After a solid day of church staff retreat/meeting with Terry Walling (which was phenomenal, btw, and will be blogged later this week) I scootered home, grabbed some of the random (mine, but random) kids hanging around the house, and made a beeline for the ponds at Harvest Fields. We spent several hours paddling kayaks and playing in the pond.
We’re a family of waterbugs, and my kids have been in and around water all their lives, or at least the parts of their lives that have involved me! But in each of them today (Josie, Isaac, and Sadie) there was a moment of fear, a testing of their faith in me, and a personal challenge to their ability to choose courage.
When I put a person in a kayak (whitewater boats complete with neoprene skirt) the first thing I do is teach them how to wet exit. I want to make sure that they know how to get out of the kayak when it flips upside down (notice I said when, not if!) So we spend the time it takes to learn how to be safe. I don’t try to make it sound dangerous, though any time you find yourself without access to air you’re not moving in the right direction. I stand in the water, my hand on the kayak, often holding the hands of the student as we walk through the safety techniques that I’m trying to instill.
I could see it in their eyes: I’m scared. What happens if I can’t get out? There are some pieces of this experience that are almost universal. Everyone underestimates how long they can hold their breath (think about the Squirrel Hill Tunnel) and how long they’ve actually been underwater. I believe that it’s the fear of the unknown, the altered state of being deprived of air, trapped in a plastic tube, held in place by a neoprene agent of torture, under water, loss of sight, loss of contact with another person…it all adds up to fear.
I’ve seen grown men, leaders in their field, fearless and forceful come completely unglued, done for the day–all because of the upside down kayak. I’ve seen tears and fears (though I never saw Tears for Fears, that’d have been cool) at that point so many times.
We were close today. But each one of the waterbugs pushed through the fear, embraced their limitations, pushed their comfort zone a little further than they knew they could, and came up spitting and smiling! Pictures would be nice, but I was in the pond, and my phone doesn’t swim.
Once we knew that they’d be safe they were free to paddle and play in the water.
I think there’s a lesson in there for me. Maybe for you, too.
0 Comments