Episode 6: Diving into Danger

One summer, I spent fourteen years in the shallow end of our local pool, begging Jonah to leap into my arms.  My hands, outstretched as if I were engrossed in ecstatic worship, yelling “Jump!” 

Of course, Jonah was encased in all manner of flotation equipment. More, in fact, than I’d seen until I myself became a parent. 

And Jonah never did jump in my arms. One day, my arms got too tired, and I walked out of the water, knuckles dragging the concrete pool deck. Sunday strolled in, and five seconds later, Jonah jumped.

Why is that? Maybe it’s because I’m the parent who introduces scary situations in my children’s lives?  Scary car trips. Scary movies. Scary fashion choices, all of it.

So, when Emma was about five years old, we went on a trip to the Dominican Republic. We took an afternoon jaunt to see a natural pool of water, a lagoon I think they called it.  The water was so clear, you really couldn’t tell how deep it was. 

Off to the side, though, someone had erected a platform so you could jump off into the water.

So…I remembered the previous summer with Jonah, grabbed Emma’s little hand, and led her to the highest point, about 10 feet off the water.  Her little toes went very close to the edge, and she peered down to Sunday, who seemed to be swimming way, way, way down below. 

And there Emma stood. 

The in between. 

The liminal space.

On the doorstep of summer water glory.

Oh yes, the story of Jonah’s reticence to jump in the water was clear in my mind, and I just didn’t think it through. I gave her about three looks over the edge before I established a standard in the house:  I ain’t waiting until you feel good about this.

I picked her up by her scrawny arms, and I tossed her into the water.

Now, if you’re thinking that everyone swimming in that pool thought I made terrible decisions, you’d be right.  My mother-in-law, my wife, the strangers who led us to the pool, people who lived in the area, Jonah, all of them. 

I took that sweet little girl and just threw her off the platform. Unbelievable.  They acted like I threw Emma overhand.

You know, really, the one person who didn’t mind so much? Emma. 

She popped up like a cork and begged me to take her up to the platform again.

Some scary stuff is just scary.  Not dangerous, just scary.  Sometimes, it takes courage to recognize the difference.

Emma, that girl, she has experience with scary stuff.