I never learned how to do a dive properly. I told myself I couldn’t. I wasn’t brave enough. I wasn’t graceful enough.
One summer when I was young, my next door neighbor tried to teach me how to dive. I would watch her closely, trying to memorize her form. Arms arched gracely above her head, fingers overlapping. Body curved, head down, she gripped the edge of the pool with her toes. With hardly a splash, she entered the water and surfaced with a smile, inviting me to follow her lead. That summer I mastered the cannon ball and belly flop, but I never learned how to do a proper dive. It just wasn’t in me.
Sometimes I’m the same way about my life. I watch from the shallow end where I sit with my legs dangling in the water. Close enough to feel the splash from those who dared to go deeper, but not part of the pool party.
But some days I’m different. Maybe now that I’m in my forties I’m finally becoming more comfortable with who I am. Maybe I’m not as afraid of mistakes or messiness or even failure as I was when life seemed more like a perfect piece of white paper I was afraid I would mess up with my childish scribblings.
Lately I’ve been bolder. I used to wait until someone gave me permission or at least invited me to try something new. But on a few occasions, I’ve been the one to offer my services. I am starting to trust myself to know what might be in me better than others. Life’s too short not to try the things that scare me. I don’t want to wonder what might have happened if I knocked on few doors rather than wait for someone to open them all for me. I’m learning to trust I have more of God inside of me than I’ve allowed the world to see.
Today I’m participating in Five Minute Friday with THE GYPSY MAMA. On Fridays, Lisa-Jo offers a prompt and participants write for five minutes without editing or worrying that every word is perfect and every sentence grammatically correct. Take a look at what she and other bloggers did with today’s prompt.