My Dad. He is such a confusing creature. And someone I have spent much time pondering. There is so much I appreciate him for. And so much from him that I have had to overcome. I have chosen to see the good in him. For there is good to be seen. So why look at the bad when it doesn't accomplish any good? No need to run on a rat wheel. I prefer getting somewhere.
Well, I learned something new about him that made me feel pride for him. And since I love to share good stories, here it is!
My father was an excellent swimmer. He taught hundreds of kids to swim for many years. He worked as a lifeguard and became the instructor of instructors in certifying new lifeguards. I have always known this. On many more than one occasion, someone I hardly knew would learn that I was his daughter and would exclaim, "I love your dad! He taught me to swim!"
As my sons are taking swimming lessons this summer, his interest in the subject was peaked. And he shared a piece of his child-life experience with us.
His mother was excessively fearful and overly-protective of her loved ones. I knew this too, but somehow failed to connect a couple of dots.
He told us that he attended a youth activity as a 12-year-old boy. They were going to attend the LDS Temple in Salt Lake City to do service work. But before they went there, the leader said, let's stop at the pool and go for a swim. My dad and his brother Gary looked at each other a little panicked because neither of them knew how to swim.
Wait. What?
You were 12 and didn't know how to swim?! My expert swimming father who was the teacher of teachers didn't know how to SWIM? Hasn't he swum all of his life?!
Of course he didn't know how to swim. Pools = drowning. Pools = death! No way was his mother going to let her precious baby boys anywhere near death!
Oh yes, of course. I knew that. I missed it. But I knew it.
So, they got in the pool chest-deep and stood there together watching as all of their peers paddled away; splashing and swimming without a care. Without fear. Without inability.
With their feet firmly planted on the pool floor they walked through the pool, both of them imitating the swimmer's arm stroke. Pretending.
Embarrassed and aware of his deficiency, my father approached his father and asked for help. So my grandpa took him to the pool and taught him the few things he knew about how to swim.
My father took that information and used it as a platform for his future path. My father is a rebel. I have found this trait to be a blessing and a curse. In this situation, it was only a blessing. He rebelled against the idea that pools = drowning and death. He didn't cater to the fear! In fact, the hiding from swimming and fear of swimming only creates weakness therein. And within that weakness is where death lies.
He became and excellent swimmer! He was an excellent teacher! He didn't want that weakness to be a weakness for anyone else! He was encouraging, supportive, instructive and motivating! He taught his children to swim as soon as they were able!
And for me. Swimming has been a huge part of my life. And it will be in my children's life. To me, swimming is a mandatory life-saving skill. And I am so thankful my father taught me that. I am thankful that I have his example to look at and see that weaknesses can become great strengths if we choose to tackle them head on!
I'm proud of him. I am proud of his courage to acknowledge the weakness. I am proud that he didn't let it hold him back. I am proud that he became one of the best. I am proud that he chose to pass on all the good that he found to as many other people as he could.
And I think we could all learn a thing or two from that kind of courage and rebellion.
Lesson noted. Thanks, Dad.
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