We’re a rag-tag group of people vigilantly pursuing self-sustaining educational & employment opportunities with and for students and their families living in rural communities in developing countries. We believe in asking hard questions like, “What do you need and how can we help?” We believe that communities know their needs better than we do and that it’s our job to listen. We’re big on being kind for the sake of kindness and we believe that even the smallest acts of kindness can make a big difference. We believe in keeping vigil over one another and watching for opportunities to help, no matter how far off the beaten path those opportunities take us. We’re vigilant in our belief that God has given each person unique gifts and that one of the highest forms of worship is using those gifts to serve others. We believe God has a purpose for each life and Vigilante Kindness is our purpose. Join us as we live out wild adventures in service of God and others. Join us in committing acts of Vigilante Kindness.
You’ve been quoted recently saying you’ve had a bit of a rough week. I’ll say. Don’t worry, I’m not going to add to it. Am I glad all the doping in the cycling world is coming to light? Yes, yes I am. I love the sport of cycling and I look forward to the day when I can love it for its purity.
I’ve read a lot of articles on you this week, Lance, and a singular thought keeps rising to the surface: Thank God I’m not famous. I’m profoundly grateful I don’t live a life where my mistakes are broadcast to the world, where the publicity of those mistakes negates any good I’ve done.
Whether you doped or not, whether you lied about it or not, whether or not you deserve your Tour de France wins or not-frankly I’m not interested in being the judge on any of those fronts. Judgement doesn’t birth healing. Truth does. I can’t attest to what the truth is in any of those situations, but this is a truth I know: LiveStrong has helped many of my loved ones who have battled the beast of cancer. For that I’ll always be grateful.
It appears that you’ve hit bottom, although you said yourself last week that you’ve had worse days. So perhaps this isn’t rock bottom, but I think it may be close.
I like what Anne LaMott has to say about grace and mercy. “Mercy is that we don’t get what we deserve. Grace is that we get what we so don’t deserve.” I wish you measures of mercy and grace this week because if I were in your shoes, mercy and grace are the things that would make me take a step in the right direction.
You’ve got a great opportunity to decide what’s next in your life and, frankly, I hope you’re looking up because watching you climb has always been exhilarating.
I had a dream that Lance Armstrong stood at my kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal with Terry and my brother, Pete. I never bothered to ask what Lance was doing there. Matter of fact I never bothered to ask what Pete, who recently moved to Las Vegas, was doing there either. Just chalk it up to dream magic, okay?
Pete was talking to Lance about something or other. My brother can talk to anyone about anything. I, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves to meet Lance Armstrong. Darn, even in my dreams I can’t play it cool.
Terry left on a bike ride with a friend. Pete went into the guest room to change into cycling clothes, leaving me alone to make small talk with Lance. I was already suited up in a Fat Cyclist jersey and bike shorts. The bike shorts were black with orange and pink plaid running down the sides. I don’t own a pair of bike shorts like that in real life, but if I did I would totally wear them, like all of the time. Even when not on a bike because they were that awesome. But back to small talk with Lance.
“Sexy.” said Lance, his voice laden with sarcasm.
“Spandex are always sexy.” I replied. This axiom is always true, even in dreams.
“Uh, your jersey is on inside out.” Lance pointed. See previous reference to my inability to be cool even in my dreams.
I quickly pulled my jersey off and yanked it back on the right way, which I would never do in front of anyone in real life, let alone Lance Armstrong. The flesh on my stomach hasn’t seen the light of day in years and is blindingly white. Not to mention the fact that it’s a bit squidgy. Apparently my dream self has no shame.
“So where are you riding today?” Lance asked, kindly ignoring my stomach.
“Up to Shasta Dam. Where are you riding today?”
“To Mt. Shasta and back. Is that close to Shasta Dam?”
“Not at all.”
“Too bad.”
“But you’ll have a great view of Lake Shasta as you ride. Although I think it’s snowing in Mt. Shasta. You should eat something warm at Mike and Tony’s before you turn back around to Redding. Are you allowed to eat regular food or are you on a specialized diet right now?”
“I can eat regular food sometimes.” I gave Lance a sympathy pat on the back because that is a sad, sad statement.
Then Pete and I left Lance in the kitchen and rode up to the Dam and back. It was a great ride and afterward, I popped into school to do a couple of things in the office. And that’s when I got the call from Lance that he needed a rescue pick up. I don’t know how he tracked me down at school. Dream magic strikes again.
“My sprocket snapped and I was wondering if you could pick me up?” Lance asked.
“Sure. Where are you?”
“Let’s see, I’m about 60 miles in.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a little while.”
“Are you sure? It’s a long way to drive.”
“It’s no problem. I didn’t have anything else going on today.” Seriously, I have got to teach my dream self how to sound a little less pathetic. “Hole up somewhere warm and I’ll be there in about an hour.”
I zipped home and threw my bike rack on the back of my car. Just as I was getting ready to leave, Terry’s friend rode up and told me that Terry also needed a rescue pick up.
I had to choose between my husband and my new best friend, Lance Armstrong.
Who would I rescue first?
And then my dream self did me proud.
“Okay, I’ll swing by and get Terry and then I’ll get Lance.” I assured Terry’s friend. As I was dialing Terry to get his exact location, Lance showed up at my house. Even in my dream I was baffled by how he got there and how he got there so quickly. The dream magic was starting to wear thin.
“I hitched a ride back to Redding.” Lance said, hopping in the car. “But I had to leave my bike hidden in a bush. Would you mind driving me to pick it up?”
“No problem. We just have to swing by and grab Terry first.”
“I really need to get my bike fixed before tomorrow, but the bike shops will probably be closed by the time we get back.”
“Don’t worry, Lance. I’ll call the mechanic at the bike shop. I’m sure he’ll open up.”
“You mean he’ll open up for me?”
“No, I mean he’ll open up for me.” Finally, my dream self found a smidge of cool.
I woke up with a big smile on my face. I so wished my dream was real.
Yes, hanging with Lance Armstrong would be awesome, but that’s actually not the part I of my dream I wished would come true.
As my dream faded away and I listened to the rain patter on the roof, I wished that my brother hadn’t moved to Las Vegas.
I wish that he still lived here so we could ride our bikes together up to Shasta Dam.
Vigilante Kindness 