Georgia bound!

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Okay not until tomorrow, but I’m trying to get ready to go today.  Originally this trip was scheduled for Wednesday to Sunday, but it got moved up a day, so I am scrambling to get everything I’d planned on getting done in two days finished in one.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  I don’t rush well.  So I’m taking a break to blog about a few things while I cook three days worth of meals and get the proofreading done that I picked up this morning.  I’m thankful I did a couple of loads of wash this weekend, so that’s out of the way at least!

Last night before bed I logged out of my mail account and noticed a blurb in the local news section about a motorcyclist from our county who was killed the day before.  We’d heard about the accident and were hoping it wasn’t someone we knew.  It was.  There’s that awful moment when you read the name and inside you’re saying, “Oh please, God, no!” but it’s right there in front of you, hitting you like a ton of bricks.  I barely knew him, but he was a riding buddy of Kevin’s and I’d heard his name mentioned quite a bit.  In fact, he lived just up the lane from the shop and often tooted or stopped by when he saw Kevin outside.  Around a month ago they went for a long ride, this friend leading the way.  He was an experienced rider, but all the experience in the world won’t do you any good when someone turns directly in front of you.  Witnesses said she didn’t even hesitate before turning (it’s a bad intersection).  Someone who’d been following her for miles said she was weaving around the road and almost hit a pole at one point.  Perhaps she was texting.  Whatever it was, something was definitely distracting her.

Then Kevin calls me back an hour later and relays the fact that this was the girlfriend of the local bar owner who was in a motorcycle accident last Wednesday night.  She was probably going to visit him at Hershey Med, where he lies in a coma.  I’m told he’d left the bar after having an argument with someone (not sure who but maybe even her) and that he may have been drinking.  My heart goes out to her just as it goes out to the grieving widow.  I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes and find myself wondering how people make it through such things without Jesus.  God have mercy.  If we all got what we deserved, none of us would be living.

I’m told that policemen’s wives live with the ever-present reality that the next phone call or knock at the door could be someone bringing them the news they dread, that their husband has been wounded or killed while on duty.  There’s a very real sense in which I believe the wives of motorcycling men share something similar.  I think about it every time Kevin (or one of my boys) gets on his bike, and I wonder if that thought will ever go away.  But it causes me to act, to pray for safety and protection, and that’s a good thing.  Still, in the ever increasingly distractible world of texting drivers, etc., it seems to be less and less “safe” to ride.   Of course, the safest place to be is in the center of God’s will, whether that means you’re at home, traveling, or in the middle of a war zone.  Well actually it’s all a war zone, and it’s especially evident when one tragedy leads to another like this.

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