Seth's Theory of Inherent Dangers

After sitting in the shed for quite a while this summer as I waited out weeks of camp and outrageous temperatures, my bike inexplicably developed an irreparable leak in the front tire. With weather getting better and the Bike Ride for the Cure (or whatever it is called) coming, I wanted to get my bike up and running... er riding.

I had a pretty great afternoon with the family and I was in a great mood. Ready to get something done, I brought my bike inside and gathered the tools to take of the tires and replace their tubes with the new ones Sandy bought last week. Then disaster struck, or began to strike.

I reached over and grabbed the bike, flipping it over with my man strength so I could set it upside down and get to work. When a bike is upside down, the top side is on the bottom, and - you guessed it - the bottom side is on the top - specifically the kickstand. With a flick of the wrist, my bike's kickstand was jammed deep into my right eye socket.

It was a horror show - metal on flesh, glasses flying everywhere, someone asking if I was OK, and my mind flashing visions of my future self trying to decide between a tacky glass eye and a stylish eye patch.

The ensuing facebook posting and replies led me to an interesting epiphany that went a little like this:

Attempting to fix an item and using it for the intended purpose carry entirely different danger levels.

I am not sure I have really ever had an injury while riding the bike, but each time I have sought to fix it, I ended up bleeding. One time I fell off my bike in a painful and comical manner when I jumped on to start riding. My son Jack had messed with the gears while I wasn't watching and I was expecting a medium gear but encountered an incredible amount of resistance followed by an utter lack of it. I fell off before I actually started riding though, so that one doesn't count.

I was thinking about something else along the same lines earlier today. With my work, I am big on evaluating and adjusting anything I am involved with. When I see something doesn't work, I try to figure out why. I like to make the adjustments that turn a purposeless, nonfunctional program into the exact opposite. I don't mind dropping something that is beyond repair and I love making the subtle changes to make something that wasn't quite right thrive.

Right now, I am preparing for the first week of an all-ages ministry here - something we are doing for the first time. It is sort of the culmination of a few years worth of evaluation and trial and error. Having everything run at the same time makes all sorts of sense for all sorts of reasons and has all sorts of upside. The problem is that when you are fixing something like this, it is hard to avoid someone getting hurt.

Toes will be stepped on, false assumptions will be made, mistakes will be aplenty, and "the way we always do it" will fall by the wayside in many cases. I will be running around doing more than ever, yet I may be criticized for not personally "running" programs for elementary ages AND middle/high school. Fixing something has it's risks, but letting it flail about uselessly really isn't a viable option.

Attempting to fix an item and using it for the intended purpose carry entirely different danger levels, but if you try to ride a bike with a flat tire you won't get anywhere.