Heaven on Harley

I've been discovering my more lately...you know the who I am outside of what I am.

Riding through upstate NY this past weekend was a window into my more. I started riding with my husband 6 years ago. I fell in love with the adventure. So much so, that I bought my own shiny machine. I have a tendency to always want to be in control, I know this about myself. (I'm working on that though...one of my best friends is a therapist and we talk a lot.) But when it comes to riding, I just want to hang back and be led. My drummer boy husband always navigates us on these little escapes, but we spent one day this weekend with a small group of fellow road warriors. I love the language of riding. It's intuitive. There is a rhythm amongst this brotherhood/sisterhood. I was towards the back of the pack and got to witness how this group fit perfectly into the landscape of some of the most beautiful scenery ever. And then I realized I was part of that. I found some of my more in my gratitude of such beauty. When we stopped for a picnic lunch, I had a chance to get to know some of these people. I loved that the conversation wasn’t so much about what they did, but who they are. They are fun and wildly spirited (which is code for crazy), patriotic and thoughtful, caring and considerate and unbelievably committed to the adventure. It’s as if their more began with leather and chrome. I wonder if it’s because the only noise is the bike’s natural surround sound of nature. I wonder if it’s because the language is unspoken. I wonder if it’s because we get to touch God’s grace through the beauty of the journey...a glimpse of heaven on earth. I wonder if being led 300 miles across the Adirondacks is really about traveling towards our (my) more.

I wonder...