My Top Ten of 2012: #8 Colorado

#8 Colorado

It’s hard for me to have Colorado rank all the way down at #8. Previous years in life it has always been a top three or four. This year it sits at 8. Not because Colorado has become any less excellent at all it just speaks volumes to the top 7 I guess. My first visit out to Colorado as a Junior in high school felt like a homecoming as has every visit ever since. The feeling of going back, breathing the thin air, staring up at the giant mountains, snowboarding and tucking away in a small warm room at the end of the day has never changed. The route from Colorado Springs to Denver to Breckenridge  is still second nature to me. Drop me off at any section of the road and I could tell you where I am, how far it is Denver or how long it would take, time to put my boots on included, till we could be standing on the top of peak 8 (given traffic and lift lines weren’t backed up).

Visiting Colorado twice this year was enough… but barely. The first time was fun. It was a rather impromptu visit spurred by a few traded shifts to get off work and an old friend who agreed to drive out with me. We stopped at a bookstore in Chicago, ate bags of trail-mix and granola, drove through the night and listened to all of the music our friends gave us before finally getting to Colorado. We went to Colorado Springs for a day visit with my friends from the Dale House before heading a few hours more northwest. We got to Keystone and I said goodbye to my friend. She went on to Vail for a couple days then California then Oregon and then Nepal I believe. I spent a few days skiing with friends then went back to Denver to celebrate a friends birthday, and took a bus to Colorado Springs for a couple days visit before flying back to Michigan.

I remember the first time visiting and know the feeling I’ll get with every visit back. Colorado is the old friend I feel I’ve had forever, always on my side and good to catch up with like a day hasn’t passed from the last visit. It’s the way the bed you grew up in at home sleeps a little better than any other, this is the way Colorado lives for me. The state understands me well, gives me what I need and what I hope for and the things I need to know in the way I need to know them. It’s odd for a place to speak into a person like this but it does. It’s a blessing to have found Colorado and to be able to visit it as much as I do.

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My Top Ten Things of 2012: #10 Public Speaking #9 Coaching Lacrosse

Recently I logged onto Facebook and noticed something on the top of my page. It was a recap of my top 20 events from 2012.

“Cool” I thought to myself looking forward to seeing all the great events from the past year. I was surprised to learn I made 161 new friends which is an average of one new friend/2.26 days or every 54 hours and 15 minutes (quick math… didn’t spend any time on that at all). Then there was the picture I put up that a lot of people liked, facebook added a cover photo and even though I didn’t take it people really like my current one so that made the top 20 too.

Overall I have to give Facebook some credit. It pegged a few of my favorite memories from 2012 but the system of likes, shares and comments didn’t catch all of them. So I’ve decided to do a little series to give justice to my personal top ten favorite things of 2012.

So here we go!

#10 Public Speaking

Back in March I got to speak to a group of social workers at Grand Valley State.

I don’t have a picture for this one BUT they had a handout with “Guest Speaker: Travis Reith” on it and everything. They spelled my name wrong but that’s ok. Everyone spells my name wrong and I’ve thought about getting the “ie” in my last name changed to “ei” just so people don’t have to worry about misspelling it anymore.

Anyways I was privileged to go in and talk about my experience with homeless people in Denver. It was the first time I was able to speak about it publicly and I had so much fun. Speaking in front of people is not really hard for me. I still get nervous and my leg shakes and mouth gets dry but the part which is still hard for me is to wrap my mind around is that people are listening. The fact people would actually want to hear anything I say (or read it…. thanks to all of you who do) kind of astounds me. So it was real humbling to say the least. I loved talking to a group of people so passionate about helping.

I wrote a post about it including this thank you to social workers everywhere (You can read the whole thing here)

So glad to have that opportunity. Wouldn’t mind having more like it in the future.

#9 Coaching Lacrosse

Playing together at Hope before coaching together two seasons later.

