Let Me Try Again

I heard it.  I was upstairs in the bathroom at my Mother’s house and she was outside with her newly minted Aunt and Uncle, attempting to ride a scooter just a tad too big for her.  And I heard it as I went to wash my hands before opening the door.  The wail.  Not the attention seeking-I-didn;t-get-my-way wail, but the one that says, “This one actually hurt, Ma” wail.

I came down the stairs to find my little one in the arms of my sister, dribbling blood from her mouth.  We assessed that she had bitten through the inside of her bottom lip, after hitting it on the handle bars of the scooter.  It looked painful.  It looked bloody.  After peering inside and confirming in my best, I’m-not-a-doctor-I-hate-blood kind of way that it would not require a trip to the ER, we got an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in paper towels, and proceeded to try and soothe her.  Unsuccessfully.  She was crying so hard that she was stuttering, the halting, half hyper-ventalating cry when you can’t catch your breath and the words you’re trying to say are swallowed by your grief.  It took a few moments before we could work out what she was saying.

“I-I-I-I waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnt t-t-t-t-t-to try ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgain.”

She was frustrated.  Not with her injury, but with us.  We were standing in her way of going back outside and getting back on.  My sister asked her if she was ready to go back outside and try again and the tears immediately stopped.  She handed me her bloody paper towel and walked right out the back door.


When I have attempted something new that I have never done before and I, potentially, fail, even if it’s the first time, my initial response is NEVER to get back on.  Try again.  I will return to what I know I can do.  And quickly.  But that’s not what we’re called to do, is it? I seldom live like God is bigger than earthly circumstance, even pain. It’s hard for me to see the big picture.

Ellie hasn’t learned how to ride that scooter yet.  But she hasn’t given up, either and it does not affect how she sees herself, or how she knows I see her.  A brave, brilliant girl unafraid.

That’s how we look to Him when we try.

Happy Monday.


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