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on the power of showing up

note: I wrote this post in April of 2019 (pre-COVID). It's been sitting in my drafts for quite a while, but I think it's time for it to see the light of day. It's been helpful for me to reread over the past few months, especially as I continue to try to make an effort to write, and I hope it can be helpful to you, too. i got an invite to a writers' group a few months ago, and i had never felt like more of a fraud in my life. it had been months, if not years, since i'd felt like a writer. the proverbial well of words in my heart had dried up, it seemed, and i wasn't sure if it was ever coming back. i agreed to go out of a sense of helplessness—i'd identified as a writer ever since i could remember. if i'm not a writer, who am i?  i told myself that it was important to show up and act like a writer even when i didn't feel like one, because even though i hadn't been writing, i reassured myself, i still was a writer. but sometimes the words f

Bikes, Fear, and Closets

My post about the history of my blog inspired me to go back and read some of my old blog posts. I found this one - from when I had JUST started blogging. It's amazing how much these words still ring true! And I find it ironic how something I wrote back when I was 10 could impact me now, nearly 5 years later. Amazing, isn't it?
(This is completely unedited. :P)

Hi everyone! I’m fresh back from the park! What in the world was I doing there?

 I was practicing riding my bike! I bet your thinking, Kylie, you should be able to ride a bike by now…but, I can’t. When I was little, I went to a park to practice. I was doing fine…until I came to a fork in the path. One was a little hill down…and the other was another mountain up (Okay, it wasn’t a mountain, but, I was little! What do you expect?). Guess which one I chose.   I chose the mountain! Down I fell, and I got a big goosebump right on my forehead.

    Well, after that, I was terrified of bikes. I tried to ride, and I would freak out, and I didn’t learn how to ride. So here I am, still learning, and I regret my fear.

    That’s a sort of a metaphor, you know. Fear is a kind of wall, maybe even a prison that keeps us from doing what we want to do. Later,  we regret our fear, but the next time it attacks us, the wall seems just too big to get through.

    Well guess what? Jesus is bigger than our fear, and he can take care of it. He’s always there, and he’ll never leave.

    So the next time you find yourself jumping in a closet when your friend suggests you ride a bike or watch a scary movie, remember what I said, and maybe ask Jesus to help you. He doesn’t want you to be afraid; he wants you to trust him.

    Well, I guess I’d better get to practicing my bike riding! See ya!
I never did learn to ride a bike, because of my frequent headaches. However, this still really applies to my situations in everyday life. As long as we remember that perfect love casts out fear, we have nothing to hide from. I guess I should probably come out of the closet now.


  1. So true!
    You sound like you were an adorable kid!

    Not that you aren't adorable now but... Oh dear, I just made this terribly awkward.

    Good post!!! :*) (It's a blushing face :)

  2. Oh my word, you were so cute. :P It was a great post, I was smiling the whole time. ;)

    Don't worry, I learned how to ride a bike really late, and when I finally did my younger brother, who didn't know how to ride a bike himself, had to teach me. Actually, now that I think about it. There are a lot of things I picked up late and now I'm not half bad at...

  3. Great post! (especially considering that you were 10--I never had any thought provoking thoughts at that least not any that I wrote down)
    Actually learning to ride a bike was a tearful, terrifying, and painful journey for me. My parents required that I learn though, and I must say that I can ride quite well now. ;)


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