At the beginning of 2012 my friend and former teammate Andy asked me to coach a lacrosse team with him. A few months later and I was standing on the sidelines as the assistant varsity coach the 2nd ranked team in the state. The guys were great and coaching with Andy was a ton of fun. On the last day of tryouts we lost one of our best players to a broken ankle. He stuck it out with the team the whole season and we ended with a record of 13-5 which was the best in school history (also brings my cumulative coaching record to 37-7… not bad). I have to admit I probably had too much fun at practice, was too serious sometimes and joked around too much at other times. It was just fun for me. Luckily I just got done meeting with the athletic director about the coming season. Can’t wait for it to begin!

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Making the write move

This past year has been quite a busy one. I think I’ll get into that more later but one thing is for sure. Things have changed. Life moved fast this year. I’m still in Michigan but have spent at least a week in Colorado, Florida, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Minnesota along with traveling all over in-between.

I’ve been working enough part time jobs as to allow life to be a full time adventure. It keeps me busy. I’m still working at a running company and most recently took on life as a substitute teacher (#subs) which has been so much fun. Young Life has continued to be a blessing to me as I am now an “adult leader” and get some new opportunities of things I can do. We just had our Christmas party at Special Education Ministries which I almost quit but couldn’t bring myself to. I’ll be getting into full swing for planning of the Hope Greek Life Fraternity Mission Trip with Arc Ministries to Florida. Along with spring comes lacrosse season. We still don’t have a head coach and I talked with the athletic director about taking the position. Truth is I don’t feel prepared enough to take it on. So I’m just hoping we get a head coach I get along with well as I stay in the assistant position.

All of this makes me feel like the middle section of a Venn diagram. Truth is I love it. Grabbing so many parts of life together is a lot of fun for me. While it doesn’t come many securities we look for in life it does come with benefits of fun, adventure, relationships and a joy I wouldn’t get otherwise.

In it all I’ve kept writing about my time in Denver with homeless people. I’ve not been stuck on it but I must say it’s been a great experience. It is hard to stay focused on it with everything in life moving by so fast. It’s partially why I haven’t written so much here for a while but I have fallen more and more in love with writing.

Recently I’ve rededicated myself to it. I even transformed my bedroom to be more conducive to writing. I now have a desk and bookshelf taking up most of my room. It makes getting up early before work or staying up a little later at night a little more do-able. Papers, edits, reminders and notes hang all over my walls. I keep pictures of my Dale House kids above my desk to remind me of why I do all I do. Next to the kids a poster of a night time cityscape reminds me of the nights spent in Denver. A few more of my favorite photo’s and quotes stare back at me when I write. It all keeps me motivated which I need. Because I really do believe in what I’m doing and feel it’s important.

Like anyone else I’m figuring things out. It’s funny sometimes how we figure things out. This past summer I officiated two weddings which I thought was a funny thing for a single 24 year old to do but I learned a lot about love. I also learned you don’t need to be an expert on everything to do a good job. Most of the time it just takes effort, optimism and undying dedication. Put yourself in a situation to make it work. Want whatever it is you want bad enough and it will happen. For me it’s been this book. For my friends it’s been marriage, going to Africa or Australia, going back to school or staying and working at the Dale House.

Over everything this past year I’ve seen how we are all writing our story. I’ve seen a couple friends stories come to an end. They were two really lively guys. It’s sad but it reminds me to keep my story going. Live adventurously. As we are the author of our own story we need to remember it’s not always about making the right move as it is just making the write move. Find something you love and go for it. Don’t plan it so much. Risk it. Life will likely be a little more like poetry which sweeps in and out of seasons than a science book’s presentation of what is and isn’t. Be fine not managing everything. Just keep going.

Can’t wait to keep the write moving. Best to you in yours.

Trav

Not every day can be the best day.

The past week has been a time of preparing myself to face some things I wish I would never have the reason to face. Last Wednesday my father and I decided to meet up in Ann Arbor and drive to Detroit to watch the Tigers game. We haven’t done anything in almost 5 years and I was nervous. The idea was to go to the Tiger’s game as two people who like baseball. I’m a huge believer in actively doing something with someone with someone to move through problems you might have.

