Training Wheels

Do you remember learning to ride your bike, that moment when your father finally took his hands off the seat and trusted you to pedal on your own? It was probably one of the proudest moments of your life until you looked down and realized the training wheels were also gone. I am certain you recall the pain you felt when you fell off your bike and onto the pavement. Something about the fall (and the bruise you had to show for it) made you angry about the choice you had made. The sense of pride was taken from you in a matter of seconds, and it was difficult to imagine what lured you to want to ride that bike in the first place.

Mine was lavender, as best I can remember. The bike had some turquoise stars on its side, and the white streamers flowing from the handlebars made it the most brilliant bike on Spring Hollow Road. Sure, I was just about the only girl on the block besides my little sister, but I felt like I could do whatever the boys did when I was on that bike—until the training wheels were taken from me.

My dad was probably more excited than me at the fact I finally agreed to have them taken off, but looking back, I don’t know who hurt more: me, from the pain of the fall, or my daddy, having to watch me deal with it. I imagine there was some guilt for him, knowing he had pushed me to this feat.

However, if you were like me in your youth, the pain you experienced made you ache for more. I would ride all afternoon, falling time and again, just to prove to myself (and every boy in the neighborhood) that I could do it. The fear of crashing again was far from my mind as I attempted to pedal up and down the road.

Life has not changed much since then. Daily I find myself “climbing” onto things I know will only cause pain. I have to continually remember that “God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment” (2 Timothy 1:7). God has put me into situations that I had no desire to encounter for fear of the upset, but He pushes me to follow after Him.

In the past year, after getting married on March 31, 2007, my husband and I lost my Nana to Alzheimer’s disease, suffered the loss of his Granddaddy, endured the pain of a ruptured cyst, got pregnant and lost the baby, and most recently, grieved the death of my husband’s father. I look back on these circumstances and wonder why God took His hands off the seat and would not permit me to have some training wheels for my life. How could He allow His child to suffer such pain and disappointment?

Constantly, I am reminded of Joshua 1:5, “No one will be able to stand against you as long as you live. I will be with you, just as I was with Moses. I will not leave you or forsake you.” God was clear about where He would be when the trials came. Moses suffered hurt and death just as I have; he watched those he loved forsake the Lord and face His just punishment. God was there, and He is with me even now amid the disappointment.

The wounds are fresh. Sometimes the hurt becomes so overwhelming that I question my faith in God. Just as in my youth, the pain has made me stronger and caused me to strive for more. I have heard it said that pain only makes you stronger, but I now realize that Christ gives me the strength I need when I am weak, for in my weakness, He is made strong. I would be lying to say I hope for more trials, but knowing that God is right beside me as I pedal along makes the ride worth it all.