Nothing short of a miracle

My heart has ached as I've watched his friends riding their bikes around the neighborhood.  A cute girl stopped by one day and asked Nick if he would go for a bike ride with her.  He rode his scooter alongside as best he could, returning sweaty and blistered.  No family rides in the deserts of St. George on family vacations.  No sunny, Sunday bike rides for us.  

Yesterday as they were pulling the bike from the garage I knelt down in my empty room and said a short prayer as fervent as any I've ever said.  "Please," I pleaded, "please help him learn to ride a bike.  He's wanted it so badly for so long.  Please let today be the day."

When I saw him peddling successfully for the first time a stream of happy tears flowed steadily down my cheeks.  It was the rare kind of happy that makes your heart feel like it might burst into a billion little pieces like sparkly confetti on New Year's Eve.

Spotting a friend up the way he tried to catch up, anxious to show off his newly acquired skill but he kept falling over and over. With each new start slow and laborious the distance between him and his friend grew until his friend was finally out of sight.  "I'll show him later," he said as he sucked on a bleeding knuckle.  "I'll practice some more and then I'll show him.  He'll be so happy."

He will be happy.

It's a game changer.