Musings from the Saddle
Today my ten-year-old daughter and I celebrated our friendship in a simple way. We biked over 25 miles together.
We live just outside of a small town in the woods, and the larger city where we do most of our shopping and other errands is roughly twenty miles away. Although it requires a commute on a busy freeway when you’re traveling by car, we’re blessed to live in an area where thoughtfully developed infrastructure provides safe passage for pedestrians and cyclists. Hence, there’s a pedestrian trail that parallels the highway almost the entire distance of the commute.
Since I had a commitment in town in the late morning, Mountain Heart and I decided to bike the route together–and to celebrate this physical feat with pizza and ice cream. It was a beautiful and sunny warm day; the only thing that could make it better was enjoying it from the saddle of a bike.
One particular moment in the day stood out to me, though, and I suspect I will remember it for a long time to come. Sometimes, when Mountain Heart and I ride together, we’ll ride side by side and hold hands. As we pedaled down the trail around mile number seven, I reached out and held her hand in mine. She looked at me and smiled. Then she told me, “When we hold hands, I can just feel the love that’s between us. And that’s the best feeling in the whole wide world.”
Those kinds of moments remind me of what a blessing and privilege it is to be a parent. The reality that you can so shape someone’s life, that for a brief season in time, your love is the most important thing in the world to them. You look into their bright, innocent faces and see how implicitly they trust you. You recognize the weight of that stewardship, and the beauty of these few short years to invest in their young lives. As I reflect on this tonight, I recognize there will come a day when my little girl will be grown up. In some ways our relationship will change (although I pray we’ll always be close). And so, for now, I’m hanging onto these precious, fleeting moments, when I get to be the most special person in my daughter’s whole world.
Was the day perfect? No. She got a flat on her front tire, and the hand pump we had on hand was defective. Consequently, we had to limp the bike for over a mile to the nearest tire store, only to realize that the puncture on the inner tube was irreparable, because it was right next to the valve stem. Her ice cream sundae spilled on the curb. I got impatient with a poorly stocked repair kit. And when all was said and done, our ride was cut short, and we didn’t make it to the park like we’d intended.
But we made sweet memories. We laughed. We smelled the spring blossoms and we talked about friendships. I taught her more about how to ride in traffic. Our legs got sore, and so did our rear ends. We simply enjoyed being in each other’s company. I know I will never forget these priceless experiences with my children. Someday, they will only be memories. So by God’s grace, I want to cherish each of them, even amidst disappointments and failures. Parenthood is a high calling. By God’s grace, I pray that I will strive continually to be worthy of it.
And in the meantime, I’ll keep holding my daughter’s hand.