I am so cold. Maybe if I move out where the water is deeper, I won’t feel the cold as much. Oops! That’s too deep. Now how can I do the exercises when I cannot keep my balance?

            Worrisome thoughts flooded my mind as the deep end of the pool threatened to swamp my body. Water aerobics seemed like a good idea, but now the class posed just one more huge challenge.

            “Take a place along the wall,” called out Mary Ann, our instructor. “Slip on the weights.”

            The weights turned out to be foam anklets that were supposed to help bring our legs up from the water. But for my 5’ 2”, 110-pound body, they served as tormentors.  They lifted my body completely to the top! Try as hard as I could, there was no way I could get my feet onto the bottom of the pool.

            “Guess I’m just full of hot air,” I joked, giggling along with the rest of the women. Later, in the car, I felt defeated.

            Most of the participants appreciated cool water to offset the heat generated from the exercises. For me, the whole session turned into one big fight to keep my feet on the bottom and my teeth from chattering.

            Driving home one day, I prayed. “God, I need the exercise, the movement. The classes are reasonable and I really enjoy the women, but all I seem to do is float around.    “Float? Float. I cannot drown because my feet will not stay on the bottom! I can swim.” From then on, I deliberately went into the deep end of the pool and swam laps in a beautiful, blue haven of cool, clear water.

            I had learned to swim as a child, but after two very scary situations, I feared the water. Now, swimming became a heavenly experience. Along with the joyful feeling of my body moving smoothly through the water, the exercise became a time of silent meditation.

            Every other lap, I swim on my back. The instant I turn over and look up at the ceiling lights, I focused on how God holds me up through good times and bad. Out of the pool, when fear and worry threaten to sink me, all I have to do is close my eyes, take a deep breath and visualize my blue heaven. I no longer sink into despair.

            So often we allow fear of something stand in the way of a beautiful experience. What if I lose my job? What if s/he doesn’t like me? What if I sink to the bottom?  Some of our fears may be justified, serving as warnings to prevent us from making a big mistake, or to point us in a better direction. That is when we need to tread water until we truly listen for God's insights into how we might proceed. We don't have to walk on the water, but we can trustingly swim and float our way to the destination.  That’s when we replace fear with trust.  I trust that if I lose my job, I shall find a better one.  I trust we can be friends, but if not, I am sure there is someone else for me. I trust the water will hold me up, that I can swim as I learned to do. Perhaps that is why many of our prayers go unanswered—we fear, rather than trust.

            Instead of begging, fearful prayers, try this one: “I trust you God. Thank you for showing me the way. Thank you for holding me up when all seems impossible.”

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Copyright 2006 by Joanne K. Hill