I have a million things to do.
Like, a million things. Literally.
Justin got back from Africa less than a week ago and there are still suit cases laid in my living room floor.
My house looks like an actual bomb went off in it.
This has very little to do with said Africa trip, and much more to do with my million other things to do and my lack of motivation to do any of them.
And we leave for vacation in less than a week.
And my house has to be cleaned before we leave for vacation because I refuse to return home to a house that looks like an actual bomb went off in it.
So... I need to clean my house.
And I also need to edit, post, burn and order like half a bazillion pictures.
The struggle is real over here.
I have a million things to do.
But all my heart keeps saying is "sit down for a minute and write."
Writing is how I unwind.
It's how I express my struggles, my joys, my fears, my heartaches, my concerns...
And I've got this one thing on my heart,
so maybe after I sit down and write about it,
I can actually get one of the million other things that I HAVE to get done, done.
A week ago on Saturday, Knox (my five year old) learned to ride his bike.
We've worked on it a lot this summer.
I've worked with him. His daddy has worked with him. His grandparents have worked with him.
He really wanted to ride his bike.
All of the little boys in our neighborhood can ride theirs, and he felt like a little kid because he still had training wheels on his.
So we worked at it.
We would go out in the yard, and I would hold him up and run alongside of him while he pedaled.
But every single time, the minute that I let go of his bike and he felt me let go, he stopped pedaling.
He would only pedal if I was holding onto him.
As much as he wanted to get those training wheels off, he was afraid to do it alone.
He only felt safe if he felt my hands on him.
Then last Saturday morning, Mr. Jim, our precious family friend, invited Jaxon and Knox to go on a bike ride. I told Mr. Jim that Knox still had training wheels. He didn't seem too concerned and simply said, "That's okay, I'll work with him."
He came and picked up Knox's little bike from our house, took off the training wheels, and within an hour Knox was riding his bike.
And not just riding it, but fearlessly riding it.
Knox has been a bike rider for 9 days now.
And for 9 days now, riding his bike is all that he has wanted to do.
And I think what amazes me the most is how many times he has crashed.
The kid has had a ton of crashes. He has hit the pavement. He's hit trees.
He has more bruises than you would believe, and every single one of them came from bike riding.
But every single time, he jumps up, and climbs right back on the bike, because he knows that he can ride it.
He's been the bravest little thing that I've ever seen because he just keeps standing right back up and getting right back on the bike.
Watching Knox ride his bike and crash his bike has made me think a lot about life lately.
And about how maybe life isn't about avoiding the bruises and the scars.
The bruises and the scars just show that we showed up.
We might walk away with more bruises than you can count, but we showed up anyway, and we climbed back on the bike even when we crashed and even when we hurt...
Life is just plain hard sometimes.
People let us down. Over and over again, people let us down.
But we can't avoid the bruises.
And we've just gotta keep on showing up anyway.
We've just gotta keep climbing back on the bike.
Because we know we can ride it.
I hesitated to write this, because more than anything, I just didn't have time.
And I didn't want to write a blog post without having a picture to attach to it.
And I hadn't taken a picture of Knox riding his bike yet with my camera.
And I didn't have time to go get my camera and take a picture. But my cell phone was in my pocket, and Knox just so happened to be on his bike, so I snapped a picture with my phone.
And the quality isn't great.
But it's life.
And it's real.
Friends, you might feel like me today.
You might feel bruised and scarred.
You might feel like you've got a million things to do.
And you might be having a hard time doing the million things that you need to do because of all of the bruises and the scars.
Maybe the bruises and the scars are visible, and maybe no one can see them,
but if they're there, I'm praying that you'll keep getting back on the bike.
When your hope seems gone, climb back on the bike.
Be brave. The bravest thing you can do is climb back on and work to gain your balance again.
Don't give up.
Life is hard and you are going to crash again- but just keep getting back on.
God, please help us all to just keep getting back on.
And may we feel Your mighty hands on our backs as you guide us as we learn to pedal with confidence again.
