It’s a hot boring summer day. You’ve managed to get yourself to a nearby public swimming pool. You’ve swam, jumped off the side of the pool, played marco polo, gotten some candy, and watched as many people have jumped off the high diving board. Your boredom has gotten the best of you. You decide that you need that excitement in your life right now. It looks so easy and fun. There’s this glimmer of hope for the cure to your boredom blues. As you walk to the ladder you go from walking boldly like a lion to slowly moving while swallowing the fears trying to creep in and deter you. Blocking out the noise of those fears is pretty easy at first. Then the person in front of you is going and a surge of adrenalin goes through your veins and your heart feels like it is going to burst out of your chest. You slowly walk to the edge of the board, suddenly regretting every decision leading up to this point in your life. You consider climbing down the way you came up. But the fears of everyone hating you, push you to risk your life, plunging what feels like 100 feet into a pool of chlorinated pee water. As you come into contact with the water you kick and reach up to keep yourself from going too deep. Your head bursts through the top of the water and you gasp for air, realizing that you may have overreacted in your emotional response when reaching the top of the diving board. You even consider going again.
That memory became fresh in my mind yesterday as they were taking my 4 year old into her 10th surgery. You see, I was given two options. To wait and see if we could get her intestines to start working on their own, or put in a temporary ileostomy to give her large intestine an extended break and heal fully so that they would work like they are supposed to. Initially, it was a no brainer. She has had 3 hospitalizations in one month because her bowels were just not functioning. Going through this pandemic COVID-19, we needed to avoid the emergency room at all costs. That, and now my usually happy go lucky kid was now struggling with post traumatic symptoms due to the frequent needle pokes, NG tubes, and hospital stays, something different needed to be done. I had numerous affirmations from highly respected medical professionals and friends. But suddenly, the morning of her surgery I was once again at the edge of that diving board, wondering if I made a mistake. I don’t think I made a mistake in my decision. These emotions I think are actually common when faith is required. Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” Does this resonate with you? Did you jump? What did you learn from that experience?