Learning to Walk

Sometimes I think we are most alive when we are learning.  We want to achieve a goal, we strive for it, but there are certain aspects we must master before we can attain that which we desire the most.  If there is no stimulation to improve, then the quality of life begins to suffer, along with our spirits.  Regardless of whether or not we like the learning process itself, it is the only thing that will make us better.

Gabriela is learning how to walk.  She's been pulling herself up on the furniture since she was 9 months old but has not yet striven for the solitary step.  You know the one I mean.  It's the step she takes without holding on to furniture or my hand.  But she enjoys the freedom and loves practicing it.  I can see the longing in her eyes to take off after her siblings to join in the fun.

It's a process for her.  First she pulled herself up and started cruising the furniture.  Then, just a couple weeks ago, she stood up by herself without help, all 15 pounds of her.  It is always the cutest thing to watch!  She positions herself into a squat, sticks out her little bottom just enough to shift the center of gravity, and then slowly stands up straight.  Then she beams!  Light just radiates from her entire being like it shone from Fiona near the end of Shrek when she was lifted up and transformed into her natural permanent shape. 

Lately, Gabriela has even swayed from side to side, testing her balance.  The day before yesterday, she started dancing the twist all by herself, giggling with glee.  After she dances a few moments, she'll pat her hands to her thigh as if she's clapping to the joyous melody playing in her head.  Then she'll clap her hands a few times and, if she hasn't already fallen, she will tentatively go back down into the squat and, with a smile on her face, chatter about what she has just accomplished.

But of all the preparation, what she loves best is to take my hands and walk with me.  She'll walk across the room, out the door, into the hallway, and as far as she can go.  Then she'll turn around and walk back to where she started.  Most of the time, she doesn't care where she's going; she just knows she's moving and she's enthralled with the journey.  She knows she's learning how to walk and she giggles and chatters and prances her way about, without a care in the world.

She could go on for hours.   After a few minutes of this, however, my back starts hurting so I will slowly let go of her hands.  When she realizes I've let go, she sits down and cries because she doesn't want to stop.  She wants to go, go, GO!  She wants to experience as much as she can and knows this is something she can't do on her own.  But still she presses ever onward.

My husband told me it takes 10,000 times of practicing something before you are considered a master.  I thought about that in regard to my daughter.  She's been cruising on furniture, she's cruising with me, and she'll shortly be walking on her own.  But she'll still take a few spills before she really gets the hang of it.  But in order to be able to walk, she's got to get there literally one step at a time.

In the school of life, we have a long journey ahead of us.  We may get to some uneven bumps in the road.  We may trip over our own feet in the process.  But are we going to complain along the way about how hard it is or are we going to look at life the way my Gabriela does, by thinking of it as a wonderful adventure with new things she gets to learn to do?  I think I'll try her way.  It looks much more fulfilling and joyous.