Climbing the ladder, eyes wide, heart pumping — dressed in a real cute pink floral tankini — I reached the top.
In all my 47 seven years, I have never never never dove off the high dive. Jumped, yes. Head first, no. This day I decided to face my fear. My fear? I’d rotate on the way down, land flat on my back, and die.
Okay, not die. But hurt bad, real bad, from the sting and from embarrassment.
On my lounge chair lay Max Lucado’s newest book Fearless, Imagine Your Life Without Fear. No doubt this was my prompt to climb the ladder.
I hate to confess this — though I know confession soothes the soul — because I want to hold on to the false belief I have it all together. (How stupid is that?) The truth: This economy has rocked me. I’ve taken my eyes off Jesus. I applied for Medicaid. I awake many nights at 12:01. Always 12:01.
The solution was obvious. Take a dive, face my fear. Thanks, Lucado for the encouragement.
In typical Lucado style — alliteration, rhymes, anecdotes — he wrote Fearless at the height of fear in our nation. I recommend it with a caveat. For his poetic statements to stick, make the time to seriously answers the questions in the discussion guide at the end of the book.
As I toed the edge of the diving board, I looked down and wasn’t afraid. The water actually looked close. I bent my knees, stretched my arms overhead, and dove.
A new problem: My bottoms slid.
As I kicked my way to the surface while yanking up my bottoms, exhilaration filled me. I hit the air, breathed deep and knew my fears had shrunk.
