Regarding training wheels...

I remember my Dad teaching me to ride without training wheels.  I had a tiny red bicycle and my big Dad easily ran alongside me while I pedaled furiously - his big hands clamped on the back of the white vinyl banana seat.  Yippeee!  No training wheels!  Of course, I failed to realize Dad was holding everything up.  That is, until he let go...without my knowing... and just ran alongside me.  Faster and faster I pedaled until I realized he wasn't holding my bike anymore. 

"Keep your eyes on the road, Janie.  You're doing great!"

Craning back to see him waving at me, I promptly ran into the neighbor's parked orange pinto.  In the split second before I registered the chrome bumper coming at me - I remembered the exhilaration of flying on my own with my Dad smiling and waving encouragement.

There's nothing like blacktop to scrape away every layer of exhilaration, knee,  and elbow skin.  My Dad picked me up, cuddled me close, and later - bolted my training wheels back on - because I begged him to.

"You just let me know when you want to take them off and try again," he said.  

I was sure that would be never.  But my Dad is wise...he respected my fear, but didn't reward it.  As long as I needed trainers, I was limited to riding around the back patio.  "But..." he said, "As soon as you're ready for the open road, we'll get those things off."  After a few turns around that familiar patch, the same camellia bushes and ice plants took their toll on my boredom.  I craved the freedom of a stretch of road where an orange pinto could still take a bite of your shin and black tar gravel could chew holes in your knees - but adventure and newness were around every corner!  A few more turns around the patio and my baby sister came out and started chasing me with her tricycle... humiliation trumped fear.

"Daddy, I don't want to ride on the patio anymore."

Before I knew it, the trainers were off - and I - road tested and wiser - took to the streets again.  I lost a few more bets with the pavement.  But in the process, I learned how to dodge orange pintos, and got to feel the wind on my sun-browned forehead.  My bicycle took me far beyond the confines of the yard patio.  It was my ride to the creek where I picked blackberries and turned my teeth purple, the public swimming pool where I fell in love with the golden boy lifeguard and the high dive, the library where I read myself into mythical romances and epic adventures...all because my Dad helped me want more than my fear could ever give me.

Why do I bring this up right now?  I've been thinking about the times in my life when I've made bad decision based on fear.  I've hung onto things I should have let go of.  I've stayed when I should have gone - a career that was sucking the life from me, but I was afraid to let it go...relationships that were limiting and harmful, but they were the evil I knew...or a scary new adventure with high failure potential, where I wimped out and told myself I didn't really want to do it anyway. 

I have seen God, time and again, behave just as my Dad did.  He allows me to "putter around the patio" of my fear, and deal with the consequences and limitations of those fear-based choices...but the moment I'm ready, he takes the training wheels off and runs alongside me - waving and shouting encouragement.  Unfortunately, I often revert back to my "training wheel" choices - sometimes multiple times.  But I have NEVER experienced disgust or hatred from my Father...just the limitations my choices bring.  And when I'm ready again...we go like it's the first time...and I feel His warmth like a sunshine smile on my summer brown skin.