Blessing of the Bikes
July 12th.
Standby while I pull a card..
Nine of swords.
An interesting morning.
I found myself at a Church.
I found myself at a Church wearing a bib and holding my helmet.
The church…
On Church Lane.
Sunday morning.
I’d been invited to ride bikes and met a friend at the head of the Walnut Creek trail.
I arrived right on time and caught up while we waited on another.
The plan was to out and back the trail, an easy 26 mile day.
At the turn around we stopped for a moment and “extra credit” was proposed.
“If you want to, we can go like another 4 miles and turn back around for some extra credit…”
“Eh I don’t really care, I’m happy to ride my bike.”
“Let’s leave it up to vote.”
I didn’t vote.. I really didn’t care.
“Well I guess you're Garmin.”
A random passerby overheard our conversation and asked if he could join.
He had set out today to ride further than he’d ever gone before and was interested in this four mile loop he heard speak of.
“Well off we go to New Sweden!”
There is a vast difference between tacking on a four mile loop and adding an additional 10 miles to the out but…
the ride was nice, the roads open, the traffic light.
Solid country road riding.
“if you look out over to the right, you can see the New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church!
It’s not as far as it looks, they always have water. We’ll stop there and turn back.”
We continued on, arriving at the church with our new friend in tow.
I can recall very few places on this earth that echoed the same amount of calm still energy that this church put off.
If a measure of one’s faith, it seemed indestructible.
A solid foundation rooted in the…
rooted in the base of reality itself.
Instantly, I found myself at peace.
An isle of solace.
A member of the congregation had been watering the bushes outside of the church.
She offered us water, and asked how our bike ride had been going.
Our guide to the church began chatting with her.
“I’ve rode my bike up to this church dozens of times in the eight years I’ve lived here and this is the first time I’ve actually seen people here!”
“We’re here, we’re always happy to see cyclists. Do you want to come inside?”
Just when I thought I couldn’t find any more peace or feel even further removed from reality, the inside of the church offered the warmth of a mother’s hug.
“We just celebrated our 150th Anniversary … all of the stained glass.. it’s all still original.
Our organist… she’s been playing here for 50 years.”
I step back outside and take a seat on the bench as the Pastor speaks to two of the cyclists that’d been accompanying me.
“No we absolutely love our cyclists, don’t ever hesitate to stop in, we don’t care if you’re in your britches. Everyone is welcome here… In fact.. every March, we do a ‘Blessing of the Bikes’, this past March we had 250 riders come out. Always feel free to stop in.”
With services coming close to beginning, the pastor wished us a safe ride back and proceeded on into the church.
As members of the congregation slowly rolled in, they all stopped and greeted us, asking us if we’d been inside the church, if we’d had water, if we’d heard of their “Blessing of the Bikes”, if we were actually doing alright.
“You know .. a lot of people will say hey how are you and keep it moving, never stopping to listen to your answer.. but I really mean it when I ask how are you?
Everybody is welcome to our church y’know.. sweaty helmets and all.”
Somewhere in the midst of all of this, I’d started to consider the logistics of riding my bike out to this little church sitting amongst the cornfields to attend services every Sunday. What could be more peaceful?
“They said they’d been getting free honey for a while?”
“What do you mean?”
The elected guide of our ride walks me around a corner and points up to the roof of the church…
“There’s a beehive they haven’t been able to get rid of she said…”
I laughed…
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Bakkar.. what’re you staring at?”
“Oh.. uh I’m actually just … very much at peace.”
The parking lot began to fill more and with the sun getting higher in the sky along with the mercury’s level in the thermometer we decided to head back.
About 3 miles into the way back, riding two abreast, I hear from the back...
“You know.. I’m actually surprised they let you into the church with your triple 6s and that pentagram on the back of your arm…”
I look over and see the tattoos of the man who guided us to the church.
Triple 6s and a large pentagram prominently displayed on his arm…
I hadn’t seen them as although he guided us to the church, I’d never actually followed him at any point in the day.
After doubling my day’s planned distance, I returned home happy to indulge the Coca-Cola Delta had set in the fridge for me upon my departure.
I took a seat on the couch and as I did so…
The light hit the front wheel of my bike just right…
Just the right angle for me to notice a dimple in my wheel…
I examined closer and found another dimple adjacent to it…
“Hmmm…”
A coin test…
Failed.
“hmmmmmmmmmm”
“What’s wrong with your bike…”
“Eh. It could have been a really bad day.”
But luckily … the bikes had been blessed.