I watch him for a while as he swings across the pool from one dangling ring to the next. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, soaring over the water like a gymnast. “I’m going to try that,” I announce to my husband, heaving myself out of the water. “I’m going to try those ring things.”
“Really? I think it’s a lot harder than it looks,” Brad says.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to try it anyway,” I say, striding toward the line.
No matter that I have arms like silly string. No matter that I can muster a total of six man-style push-ups. I will master the rings. I will soar from ring to ring across the pool like Jane of the Jungle.
I get in line, shivering behind six beefy-armed men. The fact that there are no other women in the line gives me slight pause. The one man I’d watched earlier continues to glide over the water each time his turn comes, grabbing and releasing the rings in a graceful rhythm. I keep my eye on him, studying his technique, watching his timing.
When it’s finally my turn, I wipe my hands on my bare legs and grab the ring with my right hand. And then I take a giant step back and leap off the edge of the concrete.
I don’t even make it to the second ring. Instead, I swing forward, paw at the air with my left hand, miss the second ring entirely and then swing back again. I neglect to let go of the ring in time. My body hits the concrete wall, and I slide like a dead fish into the cold water.
I come up sputtering, a crowd of onlookers peering over the side of the pool, calling down, “Are you okay?” One guy simply says, “Whoa.”
Noah still talks about “the time Mommy hit the pool wall and fell into the water with everyone watching.” I shudder when I think what I must have looked like, flailing gawkily in my tankini, my body smacking the wall like a side of beef on a hook.
Still, I don’t regret trying the Tarzan rings. Despite my damaged ego, I’m glad I gave it my best shot.
I’ve leaped a lot in my life, especially in recent years. I leaped into moving to Nebraska (okay, maybe we call that one “was dragged against her will”). I leaped into faith. I leaped into writing. Most recently I’ve leaped into public speaking. At some point in the midst of all these leaps, I’ve smacked into a wall – a wall of disappointments, doubts, failures, frustrations and fear.
Leaping is scary. Yet I also believe that despite the risks and the fear, it’s necessary. Because if you don’t ever leap, you won’t ever know what could have been. And what could have been might have made all the difference.
For me, leaping has made the difference between unbelief and faith. It’s made the difference between living passively and living passionately. It’s made the difference between existing comfortably in the box and thriving in the wild open.
It’s true, sometimes when you leap you fall; sometimes you smack hard into a wall and get the wind knocked clean out of you. But sometimes you soar. You may not realize it in the moment, but in leaping you are soaring into the start of something new, something beautiful and life-changing and good.
It all begins with the leap.
Tell me, what leap has made the biggest difference in your life?
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This story ran last Saturday in the Lincoln Journal Star.
{and I know I’ve used this picture of Rowan leaping into a Minnesota lake a bunch of times on this blog, but I can’t help myself – it’s such a great picture, and that kid is absolutely fearless!}
I could see myself in your blog. I want to be brave, but I’m actually often not that graceful. I would have hit the wall too! I am most thankful that I made the leap of faith into marriage. Relationships are tough. In love and forgiveness we grow, we change, we meld, we fear, we choose faith, and we keep on swimming. Day after day…even if we did smack a wall or fall of a ring here and there. 😉
Marriage is a leap, I totally agree, Jennifer — in fact, it’s a series of leaps as you grown and learn together. So many ups and downs, so many moments to be forgiven and to forgive.
Thanks for contributing a bit of your story here today.
You know I have followed you for a while, Michelle, and I love your writing but now and then God uses a blogger I follow to speak to me day after day for a season and tag…you are it! We are leaping, right now, and it’s scary but we are leaping straight into a deeper faith, a stronger trust and a new adventure. I’m sorry about the experience you had but I would have paid to see that 😉
Praying as you leap, Gaby. I’m so glad God is speaking clearly to you through the words he puts in my heart. I love when that happens.
We crack up over the pool rings story now – so humiliating, but so funny (in retrospect).
Oh that glorious leap of faith really does make all the difference in how we experience life. Thank you for sharing, and I love that picture,, it’s timeless!
Hugs,
Kelly
I think this is my absolute favorite picture of Rowan – it so captures who he is!
Thanks for stopping by, Kelly.
” … my body smacking the wall like a side of beef on a hook.”
Not only are you a smart cookie, you are a very, very funny one. I am laughing out loud here, and also nodding my head over the truth of this post, … what it means to take a few trusting leaps in this life.
Every time I think of this story that’s the image that flashes through my mind: a half a cow, swinging by on a meet hook and thwapping into a concrete wall. Sheesh. Only me.
(and thanks for the Tweet love, Jennifer!)
Oh mylanta! I can just picture it…primarily because I’ve done a similar thing!
When I came out of the water, my mom asked if I was okay and then said, “Never let fear grip you. You can always wipe yourself off. But fear is sticky…”
I was 12 and had no clue what she was talking about. but I do now…
Wow, I love love love what your mom said – so true: fear IS sticky!
Great reminder! “despite the risks and the fear, it’s necessary. ” It sure is!
Thanks for coming by, Eileen.
There’ve been others, but the leap that’s still sticking to me is the one from that platform in Nebraska… It really made an impression. Oh, and then there’s this memoir class I leaped into. I’m still swinging on those rings with no clue as to how it will turn out or if or how hard I’ll get smacked down.
