Yesterday marked five months of learning to walk again. Babysteps, my friend calls them.
I don’t remember learning to walk when I was a kid, but I do remember watching my children learn. I held my breath as they reached out to the coffee table, hauled themselves up, stood, and bounced in place awhile before sitting down again.
After a bit, a minute, a day, a week, it doesn’t matter now, they pulled themselves up, stood, bounced and eased along the table. First with both hands, later with one, they leaned on the table for support as they moved toward the new skill of independent walking.
Well, eventually, they let go of the furniture and lurched into the living room, arms out for balance, and the learning began in earnest. There was the side-to-side gait, toes curled, gripping the floor. There was the stutter step, leading with one leg and drawing the other up to meet it. And of course, the many, many times of sitting with a thump when it all got to be too much.
As their mom, I offered my hands to hold onto, I cheered for them, I moved obstacles out of their way. When they fell and wept in frustration or hurt, I scooped them up and held them tight. “There, there. I’m here. You can do it! Try again.”
That’s the nature of babysteps. They are born of exertion and risk, failure and perseverance. When you fall, you have to get back up again, get your bearings, and be willing to give it another try. It takes time.
Meanwhile, everyone else is rooting for your success. You have company as you venture forth. Your friends and family are invested as well. They see your brow furrowed and your tongue sticking out a little as you concentrate on figuring out this thing called ‘walking’. They don’t mind that you can’t stop what you’re doing to talk. They just watch you, give you space, extend their hands. It takes a lot out of them, and they aren’t even the ones in your shoes!
So, my faithful companions these last five months, I thank you for being there to hang onto. Thanks for moving some of the obstacles out of my way, for cheering for me, for giving me space to bounce in place, sit down, gather my thoughts, try again.
I know I have been putting a lot of concentration into learning this walk, and as such, have not always had the energy or heart or ability to talk or be ‘myself’. Thank you for supporting me and absorbing my preoccupations without reproof while I get steadier on my feet. I’m “feeling my way”, as a friend who has been there wisely advised me to do.
Today I continue to take little steps. Though I have sorrow, I don’t have fear, because the other Person in the room holding out His hands to me and cheering for me is the Lord. Do not fear, for I am with you, says Isaiah 4: 10, 13. I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand, and says to you,
“Do not fear; I will help you.”
