To witness or not to witness....

After writing the previous post, it occurred to me that my "urge" to make anyone and everyone aware of the Patriot Guard Rdiers is rather like witnessing as a Christian. This morning, in a business meeting, after all business had concluded, I found myself telling all of them about the "mission" on Sunday.

We all "witness" in some way or another. We tell each other about that great [your favorite restaurant, spa, or service] and what a positive experience we had. In my life, I look for things that promote the presence of God, and how he works in our everyday lives. When speaking of these things, some nod absently, while others enthusiastically tell you their own stories.

Since becoming a member of the Patriot Guard, I have found yet another way to "witness", since I know without a doubt that God has worked another miracle in touching the hearts of this group. Telling people about them grabs their interest. Many know nothing of them, as I also did not just a few months ago.

In my other self-centered life; trudging along, making ends meet, and looking for that next "big thrill", I was blissfully unaware of what was going on in my own backyard. Many times I had fleeting thoughts of how I could contribute to my own community and the lives of others, besides my church, but the small sleepy town I lived in (in the northeast), preferred to keep to themselves and they didn't let outsiders in too readily. I lived there eight years before coming to Florida.

Making a move from the northeast to the southeast was not a crisis for me. I grew up in southern California, moved to the northwest in my 20's, relocated again to the central west coast in my 30's, and then again to the northeast in my 40's. I've been all over this country in my line of work, and even to europe a number of times. I'm often asked, "where the heck are you from anyway??", as I have picked up favorite nuances of the various accents from everywhere I go.

The thing I've taken away from each place is how strangers are treated, and how local residents treat each other. I chose the south, for the Florida panhandle is truly part of the "south", while the rest of Florida really is not, because I fell in love with the "southern" hospitality and the way they treat each other, and the way they treat strangers. From the first day of living here, I became one of them, in spite of my strange speech and northerner ways. I must say I'm warming up to that southern kinda "thang". People smile more and are rather "touchy feely". I rather like that. I think people smile more because the sun shines more, or maybe it's just me. When I ride out on my bike, and pass my neighbors walking the dog, or a child riding his/her bike, they wave. My neighbors came over and introduced themselves to me the day I moved in. Another neighbor helped me move some heavy things into the house (yep, I moved myself and while doing so I often thought to myself, "what the heck was I thinking?"). I live alone, but I've never felt alone here.

Since I don't have a trailer for my bike, and I needed to move it out of storage into my new garage (it had a flat tire), I thought, well I'll just search online for a motorcycle group who might help me. That's when I ran across the Chrome Divas (http://tallahasseefl.chromedivas.com/), and I emailed them. Within hours I had offers of help. As it turned out, another new friend enlisted a friend of a friend, who arrived with a trailer, loaded up my bike, and delivered it into my garage. But my connection with the Divas was to be a straight line to some new and very wonderful friendships. I'll be posting more on my rides with them later on.

So, getting back to my conversation this morning - telling these people I had previously never met about my experience with the Patriot Guard Riders, really lightened my day. They listened, they smiled, they touched me lightly with their hands, and I knew they could feel the excitement I felt. They all asked for the URL and seemed genuinely interested in reading more about them.

I'd say that's witnessing for the Lord, wouldn't you? How many people are just "looking" for a way to contribute to the world, or even just their own community? How many want to support our troops but haven't found the right way (for them) yet? How many are like me and hate the war, but love our men and women in the military and stand behind them 100%?

We all have some miracle or another to tell someone. The PGR is mine at the moment. This is God's work at His best. What else provides hope for a better future than God's work? Those men and women over in Iraq need that hope. They need to know that our country stands behind them. I'm one voice in the midst of over 100,000. I think they hear us.

To witness or not to witness; it's not a question for me. One of those people, surely, will go to the PGR website, and they'll tell others. Perhaps they'll join. RC posted a comment to my first blog, and he quotes [someone] who said, "One voice may be a whisper but a thousand can be a roar". And I say.... exactly.

Patriot Guard Riders

For my first blog here, I want to talk about something that has caught and held my attention like a deer to headlights. The Patriot Guard Riders; if you ride, you've probably heard of them. Their website (http://www.patriotguard.com/) boasts over 100,000 members nationally. If you haven't been there and read through this site, do yourself a favor and go there... now.

OK, been there? Now I'll get on with this.

One of the friends I ride with invited me to ride on a Patriot Guard "mission". I was intrigued after hearing what they stand for, and I welcomed a chance to ride. I was not prepared in the least for what I was about to experience.

Before I get into a description of that day, let me just say that as a rider, I am often sneered at by other drivers, ignored by mothers with their children when I walk into a store in my leather riding gear, or looked at with astonishment that I, a respectable mother of two, would ride with such "rough and irreputable" people. What I know to be true, is that motorcycle riders are just people like anyone else. They have families, pay their taxes, and work for a living, just like me. They are caring and giving people. However, the general non-riding public refuses to ackowledge this fact. I know, because I see it all the time. The Patriot Guard Riders will change that, and have already. History is in the making.

So I meet with this group of people, who are about to ride to a church and stand guard with their flags and create a protective atmosphere for a bereaved family, who'd lost their son, a soldier, in the line of duty. OK, I'm thinking, I want to be part of that.

If you've read up on the PGR website, you'll already know that this group was formed in response to some protesters from a cult church who decided they should protest the war by making hurtful and rude signs, then attempting hold them up in full view of a family who'd lost their loved one in the war. The PGR mission: to prevent anything from disrupting the reverence, honor and respect deserved by this young soldier who'd lost his life protecting our freedom.

As I stood in the flag line and watched the family and friends walk between us and file into the church, I held myself at attention and struggled not to cry. I didn't know these people, yet I did. They are responsible for having a son brave enough to fight for MY freedom. I was obligated to be there and I didn't know it until that day.

As we rode in the long procession behind the hearse, some 50 bikes strong, not one person revved their motor, and it almost seemed like the quietest of days in spite of the rumble from all the bikes. And at the grave site, we once again stood in two lines, surrounding the family, standing in honor and respect. I could see the faces of the family, and I believe we brought some semblance of peace to them.

The creation of the Patriot Guard has, and will keep doing so, enabled the world (and yes the world, for there are comments and letters from everywhere about the Patriot Guard) to see that those who ride bikes have heart; they are respectable, and honorable human beings.

I never served in the military, but I have enormous respect for those who did and do. In my youth, I wanted to fly jets, go to war and shoot big guns. They didn't let women do that back then, and the Vietnam war era was ending. I've spent my life doing all the things freedom lets me do, and now I can give something back to those who fight for me.

I went home that day with the knowledge that God had led me to the PGR and here I am. I'm hooked.

I am not a proponent of war, but I am a supporter of those who are asked to go to war for this country. They are called, and they go, and they know what has to be done and are willing to do it. For that I owe them whatever it is I can give. The fact that I can ride free because of them is poetic in that now I can ride for them.

Yesterday, I rode with the PGR again. Men and women, of all ages. War veterans, and civilians. All came to pay their respect and honor one who paid a very big price for our freedom. He kept his life, but lost his legs and hands. As I looked down at my own hands and legs, I said a prayer and asked God to please look after this very important person and his family.

And while you're at it Lord? Could you remind that inattentive driver to look before pulling out in front of me? Or wake up that glazed over looking business man so he won't fade into my lane on the interstate? Thank you Lord, I'll be riding with the Guard next time around, if it be your will.