I learned—mostly the hard way—to look where I want to go when riding my bicycle. If there is a rock, or a crack, don’t look at it.

Look instead where you want to go.

I watched a man teaching his little girl to ride her bicycle in the parking lot. She was protesting, “But what if I hit the light pole?”

“You aren’t going to hit the light pole, Sweetheart. You have an entire parking lot to ride in.”

“But I might.”

“No, you won’t. Don’t look at the light pole.”

She was like a moth drawn to a flame. Never has a rider ridden straighter. Dad was screaming, “Don’t look at the pole!”

It was a spectacular crash. Pink bike, white tires, black hair flowing from beneath her Ariel helmet, sunglasses, and green riding shorts tangled like spaghetti.

She extracted herself from the milieu, crying, and for good measure waylaid the post again with her tennis shoe. She then yelled at her father, who is in a dead run toward her, “I told you I was going to hit the pole.”

I heard Dad say as he put his arms around her, “I told you not to look at the light pole. Baby, listen to me: You hit what you look at.”

What are you looking at? Whatever you look at, you’ll hit it.

Focus!

“Don’t let your heart be troubled. You believe in God; believe in me too. I’ll take care of you. I promise” (cf. Jn. 14:1, 20, & 27).