Wherever "here" is

I arrived, as most riders did, before noon today. Where I am I'm not really sure of, for I wasn't paying attention. Okay, so it is the West Side Church some 72 miles from where we woke up this morning, so long ago- Dayton was it? We started over arid landscape, then there were grain fields followed by potatoes, corn, some hills, headwind, grapes and apples, then poplar plantations where we changed direction a bit so the wind was behind us and we rode some more with ease. On some roads there was plenty of shoulder, others we were shoulder-to-shoulder with truckers. Then there was a bike path, miles of it along a river through industrial areas and then neighborhoods, under bridges, then over a bridge crossing the river, then more bike path, a couple of turns and we arrived here. Here we got into a van that took us to Gold's Gym for showers and we came back to make stacks of laundry. I phoned my daughter about meeting her in a few days when (rumor has it) this will all end somewhere down the road, but we're not there yet.

Yet down the road looms over us. We are condemned to reality; there will be no appeal, no pardon. As it was today I have been reminded of details of that stark truth- I have responsibilities I ran away from 6 weeks ago that must resume. I didn't do so well with this part last year, or any time I go through the culture shock of return. I adapt well to change, but can't seem to do as well returning.

The challenge is to not fight it, but return to my reality and share the lessons and inspiration I gained here rather than burden my world with melancholy from yearning for this. To look at the world around me with the perspective and amazement of a missionary, seeing what is right, so to encourage it, and doing what is right to encourage other to follow suit. While working overseas I was constantly amazed with the sensory overload found in foreign land, whereas the natives nodded off on the subway, headphones in their ears, fingers poking phones, oblivious to their amazing surroundings. Then I realized how I am in my reality- no different than them in theirs, so I resolved to return home and try to see my world  through foreign eyes.

It's easier said than done. One thing I look forward to back home is my volunteer work. I admire those of the Fuller Center for Housing of Central Florida who tirelessly engage in working with others. It is far different than touring across the country with bicyclists, being treated so generously everywhere we go, and doing a bit of actual work along with the cycling. Our Covenant Partners do the actual work, rarely noticed outside the recipient and a few neighbors. There is where lasting impact is felt. The Fuller Center Bicycle Adventure is an important part of that, raising funds and awareness toward the general cause and our foundation, but it is a temporary commitment the cyclists make. It is hoped each of us can cause a slight ripple in our communities by continuing volunteer work in some manner, drawing on our experience here (wherever it is) to push onward.

I asked around, and it so happens we are in Richland, WA. We suffer from what anyone on the road suffers when it comes to constant change- it becomes a blur. What remains a common thread is that here, wherever it is, the people are good, caring and involved in their community. I can find that at home. I can be that at home.