Everyone has a bike story.

Everyone has a bike story.
I was 6, I think, when I learned to ride a bike. In my memory the bike was too big for me. It didn’t have brakes either – but now that I’m a parent with three kids on two wheels I’m not entirely sure that part is true memory. We lived on an island up the top of North Australia in a town called Galiwinku. My parents were stationed there as they served with Missionary Aviation Fellowship. Our house was dark, our front yard small and the street out beyond the wire fence bumpy with a dirt and gravel mixture. It was on that straight piece of road my dad taught me to ride my bike. He’d run along behind me. I know know the back ache cost of this parental commitment. But I took it for granted then, thinking he was tricking me into riding solo.
I don’t remember the exact moment I understood the freedom of controlling the bike on my own, but my dad’s perseverance obviously paid off because the next memory I have is of a different piece of road. This time it was bitumen and, I think, had gutters. It ran from the very top of the town’s largest hill, down past a variety of homes and possibly the church, to end at a T intersection. It was a leafy green T intersection with un-trimmed vines and bushes bordering the top of the T. My ride began at the top of this hill.
I don’t know why I chose to ride down that hill, I don’t remember anyone else with me. But I flew! It was fun – at first. The wind, the speed, the exhilaration! Until my feet came off the pedals and I had no means of slowing. Down, down and down I sped, screaming – of course – and never slowing. I saw the T-intersection approaching. I saw the kerb. But I also saw the impossibility of stopping in time. And this part of the memory is still vivid in my mind: hitting that kerb, lifting up over the handlebars in deathly slow motion. My 6 year old mind imagining how it would feel to be dead. And then somehow I landed on my back in all that lush tropical greenery. And I was still alive. Somehow.

Can God See Me?

This weekend I get to launch my 10th picture book. It’s a crazy hypothetical look at the extent of God’s love and care. I know I didn’t fly down that Galiwinku hill with a bear, a hippo and a rock wallaby (though we did have a pet kangaroo at one time), but I know I did fly down that hill with God’s grace. And I still do. Sometimes life feels as if we’ve lost control, as if the brakes we were trusting have failed and the bike ride on that sunny afternoon has gone all wrong. It’s on days like that I’m thankful. SO thankful, that no matter what happens – God can still see me.

What about you? What’s your bike story? I’d love to hear it!

Join Penny as she launches her new book this Saturday! If you’re too far away to attend the physical launch why not join the virtual one? More details and information can be found at www.pennyreeve.com or pop straight over to the Facebook Event to click ‘Going’ and join the fun!