Please remind me next time. . .

Last week I went on a dueling 8-mile bike ride with my mother. I swore I would never do it again as I panted my way up the over-sized hill to my house, streams of sweat trickling down my spine and beading above my brow.

Somehow it happened again.

It was hard to resist. The sun had finally broken free from the dark chains of clouds that hung over the mountains for the past few days, and a bike ride seemed like a good idea. Well, if my mom, who just broke her back at the end of February and turned 63 in May, could do it, well, I darn well SHOULD be able to at 22. So, we set off. The first part of our bike rides are always deceiving because they're all down hill. I inhaled the sweet air as it rushed past me, trees and light blurring together in a symphony of summer greenery. The way back is always a different story though. I hopped off my bike to begin the climb, holding tightly to my newly acquired Uncle Henry's [a magazine containing ads of things for sale in the area]. Half-way up I had to stop, panting and swatting at the persistent mosquitoes that were basking in my discomfort. Why? Why do I always put myself through this, I pondered. Is it really worth it? I doubled over my bike and continued to heave myself toward home.

Next time, please remind me. . . and maybe I'll skip the shower first too. However, leaving my cool comfort zone to risk the sweat of the outdoors is always worth it. I'm about to leave my cool comfort zone of a home in a few weeks to brave the sweaty outdoors of another country. Honduras is going to test my endurance. I know there will be plenty of emotional and physical sweat involved, but I will press forward toward the goal/home. . . Not my earthly home, but the one in the sky where I will one day see my Saviour and the lives I, by the grace of God, have impacted along my travels.

Philippians 3:14
I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.


I baked a cake last night for my dad. Below is the finished product.