I pedaled my bike around another corner, pushing into each turn, breathing heavily. Almost there… keep pedaling…so close…my thoughts were joining the rhythmic motion of my wheels.
It was one of those days when I just needed to go ‘up’. To push for a view. To move towards the last rays of the setting sun.
I almost stayed in my room. I had writing to do. Papers to read for my Disability course. I was tired…it was chilly. (confession…I guess I’m learning to measure ‘chilly in ‘California’ terms…)
And I didn’t have much time before the sun would sink below the horizon. But the path steadily forced me upwards, climbing around one bend in the foothills after another.
Then suddenly it was bending downwards, away from the setting sun, into the shadows. No! I don’t want to go down! I braked around the corner.
But on the next curve the path turned upwards again. Just a couple more hairpin turns and the view opened onto a vista stretching out to the Pacific ocean and the Channel Islands in the distance. (I couldn’t see them that night, but I was told that they’re out there.)
My heart beat slowed and I propped up the kickstand on my bike.
The road was winding far below on it’s way to the ocean side. The rocky cliff of Boney Mountain was standing stately and firm on my left, and the sun was touching down on a peak to my right.
And it was all calling to my heart to stop. To take it in.
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know.