"So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known."
The summer I am seven-years-old, I learn to ride a bicycle. We are staying with my grandparents and one of my cousins graciously lets me borrow her bike in order to practice.
I spend hours and hours, trying and trying, to make that bicycle balance. Carry me more than a few feet before I take a tumble.
I'm frustrated by my fruitless efforts, but I refuse to give up. I never doubt for one minute that I'll get the hang of it.
When at last I do, I am overjoyed! Oh, what a thrill to feel the wind in my hair and on my face as I peddle gleefully up and down my grandparents' street. Freedom never felt so free!
And, from that moment on, all I can think about is having a bike of my own.
I decide to ask for one for Christmas. A blue one because that's my favorite color.
"We'll see," says Mom.
"We'll see," says Dad.
I sigh, hoping that means "yes" in adult speak.
About a week before Christmas, I am bouncing a small, rubber ball in the hallway. It escapes me and rolls into my parents' room. Hits something under the bed. Rolls back out.
What's under there?
I have to see. I get down on hands and knees and peer under the bed.
To discover, both to my delight and dismay, a long, rectangular cardboard box with the unmistakeable letters "bicycle" printed on the side. Delighted because I really will be getting a bike for Christmas. Dismayed because the secret is out.
And, because of that, I don't think I'll be able to act surprised on Christmas morning. Oh, how that would hurt my parents! They so look forward to seeing our amazed and joyful faces . . .
To my immense relief, I don't have to fake my emotions when I lay eyes on that bicycle Christmas morning. I am mesmerized by its shiny, royal blue paint reflecting the lights on the tree. It is more amazing than I could ever have dreamed!
Larger, much larger, than the one I learned on. With gaily colored streamers flowing from the handlebars. Scintillating chrome trim. A handy wire basket. A delightful "brrringing" bell.
My priceless bicycle. No longer hidden in a box. But, lovingly assembled by Dad and out in the open for all the world to see.
And, I can't wait to show it to the world!
What was the most memorable gift you received as a child?
Will you pray with me?
We are thankful, Father, that no secrets can be kept from You. You know us inside and out, our comings and goings, our thoughts, our dreams, our hopes. Thank You for always being there for us and for loving us as Your children. Amen.
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