It finally caught up to me. There are many days when I leave from work on my bike tempting a pending thunderhead to erupt into a thunderstorm on my way home. Today it happened. People use the saying, “like a wet dog,” I felt more like a kitchen sink that won’t drain. Wet as a dog is what I feel like when I get done dancing around in the clean clear water of the sprinklers with my 2-year-old. Kitchen sink is what I feel like when rainwater washes off the dirty city streets directly onto my tires which catapults the ungodliness onto my legs. If cleanliness is next to godliness, than this author is about as far away from being a good person as one can get.
In fact, as I sit in the shower it is beginning to look like a dirty kitchen sink with black and brown grains of dirt gathering around the drain. My head hurts because I rode for over 30 minutes in cool damp rainwater – the kind your grandmother warns will give you pneumonia. And on top of that, I’m tired from the mostly uphill ride home. I look and feel great!
Part of me wanted to stop the ride and call Rebecca to pick me up. It started sprinkling about 10 minutes into my ride, and I saw the wall of water coming. It would have been easy enough to find shelter and wait for her to come pick me up, but there was a problem with that strategy. I can’t use my voice. What was I going to do, try clicking morse code hoping that she memorized the patterns as a kid.
So instead of sending out an S.O.S call, I had to keep riding even as the rain became heavier and heavier.
It didn’t get fun until the rain was pouring so hard that I couldn’t see out of my sun glasses. I tried to rub the lenses with my fingers like mini-windshield wipers, but I needed defrost as well because my glasses were fogging up from the inside. I began my trip listening to music on my iPod, but when the rain picked up I had to stop, wrap it in one of my socks, and hope that would be enough to keep it dry. A few more minutes of torrential downpour proved my method faulty, and I had to put it in my backpack sacrificing music for the rest of my ride.
By the time I finally got home, I was absolutely drenched. My wife, in her very supporting and loving tone, laughed until she cried. My boys came running and crawling to see what nonsense they were about to witness. I didn’t even bother to walk under the porch roof, I just stood there in the still-pouring-rain and laughed with my family.
I’m almost there. Today is the last and final day of not talking which means that tomorrow will be an explosion! Watch out anyone in my path, and if you see a call come in from me tomorrow — you might want to ignore it!
This has been the most challenging segment I have done to this point. As I’ve mentioned many times, going without a voice has meant disempowerment, lack of influence, and much frustration. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be enslaved today, and know that my voice didn’t matter. I am beginning to understand what it’s like to not be heard, but I’ll never know how worthless it feels to be without a voice entirely. 27 million slaves around the world know what this feels like. 2 million kids exploited in the commercial sex trade know what this feels like.
However, we have made a difference! At this point, $864.77 has been raised to fight slavery in the world, and that doesn’t include the match. That means, that at this point, over $1,700 will go to saving people from slave holders, pimps, or social injustice. You did that! We did that!
We still have a little bit left on the match. If we can raise another $135.23 we can send $2,000 to IJM and make an even bigger impact on slavery. At this point, $5, $10, and $20 gifts make a big difference at helping us reach our goal. To give, click here. Do you want to be a part of the movement?