June 4 – “Swimming lessons”

Yesterday we had a chance to watch Zakary's last day of swimming lessons for this summer.  It was much like his next-to-last day which we got to watch the day before.    I vaguely remember swimming lessons when I was a kid.  As I recall they took place at the Elks' Lodge swimming pool in Galveston.  I think I must have been seven or eight years old.  Only two things stand out about them, though.  One was the final exam day.  Someone thought that it would be a great idea for us to have races on the last day.  I never did do well under pressure back then, and it stressed me greatly.  The other big stressor was the fact that I never really liked to swim the American Crawl stroke, and of course that was always the racing stroke.  I did like the back stroke, though.  I'm sure it had something to do with breathing.  Like, it's easier to do when your face is out of the water.  It was small consolation, then, when they said we had to do the crawl one lap and "freestyle" back.  That's another one of those misnomers from the world of sports.  You hear freestyle now and everyone automatically assumes the crawl.  Not me.  Backstroke all the way.  Well, the race began with all six or eight of us lined up at the shallow end.  We jumped in and the race was on.  It helped some that all but one of the kids in my class were about as bad as I was.  That one girl was good.  She took off like a shark in a feeding frenzy.  When I reached the end of the pool, I hung on for dear life in a desperate attempt to catch my breath before starting back.  I could hear the guy teacher yelling at me, and the lady teacher yelling at that girl.  "Why is he picking on me?"  I thought.  But at least I was getting some attention, so I took off, swimming the back stroke.  I think it kind of stunned him at first, because he didn't yell for a second or two.  But he found his voice and continued the verbal barrage.  Maybe this backstroke thing wasn't such a good idea after all.  I could not only hear him, but occasionally see him as well.  There was no question he was following me.  But why?  I was getting a bit perturbed.  But soon the end of the pool rose up to greet me, and I struggled to my feet amidst the cheers of the crowd.  Well, of my Mom and Dad, anyway.  That's when I realized.  The guy was yelling at me because I was making up time so quickly doing the back stroke that the race had become a nail biter between me and shark girl.  She won, but I was a close second.  Really helped my confidence going into the next activity.   And that would be what they called the "Greased Watermelon."  For this one they put all the kids who were roughly the same age into the water and then threw in a watermelon.  Whoever was able to get the watermelon out of the water got to keep it.  The only catch was, they watermelon was covered in Vaseline.  Not being one to stick my face in the water without a purpose, I stayed close to the side well into the shallow end where I could stand up on my own and watch the action.  Those kid went nuts.  They would dive after the melon and grab it under water, and it would squirt out of their hands and pop up like a submarine surfacing.  It was fascinating to watch.  Didn't look like anyone would win.  Until … the elusive watermelon escaped the grip of one of the bigger kids and popped to the surface right in front of me.  I was startled, and almost without thinking, I brought both arms up under the fat, greasy ball and eased it over the side.  I won.  The watermelon was mine.  And so was the thrill of victory. .   Zak's final day wasn't exactly that exciting.  Now he still has a long way to go.  He has two basic issues.  One, he's still having fun – playing in the water.  Frustrating for his teacher, I'm sure, but she never came out and said, "Stop having fun and learn to swim."  The other thing is, he trusts his teacher.  Totally.  He knows that as long as he stays somewhere near her, she will see that he doesn't stay under too long.  That caused a dilemma when she said "Keep your head down and swim to the side."  He started in the right direction, but inevitably ended up turning and reaching for her.  And she always helped him.   So Zak needs to work on that conundrum of swimming that demands keeping your head down in the water until you get close enough to the side to pull yourself out.  Keep your face under the water.  Don't  breathe under the water.  Kick the water.  Don't swim at the instructor.  Reach for the side.  That's a lot to remember for an almost four year old.   Psalms 9:10 says, "Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you."   Father, help me to trust you like Zak trusts his swim instructor.  Totally.  Amen.