Exactly three years ago today, my brother and I drove our tan Chevy Cavalier out of the garage and into the pouring rain. In the trunk was our luggage, and wedged into the back seat was a bicycle I had just been given. We waved to a teary family and began the two thousand mile drive to West Coast Baptist College.
That was an eventful trip—full of significant “firsts.” It was the first time I had been west of Kansas, and it was the first time either of us had seen the Rocky Mountains up close. They were breath-taking. We even pulled over and improvised a thirty minute hike. We also met my great uncle and aunt for the first time. We toured their ranch on quads and enjoyed their gracious hospitality as we got acquainted.
But to me, the most memorable moment of that trip occurred within thirty miles of our destination. Actually, it was a statement Daniel made that stuck in my mind. Continue reading