10 miles on up the road in Frederick, where she might get them to fix her bike(seeing as how she had bought it recently from another Wal-Mart). She said thatshe had been praying hard for someone to come and pick her up. She blessed andthanking us both for coming through.We stowed her bike easily in the back of the van, where there was plenty of roomwith the seats already down. She said the bike was new but it looked a little beatup. It was the same brand as my first bike, a Roadmaster, except hers was thegirl’s version. The rear wheel looked bent. We opened up one of the middle seatsfor her and she was surprised and grateful as we handed her an ice cold Diet CokePlus (with vitamins!) from the cooler. We cranked up the A/C and headed off tofind Wal-Mart.As we drove she told us, in a genteel Southern draw, that she was originally fromRichmond Virginia and had raised two daughters, both now in their thirties. Shenow had grandsons and granddaughters and they lived in different parts of thecountry. For the past eleven years she had been riding her bikes (she’s beenthrough quite a few) across the country, from Florida to California and up intoCanada, preaching God’s word. Raised a Methodist, she was now Pentecostal bychoice and a speaker of tongues. Standing on street corners in small towns and bigcities she preached a sermon of salvation from eternal damnation through theacceptance of Christ’s love.She rarely slept indoors and tried to coordinate her travels with the seasons,going south in wintertime. She asked about Baltimore and Washington where she said(amazingly!) that she felt a lot of concern for all the homeless people that sheheard lived there. Many of the homeless that she met on her travels seemed to beso hopeless and this saddened her.She was very much interested in the two of us, our jobs, our family and ourfaith, but in a sensitive and genuine way. She never pried or preached. She saidthat she might visit the church we attend outside of DC and asked when we heldservices. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see her some day.We parked at Wal-Mart and helped with her bags as she chained up the bike. I askedher if she was OK with money, if she even had enough for a new bicycle inner tube.She hemmed and hawed a bit so before she could answer I asked if it was alright ifwe could contribute to her ministry. I gave her some cash and she was obviouslygrateful. She then surprised me by asking suddenly if this was something that Iwould like for her to repay some day. Humbled, I told her no, that it was part ofmy tithe, since it was obvious that she took Jesus’ commission to heart.As Bev and I drove on down the highway, we couldn’t help but chuckle. Godsometimes has a very dry sense of humor. What a coincidence. that on the spur ofthe moment, we decided to take a day trip to western Maryland, in the big van(which we never take on road trips), with the seats down, spare cash in ourpockets and a cooler of cold drinks in back. How unfortunate for us that therewere no hotel vacancies in the area (most probably because of our own chronictardiness) which resulted in our having to drive down that one particular road, sofar from home. How gallant of us, to grudgingly turn around and help someone more‘unfortunate’ than we were.Somehow this older woman is able to travel across this huge land, cheerfullyspreading the Good News, carrying everything she owns on her back. Eleven years ofpedaling up mountains and through deserts, and she is as clean and bright as a newpenny, sharp as a tack. It was obvious that God looks out for her and I bet shewasn’t the least bit surprised when we came back for her. We were just two moresupporting actors stepping on to her God-directed stage.
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