Climb Every Staircase

Sometimes we want to take life by the horns and ride away with no thought or concern as to the possible repercussions of our actions.  We see what we want to do and we go full force, looking ahead and not looking back.  Maybe we count the costs, and maybe we don't.  But when we do get on that bull, we could easily take a hard fall.

Gabriela is still not quite walking on her own yet, though she likes to stand and wiggle her foot, testing whether she wants to take a step.  Sometimes she takes a little one, laughs, and sits back down, and sometimes she just stands, laughs, dances, and topples down on her diaper.  But she's not sure enough about her way to go full force.  That is not true, however, when it comes to stairs.

She has gleefully discovered the art of climbing.  She climbs on the little child size chairs and the low speakers in our family room.  She climbs on her sister's bed and over the toys.  She is driven to a mad frenzy to climb the fourteen steps to the second floor.

The amazing thing about that is the fact that she takes no thought of the possibility that she could fall.  She's looking ever upward, rejoicing in every step she reaches.  She is thrilled with the idea of the climb and of success.  There appears to be not a fearless bone in her body when it comes to climbing those stairs that would be just about equivalent to me scaling a 42 foot staircase with each step being 3 feet high.  She stops only long enough to cheerfully pat the next step and continues on to the next until she reaches the top.  Once she gets there, she crawls about a foot on the carpet and just sits there, bouncing away, dancing at her great success.

Now if I see her starting to go up and I can't follow her, I go get her, regardless of the howling protest at being pulled away from her newest game.  But that is because even though she doesn't see the danger, I do.  But when I have the opportunity to allow her to climb, I follow her, one step at a time, to make sure she doesn't fall down.  She's unaware of the way she can get injured in that kind of a fall, but I am there behind her, very sure of the dangers, and keeping her safe from them. 


Why don't have a gate at the bottom of the stairs?  The answer is simply because the way our house was built, we can't put one there.  I can surround them, but the other children proved that they can surmount or circumvent anything we put there, so we just stand guard.  All my children have been climbers, and they are very good at it.  But the older ones all know to watch for her when she starts heading that way.  Even Benjamin will tell me if Gabriela starts going toward the steps and will lay across the bottom one or extend his arms and legs to keep her from going up them.  He understands the risks.

But not Gabriela, no siree; she doesn't know that at any moment she could slip and tumble down.  All she knows is that she's safe in her house.  I'm there, and I have never let her get hurt.  So of course it is inconceivable in her mind that I would allow her to come to any danger.  So she is content to climb with me following her and sharing in her joy at being able to climb, totally unaware that I am extra vigilant to keep her from falling, totally unaware of the visions that go through my mind were I to let her go up alone and unescorted.  She does get mad, however, when I pick her up and carry her the rest of the way unless she's tired.  No ma'am, she wants to do it herself, thank you very much.  But when she gets  to the top, she has such a sense of accomplishment that she did it.

I know I can be like my daughter.  I can go through life unaware of the dangers.  I just look to the goal before me and trudge along.  It's a high climb and a lot of work, but I see the top of the mountain and I get giddy with excitement.  In a way, I sometimes wish I were more like her in that regard.  Too often I tend to look down and think of what could go wrong.  She's so trusting that nary an ill thought crosses her mind.  After all, it takes a bad experience to cause fear, and she has had none to give her any.

It's that childlike faith that everything will be alright.  It's the combination of growing up and being able to do something while still having the hand ready to catch us if we start to fall.  It's the fearlessness of the climb without a thought of what lies behind and below.  It is the joy of getting to the top seemingly unassisted and yet protected all the same by the invisible hand that holds us in love.

It's my own revision of the song from The Sound of Music

Climb every staircase
Eyes all agleam
Follow every rainbow
Till you reach your dream