We had a busy weekend. At least, it feels like it was really busy–the rain on Sunday kept me from finishing half of my to-do list. But my mudroom is looking all freshly purged and uncluttered. (I even have two baskets up on my shelf that are empty now, but I’m not telling anyone because they’ll surely find something to fill them with!)
On Saturday we were in Richmond visiting with Mr. Fix-It’s family and since everyone got new bike and helmets over the last few months, we made sure to haul them all up with us. Of course, it rained the whole morning, but it cleared up enough later that they got in about an hour after dinner.
And watching them ride their bikes made me remember riding my bike growing up. I grew up in the city and my whole life we lived next to church parking lots. Literally. One house was immediately adjacent to a church on a cul-de-sac and one was immediately across a 12 foot wide residential street. After that Christmas when we got our first bikes, my sister and I rode constantly. Endlessly. That’s what we did all summer long.
And it got me thinking…we don’t have any pavement.
The only hard surface on our whole farm is the concrete floor in the garage and the wooden floor on our porches. Everything else is gravel or grass.
There’s no way on God’s creation that I would let our kids anywhere near our road. It is not a friendly little 12 foot wide blacktop in a residential neighborhood.
Is riding on dirt and gravel impossible? No. But it makes learning a little more challenging. I’m glad we’ve had good weather and the Ladybug’s been out there fighting her way up and down the driveway (the boys haven’t been allowed until this weekend because they were sick.) but it’s very exciting for them to be able to hit the pavement and cruise the “open road.”
Mr. Fix-It and I are excited to start loading their bikes up in the truck and heading down the road to our church parking lot sometimes for them to ride now that the evenings are longer.
But it amazes me to think of how different my kiddo’s childhood and mine are. It makes me feel even more intentional about including all the important things. Riding bikes isn’t that important in the long run…but teaching them responsible independence, making their bodies and minds strong, cultivating integrity…
I don’t have the option of relying on the boundaries and methods and applications that I grew up seeing. They don’t apply to the lifestyle we’ve chosen at this point. I have to take those values and come up with new boundaries and applications for them. New ways to teach them. Sometimes I feel like I’m parenting in uncharted territory here.
But nothing is new under God.
“Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.” (Psalms 61:1-3)