Putting my wheels in the water

This is certainly not the kind of day when a pensive mood would be at all unexpected, but I am basking in it nonetheless.

I woke up this morning with the distinct feeling that my life had changed. I think, and hope, that I probably experience life-changing moments every day, but sometimes those moments are so heavy you can feel them in your body. When you wake they are pressing on your heart and you want to let them out, but the "how" seems so elusive. Twenty-three hours later, I am faced only with the sparkle of rain-kissed window screens and a dimly lit keyboard as I continue to wonder.

This morning as I heard tales of Swahili chants over a mango branch-covered tomb and the shaky voice of a 109-year-old daughter of a slave say she never thought the "colored would rise up," I had hope that for at least one day in this country we could put aside bickering and breathe in what has happened in our world. It goes so far beyond my tremendous pride in a great man, so far beyond the nationwide restoration of faith we feel in America, so far beyond hope for our country to lift itself up. It is men's chants in Britain, children's smiles in Indonesia, and the declaration of a jubilant Kenyan carpenter named Joseph: "If it were possible for me to get to the United States on my bicycle, I would."

I am not sure I can remember a time in my relatively short life that my country has carried the lantern, but I now know it casts a circle of awesome warmth. I am so excited about our opportunity and yet so afraid of not measuring up.

Today I also woke up carrying another life-changing weight: the power of telling the stories of others. I have had wonderful opportunities to do this. In my conversations with an Iraqi parliament member, I saw many shades of gray in a war that had once seemed so black and white to me. From a 13-year-old, I learned that objects aren't important and that selflessness is truly the greatest virtue. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with a 25-year-old who has been forever changed by a traumatic brain injury but has battled bravely to reclaim a life for himself. Even where justice seems absent, the human spirit is omnipresent. This I have learned in all these experiences.

Last night was one of those rare moments when justice and human spirit collided. And it's the kind of thing that just makes you want to ride your bicycle across the ocean.