This meeting however has been something I’ve feared for a long time. I think I’m good at taking risks, overcoming fears and doing what’s right but this was the biggest test I’ve had in a while. My redeeming hope that I might be able to make it through fine was the baseball game. If you follow baseball at all you will know the game never started on account of rain. If you were at the game you will know there was actually no rain.

During the “rain delay” before the game was cancelled.

So I drove 3 and a half hours to sit in a stadium with no game to watch, all my fears to face, and my dad sitting next to me for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime ago. We shared an armrest, both had Tiger’s shirts on, and had no idea what to say to each other.

My friend and I texted back and forth. I let her know what was going on. She said God works in funny ways… I wasn’t really feeling His divine sense of humor at the time.

After a half hour of sitting waiting to see if we would play the game I noticed my hands and legs were shaking. My anxiety was building and I felt exactly how I did so many times as I child. Like I often did back then I tried to rally my emotions, fight back and control myself but I failed miserably. It turns out I am quite out of practice.

My father has changed, I think, and I give him credit for this. He has had a hard road in life but he has moved on. I’ve prayed a long time for him to be happy and now that he is it is sometimes hard for me to look at. I credit the selfish parts of me, maybe the still hurting parts of me, for this.

I stuttered over the few words I said and felt completely out of control. This was exactly what I have been, and apparently still am, so afraid of. I felt 9 years old again struggling with everything, out of control, with no idea how to be fixed.

A day later I had a little clearer mind to think with and I’m guessing my friend is right about God. Not that He works in funny ways but He works. Maybe He works in frustratingly painful ways and times, but He still works.

That got me through to Sunday. I went to church and listened to a great sermon about fractured community and life and relationships.

After the service I went to the coffee shop before work, sitting in the same seat I am in right now, to do some writing. I stopped by facebook first and saw something which made me call a friend and find out what I was dreading. Another friend lost and this time in the most difficult way to think about so far. My friend Luke Vincent was murdered late Saturday night.

Luke and Mark

Luke and I met 16 or 17 years ago. I went to Cooper Elementary and he went to Starr Elementary. We were assigned pen-pals and wrote letters back and forth. I still have the baseball pin he made and sent to me back at home. We met in person on a field trip to meet our pen-pals and go to Plainwell Ice Cream. I remember being glad my pen-pal was a cool kid. The biggest thing we had in common was that we both liked sports. We ended up playing baseball together for a few years and by the time we were seniors in high school we were running the 100 and 200 in track. Most of the time Luke ran in the heat before me. The times we ran side by side he smoked me.

I can’t wrap my mind around the idea he’s gone let alone someone made the choice to end his life.

The last time I saw Luke was about 7 months ago at Mark’s funeral. Mark died after getting hit by a car on his motorcycle. Luke was still good friends with Mark played a song at the funeral. After the service it was lots of hugs and few words. I got to give Luke a hug and talk for a short bit.

My class is all too used to this feeling and we prepare for it again tomorrow. Luke is the 5th guy from our class to pass away. I can’t say we as a group of young people are used to this but the feeling of preparing to go to a visitation, to bury your young friend, and console each other is unfortunately a very familiar feeling.

So tomorrow is Luke’s visitation and Friday his funeral. We’re all left preparing ourselves to face something we wish we would not have to prepare for. I don’t want to wrap my mind around talking to Luke’s parents the same way I have Mark and Larry’s. I hate thinking about Drew and Meredith under these circumstances again. Mark and Luke were two of Drew’s best friends. Mark was Meredith’s boyfriend and Luke was there for her after he passed. They, like many others, have lost so much this year in the passing of these two friends.

I don’t know what to do or say. I love my friends and the people in my life.

