Elk River Day (Part 1)

I’m sharing some excerpts from my in-progress manuscript about Rich’s Ride. You can check out previous posts here.

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Elk River Day

Friday of week #1 was a late-start day. St Cloud seemed determined to live up to its name as dense fog obscured cars in the hotel parking lot. I was committed to finishing the first week well, but the prospect of riding on back roads with my silly little flag in thirty-foot visibility crossed the line from dedicated to irresponsible.

So I rolled away from the hotel later than planned and encountered detours that redirected my intended route. We were learning to anticipate and accept those inevitable on-the-fly course adjustments. I followed the signs that sort-of marked alternate roads as Becky scouted ahead for best options.

This Friday was one of many days on which RICH’S RIDE showed me that I’m frequently oblivious to what God’s doing beneath the surface. While I worked around weather and roadblocks, the actual bike riding became background for more important events developing beyond my awareness. As I cranked along country roads through deep green Minnesota forests an appointment was being arranged that transformed this foggy Friday into a signature incident.

The hidden story line actually began weeks earlier when I published the initial draft of our itinerary. Our good friend Kathleen noticed that we would pass close to Elk River, which happened to be home to her close friend Kelley. So Kathleen called Kelley and suggested that she follow our progress. She did much more.

When I rolled out of St Cloud that morning, Kelley tracked my movement via the GPS device that translated the bike’s real-time location to our web page. As we meandered through the unintended twists and turns of our impromptu route she realized that I might literally pass within a few blocks of her house. She called Becky and asked if we were interested in meeting and sharing our story at a couple of last-minute gatherings. So while I pedaled along, blissfully unaware of behind-the-scenes developments, Kelley contacted friends in a couple of different groups. By the time Becky told me what was happening we had two speaking gigs arranged later that day.

The day’s ride had to be shortened a bit due to the foggy late start and our improvised afternoon meeting in a nearby park. As the sky cleared we ended the first week of riding in Elk River, packed the trailer, and headed off to talk with a group of home-school students and parents. I always recall this episode of the story as “Elk River Day,” even though I later discovered that we actually stayed and spoke in the neighboring town of Otsego. No reason to let facts get in the way of a good memory.

Honestly, I couldn’t imagine that kids in a park wanted to stop, sit quietly, and listen to me talk about a bike ride. I’d designed my prepared presentation for a controlled indoor setting with PowerPoint visuals, so I was a bit unsure of myself.  But the kids—and their parents—actually seemed interested, curious, and especially fascinated by Monte and my odd bike. The kids asked lots of questions, mostly about dog and handcycle, and we enjoyed a relaxing, unrehearsed encounter that couldn’t have been pre-planned as well as it turned out.

And the theme of Elk River Day continued as the really important stuff still unfolded just beyond my awareness. I knew that Becky had been scrambling to revise our lodging plans. While I enjoyed my mid-day bike ride she searched for an affordable hotel near Kelley’s church where we’d speak that evening. As I finished my presentation and talked with individual kids and parents I noticed that she’d gathered with a small group of moms. Obviously they were praying together.

The first week had been difficult for Becky. I got to ride a bike. She managed equipment and luggage, arranged lodging on the fly, fielded calls and emails, and administered an evolving schedule. She also navigated and tried to keep track of my location so she could keep me safe, fed, and hydrated. In addition, she had to deal with me—no small chore—and help with dozens of small tasks inherent to life in a wheelchair away from our familiar home environment. And she was still recovering from that first-day crash that left her a bit more banged up than she wanted to acknowledge. Her role as the entire on-the-road support team for the project turned out to be more difficult and stressful than we’d anticipated.

Our preparations hadn’t accounted for cumulative effects of the myriad challenges she’d accepted, so when I saw Becky off to the side, praying with that group of moms, I felt grateful for her moment of support and encouragement. And, as usual, I was oblivious to what really happened right in front of me.

God says, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

And my answer, sadly, is usually, “Oops, sorry, missed that one.”

As I chatted, Becky told those women that she hadn’t been able to find nearby accommodations. They suggested a few options, including a hotel directly across the street from the church, but she’d already tried them. As Becky shared her frustration and apprehension, one lady said, “Why don’t we pray about it?” So they stood together in the park, hand-in-hand, and talked to God about accumulated concerns, worries, and needs.

As her new friends helped Becky re-load the trailer we talked about what a great afternoon we’d shared and made plans for the evening. One of the ladies encouraged us to try the conveniently-located hotel that had already quoted a price far beyond our budget. I still knew few details as I pulled into the parking lot and waited while Becky headed inside.

She was gone a long time. Finally she returned, slid into the passenger’s seat, and pointed. “Park over there.” Then she related the entire story, concluding with the hotel manager’s offer of a suite for less than a third of the previously-quoted single-room rate.

I don’t understand exactly what happened. I know the events and circumstances, but I won’t even speculate about how it all came together. I’m not sure it’s as simple as A causes B causes C. I think there’s more happening than that.

But…I also don’t think it was all just happy coincidence. I believe God was at work, doing a new thing, keeping His promise to provide.

Here’s what I do know. I know it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t anything I did or caused. While I enjoyed the scenery, Becky scrambled and worked to find a solution. I was just a guy taking a bike ride along a mostly unplanned route from St Cloud to Elk River, completely unaware of an amazing story that God wrote using pretty ordinary circumstances.

And then some people we didn’t know gently reminded us that we weren’t in charge, that this really wasn’t our story. Kelley and her friends helped us re-focus, relax, and remember who we claimed to trust. They reminded us, in the words of writer Mark Batterson, to “work like it depends on us and pray like it depends on God.”

I don’t understand how prayer works. I don’t need to.

The first half of Elk River Day was behind us.

Please leave a comment here.

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If you’ve enjoyed the updates from Rich’s Ride, please check out my blog at BOUNCING BACK.

We’ve got a great circle of folks who look at living life on purpose and following Jesus in the real world. I hope you’ll join us.

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