A Lesson I Was Not Ready To Learn

  “No don’t!  I don’t want to!  I am frightened!  Don’t take me over there!” I begged my

Dad.  Have you ever experienced a time in your life, when your parents tried to teach you

a lesson you were not ready for?

     Tucked away in the corners of my mind, I remember the summer I turned 12. 

Attending a pool party with friends was no fun because I didn’t know how to swim.  I

would be the only one in the shallow water.  I felt left out on all the fun and exercise.

     “Dad and Mom, I want to take swimming lesson at the Bolivar Public Pool.  Can I

enroll this summer for lessons?” I asked one evening at supper.

     “The lessons are costly and traveling to town everyday would be expensive and

time consuming.  I like open water better such as the lake and ponds.  Why, I know how

to swim.  I can teach you.  Swimming is easy.  We will go tomorrow afternoon.” Said my

dad.

     Riding through the field in the pick up truck, my brother and I were sitting in the back. 

I enjoyed the scenery.  My dad’s 350 acre farm connected with my Grandfather’s farm. 

On one side of the gravel road fescue waving in the gentle breeze and on the other side

was woods of full grown trees, saplings, shrubs, and wildflowers.  Cows grazing in

designated areas were look up chewing their cud as we drove by.  A baby calf would

lollop to his mother in fear of the big moving vehicle.  The remains of an old one room

school house stood at the top of the hill.  “What did those kids learn all those years? 

Where are they now?  Where was the teacher? Why did the school close?” I wondered as

we passed by. 

     At the bottom of the hill was a crystal clear creek we slowly crossed.  I loved the

peacefulness of this little area.  As I listened to the birds chirping, to the breeze blowing

through the trees, and the water ripple, I knew all was well in my world.  I smiled.

     This peacefulness was about to change.  We arrived at the pond in the clearing.  It was

a fairly good sized pond.  We had fished here several times.  In fact, I remembered that I

had caught seven fish one afternoon.  As I reminisced, I heard my Dad tell my Mom his

plan for my swimming lesson.  I pretended to keep my eyes glued to the pond, while my

ears were intently listening to my Dad’s plans for me.  “I am going to lead Teresa out to

the middle on the edge of the deep water.  I intend to just shove her into the deep water. 

She will just start swimming.  I have seen people do this.”

     I walked further away from the truck.  I had put some distance between us to think this

situation over. “Could I swim just like that?  I had heard about people learning to swim

this way. Could I?” I asked myself.

     My Dad took my hand as we stepped into the pond together.  The rocks hurt my feet! 

“Ouch!” I cried.  “I can’t see where I am stepping it is so muddy!”

     “Are you that tender footed?  The mud is not going to hurt you!” exclaimed my Dad.

     We were into the pond as far as knee deep now.  My feet began sticking in the mud

more and more.  The water was murky.  By the time we up to our waist I was about as far

as I was going to venture.  “Let’s stop here.  You can teach what you know now.”  I said.

     “No, no, just a little deeper,” urged my Dad.

     He pulled me along until the water level was up to my shoulders.  I stopped.  “Please,

Dad, stop.  I don’t want to go any further.  I am scared!”

     “Nothing is going to happen.  You are going to swim today!”

     Suddenly, learning to swim was not important anymore.  I did not want to be shoved

into this murky muddy pond.  I knew I needed more instruction.  What if I didn’t swim? 

What if my Dad couldn’t help me?  “Turn loose.  I don’t want to learn to swim

anymore!”

     I waded my way back to the shore.  My Dad couldn’t believe it.  He thought I was

ready, but I knew I was not ready for that challenge.

     Years later I did learn to swim in a college level swim class from an instructor named

Coach Potts.  He challenged me in small steps everyday.  He helped me to overcome my

fear of water.  I am grateful for his patience and encouragement.

     Parents and teachers should present lessons in small incremental steps, allowing the

student to build confidence in the learning process.  My Dad, being impatient and

desiring to skip those small steps in my swim lesson, caused me to fear water.  It was a

lesson my Dad attempted to teach me that I was just not ready for. 

    

Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding, in all your ways 

acknowledge him, and He shall direct your paths.