I once wanted to be a professional cyclist. I wanted to be the woman version of Lance Armstrong and race my ten-speed through mountains, canyons, and deserts. When my husband’s mission companion in Ecuador rode his bike through Wyoming and Colorado I knew I wanted to follow in his foot pedals. Never mind the heat, the hail, and the hunger–it was what I wanted to do.
So I bought myself a cheap bicycle from Walmart and started clocking myself around town.
Up city hills and down main roads I became quite adept at maneuvering my red and silver Roadmaster. Soon I was riding six to seven miles in just under twenty minutes and I was feeling quite proud of myself in my new athletic gear and plastic safety helmet.
Then one day I decided to take my bicycle for a ride down an extremely steep and narrow sidewalk. This particular stretch of sidewalk is so steep that it requires breaking at the halfway point to a slow pace and then allowing oneself to ride with the grade after that point. It is rather an easy hill to ride considering that it is straight with no obstructions once at the top.
Unless there is a person talking on their cell phone and walking their dog at the same time.
There I was bike flying in one direction and my head and knees in another off the side of a busy road and to the astonishment of the lady that couldn’t walk and talk at the same time. My face hit the rock retaining wall and my right knee drug along the sidewalk, ripping most of the skin off. Begging not to go to the doctors and toughing it out at home with lots of Band-Aids, I finally was able to walk after a month.
I never did get on my bicycle again. In fact, it sits on my back deck rusting at the moment.
That is sort of how I stopped going to church. I got very proud of myself and then hit a few bumps in the road such as people not being able to talk and listen at the same time. So, I stopped attending church until I was ready to go back for good. It’s been over a year, but last Sunday I finally went back . I felt weird, but the members were kind to me and my husband. I really didn’t expect them to behave this way. I don’t know what I expected.
I sure as heck didn’t expect to have a lesson on strong drinks during Sunday School as I sat near the back with a full bottle of PowerEdge Energy drink hidden inside my purse. I don’t know how you people–especially moms–do it without a jolt of energy nearby. I felt like I was sneaking whiskey into church. For real. Going back to church has been one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, however I am not changing my mind.
Heck, if I can convince myself to go back to church, then perhaps I can get myself motivated enough to get back on that ten-speed. Perhaps. Oh, and now I am one up on my mother-in-law…not that I was keeping track or anything.
