Reason #244
I finished my day immersed in a tub of bubbles. Today was a day of water. Rain fell all day long, and it is supposed to do the same tomorrow. And as I soaked, I thought about my feelings towards water.
I hated swimming lessons as a child. I wasn't ever thrilled to go to the pool during the summer like most children are. I've been to the lake, I've been to many beaches, and I like the water just fine. I like to look at it, float in it, boat in it, but I don't like swimming. Really, the only time you'll find me swimming is if I have to, if my life depends on it. So, I suppose it's a good thing my mom enrolled me in swimming lessons even if I hated them.
My earliest memory of swimming is a frightful one. I was around 3 and had yet to take lessons. We were on a family vacation and were spending some time at the hotel pool. My brother is fearless when it comes to water. Always has been. So every family vacation, his only desire was to swim at the hotel pool. I had this little floatie to assist me. It was an innertube but had leg holes so I could sit inside the floatie. The floaties kids uses these days are pretty advanced, this one was simple. I remember that this floatie was a dog, and if my memory serves me correct, it was a white dog with black spots. Anyhow, that's beside the story. My brother and dad were in the pool, which meant chaos, something I don't do well with. My mom was sitting in a lounge chair, and I was strolling around the edge of the pool. I am an independent girl, always have been. The only time I ask for help is if I know I absolutely can't do something on my own, but I usually give it a failed attempt beforehand anyway. I decided I would venture into the pool so I grabbed my floatie and placed it inside the pool as close to the edge as possible. Now, what would have made sense was to put the floatie on before getting in to the water, but keep in mind I was 3. I attempted to jump into the floatie, and you guess it, I missed. Under the water I went. Both of my parents made a mad dash to the side of the pool to retreive me from the water. They lifted me out, and I was totally fine. Absolutely scared, but fine. And I remember I cried, which was no surprise to them I'm sure. But they reassured me over and over that I was okay. I'm a worst-case-scenario thinker and I'm sure, even in my 3 year old ways, I was dramatically thinking about how I could have died. And really, that's always what scares me the most, the "what could" rather than the "what did."
Maybe that's it. Maybe that's why I never took to water very well. And it wasn't long after that I was taking swimming lessons. The only thing I liked about swimming lessons was standing on the bleacher in the water. I knew I was safe there. I was in the water, but nothing bad could happen when I was on the bleacher. As lessons progressed, so did the fear because all swimmers must make that terrifying jump off of the diving board in order to get their certificate of completion. So I reluctantly walked up the ladder and to the end of the board and I just couldn't do it. My teacher waited in the water for me, hands stretched out, but I was too scared. It seemed so far down and, in my mind, so much could go wrong between the board and the water. But there was no turning back, and the only way off was into the water, the deep, deep water. And no matter how much my teacher encouraged me and told me she would catch me, no matter how many of my peers were watching, no amout of rationalization was going to get me off of that board. So, I had to have a little help. Picked up by my arms and thrusted into the pool. I was off the board and in the deep water, but I was okay. And I learned I could do it. I didn't enjoy it, but I could do it if I had to, if my life depended on it. The lessons were paying off, I was learning. Learning a skill that was going to be beneficial to me, a skill that could be the difference between life and death given certain circumstances.
So I've learned that I like water in small, manageable forms. I like water when I can see to the bottom. I like water if it doesn't rise above my shoulders. But we live in a world that's composed of mostly water, deep, seemingly bottomless, water. And I don't want to be in those waters. I have a fear, a healthy fear of water, because I know full well the dangers that water presents. But I also know how to swim, how to stay afloat. I know how to kick my legs and move my arms just right so that I can keep my head above water. I know how to swim because I had to learn. A summer of dreaded lessons, but I know what I'm doing.
Life is the teacher and the lessons never stop. It would be nice to spend a summer taking a class to learn how to deal with all of the circumstances life throws at you, but there aren't enough days in summer to accomplish that. And so you go through life and have moments where you jump in, miss the floatie, and you scare the living day lights out of yourself. Sure, you're okay. But you're scared, a little more wary, and a little more reluctant because you just learned the hard way. But hard way or easy way, lessons are learned and so with each one, you take something away. You learn what to do or what not to do next time. And although I would have preferred to have never taken swimming lessons, I'm glad my mom didn't let me out of them. I'm glad she signed me up, even if I was miserable and a little scared, because she knew I needed to learn. She knew I needed these lessons, and that they would benefit me in the long run. And she was preparing me, too. Preparing me to face water and to know what to do, how to handle it, and how to keep my head above it.
And so I look back over my life and I see that I've missed the floatie more than once. I've learned a few lessons the hard way. Maybe I should have asked for help beforehand. Maybe I should have thought through things a little more before I acted. But I did what I did for whatever reason I did, and I learned. And I've had my moments where I was sinking like a rock. I've had my moments where I couldn't keep my head above the water. But He has watched me the whole time, rushing to my aid when I was drowning. And He's pulled me out every time. Scared, yes. But I've always been okay. So I'm thankful for the lessons. Some were fun, some were dreaded, some were difficult, but all were necessary. And He knew I needed them. He knew I needed the preparation and wisdom. These lessons were for my benefit. Lessons to prepare me for the future, to better equip me, to give me knowledge I wouldn't have other wise, and most of all, lessons that very well might save my life!