In these bad times, out of control and begging to be fixed, I remember and am encouraged by the good which has been and will be. I am encouraged by my friends who do the same. We can still look up into the sky and out into the world and see it can be beautiful. It’ll be ok. Not every day will be the best day but there is a hope and a future for us as well as times in the past have been pretty great as well.

God works in and through frustratingly painful ways and times but He still works.

My young friend is wanted for attempted murder.

I have a young friend who is accused of shooting someone. When I first heard this I was just sad. While I obviously don’t condone shootings or anything like that I immediately thought of all the good times I had with Dejon.

I care because I know Dejon. I’m not going to say he’s a perfect kid or anything. He’s done some things and made some mistakes but so have I. He’s probably done some things I know I wish he didn’t. But I know Dejon grew up with many of life’s cards stacked against him. He’s already been shot twice, he’s grown with people who should have influenced him for good encouraging him towards many of the activities people look down on him for now. Like I said, I don’t condone or excuse anything, I just know a different part of him than what a lot of people see. I know his primary Nik and my co-workers Jesse, Kallie, Steph, Sam, Abby and my boss George know this part of him. And I want you to know it as well.

In the news report explaining Dejon and Tim are wanted for a shooting, people are allowed to comment at the end. People started making harsh, and in my opinion downright immature, comments and others started firing back supporting Dejon and Tim. It’s the easy thing to do, look down on someone and build yourself up by making them look smaller or completely defend someone you see being attacked.

While those comments (and others people made) make me mad and sad I’m not here to fight one side or the other. I don’t see people who mess up as completely innocent or as a waste of a person or a “savage” as one man described these two. I just think people can know others better and not judge them completely by one mistake or a picture seen in passing. Like I said before, I want you to know the good side of this kid which most people never take the time to see.

Dejon and I went to Young Life Camp at Frontier Ranch last year and I got to see him spend a week where he just got to be a kid, away from the worries of the world, and he loved it. We both did. He enjoyed camp right along with the other kids who didn’t have a past like his, hadn’t been to jail, and didn’t have scars from bullets in their chest and leg. He flinched a little whenever the fake gun shots of the western themed camp went off which reminded me of  his past. Camp was something else for all of us and was a place where I’m reminded to see people as they were intended to be seen.

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And I wish you could see Dejon at his best, I hope he remembers those times too, and I hope maybe all the people arguing can just agree on the fact that pointing fingers and degrading each other won’t get us anywhere. Knowing someone enough to blur the line between the “us and them” way we often see life is a better way. A life of empathy changes things while a life of hostility and judging just widens the gap between everyone. Sooner or later I think this will happen and life will make more sense to us all.

Above all Dejon, if you happen to read this, I hope you know, no matter what you did, all that stuff from camp a year ago is true. You are still great and loved and good. I’m sorry more people don’t see the good in you, the way God see’s you every day. I hope you can feel the love. Hopefully I get to see you again soon.

You Be Trifling!

So this past summer I had the experience of doing something I have never done before; working with little kids.

My comfort zone is around high schoolers with coaching and Young Life being my main experiences but I have, at times, worked with kids before. Past experiences include mainly working with middle schoolers at some leadership events, a little coaching, and at camps. I even spent this last weekend at a Young Life camp for middle schoolers after being asked last minute because there weren’t enough leaders. The only real stuff I’ve learned about middle schoolers is they have no clue as to what is going on in their life. Ever.

When you ask them a question, any question, you get the same response 90% of the time.

At dinner- do you want seconds?

When they get hurt- where does it hurt and how bad?

All the time- do you even have any clean clothes?

The response is always the same. Confused face, slightly tilted head, and no audible response until you ask the same question again. Then you get a halfway-sure of them-self response. It’s usually something like a diagonal circular head shake which neither says yes or no and then some noise usually, barely, escapes their mouth which also elicits little significance. It usually sounds like “mnaghhuh” and then I make a decision for them assuming they want seconds, or tell them they will be fine, or assume based on their persistent smell they either started sweating like a little boy yesterday and don’t yet have deodorant or, in fact, don’t have any clean clothes. I’m almost always right or tell them I’m right and get the same “mnaghhuh” with a sideways head tilt. Then things usually resolve and move on to the next confusing moment. Then I realize neither of us has any clue as to what is going on in their life. Ever.

