We walked, Ernie and I, while the kids rode their bikes or tried. Lethei's little bike is foot-powered and her feet didn't seem to her to be powerful, so it wasn't long before she was walking and I was carrying her bike. Then she put up her arms and said, "Carry me."
I obliged.
But when I put her down again, she didn't want to do the work herself. Frustrated with the snowdrifts, crying as she tripped over one, she left her shoe behind.
Cinderella fared better with one shoe. My Lethei contentedly plopped on the bench and kicked out one bare foot. "My shoe has snow in it," she said. She smiled, happier without it until she stood up again, and then she wanted it back. Even a cold snowy shoe is better than no shoe at all.
She walked back, mostly. Daddy tried to help her ride a bit.
Then that crazy giggle when we finally saw our house. She had made it. She had? I'm thinking she'd not have fared half so well without us.
How like my taking credit for getting somewhere, growing somewhat, when I'd repeatedly cried to be carried, tripped up, complained about something and then wanted it back when I no longer had it, stumbled along and then thrilled at seeing the progress, made possible by God at work in me.