Jump: A Spiritual Lesson From the High Dive

My bare feet made their way up the ladder, mortified to back out now. A jump from the high-diving board. 

Could I pull it off with a secret fear of heights?

A public embarrassment to turn around and go the same way I had arrived—down the ladder and past the people waiting in line.

And I just knew as pool-siders gawked behind sunglasses, What a scaredy-cat! would also cross their minds.

My twin sister and I hung out at the local pool several days a week every summer. This adventure happened in sixth or seventh grade.

Yes, younger kids jump off high dives. You see, I mustered up enough courage to make jumps, oodles of them, off the low dive. Because it was low.

Yet, even for this high-dive feat, I wasn’t planning a crowd-pleasing, eyebrow-raising dive or backwards flip. Never a good diver, I kind of fell into the water from the sidelines, my arms in position to lead the way. 

My dives lacked perfect form and a straight body—bent legs always gave me away. Not olympic material (judges score cards read 3.0), you probably wonder why all the fretting, sweating, and heart skipping to jump? That’s all…jump.

Still, friends coaxed us, the Clarkston twins, into executing this jump. Since we needed to protect our good name as part of the hip crowd, we accepted the challenge. 

Execute the Jump

But at the bottom of the high-dive ladder, a going first tug-of-war ensued. “You go first.” “No, you go first.” Then, I reluctantly agreed to jump first. 

As I walked the board, I encouraged myself with a pep talk. For goodness sake, Karen, get a grip on yourself. Just jump off the end of this long board into nice, soft, sparkling water. You can do this. Stay straight and vertical. Oh, and guard against busting the water on entry, busts hurt like crazy! No pressure.

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