The One.

I knew he was the one when I first saw him.

He looked humble, steady, reliable- the kind that would soothe my anxieties, the mature, strong type. He wasn’t conventionally attractive really, but that was never one of my criteria anyway. It’s funny- how I used to be so afraid, but when I let myself be vulnerable, he proved himself faithful and true, and never let me down. For all his taste for adventure and need for speed, I feel safe with him, vulnerable and yet protected. He brings me back to my childhood, and with him, I never need to be that strong, competitive woman I sometimes have to be at the hospital in front of demanding consultants. I can just be me, big-haired, girlish laughter and all. Most of all, I like the way he shows me the truth about life, teaching me lessons gently and lovingly, without a hint of preachiness. I don’t know what made me take him in but something inside tells me we’re in it for the long haul.

We connected immediately. As stupid as it sounds, it was love at first sight. Things just felt right, and more importantly, my parents were comfortable with him. They thought I got a really good catch, too.

I know I’ve said before that I don’t date- and I still maintain that I won’t, till I graduate. But he’s an exception-

– His name is Bike (pronounced as buy-kee), and he is my bicycle.

It’s funny how much he teaches me- about trust, confidence and letting go, and perhaps that is why I’m so grateful for our friendship. He was teaching me how to ride straight, and I learnt how it is only when we’re brave enough to set our sights far and take our eyes off the anxieties of the present that we can ever make progress; He was teaching me how to make U-turns, and I learnt how it is only when you keep your eyes on a target point that you can be confident of succeeding; He was teaching me how to ride down slopes, and I learnt that letting go, just letting go, can be a lot of fun sometimes. And when you focus on where you don’t want to go, more often than not, you end up landing just there.

So at the crack of dawn one morning, both of us sneaked out on a secret rendezvous and decided to go on a romantic getaway to the airport. My desperate reclamation of my bike-less childhood turned me into Forest Gump on steroids on a biketrail and I went on forever, taking in the gorgeous scenery of the deep parts of the beach I had never before explored because it was too far for my legs to take me. We went on, faster and faster, and I was speechless, enthralled, captivated in awe, as he took me to places I’d never been before. I was a princess on a magic carpet, and Bike was my Aladdin.

To the airport! As we got closer, the scenery became more beautiful, more surreal, as fields of lallang, wild flowers and vines came into view. Aeroplanes took off one by one, and we raced ahead, giddy with excitement and anticipation.

We had reached the remote part of the beach when suddenly, a bare-chested, tanned, middle-aged man with an i-pod in his ears skating at top speed tripped over, skidded across the road and smashed into the ground just inches by me. The impact was big, and he suffered greatly. Grimacing and groaning in agony, he tried to get up, only to be slammed back to the ground by an invisible force called Pain. He was in excruciating torment.

The shock of it all should have thrown me off my own bike but Bike was steady. It was a remote part of the beach, faraway from help. Oh dear, I don’t have much time left- we’re not going to make it to the airport if I stop, I thought.

But Bike reminded me of one of my favourite stories in the bible about the good Samaritan who stopped to help someone in need- who not only stopped, but gave deep, genuine help. And so we stopped, too. Many other passers-by did, but only for a moment, before they continued on their way.

But Bike had more to teach me.

When we make plans, can we sometimes be so focused on the end-point that reaching the end seems to over-ride everything else? Why is it that when the unexpected happens, it is often unwelcomed? Are the little unpredictable events interruptions, or moments of divine instruction?

And as I stopped, Bike taught me that sometimes, interruptions can be good things, too. And their ability to make us appreciate the process more than the destination make them all the more precious. They teach us more about flexibility, trusting in God’s plans for us and accepting His goodness.

His name was King. What a beautiful reminder, I thought, as it reminded me to treat every person as I would God, our King. And if our King did decide to go for a spin and injured himself, surely I would stop for Him too and not find it a nuisance to stop for Him?

So every time I go for a ride, I find myself letting go more, learning more, setting my sights on where I want to go and finding the confidence to go there, and yet, allowing room for Life to happen, for God to intervene, make choices for me. Sometimes, there’s just no point in planning too far ahead.

And so I rest in today, more and more, worrying less and less about the future. I find myself more secure, more at ease with myself, with singleness, with my where I am, with who I am inside.

Life is just a moment at a time, learning a lesson at a time, basking in God’s grace for us for the moment.

I love my bike.