I’ve got a mouth that belongs in the Circus.

For as long as I’ve talked, I’ve loved to talk. . .

from A-B-C’s to Abstracts.   .   .

from simple syllables to significant stories,

I love the written word—spoken.

I’ve made my livelihood with my mouth, from sermons to speaking engagements to Life Celebrations, Memorial Services, Keynotes, Workshops, Weddings, Commitment Ceremonies, Master of Ceremonies, Small groups, Leadership Training Series to Counseling sessions to simple phone calls to 1 on 1 conversations.

My mouth has taken me to many different places and put me in front of a lot of Eclectic audiences,

but one of my favorite of late, without any hesitations,

was at Lake Erie Harley-Davidson Sales Company for

T  H  E      B  L  E  S  S  I  N  G      O  F      T  H  E      B  I  K  E  S

I unfortunately met Mike Stevens a couple of years ago when his father George, who had been the proud owner of Lake Erie Harley-Davidson, died of a heart attack.

I was honored to conduct George’s service which included an awesome tribute of a motorcycle procession to the cemetery.

Because of a prior commitment,

I wasn’t able to participate in the Blessing of the Bikes in 2014,

but was so honored that Mike didn’t forget me and booked me to be there

the last two years

and then again this year on May 13, 2017

There was not a cloud in the sky and it’s blueness served as a perfect backdrop for a

perfect Sun and all of it’s warm rays.     .     .

there would be no fear

that this beautiful morning

would be more of a Baptism than a Blessing,

in  fact,

the only thing that outshone the Sun

was the multitude of warmth and brightness

by those who came to have a complimentary pancake breakfast before

a brief meditation.       .       .

and standing proudly by their Bikes

before heading out on their various treks.

“There’s a huge ROCK that you can’t help but to see when you pull into this Dealership.  It represents a man, George Stevens, the foundation for this Company and more, the one who has brought countless people together. . .and still is. The Road promises us nothing, in fact, it almost always guarantees lots of danger and uncertainty, but it offers up a Creed where the Law is Love and the Gospel is Peace…Ride Well…Ride Safe…,”

I offered up before going to each bike and individually blessing it and its Rider(s).

I usually asked each bike owner how many miles they had on their bikes and no matter what their answer,

I would offer,

“And yet the best miles are those still yet to be ridden.    .    .No matter what roads you go down or come back up, from the most dangerous to the most comforting, may you be blessed to bless those you’ll undoubtably meet.      .      .      .”

A 68 year old lady who as ready to saddle up for a day of riding told me that she never felt more alive than when she was riding.

Another lady told me that this was a Sanctuary on two-wheels; that she felt truly worshipful and the Presence while riding.

A man, eyes filled with tears told me that he only had gotten his bike because it was his dying wife’s last wish for him and he now rides every mile not for her, but with her;

A proud grandfather stood beside his bike with his small grandson by his side and proudly said, “This is his, he’s just letting me ride it for a little while longer.     .     .”

Couples, Ladies, Men, Young, Old

and all in between were there to show

intensely that Road before them

was for the Riding and the Living.     .     .

I was being accompanied to each bike by Lori, who literally had an offering bag, where the riders gave donations for Hospice of the Western Reserve.

I got  B I K E D  that day in a most intimate way.

B l e s s     o r     B l e s s e d

is there a distinction?

Uh.    .    .not   THAT   Saturday,

not for those couple of  hours in the Sun

where the Sun was  even more

magnificently manufactured

and much more pure because of it.       .       .

A  Community  came  together

and He-Who-Was-First-Created was very Present;

A Journey wasn’t begun that morning,

only Continued in a most profound way

and the hummmmmm of the Engines

was really a Symphony of

 H   E   A    R   T     B   E    A   T    S

A  b  r  a  c  a  d  a  b  r  a       a  w  e  s  o  m  e  l  y       h  e  a  l  i  n  g

( S   t   i   l   l        i   s )