[riding bicycles]

[riding bicycles]

After a long time of no bikes whatsoever, during this mini-vacation, I decided to rent a bike (since I don’t own one…yet) and go for a ride. First time, one friend of mine joined, then another one decided to go with us.


When I was about seven years old, a friend of mine (who was a year and a half older and who was my love… I even told him about it) taught me how to ride a bicycle. I did not have one back then and so we went to a nearby school’s track and he guided me. Considering our ages back then, today I am amazed that he did teach me how to ride. I can only imagine that picture. But whatever it looks like, he was a good teacher and a few falls and bumps later, I could ride a bike.


Soon thereafter, mom and grandma got an old bike we had at our house fixed for me and my biking era started. I spent entire summers at our summer house with my grandma and I got off the bike to do four things: go to the bathroom, sleep, eat, and swim in the lake.

Oh, those days bring so many memories.

My grandma, who got up very early (but still not as early as my friend Bill), would go to the market where people from nearby villages would sell fresh cow’s and goat’s milk, homemade cottage cheese, and a bunch of other deliciousnesses. She insisted I have milk in the morning, but since I was also very spoiled by her, she would pick fresh wild strawberries from our garden and make me a milkshake. Those were the best. Then I would get on my bike and ride off into the… well, not sunset. But I knew all streets in our little summer house village, and most of the villages close to ours. I loved exploring new places and new routes.

Unfortunately, then my grandma got sick and we stopped going to our summer house… it was 13 years ago.


In those years since grandma died, I did ride bikes very occasionally, but never so much like I used to.

“It all comes back once you get on the bike.” I have heard that phrase so many times… But it seems like so much time has passed, the muscles forgot what it’s like… and yet.

It does come back. Miraculously, I get on the bike, and my body remembers how to balance and how to turn.



I sometimes wonder if it is possible to completely forget what it’s like to be a Christian. I mean… really be a Christian, not just know all the rules and traditions.

Someone close to me went off the path. She used to be quite involved in the youth group. I looked up to her. (I still look up to her, but in other areas.) And then, suddenly, something changed.

Many years have passed since then but I wonder… can you really forget what it feels like to be in God’s presence? Can you truly forget what it’s like to worship together? To read the Bible and think “Wow, this Word has spoken so clearly.”

Or, perhaps, it’s like riding a bicycle. Once you get back on that bike, memories rush into your body and you wonder… how could I think I could forget this?

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