As kids, we all had our favorite piece of playground equipment. Mine was the swings. The feeling of flying, wind blowing through your hair, and the competition to see who could go highest – these are the best things of childhood! But in a close second place was the teeter-totter. My elementary school didn’t have a normal, wood one. Instead, we had a metal contraption with springs, and I am almost certain that the point of that thing was to see if you could catapult your classmate off of the other end. Instead of the smooth motion of a balanced seesaw (for those of you who prefer that term), this was jarring, and if you didn’t hold on, you’d be likely to find yourself flying in a very different way than the swings.
In the years since I have become a parent, I’ve found myself on the playground more times than I can count. With all of the modern playground equipment these days, it is rare to find one of those old, wooden teeter-totters, but every now and then we come across one. My husband and I can partner up with our kids (who are 7 and 3 and not at all the same size) and help guide the board up and down. Gently up, gently down. Floating up, grounding down. I might be in my 30s, but I still love it.
To me, this is life together. It is constantly moving up and down. We have highs and lows, and all of the motions in between. It is a great balancing act and for us to find that balance while in constant motion takes great care.
We need people on the other side who are our equals, but if they are not, one of us can come closer to the middle to find the point of balance. No matter if we are the same size, the same gender, the same religion, the same age, race, or sexuality, we can adjust. We seek out ways to journey together.
Every now and then there will be that person that lets you down – literally and figuratively. You know what I’m talking about. There was always that kid (or maybe you were that kid) who jumped off while you were still high in the air, and without their counterweight you crashed back to the ground. Sometimes that kid was just being a jerk, but other times it was innocent. There are people who abandon us intentionally, but there are also times when people’s interests change. Perhaps we were the ones that found we had grown and it was time to move on. At best, we let people down gently. At worst, we let them fall.
No matter who our seesaw partner(s) is, we can be sure of one thing. It is impossible to ride alone. Yet, sometimes we will be alone. Sometimes there are no friends at the playground and we have to find a way to continue alone. Have you ever walked a teeter-totter? It’s an exercise in balance and patience. You have to find the sweet spot, the place where you can stand steady. Move too far or too fast to one side and you’ll be met with a loud thump. Yes, going it alone is most difficult. There is no gentle rocking back and forth, only the precarious challenge to remain upright. And while we never wish to be alone for long, our best chance for balance is to take a deep breath, calm the center of our being, and move lightly until we find another rider.
My son, Aidyn, was an only child for the first four years of his life. When we took him to the playground he certainly enjoyed himself. You can play alone and still find joy. But it doesn’t quite add up to the fullness we experience when we have a friend (or 5!) to share in our adventures. Aidyn has always been a very introverted kid (he may or may not get that from his parents), so asking another kid to play with him is always a nerve wracking thing. And isn’t it, though? Asking for someone to join you in the act of living is terrifying. How can you know if they will be the kind of friend who balances with you on the seesaw or if they’ll jump off and leave you grounded? Inviting someone on the journey is always a risk.
It’s not impossible to journey alone. We can go it alone, but it is better when we have others. We need people who love us and challenge us to take a seat on the other side of the teeter-totter. Life is so full of change. It only takes an instant for us to come down from up high, and a moment for us to find ourselves flying. We need that balance. People to build us up and people to catch us when we fall.
Most of the time I’m terrified of asking people to travel the road of life alongside me. What if they abandon me in my greatest moment of need? And then I am reminded of the words of this simple verse –
There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask “What if I fall?”
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?
– Erin Hanson
What if, in reaching out for a friend, we find a way to take flight? So I find I need to ask more often –
Will you ride with me?
