Dip a toe? Or dive right in?
When you were a kid at the pool or the creek or the ocean, which did you do?
Were you the child who leapt straight in and splashed everyone in range, or the one who sat on the edge and dangled a foot in the water? Or maybe you were the bellyflopper, always getting the laugh, but it sure did hurt.
I never saw water deeper than my bathtub until I was 13, and by then it terrified me. An acquaintance asked me to go to the pool one afternoon. Her parents were members of the country club… a place in Elkins, WV, I’d never even heard of, let alone knew what to expect. I didn’t have a suit, had never changed clothes in a locker room, didn’t know how to swim, and without my glasses, I couldn’t even tell the boys from the girls.
It was a miserable day, but the next summer I begged for a pool pass at the YMCA. From the distance of four decades, I can’t remember what appealed. Maybe it was as simple as getting out of the house every afternoon.
Never once did I work up the courage to jump off the side of the pool.
But I did climb the ladder to the diving board once and stood out on the platform. For about two seconds. And then I climbed back down.
Almost every day as an adult, I get the urge to climb down off the platform of my life, and race back to bed to bury my head under the covers.
Then ‘big girl’ Demi calls me a nasty name and I decide to refuse to give in. At least for a little bit. And most of the time that’s enough.
What could you accomplish this week if you only refused to give in? At least for a little bit?