We started bringing our oldest son, Samuel, to the pool when he was ten months old. He loved the water so much that by 12 months I was approached by a man at a hotel pool we were at asking for Sam's name. He said that when Samuel was swimming for gold at the Olympics he wanted to be able to say that he knew him. Samuel loves the water, he always has, but at seven years old now, he still can't swim.
You see, Samuel has a different way of looking at the world; much different than most kids his age. From a distance he looks and acts just like a typical kid, but inside his brain works very differently. He sees things that most people don't; he captures pictures in his head and they stay there...forever...he's got files and files of them up in his brain. He is academically brilliant (in my opinion), but in many ways socially lacking. He has a label that works in his favor in the public school system, but at home he's just Sam...my perfect, amazing, loving, intelligent son. There is nothing about him I would change; not even for an instant.
One of Sam's quirks is that he sees the world in black and white; shades of gray do not exist to him. When he sees a commercial on TV saying Lysol is better than Clorox, he believes it whole-heartedly, and there we are on the way to the store to replace all of my Clorox products with Lysol. He is very literal, and when he decides something in his head, it's nearly impossible to convince him that he might be wrong.
So, you ask...What does this all have to do with swimming?
Samuel has no fear of the water; he never has. He jumps in without thinking, emerges under the water and truly believes he can breathe...under water. For years, we have tried lessons; for years, he has gotten time outs on the side of the pool. For years, my heart has leapt into my throat as I dash to the pool believing he is drowning while his instructor is focused on another student. Each year I say I won't do it again; each year I say we'll find something else he loves, but each year we are back at the pool with his head underwater and my heart in my throat.
This summer as I watch him during his lessons I am a bit more relaxed. He's maturing and with that comes a bit of understanding, but moreover I see that although he still takes in mouthfuls of water, every so often he's learning to come up for air. It's a slow process, but somewhere in his complicated brain I think it's sinking in that's he's not a fish.
As I watched him this afternoon, unafraid, jumping full on into the water, extending his "ice cream scoop" hands, not coming up for air for what seemed like forever....I got this picture of how Jesus must look at us. My love for Samuel and my desire to protect him is so intense, but I imagine Jesus' love and protection for me must be so much more intense. I thought about myself swimming through life in this world so corrupted by sin, and I imagined Jesus in heaven looking down, loving me so much it hurts, letting me go into the water full on, holding his breath until the moment I come up for air, breathing in His sweet love, grace, hope, and forgiveness.
If we have no fear of the water, or fear of our surroundings, or of sin that so easily creeps in, then we dive in head first and start to drown. If we understand that we are strangers in the water, not natives, not fish, then we know we need the air; we swim in the world, but as believers we are not of this world...Jesus is our air.
I wonder sometimes if Sam's unique mind understands my love for him; I wonder if he can comprehend that I'm there watching over him, making sure he doesn't drown because as his mommy I couldn't be anywhere else. I wonder sometimes if I understand my heavenly Father's love for me; I wonder if I can comprehend that He's there watching over me, making sure I don't drown because as my Father, He couldn't be anywhere else.
Samuel loves the water, he loves to feel it and to breathe it in, but water is not made to feel welcome in his lungs. I love my life, my family and friends, but this world is not what fills me, it's not what I breathe in; it is temporary, and I was made for eternity. Just like Samuel will come to learn that he is not a fish, I have learned that while I swim here, I'm not from here, and when I start to breath in the water, my Father's hand reaches down and rescues me.
"I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you." Isaiah 46:4
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