One of my other experiences was during college. I had a field placement for a class in which I taught third graders. I had a few responsibilities which all revolved around drugs, cigarettes and drinking and how you shouldn’t do any of them. I had curriculum which used puppets and videos with superheroes and sheets matching certain statistics to certain drugs; all to tell them why they shouldn’t use the things. It was very realistic and as far as I know has been extremely effective. I even saw one of the kids recently when coaching a lacrosse camp, he remembered me, and he didn’t appear to be drunk or high or hung over. Success is rarely so visible.

The kids I taught that class to are going into 6th grade now though so we will see… they may have discovered by now the bear I made into a puppet wasn’t really talking, it was me, and soon they’ll find out superheroes don’t show up out of nowhere to help you when your friends ask you to smoke a cigarette or drink some of their parents liquor.

;

Even younger yet than all those kids was my experience this summer. After some time with the men’s mission I was told about and strongly encouraged to check on the kids summer camp. I decided to give it a go and when asked about which age group I wanted to work with I asked what age groups there were.

“Middle school, 3-5 and K-2” my boss replied.

Hmm, ok. Well I’ve done the middle school route and the 3-5ish range a few times before. I was pretty sure little little kids aren’t my forte but I wanted to be sure, get a new experience, and see what it’s all about.

;

Well, now that the summer is over I can reflect a little. I learned some interesting things about little kids. One that sticks with me is the fact that somehow, all the time, without reason, their hands are always wet. I don’t get it. It’s as if every time they go to grab my hand/arm/leg they just pulled their little fingers from under a faucet. Sometimes the wetness spreads to their arms and face… again I don’t know where it comes from. Usually, and I’m pretty sure this is not top of the line “how to treat little kids” etiquette, I just pull myself away and say with a little harsher tone than maybe I should “NO! Why are your hands wet? What is that”

Then they respond like middle schoolers, looking confused and letting out an unknowing coo from their tiny body. My best guess is the wetness is sweat or saliva but for my sake I always make them wipe it off on their shirt and just pretend they are actually washing their hands a lot.

Another thing I learned is little kids like hugs and physical attention non stop.

I try

But if you know me you know I’m not a hugger… there are probably about 9 people I feel like I actually enjoy giving a hug to and it feels natural. All the rest of you get my “I’m trying to carry a box far too large for my arms” hugging posture and I feel so uncomfortable and you probably do too. Little kids don’t care though. They are too busy trying to hold onto your neck or grab your “white people” hair or rest their head on your shoulder. I have to admit… it took some time but I actually became comfortable picking the little ones up. The hug still wasn’t my go to move with them. I usually tried to guess their weight, then imagine what I could do with a dumbbell of that many pounds, and then raise them over my head with one arm or put them up on a shoulder or spin them upside down a few times. They loved it all but usually, according to them, it is best to end with a hug.

And some things are, I think, specific to urban kids. The first is that they called me Donny all the time. This isn’t a general, across the board, things little urban children do, but was because I looked remotely like another staff named Donny who was full time (I was just part time). Our similarities are that we are white and have brown hair. After that there isn’t much.

I would often tell the kids I wasn’t Donny. They would look confused for a second before looking like they figured something out saying “So Donny is your brother?”

Now you may be asking yourself right now “why is the title of this post ‘You be trifling'” Well let me tell you. It’s because, also urban specific, I must have been trifling a lot this summer. I was told at least once a day, usually by an older girl, that I was trifling.

I had heard trifling a few times before this and was only told a couple times while working at the Dale House Project that I was trifling.

To give you a background here is the definition of trifling

according to Webster’s- trifling: of little significance or worth.

according to urban dictionary – trifling: shady. Not right.

