The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Boots (20 page)

“Thank you for coming.” I shook everyone’s hand and hugged them. It didn’t matter that we’d never met. We were all bikers, part of a unique family. We stuck together. It was the code.

Today, we stood united for one cause: Timmy.

“We wouldn’t miss it.” Atticus grabbed me in a huge bear hug and smothered me in his massive arms.
“Besides, I have ulterior motives. I needed to see my girl here.” He smiled down at Opal who blushed and punched him in the arm.

“Your girl?” I looked at Reba, whose eyes were twinkling. She grinned.

“Stop it.” Opal looked down at the ground and tried to hide her enormous smile. “Don’t even go there.”

“No problem.” I held up my hand. “I won’t. Oh, but it’s awesome that you’re here. Wait until you see Timmy run. Boy can he
run
.”

We all walked to the stands together.

Aaron greeted the bikers and redirected Timmy into the parade. This was one of my favorite parts of the Special Olympics. Certainly, the athletes inspired me, but their caregivers inspired me, too.

My chest filled with unspent tears as I watched the torch being carried joyfully from one runner to the next. One little boy with cerebral palsy ran with all his might, the battery-operated torch held high above his head as he tripped around the track with clumsy, determined steps. A nonverbal lady with a neurological disorder that affected her muscles and her mind held the torch tremulously high and smiled with all her might as she rode in a wheelchair pushed by a young junior high school boy.

“How can this not affect you when you see that kind of spirit?” I heard Atticus whisper to Opal. He wrapped his burly arm around her, and she stayed hidden in its warmth and protection.

I peeled my gaze off Opal and Atticus. My heart went out to the athletes as they passed by, hands waving, faces smiling. The bikers lined up along the fence on the outside of the track and waved, hollered, and hooted.

The VFW Legion guys carried our nation’s Stars and Stripes. A police woman sang the national anthem. Every biker stood with their hand on their heart, poised and proud of their country. Tears ran down the face of the vet with the big POW-MIA patch on his back
.

We spent the rest of the morning cheering on the other athletes. I acted like an absolute lunatic at the Special Olympics. “Go! Go, don’t stop, GO! You can do it! WOO HOO!” I waved my arms and jumped and hollered and practically wore myself out before Timmy’s events. The athletes had overcome countless things to be there. I couldn’t help but be inspired by their enthusiasm.

And then came eight-year-old April.

“Isn’t she a little doll?” Reba whispered in my ear.

“She
is
.” I beamed.

“What is that called that she’s got? I forget.” Atticus
leaned over and whispered.

“Down Syndrome,” I whispered back. “She’s such a cutie.”

April’s
glossy, thick blonde hair bobbed up and down as she ran. Her grin filled her entire little face and she ran like a champ until she saw the girl in the lead loping so far ahead of her she could never catch up.

April stopped. She turned around. She started to walk off the track.

“Go, April!” Bikers stood at the fence, shouting and waving doo-rags. “You can do it! You can do it! Keep going!”

An elderly volunteer on the sidelines ran along beside her clapping, “Come on! You can do it! Keep going! Go, go, go!”

“Go, April!” I shouted as loud as my tired throat could bellow. “
Go!”

April tossed her hair back and started to run again. With people cheering her on and the crowd clapping, she made it to the finish line and into waiting arms for a big warm hug.

“Just like the crowd of witnesses.” Awe filled Opal’s voice.

I stood mesmerized at the thought. I looked down the row of bikers leaning on the fence, watching athletes they didn’t know personally, and the picture of the cloud of witnesses cheering me on as I ran this race with Timmy and Aaron, Patrick, and Daniel caused a lump to form in my throat.

“Sometimes,” I whispered to Lily, “I see other people’s lives and they seem so much more spiritual and put together than I can ever be. I want to give up like April wanted to.”

Lily planted her arm around me.
“But you can’t, Kirstie. And you won’t because you have friends who will get you back on the track and headed toward that finish line—and running right into the open arms of God
.”

“The same way April ran into the arms of her coach.” Opal
reached outside of Atticus’s embrace and squeezed my hand.

“God is weird.” I s
niffed and rubbed my eyes so tears wouldn’t form.

“What do you mean?” Opal handed me a tissue out of her jacket pocket.

