Just Around the Bend

April 26, 2008

This weekend I’m in Monterey Bay for the Big Sur International Marathon and no, I’m not putting 26.2 miles on these precious piddy-pats of mine, particularly since the route follows Hwy 101 along the coast between Big Sur and Carmel making for one ridiculously hilly course. Instead I’m going to be sashaying my sweet little self on the 9-miler walk/run which is more than enough for me, thank you very much. Even so, I still need to be at the starting line by 7:45 a.m. I was hoping for a start time of 10 or 11 but for some reason these wacked-out sporty-type people think being competitive means getting up before dawn and standing in the cold with a mess of other adrenalin-amped knuckleheads who are hopping up and down and draped in plastic garbage bags in a pathetic attempt to stave off frostbite. If it weren’t for the bright and shiny bling they hand out at the finish line and that I get to spend the race accompanied by my most awesome friend Brandon, I’d be waking up just in time to clear the hotel before check-out time.

But as it is, I’m here and admittedly having a most excellent time. The weather is California spring perfect; warm weather, cool breeze, blue skies. It was so beautimous this morning that I went out for a one mile wog (that’s what I do…kind of walk kind of jog kind of look like a clumsy oaf) followed by a 20 mile bike ride.

I didn’t rent the bike intending to ride 20 miles (my rear end was rather startled by the distance too) but the wonder of the day kept wooing me to just go a little further to see what was up around the next bend and so I did, bend after bend after bend and I was never disappointed. The colony of seals barking as they lazily rolled from blubbery side to blubbery side on the sun-warmed rock jetty, the bright fushia ground cover of lampranthus set against the background of the blue ocean, children wading in tide pools scooped out of the rock formations lining the shoreline, a working lighthouse, an old woman dressed in a soiled painter’s coat capturing the watery landscape with brushes of paint and a tightly stretched canvas, and people everywhere; kayaking along the shore, biking, walking, running, strolling, climbing on beach rocks, everyone just as wooed by the day as I had been. We were collectively enchanted by the visual beauty, won over by the sounds of squawking seagulls and barking seals, and smitten by the thick sweet smell of the budding ice plant mixed with the salty freshness of the ocean. It was all so spectacular that with every spin of the bike wheels I heard myself saying out loud because I simply couldn’t keep it in, “oh amazing look at that good job God oh my goodness I can’t believe how beautiful this is all too perfect I’ve never seen a blossom that red in my life oh wow oh wow oh my.” I was hungry. I was tired. I knew I should turn around before I went out too far and wore myself out before the big (or not so big) race, but I just couldn’t bare the thought that there might be something more just a little further down the road and so for a little more than two hours I wove from the dunes of Sand City into the tourist-filled Monterey Bay with Steinbeck’s Cannery Row and Fisherman’s Wharf, along the floral-lined coastal trail of Pacific Grove, rounding the bend at Lover’s Point before coasting into Asilomar. It was only when I realized I needed to get back to the hotel in time to meet Brandon and his sweet Rachel that I was able to turn the bike around for the return ride.

This is when I take the sublimely ordinary events of the morning and leap with abandon into a metaphor. A quirky little habit of mine.

Here’s the metaphor. The Christian journey as seen through this morning’s bike ride. I keep moving forward in my walk with God because I don’t want to risk the chance of missing out on the next surprise that’s bound to be waiting just around the approaching bend. How do I know there’s something up there? Because there always has been something around every bend I’ve ever gone around and I’ve never been disappointed by what I’ve found there. That’s not to say the road hasn’t been bumpy at times or the wind hasn’t blown against me or the glare hasn’t hampered my vision but never have I moved a little further along and wished I could go back to where I once was. I mean, it was great back there; there was plenty of God-graced wonder on the road behind me but that was for then and not for now. I remember the road behind and give thanks for it, but it’s always about keeping my eyes looking ahead toward the horizon. God’s up ahead. Waiting to dazzle me. Plotting and planning and making ready. “I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Always good. Always. People and circumstance might have other plans but God? Oh, those plans are a sure thing.

And here we are today, living in the middle of those plans. This is it. Look around. Look close, especially if the road seems bumpy or it feels like the wind is blowing against you or you’re getting worn and weary from the ride. Somewhere in the middle of all the craziness and mess God’s plans are unfolding before you. Plans for good. Plans intent on your future. Plans laced with hope. Keep on riding because there’s something else just around the next bend and you won’t want to miss it. Trust me on this. No. That’s not right. Trust God on this. Yeh, that’s much better.

Posted in Christian Living and Faith, Storytelling