And that's all there is to it. Bright and Daniel rode the elevator 12-floors down, and I watched from far above as they removed the training wheels from the Mickey Mouse bike that we bought for Bright almost three years ago. Bright hopped on the bike, wearing his favorite red sweatpants and a bright yellow T-shirt, and simply began to ride.
I cheered from my lookout at our mudroom window. From my birds-eye view, he looked like a wibbly-wobbly top moving down the cobblestone. All at once he fell chest over handlebars, ending up on top of his laid-over bike. Daddy, who had been running beside him with proud hoots and hollers, was right there to pull him to his feet. There were tears of frustration and disappointment, his cries bouncing off the concrete. I could not hear what Daniel was saying to him, but I could see his face and I knew that he was speaking truth into our little boy's life. My heart was saying, "You will fall, my son, but you must not be afraid to keep going. Staying where you are is much scarier than whatever lies ahead."
Sure enough, he got back on his bike and headed off again, less wobbly than before. In no time he was a regular pro, and then the bike was abandoned for a game of freeze tag with his friends. After a dinner of brown rice, tomatoes, and eggs, he and his brothers ate two warm chocolate chip cookies each, took a bath, pulled on pajamas, listened to the story of Isaac's birth and then a chapter in their Uncle Wiggly's Storybook, before receiving their blessings and drifting off to sleep.
The bike will get bigger and take many forms, my son, but I pray that you will always keep riding, as your Father hollers love by your side every inch of the way.
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| Daniel was too busy hollering to take a picture, so here is Bright riding a triceratops instead. You get the idea. |
