Call Me Ishmael, or The Doggy Paddle

When I was young my mom provided all four of us girls with swimming lessons.  I actually remember them.  But for whatever reason none of us learned to swim.  We were excellent doggy paddlers!  Without drowning, we swam in Aunt Suzie's pool every Summer--in the deep end! So I never understood why my mom would freak out when I was 16 For Crying Out Loud, going to the lake with a boyfriend.  She'd call after us, "Make her wear a life jacket!  SHE CAN'T SWIM!!!"  Oh, I was so embarrassed.
I understand the Mom Freak Out much better now.  I've had more than one scary water experience with my own babies.  And I also understand wanting to make my 16 year old my baby again.  Dadgum.  I want to do that every day and they're only 4, 6, and 8!

But the doggy paddle works.  I've never drowned. And I've never been afraid of the water, because I knew I wouldn't drown.  I wasn't afraid.  I knew I couldn't tempt the current of the ocean and expect to come out on top.  I knew I couldn't dive gracefully into a pool of water and swim seamlessly from one end to the next.  But I knew I could keep myself up.  Whatever the case, wherever I may be, I would survive.  It would take Moby Dick himself to take me down.  I'd keep my head up where the air is, and I'd survive.

My life is water these days.  I want to be in it.  Oh, it is so much fun to be in it!  No matter the sunscreen and waiting 30 minutes after you eat--I want to be in the water!  You can jump in feet first and feel your body softly plunge to the bottom.  You can stream up, feeling the weight of water releasing you and, at last, air filling your lungs!  You can swim and giggle and be half naked and no one cares--because you're in the water.
In what other circumstance do we allow ourselves to be so bare?  In what other substance are we so weightless?  Only in the water.

I'm swimming a lot these days!  The way we girls swim--I'm doggy paddling.  I do not feel graceful  and skilled.  I feel quite clumsy and vulnerable.  My head is above water, my arms and legs strong, but I need to keep close to the edge most of the time.  I need something to hold on to.  And I have got to stop comparing myself to the ones who can swim the English Channel or dive in the Olympics.  Of course I can't do those things.  I was obviously created for a different purpose.

I guess that's what it boils down to on these crazy, busy days.  What is my purpose?  And gosh-doggit, am I enjoying the fulfillment of it?!