The Magic Moment

As I write, dusk has begun to turn to dark, and the remains of the day are fading over the horizon. I am on the front porch, drinking in the mystical transition from day to night. I love this moment in summer evenings, this laying to rest of one world, and the awakening of another. I'm captivated by it, year after year, here in the heart of the old South.
In late June to early July, the fading light of day can still be observed as late as 9:30-45pm. The transition is palpable. The birds begin to quiet down, the squirrels and chipmunks have turned in for the night, and a subtle yet amazing transition occurs. The songs of birds are quietly replaced with the songs of crickets and cicadas, the bees in the trees are replaced with sparkling, dancing fireflies, and the frenzied activities of various diminutive, bushy-tailed mammalia are replaced with the croaks and peeps of frogs and toads. In fact, a little green tree frog just hopped onto our front door glass and has begun to scale it upward, under the watchful eye of the cats from behind the door.
Sitting in silence here, my ears filled with the night sounds, my eyes filled with the sight of our front property awash in fireflies, I am speechless in the experience. A phrase I've used before is "hints of Heaven, glimpses of glory." It certainly is.
Life is so hurried so often, I've lost focus on trying to immerse myself in these fleeting moments. It's time to recapture the wonder again, the peace of just being in it, and the reverent intimacy of worshiping the Creator of it all. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The God of summer storms and fireflies, the Giver of gentle evening breezes and green tree frogs.

Perilous Speeds

Last weekend, my CMA group rode to north Georgia and did a little "Ministry on the Mountain" as we called it. We had packed water bottles, a collapsible cooler, plenty of Gospel tracts and "bike blessing" stickers, and rode up to the Richard B Russell Scenic Highway, above Cleveland. It was the near-perfect day- not too hot, enough cloud cover and breeze to keep cool, and plenty of riders out on the roads. We set up atop the parkway at a scenic overlook and soon, riders were turning in and out, while riding up and down the road. We had plenty of opportunities to strike up conversations, to offer water, and to pray for riders as they pulled in. Several of our guys shared their stories of salvation with folks, and it really turned into a great day.
At times, different groups of us took turns making runs up and down the parkway, while others stayed at the overlook. Three of our guys took off to ride it, followed by me and a newer member. We rode pretty brisk, but rode safe, and had a great time. As we got near the bottom, I noticed a group of bikes off the right side of a left-turning curve. Slowing down, we recognized a couple of our guys, but one was missing. Pulling over, we discovered our missing member was in fact, down the embankment about 10 feet. We rushed over and down to help, fearing the worst.
He had come out of the last curve, accelerated hard (well over 100mph), but over cooked this curve, and went wide into a small patch of roadside gravel. The path of the bike was clear- right off the road, down the embankment, into a creek. Amazingly, he was completely unhurt. The bike was fairly mangled, but he was not. Amen. He had wisely armored himself head-to-toe, so that definitely helped. Also amazing was the path he took sliding out. He narrowly missed a large, iron-rebar mailbox, and both bike and rider stopped just short of a telephone pole in the ditch. He had an angel on his shoulder, no doubt.
Serveral other riders stopped to help, and we collectively wrestled the bike back up the steep embankment. The bike was unrideable, so we stayed with him until some help could come carry him and his disabled bike back home. We prayed over him, thanking God he was (miraculously) unhurt, and he openly confessed he was going far too fast. A lesson learned, albeit the hard way.
As each of us rode for home, we took it noticeably slower, more cautious. I had also made note of another factor that contributed to our guy's "off"- he had been running on nearly bald tires, front and rear. Never good. It reminded me to always armor-up, insure the bike is in top shape, and ride wisely. Accidents on a motorcycle can happen in the blink of an eye, and can be catastrophic.
Have fun, but use your cranium for more than a helmet hanger.