Things things don't always happen when we think they should. Sometimes they happen in their own time. Sometimes they seem impossible.
My youngest child turned 10 just the other day and she had not yet learned how to ride a bike. Which is kind of odd because she basically grew up on the back of a bike; riding in bike seats, riding on trailer bikes, riding in bike trailers. But when it came to pedaling under our own power, the fear of falling seem to overwhelm the experience of learning to ride.
Over last few weekends, we've been going out to give it another go. Taking it one step at a time. Coasting, coaching, and encouraging without pushing. Short sessions. Just enough to make a little progress and then call it a day.
Today, a warm fall day with just about perfect weather, we went back to the synagogue parking lot with the gentle incline that ends in a grassy field where she can coast without going too fast but go fast enough to have enough momentum for her bike to do its magic.
Today she lifted her feet and did the little dance of balance with her hips to keep the wheels rolling forward and coast down the gentle incline and into the grassy field. When I asked her what was different, she said she didn't think about falling.
On the next go-around, she put her feet on the pedals and turn them once, then twice and rolled down the gentle incline it into the grassy field further than she'd ever gone before. When she turn to walk back to me her face held a tight secret smile while her eyes gleamed with the accomplishment.
On the next go, she was pedaling, slightly wobbly but in control, riding on her own and her smile alone made the wait worthwhile. And just like that, when she didn't think about falling, the impossible became possible.