This is mainly a word the girls use and follows a rapid progression of a smacking of lips making a “pttss” then a short “ugghhh” followed by telling me I was trifling.

It goes like this.

Girl “Travis can I have lunch now/go outside/have your hat?”

Me “no sorry, not now”

Girl “pttss, ugghhh, YOU TRIFLING” the older girls pronounce it triflin (try-flin) which has a harsher more dramatic tone while the younger kids tend to be more drawn out and whiny with a more drawn out -ing ending in trifling (try-fuh-linggggg)

I think an important part of telling someone if someone thinks you or another is trifling is in their face. Here are some examples.

You, directly, are trifling.

Someone else, not you, is probably trifling.

EVERYONE IS TRIFLING!

No one within a mile is trifling.

After every accusation I would tell the little girl I was surely not trifling and had no trifling motives. To this day I can honestly say I don’t believe I trifled once this summer. No trifling… I did not trifle. Believe it.

Past all the unique experiences of the kids I came to appreciate the people that work with them. They care about the kids so much; even with the wet hands, awkward stares, accidents, accusations of trifling and so much more they care about them. And while I understand them like I understand lacrosse goalies (must be a little crazy to put yourself in that situation) I respect the heck out of them. There is a need to hug and love and take care of little kids.

I discovered it is probably not my thing, even though they are cute and nice and easier to deal with than angry teens, I am not the best at working with them. I am glad though I was able to work with many people, crazy as I think they must be, who find it in them to care unconditionally for these little kids.

When a cop wakes you up.

“Hey man you can’t stay here, gotta get up and move” A man’s voice told me.

I pulled my blanket off my face and looked up to the guy, he’s kind of a blurred pudgy figure until I put my glasses on and see it’s a cop. When a cop wakes you up you usually do what he says. But by this point I had been woken by cops a few times, sometimes I had been somewhere I shouldn’t be and I respected them, other times I knew I was doing nothing wrong and still respected them but with a little more sas (that’s right… I had some sas as a homeless boy)

“Sorry but why can’t I sleep here?” I asked him

“You just can’t” he responded

“Well actually there is no sign saying I can’t and I’m on private property so it’s perfectly fine that I sleep here. Right” By this point I was a little hardened and tired. “Right? I mean I don’t think I’m wrong and if I am tell me” I ask him again while standing up.

“Well, I mean uh. I just think you need to move on” I think he was surprised I was a young kid. I half expected him to put me in my place with some new ordinance or pointing to a new sign that had been hung up in the night or something.

“I’ll move on so I don’t cause you any trouble. I really hope you have a good day sir” I told him as I rolled up my mat and blanket. I really did hope he had a good day too, and I felt kind of bad for my sarcasm. I had been trying to unconditionally love on loads of people by this point (homeless, business people, cops, druggies, the creepy guy who always tried to buy me shoes, prostitutes etc). And I made a short little small talk with the cop while I packed up the rest of my things and was on my way.

As I walked a way I probably had a little more pep in my step than usual. It was actually the end of my little homeless adventure in Denver. While I told the cop it was fine I slept there I was partly thinking “Well, I’m done being homeless anyways”.

I took one more walk through town, looking people in the eye again for the first time in a while (I had been avoiding stares for a couple weeks because it is hard to know people are looking down on you so much). I wanted to remember the looks, the rejection and compare it to what was to come. About an hour after waking up I was headed to Chris’ house, then taking a shower, putting my car back on insurance, driving to get a hair cut and putting on better clothes. In three hours time I would be stopping back at this place a completely differently looking person. I looked into peoples eyes the same as I had three hours before but this time was stared at so differently. People smiled, genuinely, I was treated nicely. No glares from people sitting at tables in restaurants and no sarcastic remarks from touristy looking people.

Truthfully I didn’t know how to respond to everything at the time, or two days later eating breakfast at a hotel in Chattanooga with a man whose net worth was $50 million dollars (that’s another crazy story), or a week later talking to friends at a wedding, or months later talking to a grad school social work class. And here I am now a year later trying to make sense of it all and still I feel am failing miserably to do it justice.

