I am
not known for staying composed in stressful situations. I am
the one who let go of the wheel when it became too difficult
to keep my first car from fishtailing on a gravel road. I am
also the one who, when not behind the wheel, spoke unhelpful
gibberish like "Popeye Pediddle" as the driver struggled to
keep our car on the icy highway.
Knowing my history for thinking irrationally under pressure,
and knowing the unfortunate outcome of the situations
previously mentioned (we landed in the ditch both times), I
marveled at how calm I felt as I grabbed hold of her upper
arm. It was like it wasn't me, but the Spirit within me,
who was lifting Olyvia out of the water.
"What happened?" Rachel said, quickening her pace when she
saw me getting up from the cement.
"Olyvia missed the side but she's fine now," I assured her
as I shook the water from my arms.
Rachel
handed me the cell phone and then wrapped Olyvia in a towel.
Wanting to give them some time alone, I stepped away for a
few minutes to make my call. When I finished, I noticed that
Olyvia was crying, not because she nearly drowned, but
because she needed help.
"I can
swim," she insisted through her tears. "I've done it lots of
times!"
As I
watched Rachel comfort her daughter, I couldn't help but
wonder: How many grown-ups find themselves in over their
heads like Olyvia, drowning in situations, unwilling
to ask for help?
I know
about these people because, on numerous occasions, I've been
in the pool with them. One particularly long session of
treading water began in my late teens when I graduated from
high school, ready to sink or swim on my own.
Maybe
it was the male chauvinism I was exposed to as a child or
the church sermons and religious classes that emphasized sin
and penance at the expense of salvation and peace. Whatever
the reason, I left for college driven to prove my worth and
determined not to rely on anyone . . . including Jesus.
"Why
go through the Son when I can talk directly to the Father?"
I would ask defiantly whenever anyone challenged my
thinking.
My
question went unanswered for several years. It wasn't that I
didn't attend church or hear the gospel during that time. I
just wasn't open to understanding it. Like so many others on
the fast track to nowhere, I was too busy trying to prove my
worth, to notice that somebody already had.
Not
until a business-trip-gone-bad did I have the time and
experience I needed to arrive at my own conclusion. My
manager, Jeff, and I had just finished the first leg of our
flight home after two days of meetings with a large client
in Nashville, Tennessee.
Although I had planned extensively for our trip, little had
gone as expected and I walked through the security
checkpoint at the Denver airport feeling disappointed and
downtrodden. That may explain what happened fifteen minutes
later when, just before boarding our plane to Omaha, I
realized that I was without a very important item.
"What's wrong?" Jeff asked when he noticed that I had
stopped walking.
"I
don't have my purse." I answered.
"Do
you know where you left it?" he questioned.
"I
remember placing it on the conveyer belt to be x-rayed." I
replied, mentally retracing my steps. "I must have forgot to
pick it up after I went through the metal detector."
"Should I go back to look for it?" I asked.
"If
you do, you'll miss our flight," he warned. "I'm sure
they'll mail it to you when they find it. Is there anything
in your purse that you need tonight?"
"Just
my wallet," I said as I looked through my computer bag,
hoping to find the most important unaccounted-for item in
one of its pockets.
"And
my keys," I added after my search turned up empty.
"Call
you husband and have him meet you at the airport," Jeff
urged as he glanced at our gate to find that passengers
were already starting to board the plane.
"He
works until nine or ten every night this time of year,"
I
explained. "It's
an hour drive from Lincoln to Omaha and I really don't want
to bother him."
"You
have to call him," Jeff insisted as he reached for his
wallet to retrieve a calling card.
Faced
with the choice of letting the plane leave without me or
leaving without my keys, Jeff finally convinced me
to call my husband and alert him to the situation.
"Hi
Bill, it's Julie." I explained after our answering machine
picked up.
"Julie
Albin" I added, too flustered to realize that Bill would
probably know who I was. "I lost my purse at the Denver
airport and need you to meet me in Omaha with a spare key to
my car."
"I am
so sorry," I said before hanging up the phone.
I
am also so embarrassed. I thought to myself as I
handed the calling card back to my manager and followed him
onto the plane.
Feeling like a failure, I took an empty seat by a window,
determined to stay miserable during the entire flight. A
short while later, I knew I had succeeded when our plane touched
down in Omaha and I was still in poor spirits, unsure of
what would happen next.
Will
Bill be waiting for me downstairs? I wondered as
I deboarded the plane. If he
is, will he be angry?
My
husband did get the message and, to my surprise and relief,
the first thing I received after joining him at the baggage
carrousel was, not criticism, but compassion as he
welcomed me home with a warm smile and a needed hug. Fifteen minutes
later, I was leaving the long-term parking lot with
Bill driving ahead of me to lead the way home.
If
the times we need love the most are the ones when we deserve
it the least, I asked myself as I turned right and
followed Bill into traffic,
why is this unconditional love so difficult to accept?
Although I was
grateful to Bill for his compassion, I was still not ready
to forgive myself and cried out in frustration, knowing that
no one but God could hear.
"I am
so tired of messing up!" I yelled. "No matter how
hard I try,
something always goes wrong."
It was
with
those words that I reached the point where desperation met
revelation and the Spirit made his presence known, removing
all thoughts from my mind but this one: It's not what you do, but
who you are that matters.
More
than a decade later, I haven't forgotten this lesson.
Whenever I find myself back in the pool treading water, it
serves as a reminder that we don't have to sink or swim,
when in the presence of the one who saves.
I
thought about this as I watched Rachel comfort Olyvia,
thankful that the grace extended to me, was now being
offered to her.
Sometimes it takes the unmerited favor of another person,
before we feel worthy of receiving it from God. That's why
this Christmas and always, we celebrate the baby in a manger,
who taught us that even when we're at our worst, we're still
worthy of God's best as we reach out for a
nail-scarred hand ... and stop trying to save ourselves.
Two Quotes to Grow On
"My
wish is for you to perceive, as I do, the presence of God
within us and around us and feel the love He feels for us
all."
Robin
McGraw, Inside My Heart: Choosing To Live With Passion
And Purpose, Book Jacket
"Putting my life in the hands of the Destiny Maker has been
an absolute blast! I've learned that he's smarter than me,
wiser than me, and stronger than me. He has a great view
from above, and he loves me in the most radical way."
Mike
Breaux, Making Ripples, p. 43
