The Killjoy

Today I was "That Mom". You know the kind. The one who shows up when everyone is having a really fun time, and ruins it. The one who sees slightly potential danger and freaks out, stopping everything enjoyable and looks like a major killjoy. Yeah, that was me today.

My father in law is here, and this afternoon, he and Andrew took the girls swimming. I assumed this to mean "with a flotation device" for the two year old (FOR THE TWO YEAR OLD!!!), but I was wrong. I arrived on the scene with sandwiches and quickly came close to a nervous breakdown. My adrenals are shot, so it doesn't take much to push me over the edge, but to my Mom-eyes, I was witnessing my child drown.

I saw little Emma, hurling herself from the step towards my FIL and Andrew, and staying under far too long for my comfort. Without waiting, I began yelling "Grab her! Pull her up!!!", as if they hadn't been doing this for at least a good 10 minutes before I arrived. But seriously y'all, if ever there were a pearl clutching moment, this was it. I contemplated diving in to get her, but the menfolk were RIGHT THERE. Why weren't they moving?! GET MY CHILD UP INTO THE FRESH AIR!!! NOW!!!

But they waited. I could feel my adrenaline shooting through the roof, even though I could see her kicking her legs and quickly rising to the surface. They could have pulled her up because she was right in front of them, but they didn't. They waited much longer that I would have, and let her work it out before helping her.

Even after she burst to the top with her pursed lips becoming an enormous smile (she had obviously mastered holding her breath under water), I was still in a panic. How could they not be holding onto her at ALL TIMES?! How could they let her get in without her puddle jumpers?! This was madness!!! But then Andrew asked me to watch again.

I was fairly certain a second time would do me in, but I watched once more as my FIL put her legs behind her and pushed her towards Andrew. What I saw this time was that she held her breath, was propelling herself with her feet, and was actually learning how to swim. Her face got towards the surface, and when she hovered for just a bit, Andrew reached and pulled her up. She took a big gasp of air, and she was beaming. She was doing it. Go figure.

Since my pool-panic, this scene has been haunting me all day long. My little girl in the water, seeming to be struggling, with her Papa right there. He could pull her up at a moment's notice, but he waits. His goal isn't to keep her head above water the whole time, but to teach her how to swim. He's right there after all, so she isn't going to drown, but he is patient to rescue her, so she can get in those crucial seconds that will teach her a lifesaving skill. What an irony that she has to be under the water for a bit before she can learn how not to drown.

This resonates with me so deeply at this point in my journey. I feel so much like a little girl out in the middle of a big, deep pool, learning to swim. If only I could be done with this lesson and just swim already! None of this flailing my legs, kicking for the surface that seems so far away. No more burning of my eyes and lungs while I wait to break the surface. I'm exhausted. But I know my Father is right here with me. He knows precisely how long I can hold my breath, and is more than capable of pulling me up at the right time. Why would I ever doubt Him? He's teaching me something greater than just treading water, or holding my breath. There is a greater end to this season of life, more than what my little mind can comprehend right now. It's for a beautifully bigger purpose. If I'll just keep at it. And I will, because I know He is with me.