Sweat dripped down my forehead. My muscles ached. Only four more feet to go, and I would complete the little kids’ rock wall!
There was one problem, though: My left foot was still touching the ground. At least I had grabbed hold of the first stones. Practice makes perfect, right?
My dad said it had taken three hours for me to lift my right foot up and place it on the bottom rock.
Wow! I thought proudly. A new record!
Trust me, I’ve been to this playground plenty of times. But one thought entered my mind: The 4-year-olds can complete the rock wall in two minutes! They must have all been in the Olympics.
I knew I had the strength and courage to do this. My dad watched from a bench, his head nodding off. He was encouraging me! So I lifted my other foot and started to climb. My arms pulled me and my legs pushed me up. Soon I was at the top. I threw myself onto the platform and stood up. I had done it! I raised my tired arms in triumph, accidentally knocking out a flying bird overhead.
My dad looked up, startled by my victorious shout, and his face turned pale. He was proud of me — or maybe it was because he saw the unconscious pigeon lying next to my foot.
I grinned and looked around. I had finally completed my mission! I knew I did it because I had faith. Jesus had given me the strength I needed, and now I was successful in the Lord.
