Problem is, I've just never been a very good swimmer.
I have friends, half-mermaid I swear, who's favorite most relaxing place to be is floating in a pool. Grace filled strokes cascading them along, rhythmic almost indiscernible ripples calmly framing their serenity.
There's just a little bit of panic the whole time. An edge of foreboding that at any moment my limbs, (which although sufficiently capable if I'm on a run, mysteriously rendered awkward and flimsy the moment they're submersed in water) could give out at any second.
Seriously, despite many a swim lesson, my doggie paddle is just enough to keep my head above water, and not comfortably or confidently. A knot in my gut, a constant awareness of the distance to the ledge.
I don't drown. I can swim.
But it's far from effortless and thereby not quite into the realms of enjoyment.
Their is too much fear, born of doubt.
Doubt of my skills and my strength. Strength to keep going--
which in the middle of a pool isn't really an option.
So I just keep swimming.
Why am I sharing this embarrassing tidbit of my aquatic limitations?
Because today, I sat at the edge of the pool watching Aaron at his swim lessons.
That all too familiar, debilitating panic in his eyes.
A distrust of of his own capabilities.
And I suddenly thought that's how I feel.
Just on the verge of drowning.
Frantically kicking, arms aching and getting nowhere.
Enough to keep my head above water.
Enough anxiety to keep me treading.
Afraid to stop. Sure I will sink.
Jealous of those that seem to be floating along, smoothly, with ease.
Closing their eyes, taking it all in, instead of paddling like a maniac.
I'm mostly tired. As always.
I feel strong and sure in some areas.
More confident in my arms ability to hold a downward dog than a forward crawl.
My legs run without concentration but kicking through chlorine overwhelm them.
Teach a lesson? sure. Try and delegate or organize anything? inevitable disaster.
Think and write about being a mother? sure. Actual do it? some moments are better than others. The failures always threatening to crowd out the triumphs.
New areas of growth, calling on unsure, and unused muscles, that ache in their frail youngness. Infantile. Beginner. And for now weak.
Just keep swimming.
Dory makes it sound so easy.
I do know one thing.
The water of life is not going to shallow anytime soon.
I can not sit in the kiddie pool of experience and convince myself I'm a swimmer
when I'm only blowing bubbles.
I have to keep swimming. Take a deep breath and put my head under.
Trust I will surface. Maybe even surprise myself with how far I've come from where I dove.
I'm gonna get mighty tired trying to doggy-paddle life.
I need to submerge into the depths, and forget about the ledge. I don't need it.
Just keep swimming.
I watch Aaron and I know he can do it. I also know that if he started to sink, I'd catch him.
I'm right there.
How quickly I forget and think I have to do it on my own.
How soon I doubt and fear and take my eyes of the Lord.
Ha! I don't even have to swim! I can just walk on water! Sweet!
The moment I heard this quote from Pres. Monson I knew it was one I'd have to remember.
One worth repeating everyday.
Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, "I'll try again tomorrow."So tomorrow, friends, I will just keep trying.
And just keep swimming.