Drowning Practice

Have you ever taught a child to swim?

I have attempted it.

I also recall taking swimming lessons at the "Y" various times growing up.  That summer when I was in kindergarten, and then the mandatory 4th-grade swim sessions.  In the winter.  Our hair froze into icicles on the return trip to school every day.

When we moved four years ago, it was with joyous anticipation that each summer would be spent swimming in our above-ground pool.  We would have a blast!  I would teach each of the children to swim, being proficient in the art of swimming myself, I thought it would be a piece of cake.

This is the first summer that Shop Girl and Hulk Boy are just barely tall enough to reach the bottom of the pool on tiptoes while stretching their necks as far as they can to breathe in air.  Almost 4 feet tall, tipping their faces just above the surface for oxygen.  They have informed me they don't need floaties anymore.

I have tried to teach them a few swim strokes, but they have made up their minds.

Instead, I've observed that they'd rather just drown for moments at a time and figure this swimming thing out themselves.  I call this "drowning practice."

I follow inches behind Hulk Boy blub-blubbing under the water, ready to save him at the first hollered "Help!"  When he does, I lift him above the water for a few minutes to get his breath, then he's ready to go again.  He thrashes his arms and legs in the water and takes gasps of air when he is able to propel himself above the surface.  I watch him struggle, wondering why he chooses this way.

After several rounds of this silly (to me) swimming lesson, I began to wonder.  Is this what we look like to God?  He offers to help us through our lives, to guide us, to make our paths straight, but we insist on doing it ourselves.

We blub blub through the deep waters of life, calling "Help" only when we are in dire need of assistance.  Do we look as foolish to God as my son looked to me that day?

And then I reminded myself - as foolish as we look at times, God is right there, ready to save.  At the first "Help," he lifts us out of the muck and mire, to breathe and rest and be restored.

I wonder what life would be like if I submitted to his offer to train me in the way I should go, just like swimming lessons would be beneficial for my kids.

I would worry less.  I would trust more.  And I think I would have peace.


Why do I insist on doing life myself?

I learn this lesson over and over, just like my blub-blubbing five-year old.

I'm glad God is patient.