#come rest

Good Morning!☀️

Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matt. 11:28-30

I got up this morning feeling a bit more sore than expected. Coming off a day of physical rest, I wasn't sure how that was going to bode for the days ride. A shorter day today, just 60 miles, from Marinette to the outskirts of Green Bay. There was an air quality advisory coming through the accuweather app on my phone. A vague haze of smoke from Canadian wildfires was hanging over the state of Wisconsin.

The road to Chicago begins today.

Like the haze, yesterday's interviews hung in the background of my mind this morning. One planned, the other decidedly not. They hung in the air not because they went poorly. Quite the opposite in fact. Particularly the planned one was a resounding success.

No, it hung in the air because of what I learned, and what it meant for me as a wannabe writer.

I committed to this project because I believed that the stories of ordinary people's commitments to their nation, their communities, their friends, and their families were extraordinary. When we live our lives, everyday just grinding and surviving, just how remarkable our lives are, are taken for granted by the ones closest to them: us. And, in many cases, our relationship to extraordinary circumstances place us as actors within an extraordinary story.

Yesterday I heard of extraordinary circumstances that could only exist in places that the eyes of the nation do not see. In corners of America exist communities that are ripe for exploitation by those with power and wealth, and a politics that enables it. In communities seemingly left behind in economic growth, in opportunities, in significance, are epicenters of exploitation and abuse. And people are dying because of it.

I didn't know that this project was going to include matters of life and death, but it certainly makes its significance clear.

Once I got myself out the door and on my bike, oddly enough, the legs felt good. The day of physical rest did me well. Or at least it did the legs well.

Alone again for hours, the weight of what I could be wrestling with in these stories started to feel like rocks in my backpack. And when you're contending with extra weight, you don't always jettison the right things.

So I turned on myself.

I turned on myself because not only did I fear I wasn't enough to handle what I could be seeing and encountering on this project, but also because I felt incredibly selfish. My daughter is 10 months old, and just about to take her first steps. She has two new teeth coming in. She has new opinions about books and food.

And I'm missing these moments, out in the wretched middle of nowhere, in Pensaukee WI, with a sore backside and a growing urge to pee.

"What the F*CK am i doing?" I verily screamed it at nothing in particular.

Because out there, there was nothing to scream at. Just the sky, the clouds, the sun, the trees.

It was a beautiful day.

I came upon a small neighborhood that lined this country road about 30 minutes later. One of those houses had two bicycles, sitting side by side, with grass growing up around them. Aged and rusting, their days of riding were long gone. But their form reminded me not just of what they once were, but that whatever they once were, they were that thing together.

Behind the bikes were two benches, staggered, away from the road. One sat in the sun, grayed with time and the elements. The words "'God is our refuge and strength' ~David" was inscribed on the backrest.

Behind that one, set further away from the road, was the other bench, this one painted in fading yellow, hiding under the shade of a grove of trees. Carved roughly into the backrest were the words "Come Rest".

Not sure if it was an invitation or a command, but I turned the bike around and sat on the yellow bench.

Good Morning!

Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matt. 11:28-30