Good morning. I started my trip yesterday and made my way down to Kentucky (just past Cincinnati) at around 8 pm. I pulled in at a Ramada next to three beautiful shiny Harleys and wondered what this trip would be like on a two-wheeler...

Can you see me on a Harley, looking dapper with black leather and dark sunglasses? :) Something within me insists that I, too, could be a freedom rider. Then again, I observe that many of these freedom riders are at least 45-50 years of age. Perhaps I have a few years left before this phase begins. But when it does, look for the girl with silver stripes on her red helmet and a death grip on the handlebars. Ha!

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During my travels yesterday, I listened to an audio book called Blindsided: Lifting a Life Above Illness, a Reluctant Memoir by Richard Cohen. Richard is the husband of View co-host Meredith Viera and has suffered with MS for 30 years, as well as defeating cancer twice.

He is for all practical purposes, blind, has extreme strength and coordination problems, and a host of other inconveniences that have made this once top-of-his-game television producer almost completely dependent on others to help him do the simplest things.

My heart got quickly involved in his story, as I listened to him hide his disease from employers and friends, girlfriends and even a doctor. The MS drove him to succeed and do things that seemed impossible. He kept telling himself he was unstoppable and that he had to be better than anyone else out there just to have a chance.

I know from experience that physical weakness can be a great motivator: because in many ways you cannot control a condition, you grasp for something you can control, something you can achieve. You push the limits of the boundaries that the doctors or society maps out for you, and you defy the odds with everything you've got. This can lead to extreme satisfaction--because while another person achieved the same with a moderate level of effort--you know you contributed every bit of physical, emotional, and spiritual strength you possess. Others may not know this, but you know it--and that is what counts.

In his memoir, Richard says "illness instructs." I agree, of course, because those who face a physical challenge often become introspective, searching for the inner strength to deal with the outward reality of weakness. What made me sad, however, is that Richard's outlook focuses on finding meaning only in the present. He is right that MS is a gift that has deepened his character.

But might there be a purpose in the pain? Could there be a place after death when what's wrong is fixed entirely, allowing him to live without limitation? For the Jesus-follower the answer is yes. Those of us who cling to the love poured out by a suffering Savior believe that pain comes because the world is broken. We also affirm, however, that Jesus is in the business of fixing the brokenness, starting today with our hearts, and eventually, with eternity in heaven--where we believe all that's wrong will be made right.

Before I left for this trip, my friend and coworker, Jeanette, e-mailed me Psalm 139, taken from The Message Bible. It gave me a fresh look at one of my favorite chapters in the Bible.

"Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you. The days of my life all prepared before I'd even lived one day." (v. 16)

Like no one else, God "reads" me. He knows the dark days and the joyful ones, weeping and rejoicing with me in turn. I love knowing that although the details of my life are important to him, he takes the long range view (the forest instead of the trees), knowing that relationship breakups, job loss, depression, physical challenge and loneliness are only pieces of my story.

The bigger story is that I am becoming free to accept and lavish his love. Already, the wrongness is being made right, as I see things more and more from his perspective. There have been times in my life when my emotions have fluctuated where God is concerned. "He loves me, he loves me not." But, even in the last few months, the truth of his character has been settling down, cementing and solidifying in my soul.

He loves me. Period. No matter what I do or don't do. Always and forever. And it makes me extremely happy to say that he loves you this same way, too.

Catch ya later...