Soar
Tuesday was hot. In the sticky, triple-digit air, we planted and watered a few tomatoes, plucked a few weeds, and lamented over the barren center section of our garden. Oh, corn, how we need you!
Then, drenched in sweat, we sat down with icy cold bottles of water and watched our two boys jump in a leftover puddle in the center of the carport, coating the entire floor (and themselves) with muddy water. Which quickly caked and dried wherever it sat. Looks nice, I tell you.
This was a rather ordinary day for us.
An ordinary day that suddenly turned extraordinary, because it was at this time that both boys decided they were willing to try riding their bikes without training wheels.
So I sprinted beside them across the yard and through the hayfield, long-unexercised muscles screaming and poor lungs gasping for breath in the thick humidity. Sure that we'd come across a snake in the field. Sure that if I let go they would fall, and probably fall away from me so that I couldn't catch them. And sure that, if it didn't go well, they would curse me for letting go and swear off their bikes forever.
I let go anyway.
And it was like they had been riding without training wheels their whole lives. They soared. Both of them.
Two wheels are incredible things, for it was in this rite of passage that my boys got a taste of being able to do all things through Christ.
Oh yes, later in the day after several more tries (and bragging profusely to several proud grandparents), together we thanked God for the courage and protection He gave the boys on this day. A day now forever etched into the heart of a Mama who had the privilege of helping her sons learn to soar.
Then, drenched in sweat, we sat down with icy cold bottles of water and watched our two boys jump in a leftover puddle in the center of the carport, coating the entire floor (and themselves) with muddy water. Which quickly caked and dried wherever it sat. Looks nice, I tell you.
This was a rather ordinary day for us.
An ordinary day that suddenly turned extraordinary, because it was at this time that both boys decided they were willing to try riding their bikes without training wheels.
So I sprinted beside them across the yard and through the hayfield, long-unexercised muscles screaming and poor lungs gasping for breath in the thick humidity. Sure that we'd come across a snake in the field. Sure that if I let go they would fall, and probably fall away from me so that I couldn't catch them. And sure that, if it didn't go well, they would curse me for letting go and swear off their bikes forever.
I let go anyway.
And it was like they had been riding without training wheels their whole lives. They soared. Both of them.
Two wheels are incredible things, for it was in this rite of passage that my boys got a taste of being able to do all things through Christ.
Oh yes, later in the day after several more tries (and bragging profusely to several proud grandparents), together we thanked God for the courage and protection He gave the boys on this day. A day now forever etched into the heart of a Mama who had the privilege of helping her sons learn to soar.
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