You are one leaping woman, Sandra – I admire your tenacity and your willingness to try something new and scary!
Great story. The leap that made the biggest difference in my life has to be moving to Paraguay, South America as independent missionaries. We don’t have a team. We don’t belong to a mission organization. We felt the call and moved. We have smacked hard at times but God has sustained us.
Wow, Ken, that is awesome. I am inspired by your obedience and your willing to follow the call, even when you couldn’t see all the details worked out yet. Blessings to you as your continue your ministry there.
Scrolling through The High Calling blogger posts, I stumbled across this. And though I read this earlier, today it hit me to read the words “living passively” versus “living passionately” and I am thankful your words minister to many. Today they are food for my soul and girding against the fear I feel daily. Thanks, Michelle.
Thanks, Nasreen. I know we all feel the fear, but I am shocked, actually, to hear you admit to it. I admire your assuredness and your ability to take control of a situation with a level head and a kind heart. I think I sometimes assume, “Well, THAT person doesn’t get gripped with fear like I do,” so it’s a comfort to know that you, too, get stymied by it.
So glad you stopped by today …
That is one brave boy (and mama for taking the plunge), and one great pic.
I realized while reading your post that I surely do quantify the leaps by saying, “I’ll go ‘here’, but not ‘there’, Lord. Don’t make me jump. Noooo!” Sometimes I have to be pushed off the ledge!
Loved your post.
First of all Michelle. I love the photo. What fun. I said aloud “ouch” when reading this. wow, that must of hurt, physically and ego wise. ouch.
Your post reminded me of my favorite Henri Nouwen story about the trapeze artist. You have to let go to catch the Catcher. I think I posted on that a while back and may have to dig that story back out for my blog. it is a great illustration of leaping. Keep leaping!
Side of beef on a hook?! Well, I know you are a marvelous “show-don’t-tell” author, but I simply could not pciture this. You are so lovely, Michelle, that this metaphor was just not in my imagination bank where you are concerned (even though it was a lot of fun to try)! You’re so svelte and lovely. That said, I did rather enjoy picturing you flying through air, because it is a bit of a disconcerting posture in which I have found myself–this leaping with abandon adventure–and disconcertion loves company. In fact, LEAPING is exactly what I told people I was doing after I left a full-time career to raise our daughter. That was twenty years ago, and while it was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, it was one of the most exhilarating. Has it made a difference? Well….I obeyed God, which pleases Him; I leaned on Him as never before; He and I grew closer than ever before, because I was completely dependent on Him; I had more time to spend in His Word and prayer; I never knew how much joy one small girl could bring; my capacity for love grew; my self-centeredness decreased; God birthed new dreams in me to become an author and speaker. Oh my! I could go on and on and on. Leaping has a way of stretching us and building our faith….especially when we come to realize that we are leaping over a safety net called God. He will never fail us, and underneath are His everlasting arms to catch and to carry us. Wonderful post, my lovely leaping sister in Christ! Keep leaping, but watch out for those walls, okay?
Love
Lynn
If we don’t take those leaps in life, we will never grow into the people God created us to be. I think one of my greatest “leaps” was when I decided one summer that “this was it.” I’d talked for years about wanting to write, wanting the time to write. Well, here is was, the beginning of a summer vacation, I had the time, and I was determined to take the plunge. I didn’t know where this would lead, or whether I’d see it to completion, or whether or not it would be good. I just knew it was time to put up or shut up.
It was a leap which changed my life, all for the better!
May all your leaps bless your life, Michelle!
Hahahahaha… I’m not laughing with you, I’m laughing at you.
Okay, that came out wrong.
You know, I love you. And your writing so much. This is definitely being shared at my place this weekend.
Thank you for always being honest.
Don’t we learn some of life’s biggest lessons from trying and failing? (The key being to get back up!)
I smiled as I read this, and then I winced as I thought of me in your shoes. leaps are frightening, but the landing is breathtaking.
oh, how I have missed being in your place, sweet one. honoured am I to call you friend. <3
I do love this post. It causes my heart to want to take risks, to fly into the great unknown, to finally quit playing safe.
If I break a leg, I’m sending the bill to you ! 🙂
I say go for it, David – I’ll pay the bill … promise. I want to see you FLY!
Just what I need to read today….I feel like I am starting over….letting go and being ready to take risks again….learning to leap… And remembering….when I leap…He hold me….even when we smack the wall 🙂
I wanna see the picture of you hitting the wall…sorry. Thanks for this reminder, I’ve spent a life-a-leaping and figuring out how I’d land while I was falling. Now, lately however, I’ve gotten more cautious, maybe too much so. This was a good reminder to never stop taking leaps of faith
One needs to redefine success and failure. There can be no failure on a soul level, whuvh I’d which really matters, in pursuing ones higher aspirations regardless of outcome, yet oh how onecan fail in not!
You know I’m a leaper too 🙂 .. I’m still grateful you let me use your photo when I announced my big leap!
The photo is priceless and I see your post was published in Nebraska so that must have been a pretty good move after all. 🙂 I love to take leaps/risks too. Something they say about “going out on the limb for that is where the fruit is”. My leap into old age, ah yes, is to fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming an artist. I used to say I wanted to be an artist and other non-committal statements like that. Now I just take a deep breath and jump in: “I am an artist.”