You Want Me To Show You What?

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven – Ecclesiastes 3:1


As usual, I am writing my blog post while watching my daughter’s weekly gymnastics class. The kids are all inside the gym while the moms wait in the hallway, watching through a wall of windows.

Here in the hall, it is impossible not to overhear the various conversations, and I am currently enjoying one between two moms whose daughters want them to demonstrate different acrobatic skills at home. Apparently, one mom used to actually try this for her child, but had to stop when she found out she was pregnant. The visual image I get of this mother cart wheeling across her living room to the applause of her awestruck five-year-old audience makes me smile.

The last time I tried to “demonstrate” a handstand, I pulled a muscle in my leg. While I am not what you would call a jock, I do consider myself to be in reasonable shape. I make a point of stretching thoroughly when I go to the gym, and I try to go hiking at least twice a month when the weather permits. So why can I not do a simple handstand without injuring (and embarrassing) myself?

I wonder if perhaps there are certain activities that are meant to be part of childhood (unless you happen to be that thirty-something-year-old mom who competed the Olympics for the German gymnastics team — but she doesn’t count). Maybe losing particular abilities keeps us from getting too cocky about our physical condition.

Or maybe kids feel empowered when they can finally do something their parents can’t. I think this might be the reason God allows us the foolish notion of even trying handstands in our mid-thirties – so we are forced to demonstrate our inabilities and shortcomings for our kids. It is so easy to go through each day seemingly in charge and having all of the answers for our children. It does both generations a bit of good to turn the tables and let the kiddos be the capable ones. When we let them teach us, it builds their confidence even more.

Sure, I may be able to drive the car and work the barbeque grill, but my daughter can do a straddle roll. To her, that is like gold.