Walking…Talking…Learning

In tenth grade, we moved to a city full of lakes in central Florida.  Many people use these lakes for taking pictures, feeding wildlife, boating, water skiing, cycling, walking, running, and various other types of exercise.  One particular lake in the center of town is about three miles around and has a nice sidewalk and bike lane.  My friend, Gwen, and I often would “walk the lake” after school for exercise and for fun.  We enjoyed these walks where we could talk, vent, and share our stories with one another.

As an adult, I have returned to live in this same city with my family.  We have tried many times to “walk the lake” together, but we have had trouble completing the entire circumference (my husband has wanted to do this for quite sometime).  We often walked part with my grandmother when she needed exercise for her diabetes, or we would walk another section on sundry Saturday mornings with all our children.  One time, my husband and I even scheduled a babysitter to watch our older children, and we took the baby in a jogger around until the ominous clouds and lightening threatened us enough to turn back toward our car.

Last Saturday, though, we found ourselves with an unexpected pocket of unscheduled time.  Our house was clean; our children had already visited a local park…what would we do?  Trevor suggested we go “walk the lake.”  I was up for the adventure, so we buckled six children in seat belts and car seats and drove ten minutes to Lake Hollingsworth.

We strapped the baby in the double jogger (left over from our twins) and started to walk…all eight of us.  As we began, our children were enamoured of the various birds and ducks which inhabited the area; we even had one son on an alligator watch. :)

We walked a bit, ran to various trees, swung on a tree branch that had grown over the path, and laughed, held hands, and talked.  About a third of the way around, though, our children took turns getting tired.  A few of them would moan while one cried and was almost dragging along the road.  Three took turns resting in the space next to the baby for a reprieve from the arduous walk.

Then one child wanted to sit on a bench that overlooks the water lilies for a moment.  I joined him just long enough for an older child to climb into the stroller and tip it over–with the baby still strapped into the seat!   We ran to the stroller to find the baby had bitten his cheek somewhere on the way to the ground, but thankfully he was otherwise okay.  As we were halfway around then, we chose to continue on to complete our goal.

The next stretch was very close to the road, and I felt concerned for our children who were walking so close to cars coming and going during this busy time.  I tried to walk near them and stay more aware of their location and their needs.  We continued to walk and run, to talk and laugh.

As we had about one-quarter of the walk left, the fatigue had overtaken a few of our already weary travellers.  One pulled on another, and then that one pulled on my shirt.  As I pulled my shirt lose from the tight grip, one child fell, and the other one fell on top of her.  Her face hit the pavement, and a piece of tooth chipped from her mouth.  I saw the tooth before I could find the place in her mouth from which it had broken.  She cried, of course.  At the time, I felt extremely worried about her face, teeth, and mouth.  Looking back, though, I am grateful that her fall wasn’t worse and that her chipped tooth is not visible by looking at her smile.  I know she was blessed!

Still, we were a bit frustrated, tired, lost the baby’s cup, had one child with a bitten cheek, one with a chipped tooth, one with cramping legs, and one whining the last ten minutes–solid.

Yet–WE FINISHED!!!  We completed our goal.  We persevered.  We did it.  Even with all the adventures and adversities of our journey, we saw it through to the end.

I am still pondering the levels of learning from this experience.  Please share with me: what have you learned?