Throughout the entire planning process for our Spring Break trip to New Zealand, bungy jumping has been high on the list of "must dos". All along I have promised to jump with my husband and sons because I am always looking for ways to be a cool mom. I fail miserably in that department as evidenced by rolling eyes when I try to use phrases that are hip and cool.
The fact that I just used the words "hip" and "cool" are evidence to my plight. Hence, the bungy jumping.
In the days leading up to the fateful jump, I imagined myself in a graceful swan dive off the platform while my husband captured photo after photo of my fearlessness and gracefulness. I was going to suck in my stomach and point my toes and fix a serene expression on my face.
I had even started writing a blog post in my head to go along with the picture. About taking a leap of faith and falling into the unknown with total security of knowing God holds us in His hands.
We arrived at the site of the jump and my boys ran ahead in nervous excitement. I was all business checking us in for our jump as screens overhead played out the action on the bridge of people jumping.
I can totally do this. Pointed toes. Serene expression. Mom bonus points. I'm all over this!
I wasn't even totally sidetracked by the fact that I had to step on a scale. Not once, but twice! I thought maybe she couldn't believe that first number could possibly be correct so she had me do it again....turns out that's protocol in case you're trying to cheat the scale.
Let me just interrupt my story here for a moment. If a person is about to jump off a bridge with nothing but a rope tied around your ankles and complete honesty about your weight can make a difference in whether you live or die?? That is not the time to hang your heels off the end to save a few pounds. Not that I've ever done that or anything.....
She then proceeded to take out a big blue marker and write my weight in big numbers on my hand. I have never been more thankful to be wearing long sleeves than I was at that moment. The boys were having fun comparing their weight with their Dad and Granddad. I had my long sleeves stretched over my hand and practically to my ankle. No way was I playing that game.
We all marched outside and up onto the bridge. I was excited. There was a whole crowd of spectators and I knew they would all be rendered speechless by the display of grace and beauty I was about to give them.
Both of my boys went first and then my 75 year old father-in-law. They showed no fear. They soared liked eagles. They didn't utter a sound as they became one with nature.
It was finally my turn. I got strapped in and stood up. I adjusted my shirt and pants so I was picture perfect. I was asked to hop out onto the ledge.
That is when I looked down. Really, really, really far down. All of a sudden I wasn't ready and I couldn't have cared less about a blog post detailing the ins and outs of leaps of faith. Leaping anywhere seemed like a very bad idea at that moment. I'll let someone else write about that. I'm outta here. I was just about to turn around to cling to the ledge and start crying out for my mom....or Jesus....or both.
All of a sudden I'm airborne thanks to a guy on the platform that had a scheduled lunch break and no time for a middle aged indecisive swan wannabe. I fell off the platform and remember that horrifying feeling of just falling. Apparently I was flapping my arms as if at any second I would take flight. It was anything but graceful and my face was far from serene as it twisted into whimpering half screams.
So here I am writing a blog post. I don't have my beautiful picture to use as a launching point for a discussion on leaps of faith. I have a picture of being pushed off a ledge and an almost fetal position as I fall.
I have to laugh because those pictures are a more accurate pictorial of my life than a graceful swan dive ever could be. I am that girl that stand on a ledge as God beckons me out into the unknown. I am that girl that can be overcome by fear and insecurity and would easily be swayed to turn and walk off that ledge if something didn't nudge me out into thin air. I am that girl who flaps her arms and tries to fly as fear threatens to steal my last breath.
I am also that girl that survives.
And then I climb back onto the ledge again because being scared flying through the air is so much more rewarding than watching from the sidelines.
The last three years I have spent in Singapore have felt like one leap of faith after another. One would think I would have my swan dive perfected but I am still whimpering out on that ledge needing a gently shove to take that leap.
This past Christmas, I was asked to be a part of starting a new website that we eventually named Woven in Asia. It is a little scary for me as my primary responsibility is to write posts about all kinds of different things. I don't feel qualified, I don't feel worthy, I don't feel like I can do justice to the vision my pastor's wife has. I'm flapping my arms and trying to fly as I free fall into something very unknown to me. But I also know without a doubt that this is what I am supposed to be doing. We recently found out that we will be staying in Singapore and that was the final confirmation that I needed to jump feet first into the Woven in Asia project.
For now, Woven is going to be my new blogging home. Please come and visit me there. I have loved the sense of community this blog has given me.....even with how sporadic I am in writing. I will miss that, but feel like I am being asked to give my full and complete attention to the new thing God has given me to do!
So long Doing Life......I am walking away for a time so I can, well......Do Life!