Since I graduated high school, I’ve been a lot of places on the road. I decided to see if I could come up with a map of all the traveling I’ve done over the years, including a few trips that I forgot details for. I’ve been to thirty-seven states (in high school I flew into New York City and we visited New Jersey from there) and four Canadian provinces. I’ve lived in four states (Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama). One of my goals before I’m 40 is to make it to the rest of the United States and Canadian Provinces.

I’d also like to visit more of the National Parks. I’ve driven the Natchez Trace and Blue Ridge Parkways. I’ve seen the Smokey Mountains, Glacier National Park, and Yellowstone. I drove through the Bighorn National Forest, the Badlands, and the Grand Canyon. I caught the west end of the Florida Everglades. I’d love to get out to Big Bend in Texas and visit the Pacific Northwest.

Anyway, you can click the image (or here) to see a higher-resolution version.

The following is the story Cennie Jackson (bottom right, in white) told me in Butler, Alabama the Monday after a tornado ripped down her street and destroyed her home (top left).

“Let’s take a ride.” Those were the words Stacy Jackson spoke to his wife just hours before a tornado ripped through their mobile home in Butler, Alabama. Stacy’s wife, Cennie, called her husband to come home during severe thunderstorms in Choctaw County on April 15, 2011. Instead, Stacy suggested the couple take a drive out of town for a while. The decision probably saved their lives.

Upon returning to their home, the Jacksons realized they would be starting over. The American Red Cross was in Choctaw County assessing damage in the days immediately following the tornado. Using it as an in-depth opportunity to train new volunteers in damage assessment and client casework, I was partnered with Pamela Schnitzler (top left). We navigated our way around downed branches to the Jacksons’ home.

Off its foundation with one tree across the left side, the home was severely damaged. Another tree missed the right side of the home by mere feet. Windows were blown out. The front door was off its hinges; the doorframe separated from the rest of the building by several inches.

We met Cennie and Stacy in their neighbor’s front yard. Cennie spoke of their future in Butler. “We’ll start over. We’ve done it before, and we’ll just have to do it again.”

Still, this is going to be a great conference with a huge lineup. And it’ll be a sweet break. The furthest I’ve been from Mobile in the last 10 months is Baton Rouge, and that was only for a couple hours. I miss being on the road- the most therapeutic place I know. Once I leave Orlando on Friday I’ll be driving south through the everglades and then over to Florida’s Gulf Coast. Every mile south of Tampa I drive will be the furthest south I’ve ever been, so that’s going to be a nice new record. I plan to visit Lake Okeechobee, drive along Alligator Alley, and hopefully I’ll see a lot of pelicans along the gulf coast. Maybe even a manatee on the way home. I’ve driven through swampland in Louisiana, and I hope Florida is different. Even if it’s not- that’s a drive worth taking. Of course my camera will be on me at all times.

So I might post here during the week, or maybe I won’t. But at least you’ll know where I am and why.

Joe’s right. Words are not enough.

Once, long ago, words bore the power to inspire change. Now, inspiration is a category of greeting cards and change is a campaign mantra.

We have a need to feel empathy and we fulfill that need in 2 hour increments with movies like The Blind Side or Blood Diamond. We throw away our popcorn and go back to our homes with no intent of living any differently.

In Blood Diamond, Solomon Vandy asks the reporter (regarding her article), ”So when people in your country read it, they will come help, yes?” She says, “Probably not.”

Words are not enough and yet I believe in stories. Sometimes, I think our response to stories is what makes them true. A true story is so even without our proper reaction except that no argument will persuade us to believe a thing we’ve determined to ignore.

The world is wrecked but is that the whole story? I don’t think so.

In the past, I’ve been so overwhelmed by the devastation that I averted my eyes. In doing so, I missed the point. Hope grew distant but I am tired of being hopeless.

My hope is in Christ. My prayer is the same one that He taught His first disciples, “Our Father in heaven hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven.”

But words are not enough. To pray that and not be moved in some tangible way to benefit Jesus’ least of these is to pray in vain. It offends the heart of God.

Realizing this has motivated me to sign-on for a crazy adventure. This summer I, along with 17 others, will bike 3,100 miles from San Diego to Myrtle Beach to raise money to build water wells, latrines, and clinics in Marsabit, Kenya.

I’m a lazy 250 pound guy who gets lost in Wal-Mart and has been unemployed for a year now. Why am I doing this? Because words are not enough.

For more information and to give go to http://www.ridewelltour.org.

Entry into Bandelier is $12, and you’ll find it is likely the busiest national monument/park in the area, even in November. However, it’s nothing compared to Glacier or Yellowstone in the summer, so don’t let it scare you away.

I traveled the majority of the main loop with a friendly Canadian couple, then took the back end of the main loop’s nature trail by myself. It was on the back end that I encountered these deer. I was no more than 30 feet from them at one point, and I’m sure they’re used to people. Still, it was a genuinely beautiful moment for me.

Photos from Bandelier National Monument outside of Los Alamos, New Mexico in November 2008