Old Blue Bikes and A Sacred Hush...

When I was a teenager, I found an old blue sears bicycle at a yard sale. It probably dated back to the 1950's, with a heavy frame and a very uncomfortable saddle. But I fell in love with the bike at first sighting...and I bought it for five dollars. The bike and I had many adventures, but more than anything I loved the early mornings and dusks I spent on my bike. In the summer time just around eight, I'd sling my backpack around my shoulders and jump on my old bike, heading for West Street. I don't really know how many evenings I spent sitting on the curb of that dusty old road watching the sun slip below the horizon just past the wheat field across the way. I was sure I could hear the Artist whispering in my ear..."That's for you, Ruthie." In the mornings, I would ride my bike to the city park, then walk and pray as the sun welcomed the new day. My heart thrilled at the sight of the sun and moon so clearly in the sky together...remembering the Psalm, "Where the morning dawns and the evening fades, you bring forth songs of joy." I still believe there's no better time of day than those first breaking beams of morning or the last brilliant brushstrokes in the night sky.
My old bike sits in our backyard now...more of a reminder than anything, although I take it for a ride once in a while. I still would rather spend those first moments and closing of the day in a sacred hush...often times now with a little one in my arms, but with that same sense of God's love...the same awareness of her enduring presence in us, through us, all around us.