the Knights from the parish had a brilliant and creative idea. [Note on pronunciation: when "Knight" is followed by "of Columbus," I say it "nite" in my head. When it is not, please read "kah-NIG-it." This will enhance your reading experience.] The brilliant and creative idea? As the pulpit announcement said, "You have two options for buying. Option one: Buy a box for yourself... Option two: Buy a box to donate to students studying for exams."

I laughed to myself when I read that announcement, thinking it was funny and maybe we'd end up with a handful of boxes for the "Krispy Kreme for Crammers." On Monday, I discovered the generosity of the parishioners. The Knights had 110 dozen doughnuts to give away. That is 1320 doughnuts.

I joined three of the College Knights to pass out doughnuts that night. We started outside the library, where we made two people's night by handing them entire boxes of doughnuts. Then we spread out in teams to two and covered the first floor of the library. I followed Asher around with paper towels. "Excuse me? Would you like a free doughnut? A local church donated them for studying students. God bless!" "Hi! We're giving away doughnuts. The old people at the Catholic church wanted to give them to students. Jesus loves you!" And so on.

Something as simple as a free doughnut can bring such a smile to someone's face. And there is no better way to end your day than by watching a hundred or two faces light up with joy.

Day-Maker #31

Eight green things growing in my flowerpot! I'll have to thin them later, but right now, I am enjoying their growth!

Day-Maker #30

Five cents off at Target for bringing a reusable bag.

A Thousand Words

I mentioned in my last post that Pope John Paul II was beatified on Sunday. I recently discovered an amazing tribute website to him, courtesy of the Vatican. I'm used to the Vatican's difficult to navigate website (yes, a 2000 year old Church is a little slow with technology), so I was surprised by this beautiful site. It contains thousands of photos of the late pontiff. For best viewing, I suggest switching your browser to full screen.

Perspective

Lots of excitement happened on the world scene yesterday. And by "lots," I mean two incredible events. First, Pope John Paul II was beatified. For those who aren't constantly surrounded by Catholic culture, that means he is almost a saint. The beatification was a joyous occasion to remember and celebrate his life as God's servant.

On the other end of the day, President Obama announced to the world the death of Osama bin Laden. I postponed my early bedtime to catch his (hour late) address. The news had made it across the internet well before the President spoke. I don't know who officially had the story first, but for me, as well as (I imagine) many people, the news broke over Facebook. As I refreshed my Facebook page, status after status changed to celebrate the news. Interestingly, this timing coincided with the greatest concentration of profanity my newsfeed has seen.

Across the board, the announcements ring with triumph. We are, as a culture, celebrating the death of a man. And then something happened in the world of the Catholic internet. People started attributing the death of bin Laden to John Paul II's intercession, suggesting that it might be a miracle due to his beatification.

Again : people are attributing the death of a man to the Pope who fought against the culture of death, who fought for the culture of life -- who worked tirelessly for the peaceful fall of Communism and forgave the man who tried to kill him.

To offer a different perspective, I give you an excerpt from the Vatican's statement regarding bin Laden's assassination:

"Faced with the death of a man, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibility of everyone before God and man, and hopes and pledges that every event is not an opportunity for a further growth of hatred, but of peace."

Day-Maker #29

Walking into the sacristy before Mass. It smelled of incense and lilies -- the scent of Easter.