#244 - Lessons learned.
"Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you." - Psalm 25:5
I hated swimming lessons as a child. I wasn't ever thrilled to go to the pool during the summer like most children are. I've been to the lake, I've been to many beaches, and I like the water just fine. I like to look at it, float in it, boat in it, but I don't like swimming. Really, the only time you'll find me swimming is if I have to, if my life depends on it. So, I suppose it's a good thing my mom enrolled me in swimming lessons even if I hated them.
My earliest memory of swimming is a frightful one. I was around 3 and had yet to take lessons. We were on a family vacation and were spending some time at the hotel pool. My brother is fearless when it comes to water. Always has been. So every family vacation, his only desire was to swim at the hotel pool. I had this little floatie to assist me. It was an innertube but had leg holes so I could sit inside the floatie. The floaties kids uses these days are pretty advanced, this one was simple. I remember that this floatie was a dog, and if my memory serves me correct, it was a white dog with black spots. Anyhow, that's beside the story. My brother and dad were in the pool, which meant chaos, something I don't do well with. My mom was sitting in a lounge chair, and I was strolling around the edge of the pool. I am an independent girl, always have been. The only time I ask for help is if I know I absolutely can't do something on my own, but I usually give it a failed attempt beforehand anyway. I decided I would venture into the pool so I grabbed my floatie and placed it inside the pool as close to the edge as possible. Now, what would have made sense was to put the floatie on before getting in to the water, but keep in mind I was 3. I attempted to jump into the floatie, and you guess it, I missed. Under the water I went. Both of my parents made a mad dash to the side of the pool to retreive me from the water. They lifted me out, and I was totally fine. Absolutely scared, but fine. And I remember I cried, which was no surprise to them I'm sure. But they reassured me over and over that I was okay. I'm a worst-case-scenario thinker and I'm sure, even in my 3 year old ways, I was dramatically thinking about how I could have died. And really, that's always what scares me the most, the "what could" rather than the "what did."
Maybe that's it. Maybe that's why I never took to water very well. And it wasn't long after that I was taking swimming lessons. The only thing I liked about swimming lessons was standing on the bleacher in the water. I knew I was safe there. I was in the water, but nothing bad could happen when I was on the bleacher. As lessons progressed, so did the fear because all swimmers must make that terrifying jump off of the diving board in order to get their certificate of completion. So I reluctantly walked up the ladder and to the end of the board and I just couldn't do it. My teacher waited in the water for me, hands stretched out, but I was too scared. It seemed so far down and, in my mind, so much could go wrong between the board and the water. But there was no turning back, and the only way off was into the water, the deep, deep water. And no matter how much my teacher encouraged me and told me she would catch me, no matter how many of my peers were watching, no amout of rationalization was going to get me off of that board. So, I had to have a little help. Picked up by my arms and thrusted into the pool. I was off the board and in the deep water, but I was okay. And I learned I could do it. I didn't enjoy it, but I could do it if I had to, if my life depended on it. The lessons were paying off, I was learning. Learning a skill that was going to be beneficial to me, a skill that could be the difference between life and death given certain circumstances.
So I've learned that I like water in small, manageable forms. I like water when I can see to the bottom. I like water if it doesn't rise above my shoulders. But we live in a world that's composed of mostly water, deep, seemingly bottomless, water. And I don't want to be in those waters. I have a fear, a healthy fear of water, because I know full well the dangers that water presents. But I also know how to swim, how to stay afloat. I know how to kick my legs and move my arms just right so that I can keep my head above water. I know how to swim because I had to learn. A summer of dreaded lessons, but I know what I'm doing.
Life is the teacher and the lessons never stop. It would be nice to spend a summer taking a class to learn how to deal with all of the circumstances life throws at you, but there aren't enough days in summer to accomplish that. And so you go through life and have moments where you jump in, miss the floatie, and you scare the living day lights out of yourself. Sure, you're okay. But you're scared, a little more wary, and a little more reluctant because you just learned the hard way. But hard way or easy way, lessons are learned and so with each one, you take something away. You learn what to do or what not to do next time. And although I would have preferred to have never taken swimming lessons, I'm glad my mom didn't let me out of them. I'm glad she signed me up, even if I was miserable and a little scared, because she knew I needed to learn. She knew I needed these lessons, and that they would benefit me in the long run. And she was preparing me, too. Preparing me to face water and to know what to do, how to handle it, and how to keep my head above it.
And so I look back over my life and I see that I've missed the floatie more than once. I've learned a few lessons the hard way. Maybe I should have asked for help beforehand. Maybe I should have thought through things a little more before I acted. But I did what I did for whatever reason I did, and I learned. And I've had my moments where I was sinking like a rock. I've had my moments where I couldn't keep my head above the water. But He has watched me the whole time, rushing to my aid when I was drowning. And He's pulled me out every time. Scared, yes. But I've always been okay. So I'm thankful for the lessons. Some were fun, some were dreaded, some were difficult, but all were necessary. And He knew I needed them. He knew I needed the preparation and wisdom. These lessons were for my benefit. Lessons to prepare me for the future, to better equip me, to give me knowledge I wouldn't have other wise, and most of all, lessons that very well might save my life!
#244 - Lessons learned.
"Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you." - Psalm 25:5
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