After dinner tonight, Emma and I went out for a bike ride. Prior to leaving our house, we covered her from head to toe in all the appropriate protection: a helmet, gloves, knee pads, elbow pads and tennis shoes. To some that may seem excessive – but seeing how she fell twice over the course of our half hour ride, I feel pretty good about that decision.
As we rode along, I had to maintain a painfully slow pace. I could have gone much faster had I left her at home – but that would have defeated the purpose. I wanted to ride with Emma, enjoy her company, explore the world with her. This is why I wanted a bike in the first place.
I had to keep reminding Emma to stick to the side of the road. She had a tendency to get distracted and wander closer and closer to the middle. Though the roads we took were safe and quiet, I made sure to always stay to her left side, putting myself between her and any potential traffic.
All along the way, Emma asked lots and lots and lots of questions. How did someone write their name in the sidewalk? How did they build this road? What’s down in the sewer? How many cars are there in the world? Why is that person flying a kite? I thought about all the walks we’d taken over the years. So much of her reality is shaped by these random conversations.
When we got to the end of our familiar path, Emma decided she wanted to go further than ever before. I smiled – I’ve been waiting for this. She’s been getting stronger the more we go out. She doesn’t tire so easily any more, and it won't be long before we can take off the training wheels.
I told her to turn left; we would check out a new neighborhood. As we did, she kept asking, “Are you sure you know where you’re going, mommy? Are you sure you know how to get us back home?” She was a little unnerved by the newness of it all.
But of course, I knew exactly where we were, and so she had no reason to be scared. We were only one block over – I’d been this way a hundred times before.
It was then that it hit me. This all seemed so amazingly familiar ... except that I seem to remember being the one with the training wheels.
It was as if God suddenly whispered, “It’s like this for me with you.”
