As part of our fabulous Mother's Day, we went for a family bike ride along the river. While this was special in itself, it was made additionally special by the fact that Micah was riding without training wheels. WITHOUT TRAINING WHEELS!!!
As we followed along the path, I was thinking back. Back to the day we bought our bike trailer, excited for years of family bike rides...only to become irate that the store didn't carry infant bike helmets. Why would they sell trailers for babies if they didn't make tiny helmets for them?!?! I remember deciding to risk it and stick to non-roads and then being a nervous wreck the entire time that some crazy person was going to think it was a road and drive their car on it and hit us and hurt my baby because he wasn't wearing a baby bike helmet.
I remember when Micah's head was big enough for the toddler helmets and trying to bribe him to wear it while we rode. "Maybe if we just start going, he'll stop screaming about it." It worked. Sort of. He screamed until he fell asleep. Then I sat there and watched him sleeping, nervous the bike helmet would somehow interfere with his ability to breath, but not wanting to risk removing it for fear of waking him.
I remember when he was 2, and he took off on his big wheel down our alley. I stood there for a minute in complete awe. "How could my little boy be big enough to be driving away from me??? Quickly too! My gosh this is an alley. Micah Paul get back here right now before someone runs you over!!!"
I remember when he rode down the big hill at seminary for the first time. I couldn't watch. I was sure he was going to hit a pothole, fall off of his bike and end up in a coma. (If you haven't caught on yet...I'm a totally neurotic mother.) But he survived. And laughed. And wanted to do it again.
And now here he is, riding without training wheels. And here I am, riding behind him, quietly crying and thinking of how fast time goes. While I delight in each new milestone, I just want to hold him tight and never let go and keep him in this moment forever. But he isn't mine to keep.
Dear God, thank you for these precious children you have entrusted to me! Thank you for the gift of being a mother and watching them grow and learn. Every day is filled with such joy and frustration. And I am grateful. Grateful for these moments, however fleeting, that we have together. Grateful for this day, to celebrate together. And grateful that they didn't beat each other to a bloody pulp while I sat here and typed this.
Amen.
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Almost 3 years old. Our first evening at seminary. The second his bike was unloaded from the moving truck, he was off and riding with friends. |