There is a reason I love this picture. It was taken in New Smyrna Beach, Florida in 1991. I was all of four years old. My father was teaching me a lesson tht has echoed throughout the rest of my life. I remember vividly the way he coaxed me out into the Atlantic, not content to let my worries keep me by the shore. There were forward steps I took myself; there were steps I was carried. Every time a wave came, my daddy would grab me by the hands and lift me straight up and over it, with my legs kicking the entire time, terrified he wouldn't lift me quite high enough to clear the water. Already plagued by a mind perpetually asking, What if? Every wave, every time...me flailing, my daddy saying, Lauren, I won't let you go under. When I got too scared, he would have to pick me up and just hold me while the waves broke at his knees. I don't think the story of Jesus calling Peter to walk on water was yet etched into my mind, but this memory will stay foreve...
Adventures of a Cockeyed Optimist