Life does funny things to us. We spend our lives trying to figure out which way we should go, who we should take along with us, and what stops to make along the way. And sometimes, at those rare moments of clarity we actually figure out which direction to go and that rush, that feeling of knowing you are where you should be, surrounded by the people who should be there, is so wonderful it makes you blind from happiness.
And then one day, the flowers start blooming and the sun is shining and everything you knew is suddenly gone, like the rain. And while it should be unsettling and of course is disheartening, you now are overcome with the desire to get back on the open road of possibilities. Unintentionally, you'd deviated from the course. Or perhaps this deviation was on schedule all along. But the unknown is suddenly wide open to you, once again. And it's wonderful.
"Why are people so afraid of the unknown?" my Grandma asked me the other day. And I thought about how a lot of people don't trust. They don't trust God or themselves or the people they love. And the fear they feel makes them hate the sudden freedom they have gained.
I think about all those times I wanted something and couldn't have it. The boy I liked who never liked me back or that job interview I thought I nailed but never heard from or the role I knew I'd rock if given the chance but only got so far as the callback. And every one, every single time I later would offer up thanks for being denied what I thought I wanted in that time. It wasn't right. It would have hindered me from something better. And while in the moment, when that disappointment is so raw and fresh and your heart is flooded with emotion and you're convinced what you want is also what you need, it's so hard to see that you are simply in the wrong. And how Divine that when we are wrong, we don't always get what we are fighting for.
Yesterday I sat at my favorite duck park, in the beautiful sunshine, drinking it all in and scribbling all my dreams in my little notebook. And I thought about how a small park has played such a significant role in so many important chapters of my life. And it's nice feeling that continuity, that connection between what's past and what you're now experiencing. There were so many kids running around and so many of them were on their bikes. I looked up when I heard a man say to his son, "It's ok, I'm right here." And the little boy, not more than 5 years old, was on what appeared to be his first bike, training wheels attached, and his eyes were all red and puffy with the tears of learning something scary. And after the father reassured his son and placed his hand on the boy's back to guide him while the boy rode, the little boy sniffed and said "Ok" and started pedaling. He got about 2 feet and suddenly stopped. And the little boy yelped out a quiet, "Aaah!" then paused and simply admitted, "I was scared."
And it made me smile. And I thought how simple it all is. How everything we have to learn that's new and scary and hard and feels like we'll never be able to do it and is moving way too fast, like the bike was for that little boy, is so much easier when we trust our Father to be right there with His hand on our backs, guiding us so we don't fall and staying near so when we do He can pick us right up and reassure us we're going to be okay.
Sometimes people don't trust the learning process. Sometimes they don't want to keep trying, even with the training wheels and they want to just stop and scream because they're scared. But if we keep on going, if we push through and get over the bridge to the other side of things, then we'll finally be ready to remove the training wheels and enjoy riding, to wherever the path leads us.
And sometimes, like the park is for me, things come back into our lives. And that hope, that circle that brings me to those park benches week after week is proof that we never know what may be waiting around the corner. And sooner than we think we'll bump into familiar faces and smile, and say, "I thought that was you." And then you'll sit and talk and laugh about everything you'd been wrong about. And agree that you're so thankful you didn't get what you wanted before you'd both finished the chapters in your book.
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