Balance

 

Asher left for work on his motorcycle.  He needed to make to quick stop at his high school to drop of his borrowed laptop and calculus calculator.

Thirty minutes later, Tina answers the phone.  In a matter of seconds I could tell something wasn’t right.  Thought maybe Asher had broken down.  Then I realized it wasn’t Asher she was speaking to.

By the time she got off the phone, it was clear something had happened.  The information she was given was brief.  Asher had had a motorcycle accident in front of the school.  They thought he would be ok, but the ambulance was coming and may end up taking him to the hospital.  That was about the extent of the information.

Both of us quickly thought the worst, like he had collided with another vehicle either when turning into the school or coming out of the school.  The wording “thought he would be o.k.” registered in my mind as “non-life threatening injuries”. 

“Where would they take him” was the first question out of my mouth.  Tina called the school right back and was told it would be Nanticoke Hospital.  We wondered how we would know whether to go to the school, or to head directly to the hospital. 

This state lasted about 3 minutes. I wouldn’t call it hysteria; it was more like a laser focus on how we were going to get to where our son was. 

Then Asher called.  He said he was o.k., described the situation, and told us we just needed to come get him and his bike.  We know our son well enough that this immediately put us at ease.  I hooked up the trailer, and we headed to the school.

It was a relatively minor event.  Asher was slowly turning into the drive to the school (they actually caught it on camera) and hit a small patch of unexpected sand on the asphalt.  The rear end slipped out in a heartbeat, and he ended up on the ground, under the bike.  The Sussex Central High School staff was fabulous.  They rushed to his aid immediately and watched as he got his wits about him in the nurse’s office  He had some scrapes, the bike had some scrapes, but overall, he and his bike will be fine.

It’s one of those things – one of those things that remind us of how quickly something can happen which could alter the future.  It is one of those things that remind us to appreciate every moment…one of those things that change us… one of those things we are thankful for because of the lessons learned.

Motorcycle riding is by nature much riskier than riding in car or truck. If you look at the statistics, it’s… well, you don’t even want to know.  It’s a choice made with known risks.  We let our boys make that choice with those known risks.  I ride myself. Why would we do that?  Would we rather our boys didn’t engage in such an activity? It isn’t that simple.

A life lived without taking any risks is not really living at all.  We take a risk when we choose a college major in the face of uncertainty.  We take a risk in practicing a sport when we may potentially be embarrassed by failure.  We take a risk in choosing a life partner. We take a risk in changing jobs.  We take a risk in buying a home and committing to pay a mortgage for the next 30 years.  A life without any risk is a life of not moving forward.  It’s not really a life at all.

Of course, there are ways to reduce risk, and those things we do do, and with a passion. At some point there is a balancing of the passion to live, and the passion to walk in wisdom. And that’s really the secret of life.  People choose different ways to go about it.  Maybe you lean on your faith in God, or maybe you lean on your faith in yourself. Personally, I’ve been disappointed in my own strength way too many times.

At the risk of making you feel like I’ve tricked you into a discussion about God, I’ll share this.  After the discussion of whether there is a God or not and Who that God is, comes what I’d say is the one of the most prevalent debates about faith – what does God do, and what do I do.  People fall all over the spectrum on this.  It would take me volumes to try to communicate where I’ve landed personally, and honestly, who really cares what I’ve concluded.

I’ll just say this.  I want my boys to walk in wisdom, to not be averse to taking risks, and to trust in God in the midst of doing that.  I want them to take risks, live well, and ride safe.

Asher's Gift to Us

 

 

Last night we stood on the football field after the ceremony, surrounded by people. The voice inside my head began to speak, as clear as it ever has.

 

Our long run with the Indian River School District had apparently come to an end. It had started back when our oldest daughter was in the fourth grade – about 16 years ago. She, her sister, and her brother had graduated already. Our last child, Asher, had just received his diploma.

 

Parent’s typically consider the great accomplishments of their children as they graduate. This certainly did not go unnoticed in Asher. He has a work ethic that is off the charts, and completely self-driven. At the risk of overlooking his accomplishments though, I’d like to consider not so much what he has done, but what he has given us.

 

We have spent the last 16 years involved with our schools (North Georgetown, Georgetown Middle, Sussex Central High). As I looked around the field, I didn’t see just a mass of people. I saw classmates of Asher’s we had grown fond of, teachers we had become friends with, administrators we had walked through problems with. The voice in my head clearly said, “This isn’t just a mass of people… these are your friends…this is your place… this is your life.”

 

Unwittingly, this is what Asher and the rest of our kids have given us. They built friendships, got involved, helped their peers. They opened the door for us. If not for them, this would not BE our lives.

 

As I scanned the field, off to the side one of our daughters stood with her husband (also a SCHS graduate). They had been members of the band back in the day, and joined the band at graduation to play a couple of songs for the ceremony. Sarah has just been hired to teach Art in our high school. Occasionally our band director will call on adults to fill in a slim section of instruments during a concert. Hopefully, our daughter and her husband can fill that role once in a while.

 

All those thoughts came together and the voice in my head spoke again. It said “You and Tina are not done here yet.” ... Wait… what? What does that even mean? I’m sure it will become clear as we make the transition to this slightly new season in life, just as it will become clear to Asher what his path shall be, and just as it becomes clear what the paths of our other children will be, one step at a time. This is family. This is life.

 

(Thanks Ben Ables for the picture.)