For our 8^th wedding anniversary, my husband and I were encouraged to take a little time for ourselves. The 2009 Yamaha Midnight Star motorcycle mysteriously called to us daily until the children were secured with their grandparents, and we found ourselves without obligation. It was a strange feeling, a freedom we rarely experience and we relished it.

Our journey began on the morning of July 4^th, and for some reason, when the fireworks were cracking and popping around us, it was as if someone else was cheering for our alone time just as much as we were.

This was the first trip we’d taken past a few half hour excursions since buying any of our motorcycles, so the experience brought with it a heightened sense of needing to remember everything as it was. The black motorcycle glided beneath us and all around us were new aromas and feelings. As I was the passenger, I could see nothing directly in front of me past the reflective surface of my husband’s helmet, and this got me thinking. It was like a fun house mirror I stared into, and yet no matter how hot or how insecure I felt about the turn we were taking or the lean we were executing, the face staring back at me retained its perpetual smile.

Another oddity I noticed was quite stark to me and sat squarely in the middle of my chest; my cross pendant necklace. We had applied sunscreen (50 spf :)) prior to starting our journey, and it was odd to see that while every other part of my clothing, my hair, my cheeks and my chinstrap to my helmet flapped violently with the wind, the cross pendant stayed exactly where I had placed it. It never wavered.

God speaks to us through the little things, I swear I can hear him say “Psst, over here” so often anymore, especially when I am not specifically looking for Him.

This was one of those times.

The cross is a symbol of our Savior, and how appropriate that it didn’t move because of my faithful sunscreen applied to my skin. I armored myself with my faith and Christ stood beside me, unmoving. It was only when I had moved him that a change occurred; the only thing to move Him away from me was…well…me.

It was a settling thought, a reassurance when I wasn’t even looking for one that reminded me of just how important believing simply because we believe can be. I hear the voice of God in the wind, a gentle aroma of alfalfa hay just after cutting, and I know that He is there. My sunscreen faith taught me that.