after moving to dallas in 1996, i became quite fond of lake arlington. there is nothing beautiful about it – it’s small, off the beaten path, and overlooks some kind of factory which is always polluting the already hazy dallas atmosphere. following particularly rough days at school, boy problems, parent problems, or predictable teenage angst, the right bench next to the left dock was my bench, my place to go…to stare out at the lovely factory, watch the ducks fight with one another, or simply be still.
i continued this habit far into my early 20’s until i moved to kansas city. even then, on visits to my parents for the holidays, usually at some point i would make a trip out to the lake.
yesterday, i found myself on that side of the metroplex and decided it had been a while since i had paid tribute to my silent, but always available friend. my bench was free, so after clumsily walking over some big rocks wearing heels, i was able to sit and simply be still.
not very long after i took my place on the bench, a girl who was about ten came wheeling a bike over to the curb next to me, by the dock. she looked at me suspiciously, wondering if i could be trusted not to take her treasured bike. i suppose i passed the test as she wandered off to feed some of the ducks.
i looked at the bike. purple. tassles hanging out of the handlebars. little clip on stars on the spokes. and…training wheels?
the training wheels surprised me. i looked back over my shoulder, wondering if maybe i guessed her age wrong…or maybe she was a giant four year old, but no. easily ten.
training wheels? you’ve got to take them off sometime there, little lady.
after spending much of the previous week soul-searching, i have no doubt that this overly-worried ten year old and her training wheels were parked right in front of me on purpose.
there are areas in my life where i am still riding with my training wheels on. faith? check. trust in god’s plan? check. trust in others? check, check. worrying about the future? check.
i think i have a whole garage full of bicycles with training wheels on them.
the determined and stubborn part of me wants to go and rip them all off. quit taking my sleeping/anxiety/stress medicines which “keep me leveled out.” fight head-on the demons that invade my thoughts and debilitate my soul and my passion. i want to run through there like a crazy ninja-fighter and attack everything that stands in my way of fulfilling my purpose.
however, for whatever reason i can’t seem to fight. and i’m not really sure why. i know i’m tired of these training wheels, but i’m not sure if i’m ready for them to come off yet.

anyway, this summer he released a phenomenal book titled, “