I Too Have Cowered Before the Storm

I watched her stand, pink toes painted to the ledge, her portrait peering into the clear water below. Her teacher was a mere wingspan from her reach; still, she did not jump. A storm of fear brewed behind her sky-blue eyes. From my seat along the outskirts of the pool, I felt the winds pick up and almost heard the words their known to whisper, “it is safer to attach yourself to a seemingly immovable object than catapult yourself into the ever-moving, ever-changing state below.”

I know this fear; I too have cowered before the storm.

I wrestle daily with knowing how to fight against these storms of fear, let alone how to teach my daughter to do the same. If only it required making one decision, rather than a million. If only I could by-pass the storm, rather than wade out into it.

I snuggle close, one night, while tucking in her growing frame and whisper, “why don’t you jump?”

I watch her hopeful eyes turn dark; I’ve brought the storm back into view.

A rockslide of reasons tumbles from her mouth, “it’s deep, it’s far, I can’t… And what if I do and don’t pop up, what then?”

I’m left wiping tears with one hand and sifting through the rubble with the other, separating truth from lies.

After a long pause, I do my best to wield my words against the rough stones that I’ve gathered. If only I could reveal to her the precious gems stones hidden from her view.

With nothing left to do or say, I enter into the existence that taxes every parent’s patience and chips away at our resolve.

The waiting.

The waiting between the planting of a seed and it, finally, taking root.

Five weeks later, I watch her stand on the very same ledge as a different girl. The barometer has shifted. She’s walked out into this storm and before another has a chance to brew—she jumps!

I watch, exhilarated by her rash of brave.

I’m beyond proud, but not because she jumped; I’m proud because she learned the truth about this fear—it wouldn’t necessarily keep her safe, it would merely keep her there.

Fear stands in the way of progression.

Fear stands in the way of transformation.

The prophet Isaiah trumpets time and time again, “fear not,” is this why?

Not because the storm isn’t real,

or the obstacle isn’t high,

or the risk isn’t great.

Fear not, because the God who promised to be with you is doing something in the storm, through the obstacle, with all-knowing knowledge of the risk—He is transforming you.