Dive In!

When I was 3 I started swimming lessons in a lady's backyard. I did this every summer and have memories of the lessons themselves and then the day when the parents would come and watch. We would do things like practice having our eyes open under the water, which I cannot do anymore! We put our head under the water and look at a baby book and have to bring our heads up and say what we saw. Then the instructors would walk beside us as we swam from side to side, and then they would take us to the deep in. I remember arguing with my instructor all the time about going to the deep in. I would say I was doing fine in the shallow water, and there was no need for me to go to the deep end. We'd eventually get to the deep in, but that was never enough, they were always asking for more. Once I would get comfortable in the deep in, the next step was to dive off the diving board. They would try to trick you too, telling you that once you dove off the board, you would only have to swim so far to them. But after you dove off, they would continue to back up until you had swam from the diving board all the way to the end of the shallow water.

When they would finally convince me to actually get on the diving board, I would stand at the edge, with my toes curled over the end of the board, white from gripping the board, my hands above my head in perfect dive form, and then bent so far over I was literally about to fall in. But I wouldn't dive in, I'd back up from the edge and start crying saying I couldn't do it. The instructors would tell me I could do, I just needed to jump in. I would go back to the edge, curl my toes up, put my arms up and lean over. Back up, cry and beg not to do it. I'm pretty sure I offered all sorts of bargains. But somehow my instructors would talk me into actually diving off the board.

On parents' day the same thing would happen when it was time for me to demonstrate my lack of diving skills. My mom would sit on the side telling me I could do it, but I would still back up and say things like "but I think I'm going to throw up" (which I actually did one time!).

The other day, I realized I still do the same thing in life. When I think about moving or making any kind of change, I'm standing at the edge of the diving board, my toes curled, my arms above my head, leaning over inches from the water, but I still can't jump. I don't trust myself to jump. I'm scared I'm not going to make it to the shallow water. I'm scared I'll forget how to swim. But I know God's sitting in a lawn chair on the side of the pool, telling me I can do it and supporting me.