I often wonder if anyone knows how close s/he got to the edge with exceptions found in reflective look backs or the observation shared by another. Similar to riding a motorcycle, you know how far you leaned into the corner by looking at your rear tires or having the benefit of someone watching from afar. Are our journeys any different? Do we, can we know how close to the edge we are?
I watched a child play on the embankment of the Singapore River. While the drop is not all that far, unless the child could swim he was potentially putting himself at risk. Initially his carefree moves reflected the wonderful innocence of a child. He jumped, twisted, turned, and was in a wonderfully intoxicating place that pulled me into the scene. I wanted to be there! I wish I could do what he was doing.
His parents missed the initial moves. The whoops and calls for attention easily brought them right into the middle of it. You could see the reluctance to act, desire to let the kid have his moments of joy conflicting on their faces with a genuine fear that he was too near the edge. For what seemed like an eternity, they simply watched with a occasional word to let the child know he was on stage.
The boy responded with even bolder moves. The heat and humidity eventually took its toll and the I-just-conquered-the-mountain boy strutted to where his parents were standing in the shade. He had arrived. He was in the moment, grinning, happy, and regaling them with the challenges of his moves.
I walked away realizing thinking of the child within. While our thirst may not be for those moves, we love freedom. It is better when someone is watching over us. As I replayed the scene in my imagination, I found myself repeating an old prayer of thanksgiving; “You pulled me from the brink of death, my feet from the cliff-edge of doom. Now I stroll at leisure with God in the sunlit fields of life.” (Psalm 56.13)
