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He'll Hold Your Seat

Story ID:5314
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Caldwell ID USA
Year:2009
Person:You
View Comments (6)   |   Add a Comment Add a Comment   |   Print Print   |     |   Visitors
I stared at the monitor, watched the words,
interrupted by spaces, flow from
left to right across the screen. Line-by-line,
the screen filled. The words formed sentences
and then paragraphs. Moments before, they were
thoughts in my head – a personal thing
– but now flowed from me in streams to be shared
with anyone who cared to read.

I watched the words string together like pearls
on a necklace, each one
complimenting the other. A story formed. My
fingers danced over the keyboard.
Thoughts, words, sentences, and paragraphs became
an endless chain.

I glanced down and realized I was touch-typing. It’s a skill I don’t have. I looked
at the screen and tried to type without looking,
but the fingers that once danced so
gracefully began to stumble. The pearls knotted.
Words became the gibberish of a child
just learning to speak.

I thought about my grandson Benny. He
rode his bike, training wheels holding
him steady. The time came when the training
wheels no longer touched the ground. He’d
gained the balance and confidence needed to stay
up right – to go on his own. His daddy
removed the training wheels. “Ben, you don’t need
these anymore.”

“But what if I fall?” Benny asked.

“I’ll hold your seat until you’re ready.” Nathan assured his son.

Benny climbed onto his bike and began to
pedal. Nathan held the seat. Ben was
fine until Nathan said, “OK! You’re on your own.
Go, Benny!”

Benny rode steady for several feet, wobbled and fell. He picked himself up and
whined. “Daddy, I can’t do it!”

Like me, Benny was fine as long as he
knew there was someone to support him.
With my typing, I needed my eyes. On their own,
my fingers failed me. Benny needed
the knowledge that the training wheels or his
daddy would be there when he stumbled.

My life has been full of those
“First-Step” moments. I hugged my Mum and
thanked her for holding my seat until I was steady enough to pedal into a new life.

She hugged me on the day I married my first wife Georgia. “Michael, I’m proud
of you.” She let go. I pedaled on.

I held my first child and was afraid. Was I strong enough to hold their seat until
they were ready to ride?

One day I held Georgia’s hand. She prepared for a new ride. She took her last
breath. I let go. She pedaled on.

I was alone. I stumbled. One of the hands that held me steady was gone. I was
alone far from home and family. I pedaled,
wobbled, and crashed a few times.

Ginny came into my life. Her ride had
been unsteady too. Her first husband
Harvey died several months before Georgia. In
each other, we found a hand to hold our
seat when we wobbled.

I then learned about a hand that is
always there to hold me steady. The hand
allows me to ride, but when I wobble, it holds my
seat. It steadies me. You have that
same hand. It’s your God. He’s always there. He’s
always ready to hold your seat. He
wants you to ride, but when you begin to wobble,
he’s there to hold you up. You have to
have faith in his hand.

He’ll hold your seat.

Michael T. Smith