Rich Dixon is out somewhere on his bike:

+++

Many days of Rich’s Ride were ordinary.

Dreams, even God-sized endeavors, are mostly doing the routine stuff to get from one place to the next. You shouldn’t take these days for granted because they’re really what the project’s about.

They’re what life’s about.

You think it’s going to be all epic moments and big crowds, but most of life is what we make of the ordinary daily stuff. You don’t want to rush past it for the next big thing, because before you know it the months and years evaporate and if you’re not careful you’re left wondering what you did with the time.

+ + +

I cranked along an Arkansas back road. I observed the fascinating activity of my first cotton harvest, enormous cotton pickers and mysteriously numbered roadside cotton bales. Aside from an occasional truck hauling a huge cotton bale to the local gin, I encountered little traffic. It was a great morning to contemplate.

As we moved south, Becky and I noticed an increasing contrast in poverty levels. Vast cotton fields surrounded grand, prosperous-looking estates. But along the same road I cranked past collections of horribly dilapidated shacks. These decaying buildings revealed a grinding level of hardship, especially juxtaposed with such magnificent abundance.

Becky eased to a stop on the shoulder in front of me. She and Monte climbed out and waited as I rolled behind the trailer.

A familiar routine – stock up on food, refill water bottle, scratch Monte’s head, chat for a few minutes, and take time to rest, reconnect, and figure out next steps. As we talked, in the middle of nowhere…

We noticed a young man walking toward us.

+ + +

I’m stuck on my bike. Becky’s alone, not another vehicle in sight, no cell service.

How would you react?

To be continued…