When I went to college in Iowa my sister was in grad school at the other end of the state. I decided to visit her. On my bike. 

 

This was an ambitious idea, with no back up plan. Eight hours each way through corn fields with no phone is less brave than it is fool hearty. I don't recall my mother begging me to ditch the notion, but I suspect she did a lot of praying. At it turned out, I was exhausted on the return trip with six miles to go, after sunset. I knocked on a farmer's door and cried. 

 

"Would you please drive me and my bike to campus?" Which he did. 

 

My daughter who is the age I was then invited me to go on a bike ride. It was a modest five miles, but having not ridden in quite some time I was hesitant. She was gentle with me, and the terrain was mostly flat, so in spite of my wavering confidence I made it. The breeze and overhanging trees provided a cool environment, and we were away from traffic. It was lovely. 

 

It created an interesting contrast.... the ridiculously long distance that I believed I could achieve and the rather short one that I didn't. In both instances I was mistaken. 

 

I wonder what it is like from a heavenly perspective. What does God know about the edges of our limits, that He stays mute about?