A Di Day

We live in such a society where it is beyond the understanding of many that God simply wants us to slow down. In such a society where multi-tasking, economy, efficiency, and so on are paramount to our role as citizens, we have no idea how to not do anything. Even when we are completely wasteful of our time, producing absolutely nothing besides excess fat, we consume our minds with stimuli from video games, televisions, phones, and iPods. How many people actually take the time to notice how a sunbeam on an ordinary brick wall can bring a smile to their face and allow their heart a little leap of joy?

If you haven't already noticed, I have had a very special day. I decided to make it a "Di day." Sure, I've done this in the past, but none have been quite as successful as today. Even while climbing the last, brutal hill homeward, I found myself smiling as an audible giggle slipped out. Cycling does this to me.

I set out at 2:20, with a backpack containing a pair of sandals, a long-sleeved shirt, if needed, a cycling rain jacket for the predicted scattered showers that never occurred, a phone, money, camera, and hairbrush that was never used, but already in the bag.

Like many of my fellow citizens, I am quite focused on the end and hardly ever notice the means. Today, I chose to somewhat blindly head to Houghton in search of something to do. I really didn't know what. I took my time riding to Hancock. It was very windy all day and I wasn't in the mood to fight it, so I lollygagged a little on my ride. The direction of the wind allowed me to coast through Hancock while braking because the traffic was going slower than my bike. I actually considered passing the cars, but chose to hold my course. I rode around Houghton for a while and meandered over to Michigan Tech and up Sharon Avenue in search of a twist ice cream cone at Dairy Queen. For the first time, ever, I patiently sat in front of the DQ, slowly circling my tongue around the ice cream as I ate it slowly, taking the time to taste it. I felt calm as I enjoyed the view of the sun shining against the strip mall on the green hill across the street.




Michigan Tech and Houghton from the Hancock side of the canal.

Life is short. Eat dessert first. That's exactly what I did. I repeated my roundabout course as I rode back to Michigan Tech only to reverse direction and head back to downtown Houghton. I locked up my bike across the street from The Library and headed in for a long dining experience. I special-ordered a small basil and tomato pizza and drank a few cups of coffee as I slipped into a trance produced my leisurely eighteen mile ride. I said my goodbyes to The Library staff and slipped back onto my bike and headed for the Portage Lift Bridge to journey homeward.



Views of Mont Ripley and Hancock from the Houghton side of the canal.

As I crossed the ridge, a black car with a bike rack, heading for Hancock, honked and the driver waved to me causing me to smile. I have no idea who was in that car. All I saw was a hand. However, they left me full of pride and joy. How fortunate I am to live in such a community. Every time I commute, someone recognizes my bright, green Jake the Snake and they honk or yell my name. Having lived in communities where people were less than eager to greet one-another, or welcome a new member into the community, I absolutely recognize the grace God has given me by placing me in such a warm community where so many people have a strong bond with one-another simply because of a simplistic invention called the bicycle.


Portage Lift Bridge and Hancock.



Quincy mine.

I happily rolled home, and even enjoyed my long climb up White Street and US-41 – the dreaded Quincy Hill – without failing to notice how the sun shone above the cities creating a beautiful, lush appearance around the deep blue Portage Canal as waves thrashed about in the wind.

The newly-formed leaves on the trees created a spectacular view as I rolled closer to home. I felt strong, accomplished, happy. I continued to smile. My heart did flips.


The road home.


This is what I came home to.