Learning How to Swim

No, this is not me.

I learned to swim when I was fairly young--maybe around four or five.  My brother and I officially took swimming lessons at the YMCA when I was about six, but I had the survival basics down before that, thanks to my mom and the Hermans.  The Hermans were my grandparents' next-door neighbors who let us use their backyard above-ground pool.  As a kid, it was huge and deep, but after growing up, it turned out to be quite small and shallow.  But as a kid, I could still imagine sharks or whales somehow coming up from the deep.  It was fun to jump in with my life-jacket on though--no problem.  But even more fun than that was when the adults came to swim.  Why do kids think swimming pools are 95% cooler if an adult comes to swim?  I have no idea, but it seems to work like that with trampolines, bikes, Nintendo, or pretty much anything else fun.  Anyway, I remember my mom would come in the pool with us sometimes, and it was extra exciting.  I would get to take off my life-jacket and cling to her for dear life!  Perhaps it was a natural reaction to a clingy child in the water, but that was when Mom started teaching me how to swim.  It went something like this:  My small hands would let go of her and grab the edge of the pool like I was hanging on a cliff. Then she would move about two feet away.  "Push off the edge and swim to me!" she would say.  So I would push off and swim that two feet...and then she would back up just a tiny bit...I would mildly panic and thrash enough to get just a tiny bit farther...then she would back up a little more...until I would almost drown, and then she would relent and let me finally catch her and return to clinging.  How fun!  Well, I would always leave thinking it was fun, but at the time, I was usually mad at her.  Probably the same idea as learning to walk, and your parents stepping back so you will walk farther, and then you fall, and in your baby thoughts you're like, "Hello?  If you hadn't moved back, I could have made it!  Thanks a lot!"

But the fact is, I swam farther than I originally thought I could, and eventually quit thrashing, and learned how to tread water, which is so much better than swimming anyway.  I stopped falling so much and walked farther (except that one time I stepped on a plastic bottle, but that's another story).  When my dad's hand let go of the bike without training-wheels, I kept pedaling...until I realized he wasn't holding me up any more, and then fell over.  I got him back though the day I drove home with my new learner's permit and nearly drove into the ditch several times because I was so terrified of hitting on-coming traffic. But I survived it all, and through each fall and near-drowning and near-collision, I learned.

For some reason, it's a lot more humbling to keep learning after you grow up.  We have this idea that we're supposed to have it all figured out by now, and if we don't, we better "fake it til we make it."  But it's not true.  It's not true at all.  Every single day of our lives we are learning and growing, and when we stop, we die.  We may not die on the outside, but we begin to die on the inside.

And so, though I am so often tempted to throw in the towel when I feel like God keeps backing up and backing up each day without an answer on what to do with my life, and I sometimes feel angry and about to drown...I'll just keep swimming. That's the point.  I don't know where the heck I'm swimming to, but my Father does. And perhaps even more important than where I end up is what He wants me to learn on my way there--how to trust Him, how to keep praying and reading His promises, how to keep my head above water, and how to keep my eyes on Him, the Author and Finisher of my faith.

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.  Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take."  

Prov. 3:5-6 (NLT)