I remember learning to ride a bike. It wasn’t pretty. My dad started me in the grass. He’d run alongside me as my little legs peddled, and handlebars wobbled. I wouldn’t know exactly when my dad let go of the back of the bike, but eventually, I’d notice his encouraging voice growing distant, “Keep going. You’re doing it.”
Once I was able to keep my balance in the grass, my dad graduated me to the road. We lived in a circle on the slope of a hill. He’d start at the top stay with me as long as he could, I remember the blur of the road under the wheels, the wind on my face, and my chest expanding as I realized. “I’m doing it. I’ve got this.” Then I noticed the curve in the road. I panicked. My dad’s pounding footsteps sounded behind me while he yelled, “Turn, turn, turn the handlebars!” I didn’t turn. I crashed in a heap in a drainage ditch.
My dad picked me up, dusted me off, and helped walk my bike back up the hill to try again. A couple more ditch crashes and a run-in with a mailbox, and I became a biking pro. My dad and I marched back into the house, exhausted and bruised, but with a satisfying sense of accomplishment.
Life can often be like learning to ride a bike. One moment we think we’ve got it—we can do this on our own—but the next thing we know, we’re lying in a ditch while our Heavenly Father pulls us out and dusts us off. He helps us get back on the bike and runs alongside whispering, “This is the way, walk in it.” – Isaiah 30:21.
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