The first step...

I have always been rather afraid of escalators. I have memories of being a kid, walking beside my mom in the mall, and suddenly coming up to that looming, sinister, moving staircase. I wish I could close my eyes, but I know that if I don't place my feet just so– I could miss the steps entirely and fall flat on my face. I remember waiting in line, watching the steps take form ahead of me, and getting ready to take that first step.

"Now!" Mom jumps on and I follow her. Except– I jump right onto the crack between the steps, and as they separate my feet slip and fly out from under me. If it weren't for my mom's tight grip on my wrist, holding me up as my feet scramble desperately to find a footing, I would slip back down those stairs the way I came, and be gone forever.

...

Now that I'm "grown up" (Or am I? What does that even mean?) I still have a small sense of dread every time I'm forced to take those moving steps. And every time... I move forward slowly, my eyes glued to the steps as each one surfaces; counting, anticipating, waiting for just the right moment before I take the plunge.

"Now!" says my brain and I step on. I make sure my footing is secure before climbing the next few steps to catch up with my friends, who got on without the slightest hesitation. I lean on the railing and look down, feeling exhilarated for having conquered the wild beast once again.

...

When I visited London in September of 2009, the escalators in the underground almost scared me to death. Not only are you expected to get onto them, but you must either A) move to the right and keep close to the railing so that all the crazy people who are in such a hurry can get past you, or B) stay to the left and move down the escalator as fast as you can so that the crazy people behind you don't mow you over.

Of course, the first time I got on the escalator in London, I was careful not to tumble headfirst down into the underground and grabbed firmly onto the lefthand side-rail. There was an instant "Excuse me!" and half a dozen crazy people tried their best to zig-zag around me and continue down the escalator. My brain gave something that sounded like a shriek of terror and, with lots of "Sorry, sorry!", I clambered over the right side as soon as I could. That embarrassment wasn't repeated twice.

And then there was that time when a couple of my sisters, my cousin and I went to stalk Selena Gomez at our local mall. She was making an appearance and we thought it would be cool to get a look (even though my sisters had like no idea who she even was at the time). So did a couple thousand other people. And some of those thousands decided it would be a good idea to take the escalator up and down all at once so they could shoot pictures of her over the heads of the other thousands. The escalator froze up, reversed, and at least three people were taken to the hospital. No lie.

It was almost as exciting as seeing Selena in person. And was really therapeutic for someone who is wary of escalators.

...

I guess boarding an escalator is a little bit like everyday life. You've got to have the courage to get on, relax when you're carried forward by something other than your own two feet, and try to avoid slipping on the cracks in-between the steps. And even though you used to hang onto your mom's hand and get carried along without too much of your own effort– now you're an adult, responsible for your actions, your victories, your failures, and picking yourself up when you fall.

The journey is narrow, slippery, and sometimes unpredictable.

But, by God's grace, we can keep our eyes open... and take that first step.

-Amanda

Images: photo dictionary Disney Dreaming, A Life In Pictures