“Well, you’d think He’d send me a bunch of church folks and pastors’ wives to keep me on track. Instead, He sends me a bunch of greasy old bikers.”

“Who you callin’ greasy?” Reba, standing on the other side of Lily, reached over and poked me in the arm.
Apparently she’d heard the whole thing.

“Who you callin’ old?” Lily grinned.

I watched as April and her competitors received their medals and ribbons. I hoped to always remember April’s race, how she didn’t give up, and when she felt like quitting, how friends encouraged her. I wanted to remember how she drew strength from those friends, and how she tossed her head back and ran with joy to the finish lin
e.

Dear God, help me remember April. And, Lord, when I get to heaven, the first thing I want? A big, warm hug.

28

“Go, Timmy! Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!” My throat ached, and I was hoarse from screaming. I couldn’t stop cheering for the son doctors said would never walk. His long legs pumped underneath him with exuberant, gangly steps. With a long clumsy gait, he strode to the
finish line on limbs that had spent hours in physical therapy as an infant and preschooler. He didn’t learn to walk until he was nearly three years old, and once he began, there was no stopping him.

The bikers, lined up behind the fence at the finish line in front of the bleachers, waved their doo-rags, shouted, clapped, and stomped. The crowd caught the bikers’ enthusiasm as they joined in cheering for the athletes. I couldn’t recall such a roar at a local Special Olympics event. I caught Aaron more than once glancing at the bikers and grinning at their antics as they cheered our oldest son. It meant a lot to have someone in Timmy’s corner.

For half a lap, Timmy and another athlete loped side by side, neck and neck. But when they cleared the bend and ran toward the finish line, Timmy pulled ahead and cheered himself on.

“Go, Timmy! Go, go! You can do it!” He thrust his fists in the air and shouted loudly to himself. I laughed so hard I didn’t think I could breathe.

By the end of the day, Timmy won a gold medal in the softball throw and the 400-meter run. When his relay team won a silver in the 4 X 100 relay, they stood on the winner’s platform with thumbs up and enthusiastic grins. After Timmy won the bronze in the standing long jump, he ran to me and draped the medal around my neck with clumsy enthusiasm. He gave his fourth place ribbon
in the running long jump to his dad to wear draped over a button on his coat. You might as well have given us a Nobel Prize for the pride we felt for our genuinely kind and loving son.

By noon, all the events were completed, and the athletes headed for home.

The bikers helped Aaron and me clean and close the stadium. When we finished, before we even thanked them, these willing volunteers mounted
their bikes and started their engines.

“Hey, Atticus, where y’all headed to?” I
hollered across the parking lot as I took blankets and water bottles back to the van.

“Eel Falls,” Atticus hollered at me above the roar of the engines. He dismounted his bike and walked toward Aaron and me. “Care if we pitch our tents in the churchyard?”

I felt my eyes pop. Tongues in Eel Falls would be tired from wagging
all day on Sunday. I looked up at Aaron who didn’t skip a beat in agreeing to the plan.

“That sounds like a fine idea.” Aaron took the blankets and bottles from my arms and stuffed them into the wagon he was pulling.

I looked up at Atticus and held my hand over my eyes to block the sun. “Don’t be surprised if Timmy tries to join you. I’ll try, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep him out of your tent.”

Atticus grinned. “No problem. It’s big enough for more than one.”

“Timmy go! Timmy go!” Timmy clapped and flapped his hands and walked circles around Atticus’s bike.

“Hold on, fella,” Atticus said. “Let me get you a helmet to wear.”

“You don’t need to, Atticus.”
I worried that Timmy pestered people too much.

“Not a problem, Kirstie, not a problem. Let the boy ride home with us. He’s earned it.”

“We usually go out for ice cream after the Special Olympics. Would everyone like to come with us?”

Atticus turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, everybody, we’re following Kirstie and Pastor to get ice cream.”

A cheer rose up from the bikers, and I shrugged and got in the car with Aaron
, Daniel, and Patrick.

“Wow, there are so many of them.” Aaron
started the van engine, and the bikers all lined up behind us in the parking lot.

“Did you ever think my motorcycle riding would bring an evangelistic result?” I teased.

“No.” He shook his head and looked in the rearview mirror at the procession behind him. “I must admit, Kirstie, this is a big surprise to me. It hadn’t occurred to me to think of motorcyclists as an unreached people group
.”

