I dive in from the steps near the deep end. Cool water rushing against my skin.
We went to the pool by the ocean this Sunday. Grammy likes to get the exercise, Mom enjoys walking on the beach, and I still have the idea of swimming in the open ocean. (If you missed that click here for the dets!)
I set my watch. Breathe, kick off the wall and start.
My hands break the frail tension between the water’s surface and depth. Stroke forward a few times before hitting the wall. Breathe, kick off and repeat.
I come up, gasping for air. Lungs fill with my deep inhale as I grab onto the wall.
Ok, I think to myself, again.
Not even halfway across the pool this time, my head breaks the surface. Gasping.
Standing in the shallows, I feel annoyed. Maybe I am getting a good hard workout I think. Nope, according to my watch.
I wanted to make it halfway across the pool before taking a breath, really hold it in, tough through the workout. But that was not going to work. I started spending more of my time catching my breath than using it.
Time to start taking little breaths, I thought.
Going back into my swim I stopped this time, taking more little breaths. Coming up for air when I needed it.
My lungs filled, I dove down, and air fueled me.
The same is true in faith.
I had been coming up for air with Jesus. Gasping as if He had not been there the whole time.
Little breathes sustain in ways the gasping doesn’t.
They let me embrace the power and life I get be being with Jesus. It becomes a part of me, carrying in what I need and letting out what I don’t.
So, this week, I am thinking about taking little breathes with Jesus. Moments in the day to stop and connect. Letting His life fill mine.
Oh, and for those of you curious, I finished the swim.
And you know what?
I enjoyed it!
One breath at a time.