"Dad?"
No answer.
"What are you going to do with the bike?" Voice cracking, frustration fueled-tears welling, my daughter wanted to know what was going on.
"Carrying it home. We're done."
During the summer I have been trying to teach Elise to ride her bike without training wheels. She was excited at first, and we worked hard at it. I thought the process was going well, despite my lack of experience in the art of teaching 5 year old girls anything, let alone how to ride a bike. There were no major falls. She was slowly getting better. I occasionally took my hand off the bike, which she allowed, and she was close to getting it. Sometime, though, unbeknownst to me, this happened:
All of a sudden, we couldn't go 5 feet without her shaking in terror. Even with my hand on the bike, she wailed of possible injuries. She flinched and flailed about to avoid non-existent traffic in our bustling metropolis of 1500 citizens. Clearly, this was an irrational fear. I inquired about what was going on:
It didn't help. Regardless of all attempts at reason I made, I couldn't dent her fear. "I'm right here," I told her. "I won't let go." Sobs. "I'm your father. It's my job to protect you. I won't let anything bad happen." No change. "All I'm asking is that you try. You did it a few days ago. I've never let you fall. You can do this, and I'm here. You don't have to be perfect, you just have to try." Nothing.
I offered suggestions:
When that failed as well, when it was clear nothing that I could say would change anything, it was time to pick up the bike, quit talking, and go home. I couldn't understand it. I had kept her safe. I had been patient. I had almost 6 years of a track record of safe-keeping and somewhat reliable guidance, and what I had to offer was freedom, fun, and a world full of new opportunities. All she had to do was get over her fear.
Tonight the fear wall came tumbling down. I don't know how. She didn't ask to go ride; I told her we were going to. Nothing was different about this "training session." She just decided to ride. Five or ten minutes into it, I was sprinting beside her, trying to keep up, all while she was screaming, "This is whoo-hoo fast! This is awesome!" All neighborhood passers-by praised her, and she beamed on trip after trip after trip down 1st Street, onto Boulder Avenue, past the park and then back again. It was an evening I won't forget. I don't think she will either.
While I'm not sure exactly what it is, I know there is something God is trying to get me to do that I'm just too scared to. I'm guessing the same is true for you as well. Despite the offer of freedom, of joy, of accomplishment, and of unlimited opportunities, we avoid. Despite a history of proving faithful, of being The Rock and a Firm Foundation and of providing wisdom that carries the day time and time again, we just can't get past the irrational fear holding us back.
It might be something big like a career change, a move, or even leaving a comfortable but unhealthy relationship. But chances are what we're afraid of is something much smaller. We're afraid to give up a sin we relish. Or to swallow our pride with our spouse. Or end a grudge. Or to simply make a phone call to someone important to us, or who used to be important, or who should be important.
Irrational fear paralyzes. But my daughter will tell you, once you get on that bike and ride, you'll wonder why it took so long in the first place.
No comments:
Post a Comment