By Jordyn Glaser
“The Life Letters” is an ongoing series designed to encourage foster and adoptive parents, as well as provide inspiration and insight to all pro-life readers.
(Oregon Right to Life) — Every family seems to have that one kid who keeps things extra exciting. If yours is anything like ours, then their first words were likely, “Mom, watch!” They move with purpose and a level of confidence that is both impressive and normally unmerited. And for one reason or another, that kid always seems to be the second born.
I can only speak for our family, but we have that kid—maybe you do, too.
Our second born arrived just shy of two years after our first. She was created with extra spice and an unyielding determination to keep up with her older brother. In fact, her determination led to what I lovingly referred to as “dueling time-out corners” in the toddler years. In our house you rarely found just one tiny person with their nose in the time-out corner—they pretty much worked as a set. If Davis did it, Rory was quickly en route. She was tiny but mighty. And keeping her alive was nothing short of exhausting.
One afternoon little Rory sat cross-legged in our living room watching an episode of Elmo. Not my favorite, but still not Caillou. As I listened to the high-pitched narration I noticed that Rory was absolutely enthralled. I shifted my attention to the screen and realized with a sinking feeling that Elmo was explaining the logistics of how to ride a bike. Oh boy.
Next thing I know, Davis, Rory, and I are standing out on the sidewalk in the Oregon spring sunshine, buckling on a sparkling helmet over Rory’s wispy strawberry blond hair. Her plastic bracelets rattled as she rolled up the sleeves on her camo shirt and hiked up her tutu. Then she confidently hopped on her brother’s bike with her rain boots barely touching the ground. Davis made eye contact with me from the sidelines and raised his eyebrows. Although he was still in the midst of his kindergarten career, even he could tell this was about to be a spectacle.
For the next several hours I ran up and down the sidewalk, hunched over, gripping the back of the bike seat. Rory peddled with all heart and absolutely zero balance. By the time we called it a day, I was moving around like Quasimodo, painfully aware of muscles in my forearms that I never had been before. Rory, on the other hand, jumped off the bike and skipped into the house like a queen returning to her court.
That evening, when my husband Brian came home from work, she ran to greet him and proudly proclaimed, “Guess what dad?! I can ride a bike all by myself!” Brian’s eyes met mine over Rory’s head. I smirked as we exchanged the silent communication that all parents use.
“Wow Sis, great job!” He enthusiastically congratulated her as good dads do. Then she beamed at him and added, “Yep, Elmo taught me.” At that announcement I turned and hobbled back into the other room to find the Ibuprofen and an ice pack.
Holding Us Up
Just as little Rory believed she could be credited for her success in riding her bike by herself, we tend to do the same in our adult lives. We take on life, and all the weight that goes with it, and act like we alone are responsible for carrying the load. We stress and worry and white-knuckle it. We lose sleep and eat poorly. We wrestle with anxiety and make a plan to just dig deeper and somehow do better. Why do we do this? Because we have bought the lie that we are living life on our own strength and ability.
In reality, this was never the design. In Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus tells the weary to come to Him. He promises that His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. In other words—partner with Him and He carries the weight. We can keep doing hard things and keep pedaling like crazy, but He is running along with us. He is the one responsible for holding us up. And even better news, He won’t let go.
Do Not Worry
As a parent, it is easy to get stuck in the goofy loop of anxiety. Life is hard and messy and incredibly broken, but we are mistaken when we think we are meant to carry all that weight. Matthew 6:25-34 reminds us of this truth. These verses don’t tell us not to worry because life with Christ will be easy and without struggle. No, these verses just remind us that, no matter what life brings, we can trust Him. He already knows our needs and the needs of our children. We can rest in the truth that He knows what He is doing. Our success on this ride has nothing to do with our ability—or inability—it has everything to do with the One who holds us up.
So just like my little Rory did, let’s get on our bikes and confidently pedal with purpose. Let’s feel the wind in our hair and the sparkly streamers fluttering around our handlebars. We can lay down our fears and ride with confidence, knowing that Christ is running alongside us, holding us up, and never letting go.
He’s got this—so let’s start enjoying the ride.
