O-ma! O-ma! O-ma!” the daunting chant grew louder, and I felt the need for bravery stirring inside me. I can do this! Our family was spending a week on the shore of a mountain lake, and one popular activity was jumping off the end of the long dock into deeper water.
Each adult and child had been dared to do it, and one by one, most had. Even the youngest, wearing her floaties, had jumped into her father’s arms. Now the whole group was daring.
Truth is, my jumping days were way behind me, and I feared disappearing into that murky green water. It wasn’t unsafe, just scary.
“O-ma! O-ma!”
It was now or never. This was the last day of vacation. My last chance to prove I wasn’t too old to try scary things.
Though fully dressed, I willed my feet to slowly head toward the end of the dock. There was no turning back. I tried to pick up speed, praying for bravery. Just as I took my last step off the platform, I reached back and grabbed a round metal post that anchored the dock to the lake bottom below.
I was struck by the shock of the cold water, the muffled sounds of water in my ears, and a jolting pain in my arm. I resurfaced to wild cheers, so I didn’t acknowledge my discomfort. I merely took a shaky bow and marched off to change my clothes.
I felt that pain all night long, and more than six months later, I sometimes still felt it, a reminder that when I choose to take a leap of faith, I need to let go of fear and bravely go forward.
Lord, doing scary things reminds me that I need to trust You.
—Carol Kuykendall
