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Isaiah · 01-15-2009, 06:15 PM

Last summer I remember going out in the evening to enjoy the perfect weather with a walk around my subdivision. Rounding onto a side street I saw a young girl riding a little pink bike--pink poms on the handles and a pink helmet too. She was working slowly, weaving a bit on the pavement, I could tell her eyes were focused hard on the effort.

She hadn't gone fifteen feet since I'd spotted her when she lost her balance and gravity threw her little body half on grass and half on hard concrete. She pulled her one leg from under the frame, stood up with her bike, and began to walk it into the opposite direction--toward home, I realized. Her downcast gaze was enough to tell me that she was upset, frustrated, in some way feeling beaten by that bicycle.

All adults carry some parental instinct. I wanted someone there to dry off any tears in her eyes. I placed myself in the shoes of a parent. I'm sure that when she got to her home a mother or father would hug her, say, "sweetie, it's okay. Everyone falls at first." I, being a stranger, withheld any impulse to say something to her, to cheer her on. But the words were boiling inside me.

We alcoholics, aren't kids any more. But we are learning to ride a bike in our own way. At first what we are trying to accomplish seems as ridiculous as two thin tires traveling at high speed. We wobble and often fall. The bruises and scars lead us to thoughts of failure. At worst we decide what can't be done now will never be.

Yet, no alcoholic would ever dream of telling that girl with the bike that since she fell she'd do well to give up for good. We can see her accident as an element of learning. We know skinned knees heal and the thrill of finally "getting it" will make her initially frustrated efforts seem like minor ghosts.

So who is *our* voice of encouragement? What matter of parent is telling us to persevere, to learn from mistakes, and who is promising us that sobriety will be a golden triumph? I think however you answer that question, you've named your Higher Power. Don't ever let that voice out of your ears.

01-15-2009, 06:15 PM	#1 (permalink)
Isaiah Member Join Date: Aug 2008 Location: The Mitten Posts: 406 Blog Entries: 2	Bicycle Summer Last summer I remember going out in the evening to enjoy the perfect weather with a walk around my subdivision. Rounding onto a side street I saw a young girl riding a little pink bike--pink poms on the handles and a pink helmet too. She was working slowly, weaving a bit on the pavement, I could tell her eyes were focused hard on the effort. She hadn't gone fifteen feet since I'd spotted her when she lost her balance and gravity threw her little body half on grass and half on hard concrete. She pulled her one leg from under the frame, stood up with her bike, and began to walk it into the opposite direction--toward home, I realized. Her downcast gaze was enough to tell me that she was upset, frustrated, in some way feeling beaten by that bicycle. All adults carry some parental instinct. I wanted someone there to dry off any tears in her eyes. I placed myself in the shoes of a parent. I'm sure that when she got to her home a mother or father would hug her, say, "sweetie, it's okay. Everyone falls at first." I, being a stranger, withheld any impulse to say something to her, to cheer her on. But the words were boiling inside me. We alcoholics, aren't kids any more. But we are learning to ride a bike in our own way. At first what we are trying to accomplish seems as ridiculous as two thin tires traveling at high speed. We wobble and often fall. The bruises and scars lead us to thoughts of failure. At worst we decide what can't be done now will never be. Yet, no alcoholic would ever dream of telling that girl with the bike that since she fell she'd do well to give up for good. We can see her accident as an element of learning. We know skinned knees heal and the thrill of finally "getting it" will make her initially frustrated efforts seem like minor ghosts. So who is our voice of encouragement? What matter of parent is telling us to persevere, to learn from mistakes, and who is promising us that sobriety will be a golden triumph? I think however you answer that question, you've named your Higher Power. Don't ever let that voice out of your ears.