First I have to say this photo doesn't even remotely do this waterfall justice. My daughter is about 40 feet above the pool at the bottom of the fall and about 50 feet away. She's roughly at the same height as the big, red rock on the other side of the gorge.
So the election thing didn’t work out quite like we had expected. To avoid sounding bitter or discouraged, that’s all I’m going to say about that part of it.
But, I will mention a bit about the great kids who ran in this election. There were six girls and six boys that made it through the primary election. On Friday, this was narrowed down to three girls and three boys. The kids found out right at the end of the school day. After the announcement was made to the school, the six girls – the three that won and the three that lost - all went out together for a Hawaiian Ice and a movie. I think this showed some good character and sportsmanship on the part of the girls that lost the election, as well as the girls that won.
Before our daughter came home from the movie, we wrote her a quick letter, telling her how proud we were of her for going after this lofty goal. Earlier in the week, while she was preparing for her speech, we had talked with her about some of the great speakers of the past. In the letter after the election, we quoted Winston Churchill, who said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
This has led me to consider the changes in our family over the past couple of years. For a while now, we have been trying to do more things outside our current comfort zones. It’s the old idea of feeling afraid and still doing it anyway. These opportunities can be as small as making a phone call we are uncomfortable with or diving into a swimming pool. Or they can be big things, like starting a business or writing a book (or a blog).
One of the more recent and dramatic of these was last summer in Yellowstone National Park. Before we left for our vacation, we heard about a waterfall that you can swim through and hang out behind. We easily found the place and decided to give it a try. Everyone put on their life jackets and we trudged down to the water’s edge.
For some reason, I had pictured an easy swim under a thin, clear sheet of smooth water. This waterfall was anything but; at the bottom of the trail we found a thick wall of turbulent white water, thirty feet tall and twenty feet wide, crashing into a deep, dark pool of swirling, green water. In addition to that, it started raining and hailing just as we got there.
After the storm passed on, we decided to go for it. I went first, to see what it was like. In a few words, the journey through the pounding wall was horrible, amazing, terrifying, thundering, disorienting, and hugely satisfying. Once on the other side, I swam to the back of the shallow cave and stood on a rock for a minute. I could not see out of the wall of water and couldn’t hear anything but the roar of falling water on stone and more water. The spray coming off the back of the waterfall was so intense, I couldn’t face into it for more than a few seconds. After catching my breath, and regrouping my courage, I headed back out.
On the other side, I found my children, excited and terrified by what was in store. One at a time, I took them into the deep pool, explained how it would feel, what they would see, and what we should do once we got inside. No one was forced to go, thought I encouraged each with the understanding that they would either regret not going or feel good about it if they did go.
Two more times I went through the crashing wall into the cave, first with the oldest, then the next oldest, and two more times I came back out. Finally, it was time for the last run. My six year old daughter cried as she told me she did want to go. I could see the noise and the cold water were starting to break her down. We stood, our eyes at about the same level, her on a rock in knee deep water beside me. I explained again what she should expect and do as we swam. Finally, exasperated, she cried out above the thundering noise, “But I’m afraid!”
I leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. “I’m afraid too,” I confided, “but I just do it anyway.” She looked me in the eye, amazed by what her dad had just said. Then, as if something had just clicked into place, I watched her face change suddenly from fear to determination. She immediately gripped my hand and stepped off into the deep water.
That was a win for her, and for every one of us. On the other hand, the election this past Friday was not. One experience makes it easier to try next time, while the more recent example could have just the opposite effect. Each of us, and especially our jobless politician, will have to dig a little deeper the next time we decide to step again out onto a limb. But, I’m pretty sure she’ll be just fine. Besides, she’s already told me she’s running again next year.
Clark
No comments:
Post a Comment