A lesson on wheels

Confession: I can't skate.

This will not come as a surprise to many of you, as you are already aware of my complete and utter lack of any sort of athletic ability.

This did, however, come as something of a surprise - and a great source of amusement - when a few of us took the girls from the youth group at church (better known as "The Monday Girls" since we meet on Monday evenings) rollerskating at the rink near church. I hadn't been on skates in years, so I knew we were in for an interesting time.

We had the rink mostly to ourselves since we were there early, so Marquis, Ellen, Lisa, and the seven girls who were with us grabbed skates and were quickly flying around the rink, the girls showing off their abilities in spinning and backwards skating. I put my skates on and ever-so-gingerly made my way on to the rink, clinging to the wall for dear life. Lisa and Ellen grabbed my hands, pulling me around the rink a few times as I hesitantly shuffled my feet. Doesn't anyone else think that if God had meant for us to have wheels attached to our bodies, he would have made that happen naturally?

Around and around we went, me at about one quarter of the speed of everyone else, which didn't matter too much to me. Since there weren't many folks on the floor, we could all see each other and laugh and talk across the rink. Gradually, I started to get a bit more comfortable and my legs started to loosen up a little. I laughed (apparently a little too hard) when one of the girls hit the floor while trying to do a fancy stunt.

I shouldn't have laughed at her.

Before she could even start to get up, I went down, HARD. I was shocked. I was in pain. I was thankful that God, in his wisdom, had given us padding on our backsides. Almost immediately, I was surrounded. The girls were worried for a moment, but as soon as they realized that nothing was broken they went back to tooling around the circle. Ellen and Lisa hovered over me as I got my bearings and fought off the tears that threatened to come (it hurt!). Marquis and the rink guard helped pull me up off the floor and get me back to the carpet.

The rink guard, a good friend of Marquis's, had been combining good-natured teasing with genuinely kind offers of instruction all evening. Now he saw his chance. After the initial pain wore off, I let him take me out onto the rink to try to help me skate. Rather than skating alongside me, he pushed from behind, ready to catch me the next time I fell (which I did promptly), but making me feel completely unsteady and out of control. After a couple trips around the circle, I convinced him I could handle this on my own - though handling it on my own, at that point, meant cozying up to the wall and moving as little as possible.

Fortunately, the girls wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. Mikaya sailed by, grabbed my hand, and pulled me on to the rink. "Come on, you can do it. Loosen up! Bend your knees! Come on! Bend 'em! Now you've gotta pick up your feet... ok... ok... a little more... PICK UP YOUR FEET!... there.... ok... push... push... bend your knees, it's ok!... pick up your feet... pick up your other foot... you're gettin' it..." And I was getting it, but what was happening at that moment was much more significant than me getting comfortable on skates.

I've spent the last three years getting to know Mikaya and her family. Her mom is raising five kids on her own while the father of her three sons, Mikaya's baby brothers, is in prison. Most of the time, I am the one with something to give to this family: a ride for Mikaya and her sister Tiara, some time spent cuddling with little Levi or holding baby Trey, encouragement and prayers for their mom, and most of all lessons on God and life for the girls. But now, rolling around this smooth oval, Mikaya had an ability that I lacked; she had something I needed, and I would not succeed without her patient teaching and willingness to skate along beside me.

Going to my church and spending time with these kids, it is easy to forget that I don't have it all figured out, that I am not without my own areas of weakness and need for other people. But here, in my time of need and weakness, Mikaya had the opportunity to grab my hand and know the joy of sharing what she has to help someone else who does not have.

The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable... God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. I Corinthians 13:21-25

My feet needed Mikaya's hand that day - the one whom I usually view as weaker was indispensable. Here, as the body of Christ glided around a skating rink, we were reminded that caring goes both ways.

Maybe God did intend for us to be on skates after all.