To start our new year off on a writerly foot, I’m sharing a Christmas short story by my grandson. Morgan is a student at Southwest Baptist University and writes for their Student Media Organization newsletter INFUSE. “The Bicycle” is a short read – only three minutes – that offers food for thought as we begin 2019. Enjoy!
By Morgan Hixson
It was the Christmas of 2006. I’m sure I asked for dozens of toys and things, but I don’t remember getting much in particular. I had recently turned 7 years old, and one of my favorite things to do was ride my little blue bicycle all over our subdivision (we lived near Houston, Texas at the time so the weather was in the forties and fifties). It hadn’t been very long since I’d finally gotten my training wheels off, and I was eager to show my older sisters how well I could ride now. The bike was a little small for me and only had pedal brakes, as opposed to the brakes you squeezed with your hand like all the big bikes had, but I loved it more than anything else I had at the time.
Well, December 25th came at last, and as usual our parents made us all wait upstairs while they made the final arrangements with the stockings and gifts downstairs. After they had finished, Mom had us all sit on the stairs while she took what seemed to be a million pictures. Once she finished, we were FINALLY able to gallop down the stairs and take a look at what we got. Our faces were shining with delight as we discovered various presents from our wish lists. Everything was wonderful, until I saw it.
It was as shiny as if it had just been brought home from the store and had a festive bow taped to its handlebars, but there was no doubting: it was my little blue bicycle, resting on its kickstand next to my little brother’s stocking. Immediately my eyes filled with tears and I ran back to my room, slammed the door, and dove onto my bed, the entire time screaming “It’s my bike! It’s MY bicycle!! He can’t have it!”
I don’t know how long I laid there sobbing the sobs of a broken-hearted little boy before my parents came in, and I don’t remember how long it took them to calm me down. I do remember them telling me it was okay, that they understood how much my bike had meant to me but that it had gotten too small for me, then leading me to the garage. Once we got there I quickly became ashamed of myself, for there in the middle of the bay stood a brand new yellow and black bike. It was much bigger than the other one and it even had a brake on the handlebars like I’d always wanted! Needless to say I soon fell more in love with that bike than I’d ever been with my old one.
Sometimes as children of God we all act the way I acted that Christmas day in 2006. We take the blessings God gives us for granted until he takes them away, and then we whine and scream and cry without bothering to stop and look for the bigger picture. Then, when God unveils His plan and we realize how much better it is than our plan, we’re left feeling sheepish and childish because we didn’t trust Him like we should have.
Photo Credit: Wix Images