Some thoughts before I head back out tomorrow toward the border of AZ/NM.

I have had some pretty stunning moments since beginning this journey. Sometimes it is just plain uneventful, though never boring, riding along many of these lonely stretches. But there have been times when everything converges and I feel so euphoric, like I can't BELIEVE I'm doing this...and seeing all this. As I rode from Lake Havasu to Phoenix, in the early morning before the heat came out, riding through all the canyons and mountains with the sun rising behind them, I felt so small but so alive. I felt like I was a part of all that, I was more than just passing through. Maybe because I felt the cool air on my face, or smelled the desert smells, I just felt so grateful to be alive and a part of that place.

I also thought a lot as I twisted through California about learning during my motorcycle safety course that to safely ride curves, especially tight ones, the absolute key thing to do is to look where you want to go. I don't know if this sounds elementary to anyone, but it's incredibly hard to do. The rule is, where your face is facing/looking, that's where you'll end up. If I look at the cliff edge as I turn, I have a much better chance of going to/over the cliff edge. If as I turn, I look away to the end of the curve, I'll probably end up right there. But it's scary, taking your eyes off where you are. Even if you know the road is smooth and flat, it's still super scary and really opposite my instinct.

It made me think about my life these past two years, and how all the ups and downs, though part of my story, weren't the only thing going on, even though they sometimes felt that way. And when things got really down, all I wanted to do was stay in that sadness, wallow in it, believe that nothing was going to change and that God didn't care enough to help me. Maybe I didn't want that sadness, but it was so hard to believe anything else about life except what was right in front of me. I had so many doubts that God really was right there, orchestrating good things for me. I see now, because hindsight clears so much, that my life wasn't just that bad stuff, or those sad moments. That wasn't the only reality, and I am indeed part of a bigger and better story than that and my future is filled to the brim with good things. And even though it was incredibly hard to pull myself away from what I saw, and believe that there was another great curve right up ahead, that's what I had to do. Some days I did it better than others.

I don't want to speak into anyone's situation, because I don't know what people face in their hearts. But I wonder if maybe those who take their own lives do it because they're staring at the immediate cliff edge and crash and burn. They don't rip their eyes away and look instead at what's up ahead, what may be just around the bend for them. And in that way, they can manage to hold on and make it in one piece. And even though I never had to walk through something as dark as contemplating suicide, none of us are above that, and we all have to take care to remember the truth of our lives, that they are bigger and more surprising than we can even imagine. That we MUST look to the future and never lose hope and never ever get stuck in the lie that this is it, there's nothing else for me and nothing good for me in this season of my life. And as Winston Churchill said (I think it was him!), "If you are going through hell...just keep going".

And finally, as I was riding in the back of Jim's '69 Bronco (I hope I got that right) last night, this huge vehicle with no top and listening to great music on the way to ice cream, feeling the warm air all around me in the dark, I thought, this is it. This is why I've come on this journey. To spend the night at that beautiful piece of heaven in Big Sur, feeding the chickens and milking the goat and eating strawberries from the garden. Spending time talking with Mandy about our lives and our belief in God and what that means for each of us, as adults. And for that moment, riding in that amazingly fun Bronco and simply having a blast. All these moments are precious and only in going on this journey have I experienced any of them. And I told Mandy yesterday that even now, even with so much left to go, this last week has already made that scary decision completely worth it and for that, I am so grateful.

Shout out to Mandy and Jim and Hank the dog: Mandy for shuffling me some great Lululemon clothes, for bringing me to three Yoga classes to work out some Vespa kinks, for sharing her heart with me; Jim for driving us in his sweet ride to get some frozen yogurt (and then buying my yogurt!), and for doing some of the most beautiful work on a home I've ever seen; Hank for cuddling with me this morning when I didn't want to wake up at 4.45 for Yoga class. No shout out whatsoever to the man who refused to turn on the gas station air pump when we didn't want to pay. Definite shout-out to Lush products, which are pretty much the most amazing shampoos/soaps/lotions that I will ever use and probably never be able to afford. I am enjoying Mandy's stash of you immensely.

Day Six begins tomorrow!

Love, Betsy