By Shannon Baker
As writers, we often insert situations in our
stories that illustrate principles. Of course, we try to be subtle as we layer
in symbolism and analogy. But sometimes, real life gives us great stories to
serve as life lessons.
I am not a risk-taker by nature. So when I’m afraid
to try something new or I’m tempted to settle into the known and secure life, I
remember an incident years ago.
My daughter, Erin, was eleven years-old and we were
camping at Horseshoe Campground just outside of Mount Rushmore in the Black
Hills on Labor Day. Summer was dwindling to a close and school had already
started so this was our last outing before the rampaging activities of fall at our
feed store in Nebraska and school sports geared up.
A large rock guarded the corner of Horseshoe Lake.
To my memory it seems like it rose straight up from the water about 50 feet. It
was probably much shorter. I can tell you it was one high platform. Local
teenagers jumped from the rock into the deep lake. They were having a blast,
sailing in and climbing back up.
Erin watched this with interest the first afternoon
we camped. On the second day, she decided she wanted to try it. I climbed the
rock with her and peered over the ledge as she contemplated the jump. To give
her courage, I scurried back down and swam out and treaded water not far from
where she’d enter. She stood at the edge trying to get her nerve up and I
treaded water until my legs felt weary. In the end, she retreated without
jumping.
What she perceived as defeat stayed with her
throughout the evening and the next day as we toured the Black Hills. The next
morning, as we packed up camp, I caught her gazing longingly across the lake as
the big kids once again gathered and threw themselves off the cliff. We
finished loading the gear and piled into the pickup. She never took her eyes
off the rock as we drove past and headed out of the campground.
We stopped before entering the highway that would
take us back to our real lives. Suddenly she shouted, “Wait! I want to jump.”
To the grumbles of the other family members, I
insisted we stop, dig for our suits and let her change. We drove back and I
once again swam out into the cold lake as she climbed the rock. This time, she
only hesitated a second, then hurled herself off the cliff.
She hit the water and sank deep. A second later, her
head bobbed up and her face split in a grin of accomplishment. Her pride
spilled over and lasted for days. I don’t know, maybe it was a brick in her
character growth and helped make her the strong young woman she is today.
What I do know is how it affected me. If she hadn't pushed herself beyond her comfort zone, if she hadn’t wanted to experience the
flight and splash, she’d have gone home to the status quo and wouldn't have
lost anything.
But by pushing herself, overcoming her fear, she
earned not only the experience, she gained confidence to jump higher next time,
to live fuller and freer.
When I asked her why she finally decided to try
again, she said, “I realized I might not ever have another chance.”
When I’m hesitant to try something new and take a
big chance, I try to seize the courage my young daughter taught me that day. I
make a decision, put aside the fear and…
JUMP!