For my fifth birthday, I got a beautiful big girl bike. It was purple and pink with beautiful pink tires. It also had training wheels. That summer, I rode my bike all around our cul-de-sac. I even talked my mom into buying some beautiful neon beads to snap in my spokes. However, I quickly realized that training wheels were, in fact, not cool. They were cramping my style in a major way and they needed to go.

I had been doing pretty well with the training wheels (much to my chagrin), so my dad decided it was probably time to try taking off the training wheels and giving it a go.

I was so excited I could hardly stand still (which, I’m told, was a pretty constant state-of-being for me as a child). I could envision myself riding around the neighborhood, my hair blowing in the wind and winning all of the impromptu races with the neighborhood kids. I even saw myself riding my beautiful bike in the time-trials for the Olympic Games with one of those cute American flags attached to my seat as a license plate.

Being a man of wisdom, my dad took me out into our back yard discerning that falling on the grass would probably be safer than falling on the sidewalk or losing control and swerving off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic.

I was disappointed that it didn’t go quite as smoothly as I’d imagined. At first, my dad wouldn’t let go of my seat. I was convinced he was the one causing me to be imbalanced. When he finally did let go, I fell quite a bit.

However, after a couple of days, a few scraped knees, grass stains, bald spots on my dad’s lawn, and a few more gray hairs on my dad’s head, I finally figured it out.

My dad explained, quite patiently and lovingly considering how frustrated I had become at his inadequacy as a bicycling instructor (clearly, I’d have to find a different coach if I planned to make it to the 1992 games in Barcelona), that if I kept moving forward, it would help me maintain my balance. If I focused on moving rather than my fear of falling, I’d be able to balance.

After a few failed attempts, I finally took his advice and concentrated on moving forward. Soon, I was biking all around our cul-de-sac and reveling in my training-wheel-free existence.

My dad’s advice was pretty revolutionary in my journey as a cyclist. His advice also applies to my life today. I get frustrated trying to find balance in my life. Often, I find myself so worried about falling and failing that I forget to keep my eyes focused forward. It’s when I take my eyes off the Lord that I’m at the highest risk for losing my balance and falling.

Though I never did make it to the Olympic Games, I haven’t forgotten how to ride a bike. I’m told you never forget, but it’s pretty easy to forget to keep my eyes focused on God. On a daily basis, I have to remind myself not to worry so much about failing, but to keep moving forward, focused on God’s goodness and love for me.