The weather finally warmed up enough to for us to get outside, so my daughter decided she wanted to ride her bike. She has one of those glider bikes that doesn’t have pedals and just teaches children how to balance. It’s fun, but a little scary.

First of all, she didn’t want to put her helmet on because she didn’t want it to pinch chin. After several minutes of persuasion, we finally got her to put the helmet on and headed outside. We headed down the driveway and into the street of our subdivision. She hopped on the bike and slowly made her way down the street.

Here’s the thing about these bikes. You need speed. You’re supposed to get a good running start and then glide. Or just glide down a hill. Either way, you need momentum. You’ve got to get going and then let the momentum carry you the rest of the way.

She didn’t want to do that. She was scare that she couldn’t balance. I was scared that she couldn’t balance.

So what do you do? Do you creep along slowly and safely and never learn how to ride, or do you just go for it and risk falling?

We were both worried about the same thing: her falling over and getting hurt. But that’s what childhood is. It’s bumps and bruises and cuts and scrapes.

And learning.

The only way you’re ever going to learn something is by taking a risk. Sure, you may fail, but failing is a part of life. I’ve spent the better part of my life only attempting things I knew I could succeed at, things that came easy to me and weren’t much of a risk. And then I got into the arts.

It started with music and morphed into writing. I never wanted to share my creativity. I was always worried it wasn’t good enough, so I kept it to myself. I wrote songs but never played them. I wrote stories but never shared them.

But then I joined a band and we wanted to write some original stuff. I had a notebook full of stuff that I had written and even though I was wary of sharing, I did it. It went through some editing and revision, but it would end up becoming the first single for the band.

Now, nothing became of it. I didn’t live out my musician’s dreams, but it did give me confidence to step out more. I started blogging, which was a risk every time I put something new out there. Some of it was good. Some of it was horrible. But as I continued to produce, I continued to grow. Eventually that growth led to me writing  and publishing a novel. Again, it’s a risk, and the success isn’t so much how popular it is, but what I’ve learned in the process.

I’m happy to say that my daughter did get on her bike. She didn’t go racing down a steep hill, but she did glide a couple of feet. She’ll continue to grow as she continues to take risks. Sure, there will be falls, scrapes, tears. But as she takes risks, she will fail. As she fails, she will learn. As she learns, she will grow. As she grows, she will take greater risks. The cycle will continue, and she will grow.

And the same is true of all of us if we are willing to step out and take those risks.