I know I can say it was the greatest, riskiest, and most meaningful experience of my life. I still think about it every day especially now that I hit the one year anniversary of it all. I promise it’s not all done with. I feel something in me urging to pick it back up again in some sense. I needed a rest, I learned I need to rest sometimes while I was out there, but I know I have rested long enough now.

And in the rest, and effort, I’ve learned so much in the past year. From the road-trip through the south, multiple friends weddings, a bike trip across 5 states, a trip with greek guys down to Florida, officiating 2 weddings, working at a running company, going to young life camp, coaching lacrosse and just trying to be a better friend I can say I failed so many times along the way. And I’ve learned from it. I have learned more deeply that I am part of this world, of my faith, and everything the two have to offer each other. And I’m excited for a year from now to see all the ways I’ll have gotten to try new things, take new risks, and continue in my pursuit to be a friend to the world.

As always, never give less than your best.

Love you all and God Bless.

Final: 785 miles, $3,450 raised for kids to go to Young Life Camp and not a single bear.

It was just over a month ago when I was biking across Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin and Minnesota. The purpose was to raise money for kids from the Dale House Project and from the greater Holland area to go to Young Life camp. I had never done anything like this before. Most days were well over 100 miles and at night I spent time with families I had never met before. The month before had been full of training and fundraising.

The second day of the trip pretty much summed up what the whole experience was like. The first day had plenty of setbacks and turned out to be 164 miles. The second day consisted of a headwind of 15-18 mhp for most of the 100 miles. Headwinds frustrate me more than hills or heat or rain. A good strong headwind feels like pressing equally on the break and gas pedals in a car. Maximum effort with minimal results. That day my legs hurt, I powered through, I yelled going up hills with the wind blowing strong in my face. I pushed as hard as I could only to see the speed on my computer dropping consistently. I dropped my wallet and had to back track. Finally I started praying for the wind to just ease up a bit.

Every time I finished a prayer the wind seemed to pick up, almost mocking me, and putting more resistance on every pedal. Finally that day I snapped. I was sick of the wind, sick of praying and biked harder than I think I ever had. I’m sure my jaw was clenched as I pushed and pushed as if to defy the wind. To overcome everything.

This is what I mean everything was like. Instead of making life easier by giving me what I wanted it was kind of like God may have just been saying. “Stop it. Stop asking for things to be easy. Stop being a wimp”

I felt that in the last leg of the day tuesday. When God seemed to maybe say “You think you’re in shape, you think you know how to push yourself, you think you know strength in weakness but Travis, you don’t know how I’ve made you. You don’t know how amazingly well I made you. You don’t know really what you can do but I can show you and teach you through testing. Maybe if you stopped asking for it to be so easy all the time you might even see”

After everything shook out and the trip was done I didn’t feel much sense of accomplishment but more so wonder of what I might be able to do. The trip was very hard at times but I know I could have tacked on another 20 or 40 miles onto most days. The trip could have been 1,000 miles and it still would have happened. And after the next trip I’m sure I’ll still have the same sense of curiosity.

But for now I can say it is good. Roughly $3,450 was raised. Around $2,500 will go to the DHP and $1,000 will stay here in holland to send kids to camp.

Thanks everyone for all the support, encouragement, and help. And no James Sa, there was not a single bear fight/attack/sighting/non-confrontational gathering.

Book Review: The Other Wes Moore

“Two kids with the same name living in the same decaying city. One grew up to be a Rhodes Scholar, decorated combat veteran, White House Fellow, and business leader. The other is serving a life sentence in prison for felony murder”

I just finished this book today and it resonates so much with what I have seen and lived in the past two years. The story, as stated above, is about two guys around the same age, both fatherless, from the same hood, with an eery amount of similarities growing up but an ever more profound difference of where they are now.

The whole story ends up begging one question of the ways the two men turned out.

How?

