Sink or Swim

I'm not much of a swimmer. I used to be when I was a kid. Not the greatest even then, but I used to swim. I think I might have even certified in swimming, if there is such a thing.

Somewhere between elementary or junior high, however, I decided that I did not like swimming and never wanted to swim again. I don't know why. It might have been because of a bad experience. I don't remember. Maybe it was just a poor attempt to claim that I am growing up and no longer like swimming, if there is such a strange connection between swimming and not growing up. Most likely, I just no longer fit my swim suit and did not want to go in search for another.

It has been YEARS since I have been swimming. When my sister invited me to come and visit her in Arizona, she said it was unacceptable to not swim. She would toss me in the pool if it came to it. Upon hearing that, I decided that I would either have to sink or swim.

I chose to swim.

My other sister and I went on a quest to find the perfect swim suit. Amazingly enough, we found one. (I say that glibly, but it really was quite a quest.) When I got to Arizona, my sister and her husband called to me to go swimming with them. I put on my swim suit, put on some sun screen and headed to the pool. My sister handed me a floaty, and I got in the pool.

And I swam. I liked it, once I got in there. Also, believe it or not, I jumped off the diving board--- more than once! And shhhh... I even let go of the floaty a couple times. I wouldn't say that I am the best swimmer in the world, but at least I like swimming again. At least I got in the water and tried.

I think going to Australia will be like this. I will have to choose to "sink or swim" when I get there. I'm not saying that I am literally going to have to swim when I get there. (In fact, quite oppositly. I don't expect to go swimming at all.) But I am saying that I am going to need a little courage to be a missionary in Australia. There will be a choice to either chicken out and fail, or be brave and succeed. I choose the latter.

I know why the chicken crossed the road

He wanted to be brave. He was tired of of being the chicken, staying on the safe side. He wanted to... well, get to the other side.

I want to get to the other side. It's scary, crossing the road. There are cars. I could get run over. And I'm not really sure what is on the other side. No one ever tells you what is on the other side. What if I don't like it? I guess that is one reason why crossing the road is so risky.

I use to think, What a waste of time...for the chicken to cross the road! He had such a great life, and he was doing fine on his side. Why change that? Why cross the road? The other side can't be much better. But now--- I don't know--- I think it was brave of him. He dared to see things in a different way.

I've often, by the way, compared myself to a turtle. I wrote a poem about it once. I wonder if I can find it... hmmm... I don't think it was that good. Anyhow, I'm like a turtle because I move at my own pace. I'm stubborn, but steady. I carry my home on my back (I take home where ever I go--- Refer to the "Something I learned" blog) and I like to hide, especially when people pester me about my speed or want me to do something I'm afraid to do.

I don't dislike being a turtle. Life as a turtle has it's pluses: I'm happy being myself; I don't have to take risks; and I have a steady pace that gets me places. But my best friend made a really good point the other day. We were talking about my courage-- my lack thereof--- and she and I became concerned. People who are alone can get lonely.

I love living alone. I love being alone. I like reading, singing, dancing, eating, sleeping, napping, working, driving, writing---- alone. I'm comfortable with myself. And I don't get lonely. But someday I could. I don't want to be alone forever. I am a hopeless romantic and I don't want to be alone forever. I could see myself in love, if I found the right guy.

Besides, I gotta learn to be brave. I'm going on a mission. There isn't going to be time to "chicken" out, or hide in my turtle shell from challenges that scare me.

So, I commend the chicken that crossed the road. He was brave. Now, can a turtle cross the road?

Here's my proposal. I want to do something brave each week. I'm going to build up to once a week, actually. For now, I'm going to do two brave things before the month is out. Sounds like a good thing, right? But I don't know what kind of brave things to do. Ideas, anyone?