It was the end of week two at swimming lessons. Her stomach flip flopped under her pink polka dot swimming suit. All the kids around her were chatting and giggling excitedly. Today was the big day. And while everyone else couldn’t seem to wait for the grand finale, she couldn’t stop shaking. She knew it was inevitable. The diving board. And deep down she knew she would survive. But that didn’t keep her bottom lip from quivering.
At six years old, she was not afraid of much. She was fun and feisty and loved life and the sweet freckles on her face seemed to illustrate that. But this day was not like all the other days…
One by one the kids jumped into the shallow end, splashing and laughing. All but one. She stood at the edge, toes curled, fingers twisting in her hair. The shallow end did not frighten her; it was knowing what would soon be taking place.
Her instructor seemed to pick up on her hesitation. He was a kind and gentle, but strong man and she trusted him completely. He reached up out of the pool to take her small hand and help her in. His able hands made her feel safe, if just for the moment.
The children performed all that the instructor had taught them. For six year olds, they did a pretty good job. Little bodies moving in the water – some gently gliding and some frantically flailing. She was normally a glider, relaxed and enjoying her swim time. But that was because she had always stayed in the shallow water. Her feet could touch the bottom of the pool and she felt safe and in control. This afternoon was different and she felt as if she was fighting the water and couldn’t truly catch her breath. Her instructor came over, encouraging her and placing his hand on her back to reassure her. And for another moment she felt strong and secure.
The time came to head to the deeper water. It wasn’t the coolness of the water that made her chin wobble uncontrollably. She tried to be brave and not give in to the tears that were threatening to spill onto her chubby pink cheeks. She held on to the side of the pool as they, single file, wiggled to the deep end. The silly giggles did nothing to relieve her growing panic. Everything in her wanted to quietly crawl out of the pool and run and hide in the locker room. She would be willing to live with the chiding of her peers. She was that scared. But again her sweet instructor saw her pained look and came and said quietly to her, ” You are doing great. And I am right here.” And for another brief instant she was relieved.
As names were called, each child ventured toward the diving board. As she stood and watched, she desperately wished to just disappear. Everybody’s first try allowed them to use a long metal pole with their jump. The instructor, in the water, would hold one end. The child on the diving board held the other. The kids each took a turn holding the pole and jumping in. She got up to take her turn. Her knees shook horribly. She shivered with cold and fear. But she still had a pole to hold on to. And hold on she did. Her knuckles were white as she clung to the pole with all her might. She saw the smiling face of her instructor and again she felt that she just might be okay. She summoned all her courage and jumped into the water. She was able to keep her head above water as her teacher pulled her in. She had done it! And survived.
She got in line again, excited about her brave act. And for the first time that day, her toothless grin showed. And then she looked at the diving board again. This time there would be no pole. Her smile quickly faded. To pass the class, she would have to jump with no help. The reality of that fact settled in and the pit in her tummy returned.
She was unaware of the children as they jumped. She had no idea if they were enjoying it or scared out of their minds. All she could hear was the fear pounding in her ears. And then she heard her name called. It wasn’t too late to back out. She could still make a mad dash to the locker room. She could take the class all over again. She could stay in the shallow water. But something in her pushed her forward. Her wet, shaking legs climbed the ladder to the diving board. As she got to the top, the board seemed to be especially wiggly and she felt weak with dread. Slowly she made her way to the end of the board. She looked down at the water below and the tears that had been stinging her eyes made their way down her face. She knew she couldn’t do it. But then she heard the familiar voice of her instructor. He still smiled in the water beneath her. He looked into her eyes and said, “I’m right here. I will catch you just like I always have. You have to trust me. I’m not going anywhere.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and grabbed her button nose with her thumb and forefinger. She took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks, and closed her eyes. The fear was still there, but her instructor’s voice was louder than the pounding in her ears. And she trusted. And she jumped. As she fell in the air, she felt a strange combination of terror and elation. She hit the water hard. This time she couldn’t keep her head above the surface. She sucked in some water. Where was her instructor? Why was she still under the water? Her lungs began to burn and the panic threatened to return. She began beating her small arms and legs against the pull of the water. Where was he? He promised he would be there and yet she was sinking. And then she felt it. The familiar touch of those able and gentle and strong hands pulling her close to himself.
As she came up out of the water, she sputtered and gasped and wiped her red curls from her eyes. Her vision cleared and the first thing she saw was the smiling face of her instructor. And she realized that he had been there the whole time. He had never taken his eyes off of her and knew exactly when to pull her up. She had faced her fear and come out on the other side. The trust outweighed the fear and allowed her to jump. And she smiled and squeezed the hand that had been there all along.
