There is a busy highway we often cross on our walks. I am often pushing the double stroller while my oldest bikes. On one of the first walks after the long winter we were waiting to cross the highway. When I gave the “let’s go” my daughter cautiously began to move forward with her feet at a snails pace. It wasn’t particularly busy so I wasn’t too concerned, but I knew there were days when it would be very busy and we couldn’t be poking along. I said “come on sister, we need to pick up the pace”. As she continued her slow cautious pace I raised my voice and in an annoyed voice “COME ON!” Still straggling behind I impatiently grabbed the handle bar of her bike to give her a bit more motivation.
It probably wasn’t one of my wisest moments. Between the annoyed voice and yanking of the handle bars it spurred anxiety in her. But no sweat, there was no one coming, we really had all the time in the world. I should have given her that time, and let her build her confidence up while the street was dead. Instead I rushed her along thinking she would always cross the road like a snail.
The next walk we took was a different story. I gave her a quick pep talk, “pedal hard”. It was rush hour. We waited and waited for an opportunity to cross. I glanced at her covering her ears as loud semi’s rushed by. Then I saw a break; we needed to be quick. She started out great much better than last time, I was impressed. However, when we were smack in the middle of the road she started to freak out. Slamming on the breaks she put one foot down and started skidding. We had no time to hang out and have a conversation in the middle of the road that day. I yelled “pedal hard pedal hard you have to keep going!” The skidding continued so I yanked the handle bars again. This time it was necessary to avoid becoming pancakes, not simply cuz I was annoyed at her snail pace. We made it across. It was most likely a sight to see– me steering an out of control bike while trying to push two children.
Today we crossed the street again. This time I stopped way before the road and took the time to look her straight in the eyes. I told her “we have to pedal hard across the road. It is busy. If you stop and put your feet down it could be bad. You have to pedal hard, as hard as you can. Show me how quick you can get across. You can do it.” She kept her head up and she pedaled hard. We made it across just fine in the thick of traffic.
I couldn’t help but think, how often do I do this with my own inner fears? Maybe someone has carelessly said something, rushed me through, barked orders at me and failed to really teach me. Maybe someone didn’t believe in me at an important time in my life. When something triggers that moment I freeze up in fear. Instead of pedaling hard, I slam on the brakes and put my feet down right in the middle of danger. Guards go up and I try to avoid hurt and pain, but that sudden stop sometimes can do just the opposite. Fear tells me to clam up and quit. Too often I can give into that fear. God gently grabs onto my handle bars and guides me safely over.
In this whole ride of life, He always lovingly teaches me. He teaches me before, during, and after. Always with so much patiences and kindness. But too often I let the other voices, the ones that have let me down crowd out His gentle teaching and correction. When I learn from the scare and turn my mind to hear His gentle voice, I learn. I learn that I can trust His voice. If He tells me pedal hard–even if fears threaten to choke me out–I pedal hard.
We can trust His guiding voice. Even when everything else screams for us to slam on the breaks and stop. If our Loving Father says keep your head up and pedal hard–don’t stop– we pedal hard.
Where are you today? Are you in a place where fear wants you to stop?
Pedal hard, pedal hard.