Where is the promise of hope and a future? How did one kid get out, become a hero and a leader while the other fell into the victim of circumstances a detriment to society and a villain? It’s a sad and scary story highlighting many of the troubles of youth in America.

I loved Wes’ accurate and humble portrayal of his own life, mistakes and grace given to him while recognizing the same of his friend and counterpart of the story. In the end there are no real answers but a lot of questions worth thinking about to be applied to ourselves and others. To be honest it’s a book I’ve lost some sleep over but I’m glad because it’s been so important to think about my personal decisions and how I approach life but also how I give grace to others like me. How the murderer’s in jail are like me or you or your friend. It made me appreciate my freedom and grieve others entrapment to a life they never viewed as something long term. It challenges the cocky attitude I have sometimes; being proud of where I am rather than grateful of where I am not. Wes states it well when he says “The chilling truth is that his story could have been mine. The tragedy is that my story could have been his”.

Unlike many books I have read and appreciated (Love Wins, Irresistible Revolution, Crazy Love) this books digs into something more intimate than attempts at answers and walks through the real lives of families and individuals. If you are involved social work, teaching, Young Life, race issues, psychology or want a lesson in empathy I highly recommend this book. It’s also just an all around good true story.

I must say it was one of my favorite reads over the past year. A book I’m sure to revisit.

Check out Wes’ website here for more information.

A year ago today.

Right now in 2012 I’m coming off one of the busiest months of my life (officiated my first wedding, biked 785 miles to raise money for kids to go to summer camp, spent a week at a Young Life camp, started a new job, still working my old job and a few other things) and things don’t look like they will slow down as I hoped. It stresses me out sometimes. This morning I decided to read my journal from a year ago because a year ago I was part way through my time living on the streets in Denver. It was good to see how I am fine now and read my own words of assurance from a year ago.

Here is July 5th 2011.

I really wish I had some food right now. Today I’ve had a small cup of soup, half a peach, a slice of bread, cookie and some crackers. I gave away the sandwiches, cookies, corn chips and everything I had in my bag. All in all it was about enough food for one person for a day to be full. I was able to share it with two others who may or may not have needed it more than me. I can give more than I am comfortable giving thought because I know I’ll be sustained. I don’t know when where or how just that I will be.

When I gave today I was not in the mood to do so. It didn’t even feel good, it felt right but not good, which made me realize that doing what is right is necessary even when the novelty of doing so is lost. That is how we bring others closer to having what we have. I share when I have only enough to feed one, with three, so that we share in what I have but we may also share in hunger. By sharing everything and them knowing I want them to have what I have I hope they can realize my faith. My confidence in giving. Why I love and see them as important. So maybe then I can share, someday, my faith with them so that they can, again, have what I have. What I want to share with them the most.

After writing it out I know that doing good doesn’t always feel good because it often defies human nature (especially when it comes to basic needs) Even now I am still hungry from not eating, tired from walking 5 or so miles to try to get food only to have the place be closed, and a little anxious wondering how I’ll sleep tonight hungry and possibly through another thunder storm. But I do feel pleased, I feel pretty right with God, I know I didn’t give with the most grateful heart today but I still gave and tried to be nice and grateful while giving. I guess that’s why we practice like this so we can do it better next time.

Thought it all I have confident assurance in God I’ll be taken care of. I notice that when I write or say I am anxious during my time out here on the streets I’m actually not feeling that way but feel as though I should feel that ay. Kind of like saying “I have no food and can’t see any coming. I have no roof and it’s raining… I should be worried… right? But instead I’m just filled with thanks for what I have had and a mentality that says “eh, oh well. Keep on giving. I’ll be ok” ANd I should feel that way because that’s the faith I have come to know. That is what I have experiences out here to an amazing degree with being provided for and finding out how much easier I am sustained by things than I thought I would be.

Sometimes I’m tired but give more regardless and other times I’m ready to give but find rest instead. Either way I know I’ll be good and life will take care of itself