“Me either. We sure need to pray about tomorr
ow’s service. But isn’t it exciting?”

“Uhm, you do remember we live in Eel Falls, right? And you do remember how two people in particular are likely to react to an impromptu invasion of leather and chrome?”

I shrugged. “Look, if God ordains it, what can Bernice and Norman possibly do to make something ugly out of this?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Aaron
stopped at the light, and we heard the bikes rev their engines behind us.

Daniel and Patrick were draped over the back seat looking out the rear window.

“Gosh, Mom, I’ve never seen this many bikes before.”
Daniel was impressed.

“See the orange one that looks like a long lizard? It’s totally sick!”
Patrick was mesmerized.

“Sick” I had learned recently, really meant “cool.”

Patrick was in awe, and that was saying something for Mr. He-who-will-not-be-impressed.

“Totally sick.” Daniel couldn’t take his eyes off the display of two wheeled chariots. “The one with the webs on it was sweet.”

“Yeah, but I liked that black bobber the best, didn’t you, Dad?”
Patrick touched Aaron’s shoulder and then turned back around to watch the bikes.

I held my breath.

It was unusual lately for Patrick to elicit a conversation with his dad.

Aaron didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know a bobber from a chopper or a metric from a Harley.
“They looked awesome, all of them.”

I giggled and Aaron glared at me.

We drove the rest of the way to the Crème de la Crème, my heart full of joy listening to Patrick and Daniel talking. I couldn’t remember the last time the two of them interacted and enjoyed one another’s company. Motorcycles brought them together.

If I could have taken a picture of the looks on the faces of the red hat ladies when a horde of bikers dressed in leathers
descended upon their little ice cream parlor, it would have won me a Pulitzer.

“There must be a red hat event in town. Even the serving ladies are wearing red bonnets today,” I whispered to Opal.

“They look terrified.” Reba nudged me and chuckled.

“The poor dears.” Opal clucked her tongue. “I would be terrified, too, if I didn’t know better.”

“You sure would be.” I gave Opal a playful shoulder push. “Girl, you’ve blossomed.”

“Who knew a bike could change one little old lady?” Lily teased.

We placed our orders, and Lily, Aaron, and I made our way out of doors to sit on benches since the tables were all taken. Opal, Atticus, and Timmy sat at the picnic table under an umbrella by the street corner.

“Lily, how is Milo?” I took a sip of fresh limeade.

Lily set her cherry cola on the table and played with the straw. “He’s the same. But his sleeping meds are working a little better. He doesn’t hallucinate as much now.”

“That’s great news.”

A piece of ice cream sandwich fell onto Aaron’s shirt. He picked at the puddle on his shirt with a napkin and made a bigger mess. “I’ll be out to see him Monday. How does that sound?”

“We’ll look forward to your visit, Pastor, but isn’t Monday your day off?”
Lily often mentioned Aaron worked too hard. It was true he rarely took his Monday off.

“It’s supposed to be, but I consider it a privilege to visit with Milo. He’s a good friend.”
Aaron slipped the last bit of ice cream sandwich in his mouth.

“Pink, pink, cream, pink cream, p-i-n-k pink, At-cus.” I heard Timmy beg Atticus to order another cone for him. He loved pink.

I rushed over to them to avoid a sugar catastrophe. “We buy Timmy ice cream, remember, Timmy?” I wiped remnants of his ice cream from his chin. At least I’d remembered to drop off the gluten-free and dairy-free ice cream for Timmy a few days before.

“Timmy cream. Timmy. T-i-m-m-y, Timmy.” He beamed at Atticus. I whispered a prayer of thanks that Timmy liked his ice cream. It made life a lot easier.

The bikers gathered around Timmy and admired his medals. I thought his arm would fall off from all the high fives he gave. He actually looked like a regular kid sitting
and talking with the bikers. It was a poignant picture of what might have been. For a moment, I saw him as Timmy. Not Timmy Who Has Autism. Just Timmy.

Patrick and Daniel mingled with the other bikers and asked them countless questions. Since the bikers loved talking about their bikes, everyone was having a great time.

Timmy wandered back to sit with us, and I noticed Opal and Atticus walk hand in hand down the street looking in store windows.

I nudged Lily and Reba, and we squealed and laughed like junior high school girls.