Yesterday, our son learned to ride his bike without training wheels. Yes, this has been a long time coming and by some “standards,” he is late in doing this. However, I’m learning as a parent to let the children decide when they are ready and then encourage them then, rather than forcing or rushing to keep up with some societal standard that really doesn’t mean anything in the end. So, yesterday when he said “I want to try to ride without training wheels,” I knew it was best to jump on the opportunity! “I’m afraid,” he said. I asked what he was afraid of. His answer, “falling.” I simply explained that he was going to fall, it was a part of it. When we try new things we fall, but we get back up. It is just part of it. Falling is inevitable. {Hoping that knowing that going in he would be prepared to fall and able to handle it.}
So, we take the training wheels off, get the helmet on, get on the bike and I am holding onto the side of the handlebar and the back of his seat. After a few tries, he then tells me to let go so he can do it himself. By this point, I was only holding onto the back of the seat, to steady him. And, quite honestly, I didn’t want to let go. I was afraid if I did let go, he would fall. Now, my fear was coming through. And, again, in true honesty, it was not helping him, but hindering him. My fear of letting go of my child was hurting him as he learned to ride his bike.
The night before at his Kindergarten graduation/promotion, they showed a picture at the end that just brought me to tears. Their class learned about the life cycle of a butterfly and the picture showed the students gathered around their teacher {who I adore!} watching the butterfly flying away and words saying “it is now time to fly away to first grade.” Ugh, talk about water works on this mama’s heart. That was what came to mind as I was white knuckling his seat yesterday, which ultimately hindered his progress. I don’t want to let him go. Much like I don’t want him to fly away to first grade. I want to keep my children in my hands forever where I can see them, where I am in “control,” and can see and know they are safe. Sounds like I don’t trust God, doesn’t it?
But as I learned from my white knuckling the seat yesterday, my control hinders them. It stunts them. It could actually injure them. If I continued to hold onto the seat, Landon likely would have fallen and taken me down with him. Our son taught me a big lesson yesterday after he got off of his bike. He said “mom, I was afraid I would fall, but I prayed and asked God to help me, and He did.” Sounds like I need to heed my son’s advice with letting go of my children, don’t I?
