Skywatch Friday: At Last

From December 26, 2011

Years ago my parents put my sister and me though swimming lessons. At the time, we were not grateful. Mom had us out the door those summer mornings before we would like to have been. Before we knew it, there we were at the town park doing our calisthenics in the cold, damp sand and then taking orders from the Red Cross drill sergeants who didn't care how little we liked them; they worked us hard. 

Mom and dad insisted we have this survival skill. There was no conversation about how we felt about it. It was understood mom and dad called the shots and we would do what we were told. We could make all the faces we wanted. Mom and dad could take it. We would learn to swim.  Their being in charge was a very good thing.  

I was thinking about those swimming lessons while I was lying in the tub the other night and thinking how I can't dive. There was a time I could. I'd take a header off the back of our boat and swim like a fish. Then, something happened and I couldn't do it. The swim instructors of my childhood tried like the dickens to solve this problem, but I couldn't do it. Still can't. Sure, I can get into the water successfully without fuss or fanfare. But I won't go head first. 

I got to thinking the problem might be that I think too hard about it. I am too well aware of what can go wrong about going head first. Paralysis by analysis. This thinking about how I can't dive got me to thinking how I don't go to Sunday School anymore, but I did actually learn something when I did. One key lesson: "Go." That's a direct quote from the Teacher himself. I can work with that advice. 

 Go. So be it. I am going. I am going to follow a dream that has led me straight to where I want to be doing what I love to do. I'm going to North Carolina, where I have a new teaching job. I wanted this--have wanted it for a long time. I have had the support of friends and family and colleagues. I can't dive yet, but I can go. And I will put my heart into making it work.   My thanks to all my teachers.  You are legion. You are angels. 

 Skywatch Friday