If Courage Leaves You Floundering in the Deep End

When I was a little girl, I was terrified of the pool. No matter how many swim lessons my mom forced me to attend, I could not find freedom from my dread of the water. By the time I had reached second grade and STILL could not let go of the wall, my mom signed me up for weekly lessons at the Y. I dreaded Tuesdays. My mom could probably tell you that, more often than not, I cried the whole way there. I'm pretty sure I even left my swimsuit at home one week thinking I could get out of the lesson. Instead, my mom got a speeding ticket...and I got a scolding AND a swim lesson.

Before long, my younger sister was swimming circles around me. I had figured out how to doggy paddle enough to not drown in the deep end, but the next hurdle was jumping falling off the diving board. The thought of willingly climbing what felt like a whole flight of stairs only to hurl my body off the end of a plank was absurd to me! But I was required to complete the feat before I could "graduate." I didn't care about "graduating" as much as I did putting the whole weekly Tuesday swim lesson thing to rest.

It took WEEKS before I would even climb the steps to peer over that dreaded plank. Finally, my teacher (probably equally exhausted by this routine of resistance we had going on) looked at me and said, "Abigail, it's okay! It's okay. I'll lower you into the water!" I probably should have rolled my eyes and immediately called her bluff, but I think I saw her offer as a way out. What if she could lower me that impossible few feet to graduation? I started trudging up the steps trepidatiously, my heart pounding in my throat. I tried not to look down, but I also didn't want to trip over my big feet. It felt like the plank was shaking as much as my hands, and I could have sworn it was getting longer and longer. I reached the end and gripped the edge with my toes, simultaneously squeezing my eyes shut as if I could float away from this place on the boat of my mind. She put her hands under my arms, and I remember her counting:

"One, two...." 

Before I had time to think or cry or scream for help, she shoved me off the edge and into the water below. So much for our agreement. I panicked, floundering in the water and trying to figure out which way was up. I still am not totally clear on how I made my way to the surface, but I eventually choked and sputtered and doggy paddled my way to the side...and to graduation.

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Perhaps courage would have been marching up those steps and throwing myself over the edge. But when I look back on the life I have lived thus far, I think more often than not courage has looked like a bribe and quick shove into the water below. Courage that cries and shudders and climbs those stairs anyway? Courage that leans into the arms beneath you even if you can't be totally sure they will catch you on the other end? I find that kind of bravery to be the most magnificent of all. And so today, my friend, if the best you can do is lean into the shove? Bravo.

Your courage is beautiful, and I am so thankful we can flounder in the deep end together.