
Photo: © 2009 Joanne Delabruere for Nan O'Brien
My son, Philip, was an energetic child full of curiosity, ideas, and smiles. He was a gorgeous child with blond hair and beautiful brown eyes - and absolutely no fear.
Philip's sixth birthday fell on a Saturday and that day he ran into my bedroom excitedly shortly after the sun came up. He was already dressed and ready to go to the store to pick out a brand new two-wheeler bike, his special gift for his special day.
When the toy store doors opened a few hours later, Philip and I were already there waiting. He bolted inside and darted amongst the brightly colored choices, quickly settling on a shiny red two-wheeler with racing stripes on the seat and fluorescent tubing on the spokes. His smile said it all and we happily took the bike home.
For a few weeks, Philip had ridden his older brother's hand-me-down bike with training wheels. Today, he informed me on the way home, he was going to ride his new bike without them.
We arrived home and unloaded his bike from the car and Philip proudly wheeled it to the sidewalk. I put my right hand on the back of the seat and my left hand on the handlebars, steadying the bike.
"Climb up," I said, smiling, and he did, adjusting himself on the seat.
"I'm going to run alongside you," I said to my son, "and I want you to put your feet on the pedals and get your balance." And with that, I began running alongside Philip, still holding onto the bike.
"Now, I'm going to let go and give you a big push, and you start pedaling, ok? And here-we-go!" I said. And suddenly I heard panic well up in Philip's voice!
"Don't let go! Don't let go!" he cried out, just as I released the bike.
"Pedal!" I shouted after him, cupping my hands to my mouth, my heart in my throat as I watched him wobbling, jerking the handlebars first to the right and then to the left, instinctively trying to keep his balance.
Just as it looked as if he would surely crash, Philip suddenly found his stride and began heading - fairly straight - down the sidewalk. I could hear him screaming, "YEESSS!" in pride and excitement, as I stood there laughing out loud through the tears.
As Philip grew, there were many times I helped him gain his balance, offering him a steady hand as he embraced a new challenge, but there was always that time, that moment, when I had to let go and step back, and trust that he would find his own momentum on what was his journey. I was responsible for giving him the start, but he had the right - and the duty to self - to make the journey his own. That doesn't mean I wasn't running alongside him just in case he fell, to offer a steadying hand yet again; to help him climb back onto the proverbial bike. But if I had never let go, Philip never would have learned to ride, to live his life; to have the strength and courage to enter into service to his country, as he is doing next week.
Perhaps there are those in your life who need you to not be afraid, to let them live their lives, even if it is not necessarily the life you would have chosen for them. Trust and let go; and realize that sometimes the bike you need to let go of and trust the most may be your own.
Intuitively yours,
Nan O'Brien
For more information about me and my work, please visit www.NanOBrien.com.