Swim

 "Feed a cold, starve a fever. So I'm giving notice here to all of you nagging fears. This is the plan: when the world starts feeling a bit undone, I will feed my faith. Starve my fears. Fear can be what we feel, but brave is what we do." Ann Voskamp

We began our summer with two weeks of swim lessons (with a week break in between).

Peanut has always loved being in the water. IN the water. Not UNDER the water.

Last summer we tried swimming lessons and didn't make any progress. She wasn't ready.

On the last day of swim lessons, we decided that she would jump in off the side and the teacher would catch her BUT allow her to go under water. It was discussed ahead of time (with me) and we both thought if she just did it once, she would see that she was okay. That we weren't going to let her drown. That she would come back up.

Peanut came up from under the water coughing and screaming.

At the time I thought she was upset that she had gone under water.

We damaged her comfort in the water and her enjoyment of it that week. Which was not our goal.

It wasn't until a full year later, at the end of the first swim lesson this summer that I realized that she was angry her trust had been violated.

She thought she would be "caught" and instead was tricked into doing something she most definitely did not want to do.

She trusted, and came to love her swim teacher, and she felt hurt.

She spent the entire two weeks of swim lessons this year in full panic mode. Constantly afraid that the instructor would let go of her - because in the past, she had been let go of.

Over and over again she repeated "Don't let go."

Trust is a complicated beast.

It's not easily repaired.

Peanut made incredible progress for Peanut in her two weeks of swim lessons but I think our biggest hurdle was mending what she viewed as a trust issue.

She couldn't focus on swimming because her mind and body would only allow her to focus on what she perceived to be a safety issue.

That the swim instructor would let go of her and she would not be safe.

Each afternoon as I watched her practice her swim lesson homework in the comfort of our own pool, where she can easily touch, I pondered this idea of being so consumed with control that you can't focus.

What does it say about my trust in God if I can't focus on the path He's laid out because I'm too busy saying "Don't let go" over and over?

Once Peanut accepted she was safe, she did big things.

She conquered going under water.

She learned to swim across the pool in her own way.

She remembered that swimming is fun for her.

Mama Warriors, what big things could we do if we accept that we are safe?

If we trust the Creator of the path?

What if we relaxed and remembered life is fun?