Training Wheels Off!

I can remember that as a kid I spent most of my time, dodging homework and doing chores, riding my bike around our neighborhood. Either I was going to my friends or pursing those “glory moments” of knee scrapes and broken arms – but that’s for another blog. Like most kids, I loved riding my bike and going on little adventures.

I can remember, somewhat, when my training wheels came off. Dad positioned himself behind my bike, holding the seat. I can even remember him running behind the bike, while holding the seat until he felt I had balanced and then he’d let go. I’m sure that I fell. I’m sure there were tears. I’m sure dad had to convince me to get back on and try again. But eventually I got the hang of it. Although I had many wipeouts, even after I learned how to balance and steer, I could ride a bike.

The reason for the reflection on riding a bike is that a few months ago we took Jay’s training wheels off. At first he thought it was cool. But then he had a hard time getting started. Stopping. Falling. Getting off. You get the idea. He didn’t want anything to do with his bike. He settled in for riding his sister’s PINK bike – it still has training wheels.

Two weeks ago, after some encouragement, he got on his bike and took off. He looked like he’d been riding for years. But last Sunday he wiped out – bad. In fact the skin from his knee got caught between his chain and the chain sprocket. (Side note: I freaked out more than him). After we got his knee out of chain and bandaged it up, he took off again.

This morning in prayer, the Lord brought up that image of Jay; that image of learning to ride a bike.

When we look at our journey with the Lord (prayer, Mass, callings, trust, vocation) it’s like learning to ride a bike. We start off with training wheels, learning to pedal and steer. Eventually, the Lord will “raise those wheels” so we can begin to learn balance. And then eventually, the training wheels come off.

Unfortunately, I think we get used to those training wheels and never learn to fully ride. Too often we keep those wheels on because it’s safe (or we get on the pink bike since it still has training wheels). But the Lord is inviting us to trust Him. To learn from Him. To allow Him to come and pull our knee out of the chains of our sin when we get stuck there. The life that the Lord has set in front us can only be lived without “training wheels.”

Our spiritual journey, like riding a bike, can’t always be safe. Sure, we can have order and routines (and in some ways those things are good). Or we can take those “training wheels” off; we can trust the Lord to pick us up when we fall. To offer healing to our wounded souls. And it is in trusting the Lord with everything, allowing Him to lead us and challenge us, that we experience the true thrill (Joy) of living.

Lord help us to trust that you are a good dad. That you are there to help. There to encourage and challenge. You there to heal us when we fall. Help us to allow you to be our guide, so that we can truly experience the life you’ve created us for – a life without training wheels. Amen.