I watched a son stepping out in faith, knowing Dad was going to catch him. It was a scene repeated on playgrounds, rocks, and in the water all over the world. Fear and uncertainty being expressed by every part of a child’s being, Dad’s patiently encouraging their daughter or son to take the leap. The smiles always trigger memories and lesson reminders.
I am transported to memories with my daughters and their acts of courage. I associate smiles and laughter with the hesitation and fear in their voices. With each flashback, I am transported to the edge of the pool, riding my first bicycle, and the first diving board experience as they grew taller and taller. The same fears replayed as climbed trees, dropped out of the sky, and modified the tree house which Dad had set far too high in the tree for my mother’s comfort.
I have a niggling fear of heights. I am not sure why the fear remains. When I am high up, the setting triggers an uncertainty deep within. If I stopped my memory at this point, I am left with the residuals of a recurring nightmare. If I let it continue, there is an amazing reassurance that Dad was always there when I needed him.
My lesson reminders emerge from the replaying scenes. Fear to anticipation, doubt to assurance, uncertainty to celebration. In receiving and giving, I believe in the certainty of commitment and resolve a father gifts to his children. It is in remembering that my certainty has become a belief.
In today’s quietness, I find myself reflecting on the psalm; “You’d find me in a minute – you’re already there waiting!” (Psalm 139.10). The lesson reminders replay in my mind, demonstrating Divinity’s role in my life. My doubts, fears, and uncertainty are tangibly real. The emotions often play havoc with my grasp on hope. It is in remembering when I leapt into the unknown and experienced the embrace and assurance Divinity gave me, that I realize my fear is the opposite of the coin I know as hope.
